# The Red Keep - Velaryon Chambers, 102 AC
The chambers assigned to House Velaryon within the Red Keep reflected their status as one of the realm's most powerful maritime houses—spacious rooms with tall windows overlooking Blackwater Bay, furnished with pieces that spoke of wealth accumulated through decades of successful trade and naval prowess. Maps of known sea routes covered one wall, while another displayed artifacts from distant lands that few Westerosi had ever seen: ivory carvings from the Summer Isles, jade sculptures from Yi Ti, and glass figurines from Myr that caught and fractured the afternoon light into rainbow patterns.
Lord Corlys Velaryon stood with his back to the room, hands clasped behind him as he stared out at the waters that had made his fortune and his reputation. The Sea Snake's weathered face reflected decades of commanding fleets through treacherous waters, but today those same features were arranged in an expression of barely contained fury that his wife recognized all too well.
"Thirty years," he said, his voice carrying the sort of controlled rage that was far more dangerous than theatrical shouting. "Thirty years of faithful service to the crown. Building fleets that could challenge the combined navies of Essos, establishing trade routes that pour gold into the royal treasury, risking my life and my ships to project Targaryen power across every sea that matters."
His weathered hands tightened behind his back until the knuckles went white. "And my reward for this loyalty, this expertise, this irreplaceable value to the realm's security? To watch some silver-haired peacock with delusions of competence take command of everything I've built because he happens to own a dragon and look dramatic while making terrible decisions."
Princess Rhaenys moved with fluid grace to pour wine from a crystal decanter, her movements carrying the sort of calm authority that had made her a formidable political force despite being passed over by the Great Council. At thirty-seven, she retained the striking beauty of her Targaryen bloodline, but years of navigating court politics had added layers of wisdom and steel to her bearing that made her simultaneously more attractive and more dangerous than the young woman who had once been considered for the Iron Throne.
"Husband," she said with gentle firmness, offering him a cup of Arbor gold, "your anger is entirely justified, but fury without purpose serves no constructive end. The question isn't whether these appointments are fair or wise—clearly they prioritize family loyalty over administrative competence. The question is how we respond in ways that serve our house's long-term interests."
Corlys accepted the wine but didn't drink, instead using it as something to grip while his mind worked through possibilities and frustrations. "Respond how? By graciously accepting that decades of expertise count for nothing against Targaryen blood? By pretending that Prince Daemon's 'strategic mobility with Caraxes' somehow qualifies him to manage naval logistics, shipbuilding schedules, and maritime trade negotiations?"
His voice grew harder, though he kept it low enough to prevent eavesdropping by servants or guards who might carry tales back to other ears. "The man can barely manage his own household without creating scandals that require royal intervention. His understanding of naval affairs extends to knowing which end of a ship moves forward and that water is wet. But he gets the position because removing competent advisors from positions of influence apparently serves some greater strategic purpose that mere mortals aren't privileged to understand."
"Actually," Princess Rhaenys replied with the sort of analytical precision that had made her valuable to every political alliance she'd ever joined, "I suspect the strategic purpose is perfectly comprehensible once you understand the underlying concerns driving these decisions." She moved to sit in one of the comfortable chairs arranged before the great window, gesturing for him to join her. "The question is whether King Jaehaerys and Queen Alysanne are responding to genuine threats or creating new problems in their attempt to prevent imaginary ones."
Corlys finally turned from the window, his expression cycling through anger, calculation, and something that might have been grudging respect for his wife's political acumen. "You think there's more to this than simple family favoritism?"
"I think," Rhaenys said carefully, "that fifty years of successful rule doesn't end with decisions this comprehensive and coordinated without excellent reasons that aren't being shared with the rest of us. The marriages, the appointments, the policy changes—they're all designed to eliminate specific vulnerabilities and concentrate power in ways that suggest preparation for particular challenges."
She took a sip of wine, her violet eyes distant as she worked through implications. "The question is whether those challenges are external threats requiring unified response, or internal conflicts that Their Graces are trying to prevent through preemptive political restructuring."
"Internal conflicts," Corlys repeated thoughtfully, settling into the chair beside her. "You're thinking about succession disputes, aren't you? The traditional power struggles that tear royal families apart when strong monarchs die and leave the throne to less capable heirs?"
