Red Keep ― Maegor's Holdfast…
Late at night, Rhaenyra was reading in her chambers. Her head slung down with her eyes skimming across the pages, the princess found herself entangled in the game of political intrigue by her father and brother. King Viserys, wanting to avoid scandal, ordered her to marry Ser Laenor Velaryon of Driftmark. Aeonar, having had enough of his sister's disregard for duty and their family's traditions, was still disappointed in her after encroaching on the Cannibal's lair on Dragonstone. Her father, she could manage. But Aeonar – her older brother – there was a look in his eyes. The way he looked at her… it's as though he didn't trust or believe a word she said. But in the end, it didn't matter. Rhaenyra was being married off to House Velaryon as a gesture of reconciliation to House Targaryen's fellow Valyrian clansmen. Before she could turn the next page, Rhaenyra heard knocking at her door.
"Come."
When the doors opened, Grand Maester Mellos entered the room carrying a pan with a round and ceramic-sealed jar containing liquid. "I hope you can forgive the late hour, princess," he apologized. "I took great care in its preparation. If not brewed properly, it can either prove ineffective or else bear unpleasant―"
"'Brewed properly'?" Rhaenyra raised a brow. She glanced down at the jar and then back at Mellos. "I'm sorry, but what is that?" she asked.
"A tea, princess. From the king. It will rid you of any unwanted consequences."
Rhaenyra watched Mellos as he bowed his head and left her room. For a while, the princess kept her eyes glued to the jar of moon tea. She knew what it was meant for. Moon tea was a medicinal herbal tea made with tansy, mint, wormwood, a spoon of honey, and a drop of pennyroyal used to prevent and abort unwanted pregnancies – meaning that her father either didn't believe her or wasn't sure to believe her when she insisted that she didn't have premarital sex with her uncle Daemon. But her brother, however, suspected there was something she was not telling him. Rhaenyra continued staring at the moon tea before reaching over to grab it. Once the cover was removed, the princess hesitantly began to drink. The taste was so bitter and vile that Rhaenyra struggled not to gag. She forced herself to swallow and shuddered.
For the rest of the night, Rhaenyra felt nauseous and went to bed earlier than she planned to sleep the discomfort away.
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The following morning, Beatrice had packed her necessary belongings for the inevitable trip to Driftmark. Ever since Viserys announced that Rhaenyra would be betrothed to Lord Corlys's son and heir, the queen was asking her benefactor to investigate anything incriminating. Though Larys had promised to be discreet, Beatrice couldn't help but occasionally look over her shoulders to ensure her actions wouldn't be seen or heard by suspected parties. When she saw the Clubfoot enter her room, the queen straightened her posture. "What did you find?" she inquired.
Larys nodded. "When one is never invited to speak, one learns instead to, um… observe. But my spies did manage to learn something interesting about Princess Rhaenyra last night that might pique your interest."
"Oh? Tell me."
"Uh… I wondered if she could be relied upon for anything now that she is… unwell."
"How unwell and how does that benefit me?"
"Begging your pardon, Your Grace, I may be mistaken. It's just that the Grand Maester delivered a special tea to the princess's chambers. At the direction of the King, as I understand it."
"What kind of tea?"
"Moon tea, Your Grace."
Beatrice knew what moon tea was – what the ingredients were, how to brew it, what it was meant for, and why. Moon tea… so, if it was given to her almost immediately after the Summer Festival ended, then… Oh, Rhaenyra, Rhaenyra, Rhaenyra. You are a very, very naughty little girl. "Interesting. That will be all for now, Larys. Be sure to keep your people ever searching for useful information and you will be rewarded beyond your wildest dreams," she instructed. Still, even with Viserys and his children gone, I can't operate freely with another's gaze watching me. "But there is one more thing you could do for me. Concerning the Hand…"
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"Easy now. Easy," Alicent hushed her fussy twins, Aegon and Viserys. All her necessities – along with those of her sons – were packed into necessary cases for the voyage to Driftmark. Her handmaidens soon arrived to take the twins off her hands and departed for the docks. Alicent silently prayed that things would go smoother and that reconciliation would be achieved between her husband and father-in-law. Even if this were meant for Rhaenyra, she hoped the family would become whole again. When she last saw Rhaenyra, Alicent noticed the princess looked paler. Was she sick? No, she would still be bedridden with a fever if she were. Did she get enough sleep? Probably not enough. But Alicent knew Rhaenyra long enough to recognize that she was uncomfortable about something yet wouldn't tell her why.
"I take it you've packed everything you need?"