"Prince Viserys is a good man," Rhaenys replied diplomatically, "but he's not a strong king in the way his grandfather has been. He prefers consensus to command, delegation to direct action. The sort of ruler who works well during peaceful times but might struggle with the decisive leadership that crises require."
Her expression grew more serious as she continued. "If Their Graces believe that future crises are inevitable—whether from external enemies, internal rebellion, or simply the natural tensions that develop between powerful houses over time—then these arrangements make considerably more sense. Eliminate succession disputes before they develop. Bind potential rivals into alliance through marriage. Place family members in positions where they can provide reliable counsel rather than independent opposition."
"And push potential sources of independent advice into positions where they can observe but not effectively influence royal decision-making," Corlys added with bitter understanding. "Hence my removal from the small council in favor of Prince Daemon, whose primary qualification is complete dependence on royal favor for his position and authority."
"Exactly," Rhaenys confirmed. "Though I should note that my appointment as Master of Laws suggests they still value our house's contribution to royal governance. They simply want that contribution channeled through different mechanisms than traditional maritime authority."
Corlys was quiet for several moments, his weathered face reflecting the sort of strategic calculation that had made him one of the most successful naval commanders in the known world. When he spoke, his voice carried resigned acceptance mixed with professional interest in the political mechanics involved.
"Clever," he admitted with grudging respect. "Ruthlessly, comprehensively clever. They've neutralized potential sources of opposition while maintaining the appearance of generous family arrangements designed to strengthen dynastic stability." He paused, taking his first actual sip of wine. "Though I have to wonder what prompted such extreme measures. What specific threats are they preparing for that would justify reshaping the realm's entire political landscape?"
Before Rhaenys could respond, the chamber door opened to admit their twin children, Laenor and Laena, both moving with the fluid grace that marked their combined Targaryen and Velaryon heritage. At nine years old, they were old enough to understand the significance of the morning's announcements but young enough to be more curious than concerned about the implications for their own futures.
Laenor bore the aquiline features of House Velaryon combined with the ethereal beauty of his Targaryen mother, his silver-gold hair catching the afternoon light as he approached with the sort of careful attention that suggested important questions. Laena showed signs of the stunning beauty that would one day make her one of the most desired women in Westeros, but her violet eyes held depths of intelligence that promised she would be considerably more than merely decorative.
"Mother," Laena said with the directness that had characterized her personality since she learned to speak, "we've been thinking about the betrothal announcements. If Prince Jaehaerys is to marry both Princess Rhaenyra and myself, what exactly does that mean for our futures? Will we both live at court? Will we share the same household? How are the practical arrangements supposed to work?"
"And more importantly," Laenor added with the sort of analytical precision that suggested he had inherited his father's strategic mind, "what happens if the marriages don't work as well as everyone hopes? Polygamy creates complex family dynamics that can generate conflicts between wives, between their children, between different factions of the same household."
Princess Rhaenys exchanged glances with her husband, both recognizing that their children had identified precisely the sorts of complications that made the announced arrangements less stable than they appeared on the surface.
"Those are excellent questions," she replied with maternal pride mixed with political calculation, "and ones that suggest you both understand that royal marriages are as much about statecraft as they are about personal relationships. The practical arrangements will be worked out over time as the marriages develop, but the underlying principle is that both wives would share equal status and their children would have equally strong claims to inheritance."
"In theory," Corlys added dryly. "In practice, human emotions rarely conform to legal precedents, and first wives often develop different relationships with their husbands than second wives do. The children of favored wives tend to receive different treatment than those whose mothers are less influential or less beloved."
Laena tilted her head with that bird-like curiosity that marked all her most penetrating observations. "So the marriages are designed to prevent succession disputes, but they might create new forms of conflict between different branches of the same family?"
"Precisely," her father confirmed with obvious approval for her reasoning. "Which suggests that these arrangements, however well-intentioned, may prove less stable than their architects anticipate. Royal polygamy worked during the Conquest because Aegon's wives were sisters who had grown up together and shared common interests. But marriages between women from different houses, with different backgrounds and different family loyalties..."
"Could prove considerably more complicated," Laenor finished, his understanding evident in his expression. "Especially if Prince Jaehaerys develops preferences that favor one wife over another, or if external circumstances create conflicts between Targaryen and Velaryon interests."