Alicent turned to see Beatrice arriving. "Ah, good morning, Your Grace. Yes, we made sure we picked everything that was needed for the journey," she curtsied. "Do you need any help with anything?"
Beatrice waved her off. "Oh, you're such a dear, Lady Alicent. I do appreciate the kind offer, but that won't be necessary. My sisters Keira and Aline will be taking care of it for me." She looked around. "I do wonder, though. Has Rhaenyra been through here recently? I wanted to be certain of her condition. I thought for Mellos himself, well… her condition must have been something very serious."
"Condition, Your Grace? I haven't heard anything."
"Ah. So, she hasn't told you? Pity."
"Told me what?"
"Well, Alicent, you see―"
"What do you think you're doing?" a voice called out behind them.
Beatrice and Alicent turned to see Aeonar approaching. Aside from being escorted by Ser Steffon and Ser Erryk of the Kingsguard, the Young Dragon was accompanied by ten Lykirī Mēre. A faint rumbling sound was heard – which grew louder with each step. All eyes turned to see Vaelor approaching as well. Since most of the group was taking a ship to Driftmark, Aeonar would be flying on his dragon's back alongside them. The Swiftrunner growled and shook its head, taking a moment to wake himself up. Before long, Vaelor sniffed the air and turned to stare his crimson-red eyes at Beatrice, curling its lips back to display his sharp teeth and growling menacingly.
"Whatever do you mean?" Beatrice replied, albeit somewhat nervous knowing a dragon was staring at her. "I'm merely checking in on Alicent to see if Rhaenyra is feeling well or not."
"Anything concerning them is my business, not yours," Aeonar shook his head. He was soon close enough to stare her down. "But until then, you stay away from my wife. Otherwise, you'll have to deal with me again."
The queen felt a wave of outrage, but with Vaelor continuing to growl at her, Beatrice huffed and turned on her heels. Once she was out of sight, Alicent turned to Aeonar. "What were you doing? She's the queen," she noted.
"Alicent, I've had my fair share of dealing with people like Beatrice. I have seen it many times. On the outside, you see her as a gracious queen concerned with the well-being of her subjects. But the way I see her? A scheming, backstabbing bitch who uses people like pawns and is more than willing to betray anyone if it means advancing her self-interests. She went after you because you would be easy to trick, easy to put doubts in your head."
"But what she said about Rhaenyra… She swore her innocence, and I believed her."
"I know, I know. I heard the same thing. I want to believe her as you and our father do. Really. However…" Aeonar turned to her. "I know there is something Rhaenyra is not telling us." He glanced at Vaelor. "But that will wait for now. We have more pressing matters to attend to." As the ship was ready to disembark, Aeonar watched Alicent get on board with their sons and attendants. Don't start a fight you can't finish, Beatrice. Once they were getting ready to set sail, Aeonar climbed on Vaelor's back and strapped himself in.
"*Grrrrrrr!*"
Vaelor shook his head and spread his wings wide, beating them hard before kicking himself off the ground to take flight. The dragon flew overhead, keeping pace with the ship as it left the harbor from King's Landing to Driftmark, the island seat of House Velaryon.
Crownlands ― Blackwater Bay…
Viserys hated being in the open water when the seas got rough. It made him feel seasick. He looked pale, had one hand on his stomach, and developed a light cough. Before long, the king quickly covered his mouth as a servant approached with a bucket. Viserys dismissed him, not wanting it. However, he felt his stomach churning and bile rose to his throat, making him gag. Realizing what was going to happen, Viserys got out of his seat and leaned over the edge. "BLLLAAAARRRGGHHH! HUUUUAAAA!" he retched, emptying his stomach of its contents into the sea. "Oohhhh…"
Alicent, who was nearby, approached her father-in-law with a handkerchief. "Easy, easy. Here, take this, Your Grace," she offered.
"Hah… hah… Thank you, Alicent…"
Rhaenyra, watching her father and sister-in-law, remained on deck with Ser Criston Cole. He still gets seasick, huh? Well, I guess that is two things father and Alicent can't handle: father gets seasick, and Alicent gets airsick. Looking overhead, she watched Vaelor flying next to the ship. The Swiftrunner wasn't going too slow, but it wasn't going too fast either. Vaelor merely glided through the air, occasionally beating his wings to keep himself airborne. Rhaenyra knew that Aeonar was watching her from the skies. Using Criston's arm as a crutch, she held onto the railing as she watched Driftmark come into view.