"All of which," Princess Rhaenys concluded with the sort of long-term strategic thinking that had made her valuable to every political alliance she'd ever joined, "means that these marriages will require careful management and ongoing diplomatic skill from everyone involved. They represent opportunity as much as obligation—chances to shape the future of our house through wise counsel and strategic positioning rather than simple acceptance of whatever arrangements others have decided for us."
She looked directly at her daughter, her expression carrying both maternal love and political instruction. "Laena, if these marriages proceed as announced, you'll have unprecedented opportunity to influence royal policy and dynastic direction. But that influence will depend entirely on your ability to work effectively with your co-wife, support your husband's political development, and maintain strong ties to your birth family while building new loyalties to your married household."
"And if Princess Rhaenyra proves difficult to work with?" Laena asked with practical concern. "She's a year older, she'll be first wife, and she's been raised to expect that her preferences take precedence over other people's convenience. What happens if she views me as competition rather than partnership?"
"Then you prove yourself more valuable to Prince Jaehaerys than competition with his first wife is worth," Corlys replied with the sort of strategic bluntness that had served him well in negotiations from the Stepstones to the Free Cities. "Royal polygamy succeeds when the wives complement each other's strengths rather than competing for the same forms of influence. If Princess Rhaenyra focuses on court politics and dynastic ceremony, you focus on maritime affairs and international relations. If she emphasizes Targaryen traditions, you bring Velaryon expertise in areas where our house's knowledge exceeds even royal understanding."
"Essentially," Princess Rhaenys added, "you make yourself indispensable through competence and cooperation rather than attempting to win through conflict or manipulation. The marriages will succeed if both wives understand that their mutual prosperity depends on effective partnership."
Laenor, meanwhile, had been listening with the sort of focused attention that suggested his own concerns about the announced arrangements. "What about me?" he asked quietly. "If Laena marries Prince Jaehaerys, what role do I play in our house's future? I'm the heir to Driftmark, but these arrangements seem designed around my sister's marriage rather than my own eventual lordship."
It was a perceptive question that revealed understanding of how dramatically the political landscape had shifted with the morning's announcements. Traditional expectations about inheritance, alliance, and family positioning had been overturned by decisions that concentrated unprecedented power in the hands of a four-year-old prince and his future wives.
"Your role becomes more important, not less," Corlys replied with conviction that surprised even himself as he worked through the implications. "If Laena's children inherit both Targaryen and Velaryon blood through their mother, and you eventually rule Driftmark as their uncle, then our house's influence extends across both the Iron Throne and the realm's greatest naval power."
He rose from his chair, beginning to pace with renewed energy as the strategic possibilities became clearer. "More than that—you become the bridge between the royal family and our traditional maritime interests. The person who can represent Velaryon concerns in court while understanding royal necessity well enough to frame those concerns in terms that serve broader dynastic interests."
"A diplomatic role rather than a military one," Laenor observed with something that might have been relief. His temperament had always been more suited to negotiation and alliance-building than the sort of aggressive leadership that traditional lordship often required.
"Exactly," Princess Rhaenys confirmed, recognizing the shift in her son's demeanor. "Though I should note that diplomacy can be every bit as challenging as warfare—it simply requires different skills and different forms of courage."
As the afternoon wore on and the family continued to process the implications of the announced changes, the conversation gradually shifted from immediate concerns to longer-term strategic planning. How to position House Velaryon for maximum advantage within the new political structure. How to ensure that Laena's education prepared her for the complex role she would be expected to fill. How to maintain family unity while adapting to circumstances that none of them had anticipated.
Outside their windows, the sun began its descent toward the horizon, casting longer shadows across Blackwater Bay as the day's revelations settled into the collective consciousness of those who shaped the realm's politics. Somewhere in the Red Keep's ancient halls, a four-year-old prince was probably listening to stories or playing with toys, blissfully unaware of the countless strategic calculations his future had set in motion.
Or perhaps, as seemed increasingly likely, entirely aware and simply better at hiding his understanding than anyone realized.
The game had indeed changed, but the Velaryons had spent generations learning to navigate changing tides. This would simply be another challenge to master through skill, patience, and the sort of strategic thinking that had made their house indispensable to Targaryen rule for over a century.