Driftmark ― High Tide…
Swords clashed, steel rung. In the outer courtyard of the castle High Tide, Laenor and his companion Joffrey sparred together to improve their skills as swordsmen. The two young men laughed as they circled each other.
"Ready to call it quits, Laenor?" Joffrey called out.
Laenor shook his head. "Ha! I'm nowhere even close to being tired yet, Joffrey," he replied.
Before the two could continue, they saw a dragon flying overhead.
"*RRAAAAA!*" Vaelor swooped by and circled around, beating his wings as he prepared to descend. The Swiftrunner landed in the courtyard as Seasmoke rose from his slumber and vocalized in draconic clicks and rattles.
"Vaelor?" Laenor recognized. "But if he's here, then that means…" He saw Aeonar dismount from his dragon and steadily approach them. "Ah, cousin. Welcome back to Driftmark."
"You seem to have caught us at a disadvantage, my prince," Joffrey lowered his head in acknowledgment.
"It would seem so," Aeonar noticed. "You've been keeping up with your training, I see. Good. A warrior must remain vigilant even in times of peace."
"I won't disagree with that. It has been a year since we defeated Drahar. Best not to lose our edge when the next challenge comes our way," Laenor replied. "Father told us you were coming. I take it that means everyone else is here with you?"
Aeonar pointed at the gates behind him. Before long, the gates to High Tide opened – revealing Viserys, Lyonel, Harrold, Criston, Erryk, Steffon, Alicent, Rhaenyra, Beatrice, and their attendants who had come to Driftmark with them. Their ship landed in Spicetown and they had to go the rest of the way to High Tide by wheelhouse connected by a causeway connecting the two regions. Both Laenor and Joffrey both bowed in the king's presence.
Lyonel, expecting a welcome party but finding none, approached the young men. "Where is Lord Corlys?" he inquired. "He should be here receiving the king."
The doors to High Tide soon opened, revealing Laena and her uncle Ser Vaemond. Viserys felt awkward at being in her presence again. He hadn't seen Laena since she was twelve, yet here she was now – sixteen years old and now a woman-grown.
"Welcome to High Tide, Your Grace," Laena greeted. "And it's good to see you again, cousin."
"Lady Laena," Aeonar acknowledged. "Commander," he turned to Vaemond.
"I'm sorry if my father didn't take the time to greet you properly. He has just returned from his long journey, and he has hastened to the Hall of Nine to await Your Grace's arrival."
"Understood."
Viserys, still pale from the sea voyage, walked in front of Lyonel. "Let's just get on with it," he groaned.
Aeonar turned to the Velaryon hosts. "Apologies. He still gets seasick," he explained.
"Ah. So that explains it," Laena observed. She noticed Alicent, Rhaenyra, and the children. "Alicent? Rhaenyra? Is that you?" she noticed.
"Lady Laena?" Alicent recognized. Like Viserys, she had not seen Laena Velaryon since she was a little girl. Three years younger, but she matured into a great beauty. "I almost hardly recognized you."
"It's been so long, I know," Laenor agreed.
For others, sure. Others, not so much. Aeonar stood beside Alicent. "Ser Joffrey," he said. "You two hadn't met before but allow me to introduce the greatest woman in the world: my wife and princess consort, Lady Alicent of House Hightower."
"Aeonar, stop it! You are embarrassing me," Alicent said in a hushed tone, but couldn't hide her blush.
"It's an honor to finally meet you in person, Lady Alicent," Joffrey acknowledged.
"Well, I think it's really sweet to see him fawning over you," Laena chuckled. "Oh my! Is this them?" she noticed the children.
"Yes, cousin. These are our sons – Jaehaerys, Aegon, and Viserys."
"Well, hello there, little ones!"
Jaehaerys bashfully buried his face in his mother's dress; Aegon and Viserys, meanwhile, were curious as Laena cooed at them.
"Alicent," Aeonar said. "Ser Laenor and Ser Joffrey both served under my command against the Triarchy in the Stepstones. They're both outstanding officers." He turned to his second cousin. He will have his hands full. There are plenty of sharks in the water seeking to tear him apart. But if he can overcome them and rise to the station he deserves, then Laenor will go far. "I'm putting you up for a captaincy and forwarding a commendation allowing you to transfer wherever you choose."
"You honor us, cousin," Laenor replied.
"Through your exemplary service, you honor yourself," Aeonar turned to High Tide's gates. "I apologize for the delay, but I'm afraid the king and I have important business to discuss with your lord father. Perhaps we can catch up some more before the week is done."
"Of course. We'll be right here whenever you're ready."