The Dance was coming, but perhaps—if everyone played their parts correctly—it might be danced to music that served all their interests rather than tearing them apart.
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# The Red Keep - Rhaenyra's Chambers, 103 AC
The morning sun streamed through tall windows of colored glass, painting Rhaenyra's chambers in jeweled light that seemed to dance across the walls with each passing cloud. At five years old, the princess had already shown preferences that spoke of her royal heritage—rich fabrics in purple and black, furniture carved with dragon motifs, and toys that ranged from delicate dolls dressed as queens to wooden dragons that could be arranged in elaborate battle formations.
Alicent Hightower sat cross-legged on the Persian carpet, her dark hair falling in waves around her shoulders as she helped arrange the miniature dragons according to Rhaenyra's increasingly complex strategic scenarios. At fourteen, she moved with the grace of someone transitioning from childhood to womanhood, but her friendship with the much younger princess remained uncomplicated by the political calculations that governed most court relationships.
"The golden one should be larger," Rhaenyra declared with the authority of someone accustomed to being obeyed, her violet eyes serious as she contemplated the wooden battlefield. "Syrax will be enormous when she's grown—bigger than Caraxes, maybe even bigger than Meleys. She needs to look properly magnificent."
"Perhaps we could ask the toymaker to carve a new one?" Alicent suggested diplomatically, recognizing that Rhaenyra's attachment to her dragon—even in miniature form—ran deeper than simple childhood fancy. "Though I think Syrax is already quite beautiful as she is. Her proportions are very elegant."
Rhaenyra beamed at the compliment, her entire face transforming with delight. "She is beautiful, isn't she? And she's getting bigger every day. The dragonkeepers say she'll be large enough for me to ride soon—maybe by my next nameday, if I'm very good about my lessons and don't try to feed her things she's not supposed to eat."
"What sort of things?" Alicent asked with genuine curiosity mixed with the sort of fond concern that older siblings often showed for younger ones' mischievous impulses.
"Septon Barth's manuscripts," Rhaenyra admitted with a giggle that held absolutely no repentance. "She wanted to see if they tasted different from regular parchment. They don't, but they burn much more prettily. All those colored inks make lovely flames."
Alicent laughed despite herself, though she made a mental note to ensure that any important documents were kept well away from curious young dragons in the future. "Poor Septon Barth. He's probably developing gray hair even in the grave specifically from worrying about your experiments."
"He used to say education requires hands-on experience," Rhaenyra replied with the sort of innocent logic that made even outrageous behavior sound perfectly reasonable. "Though I don't think he meant *that* kind of hands-on experience when he said it."
As they arranged the dragons in new formations—this time depicting the Conquest of Dorne, with appropriate attention to historical accuracy and dramatic effect—Alicent found herself studying her young friend's profile. Rhaenyra's beauty was already evident despite her youth, the classical Targaryen features promising the sort of ethereal perfection that would someday make her the most desired woman in Westeros. But there was something else in her bearing, a quality of unconscious authority that suggested she would never be merely decorative, regardless of how stunning she became.
"Rhaenyra," Alicent said carefully, her tone casual despite the importance of the question she was about to ask, "how do you feel about your betrothal to Prince Jaehaerys? Are you... happy with the arrangement?"
The question drew Rhaenyra's full attention away from the wooden dragons, her violet eyes fixing on Alicent's face with the sort of intense focus that belonged on someone considerably older. For a moment, she seemed to be evaluating not just the question but the person asking it, weighing considerations that no five-year-old should have needed to contemplate.
"Why do you ask?" Rhaenyra replied with diplomatic caution that would have done credit to a seasoned courtier. "Are you unhappy about it? Does your father think the arrangements are unwise?"
The counter-question revealed understanding that went far beyond childish curiosity about marriage and family. Rhaenyra might be young, but she clearly understood that her betrothal carried political implications that affected other people's plans and ambitions.
"I'm not unhappy," Alicent replied honestly, though she chose her words with care. "I think Prince Jaehaerys seems like a remarkable child who will probably grow into a remarkable man. And I think the arrangements eliminate the sort of succession problems that have caused terrible wars in other kingdoms."