High Tide ― Hall of Nine…
Viserys, Aeonar, and Lyonel led the way through the halls of High Tide with Rhaenyra, Alicent, and Beatrice following closely behind them. The Velaryon soldiers acknowledged their presence.
"Wait here," Viserys commanded.
"Viserys―" Beatrice tried to protest.
"You heard him," Aeonar sternly cut her off. "This is between us and Lord Corlys. So do be a good girl and stay where you are." He turned to Alicent. "We won't be long, Alicent. Be sure you and the boys have something to eat, okay? I'll be with you shortly."
"I understand," Alicent understood.
As the royals went on ahead to the Hall of Nine, the Kingsguards led by Lord Commander Harrold – Steffon, Erryk, and Criston – remained behind to guard the doors.
"I'm sorry," Criston apologized.
Rhaenyra, understanding the circumstances, turned around. She knew her fate was up to her father and brother now.
"Come, cousin," Laena beckoned. "Let us discover what might be had for breakfast."
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Viserys turned the hall to proceed further into the throne room, noticing the Hall of Nine was filled with fantastical artifacts from the far corners of the that the legendary Sea Snake brought back from his sea travels, among other exploits such as the War for the Stepstones. With the crucial shipping lanes under their control, House Velaryon's wealth increased substantially. Before long, the Driftwood Throne was in sight… along with Corlys who rose to receive them.
"Good to see you again, Lord Corlys," Aeonar acknowledged.
"And to you, Prince Aeonar," Corlys reciprocated. After receiving the Young Dragon's letter, the Sea Snake was clearly enjoying himself, for having the king come to him to request a marriage alliance with his son but stopped short of outright arrogance. He might be ambitious, but he's shrewd and knows well enough to not overstep his bounds. "Your Grace," he turned to acknowledge the king and bent the knee.
Aeonar was observing. So far, so good. Though he noticed his father's posture shift slightly and gave a small twitch of his left arm. The leprosy infection. How far did Mellos's negligence cause the disease to spread? I will have to find out once we get back to King's Landing.
Viserys gave a small cough. "Rise, Lord Corlys," he commanded before coughing again.
Corlys complied. "Be welcome within my hall," he spoke formally. "May I offer a chair?"
Viserys shook his head no. When the sound of doors opening caught his attention, he turned to see his first cousin Princess Rhaenys entering still in riding gear from her dragon, Meleys the Red Queen.
"Cousin!" Rhaenys greeted warmly.
"Princess," the king reciprocated.
"Are you well?"
"Very."
Liar. "I'm afraid he still gets seasick quite easily, princess," Aeonar subtly called his father out.
Rhaenys noticed. Hmm. The estrangement has gotten deeper since we last spoke.
"I don't see Ser Otto with you," Corlys observed. "I half expected the Hand of the King to at least present himself with the king."
"The Lord Hand has taken it upon himself to govern King's Landing in His Grace's absence," Lyonel explained. "From what we last heard, things are going… quite well."
"Pity." Though I suppose it's for the best then.
"Ahem!" Viserys cleared his throat. "Despite spending most of my days amidst the grandeur of the Red Keep, the halls of High Tide never fail to impress."
"Words alone cannot suffice. High Tide has many wonders, and we could not do them justice," Aeonar concurred.
"You both flatter me," Corlys remarked. "Though I wish we could have met under happier pretenses."
Viserys raised a brow. "How so?" he inquired.
"Daemon's former wife, Lady Rhea Royce, has passed."
"I know," Aeonar said unsurprised.
"You… You know?" the king turned to his heir.
"Since when?" Lyonel asked.
"For a while."
"Rumors suggested it was a hunting accident," Rhaenys poured wine into several chalices. "She was thrown from her horse. Her neck and skull were both crushed in the fall. But we learned that was not the case."
"In what way?" Viserys inquired.
Aeonar sipped his cup. "Because it was no hunting accident. She was murdered," he revealed. "Remnants of the Triarchy. My contacts in the Vale placed their numbers at around eleven in total. They waited for her near Runestone. Caught her by surprise. We apprehended three of them, but the other eight managed to get away. Probably to save their skin. I had them sent to Lady Arryn in the Eyrie to face judgment for their crimes."
"Lady Rhea's skill as both rider and hunter were well-known. Only a coward employs tactics such as waiting for her to be isolated from the rest of her household," Corlys noted.
"The gods are cruel," Rhaenys said plainly.
"Indeed," Viserys agreed. "Lady Rhea was a fine woman and a, uh… good wife to my brother."
Come now, old man. We both know that was not the case. They hated each other and you know it.
"Sad thing that she and Daemon have no heirs to succeed her. She stood to inherit Runestone."
"Perhaps we can turn toward happier pursuits?"
"Of course, Your Grace," Corlys said.
"I wish to propose a marriage between your son, Ser Laenor… and my daughter, Princess Rhaenyra," Viserys revealed. "It's long past time our houses were united in blood once again. Targaryen, Velaryon, Celtigar… we are the last pillars of Old Valyria. We are all that is left. And… I wish to make amends for every wrongdoing I've caused."
"You honor both me and my house, Your Grace. There are certain details I would wish clarified before my wife Princess Rhaenys and I could accept this most… generous proposal."
"What details?"
"We would like to know how the succession will be handled."
"Aeonar is my firstborn son and heir," Viserys pointed out. "Upon my death, my throne and my titles will pass to him."
Aeonar stood, watching, and listening. Putting the pieces of the puzzle, the Young Dragon felt the flames within his mind burning. "No. Lord Corlys does make a good point on the subject, father," he stated while trading glances between his father and Rhaenys. "Do you remember when both Princess Rhaenys's father – Prince Aemon – and… and grandfather – Prince Baelon – passed away… it led to a succession crisis that threatened to tear the realm apart. The Old King outlived many of his sons, so he called a Great Council to choose a new heir and prevent civil war."
"That was fifteen years ago. Yet you are implying it may happen again if not in our lifetime but rather the next," Rhaenys said.
Very astute. Just what I expected from the Queen Who Never Was. "Yes. That is precisely what I'm implying, princess. But what if we were to provide clarity?" Aeonar turned to Corlys. "In keeping with Westerosi tradition, Ser Laenor's and Rhaenyra's children shall take their father's name, 'Velaryon,' upon their birth. Should either your son or your daughter Laena sire any daughters of their own, they shall be betrothed to my heir once they come of age."
Corlys leaned forward; clearly, he was interested.
"What's more, if Ser Laenor is the one who marries into the royal family, he will be given the honorary title of prince consort and retain his claim to Driftmark, while also granting his children royal status. And if we were to restructure the traditional inheritance law of primogeniture, then that would mean your grandchildren would have a place within the line of succession itself."
"You mean like a contingency plan?" Viserys asked.
"If something – Gods forbid – happens to me and my sons, my line would be extinguished. And Rhaenyra would be the only child born of our late mother, Queen Aemma Arryn, left." Aeonar again redirected his attention to Corlys and Rhaenys.
The king, now catching on to what his heir was implying, observed. "We―" he began coughing again.
Corlys, noticing Viserys's condition, turned to his servants. "Might I have a chair brought in for you?" he asked.
"No. No, I do not… *ack! ack!* I do not require a chair. It's… it's like my heir said: if something were to indeed happen – hypothetically speaking, of course – then Ser Laenor's and Rhaenyra's children, regardless of gender, would be next in line to ascend the Iron Throne should Aeonar's sons fail to produce any heirs of their own. However, at such time, he or she will do so bearing the name 'Targaryen.' Dragons will rule the Seven Kingdoms for the next hundred years, just as they did the last."
Viserys turned to Aeonar, hoping his son would acknowledge the effort he was putting into the proposal. The Young Dragon, remaining emotionally indifferent, merely gave a brief nod in acknowledgment.
"Surely, Lord Corlys, you understand why we have no desire for the Targaryen dynasty to end with us," Aeonar suggested. "But we do offer a place for your descendants in the House of the Dragon… as equals; as it was in the days of Old Valyria."
Corlys listened closely to the proposal made by King Viserys and Prince Aeonar. It was indeed rare for the estranged father and son to collaborate. His children and grandchildren would have a place in the Targaryen dynasty. Though among the two, only the Young Dragon himself was the one who had put in much of the effort and whose actions benefited House Velaryon altogether. Aeonar backed him up in small council meetings, fought alongside him in the Stepstones against the Triarchy, rid Driftmark of a doomed proposal with the arrogant Braavosi brat, and gave them Vhagar, the largest dragon in the Seven Kingdoms. Prince Aeonar, Corlys could easily deal with considering their close alliance. It was the king the Sea Snake needed. But who was the power behind the scenes? Otto, or Aeonar? Turning his attention to Rhaenys for her opinion, they both nodded. "This is an equitable compromise," he agreed.
"Good," Viserys felt relieved.
Aeonar and Lyonel both looked at each other. They knew this was only the first day. This series of negotiations was bound to be even longer. But for the Young Dragon? All was going according to plan. He simply needed… to take care of some loose ends first.