She paused, studying Rhaenyra's expression for clues about the princess's actual feelings. "But you're the one who will actually be married to him, who will share a household with him and with Laena, who will need to make the practical arrangements work on a daily basis. Your happiness matters more than anyone else's political calculations."
Rhaenyra was quiet for several moments, her small hands smoothing the fabric of her dress as she considered how much truth to reveal. When she spoke, her voice carried the sort of measured thoughtfulness that suggested careful consideration of complex factors.
"I like him," she said finally. "He's... different from other children our age. Smarter, but not in a show-off way. He notices things that adults miss, but he doesn't make them feel stupid about missing them. When we play together, he listens to my ideas and builds on them instead of trying to prove his are better."
Her expression grew more animated as she warmed to her theme. "And he's kind to servants and guards, not just to people who matter politically. He remembers their names and asks about their families. That's... rare, even among grown-ups who should know better."
"Those are good qualities in a friend," Alicent observed. "But marriage is different from friendship. Marriage means sharing everything—your home, your time, your decisions about children and inheritance and how to rule when your turn comes. Are you ready for that kind of partnership?"
"No," Rhaenyra admitted with refreshing honesty, "but I don't think anyone our age is ready for marriage in that sense. The betrothal means we have time to grow up together, to learn how to be partners before we need to make the really important decisions."
She tilted her head with that characteristic gesture of intense concentration. "Besides, arranged marriages work better when both people understand they're arrangements—when everyone knows it's about politics and alliance rather than just romance and personal preference. That way, you can focus on building respect and cooperation instead of expecting feelings that might never develop naturally."
The observation was remarkably sophisticated for someone so young, suggesting either excellent education or intuitive understanding of human nature that was advanced for her age. Alicent found herself genuinely impressed by the princess's analytical approach to her own future.
"And what about Laena?" Alicent asked. "How do you feel about sharing your husband with another wife? That's... not common in most marriages, even royal ones."
"Laena's nice," Rhaenyra replied with the sort of practical acceptance that suggested she'd given the matter considerable thought. "She's smart and funny, and she knows things about ships and sailing that I find interesting. We've been spending time together lately, getting to know each other better, and I think we could be real friends instead of just... political allies pretending to like each other."
Her voice grew more serious as she continued. "The thing is, being married to someone who might be king someday means there's going to be more work than one person can handle alone. Running the kingdom, managing the family, dealing with all the lords who want different things—it makes sense to share those responsibilities with someone you trust."
"You think of marriage as a working partnership," Alicent observed with growing understanding.
"I think of *royal* marriage as a working partnership," Rhaenyra corrected with precision that revealed careful distinction between different types of relationships. "Other people can marry for love or adventure or because they can't imagine life without each other. But when you're going to rule kingdoms and command dragons and make decisions that affect millions of people, marriage becomes about finding the best partners for that kind of responsibility."
She paused, her expression growing thoughtful. "Though I hope Jaehaerys and I will grow to care about each other as people, not just as political allies. It would be sad to spend your whole life with someone who never really knew you as anything other than your titles and duties."
The conversation was interrupted by a soft knock at the chamber door, followed by the entrance of Princess Aemma, her pregnancy now quite evident beneath her elegant morning gown. Viserys's wife moved with the careful grace of someone navigating the later stages of carrying a child, but her smile was warm as she took in the scene of the two girls surrounded by wooden dragons and elaborate strategic scenarios.
"Good morning, girls," she said with maternal fondness that encompassed both the princess and her older companion. "I hope I'm not interrupting anything too important? Though from the looks of your battlefield, you're conducting military operations of considerable complexity."
"We're reenacting the Conquest of Dorne," Rhaenyra explained, scrambling to her feet to embrace her stepmother with the sort of uncomplicated affection that spoke of genuine mutual devotion. "Alicent is helping me work out how the dragons could have been deployed more effectively if they'd coordinated their attacks better."
"And what conclusions have you reached?" Aemma asked with the sort of interested attention that made children feel their thoughts and observations were genuinely valued.
"That dragons work better as a team," Alicent replied, getting to her feet with more dignity than Rhaenyra's scrambling but equal enthusiasm. "Individual dragons are powerful, but coordinated flights can achieve things that single attacks cannot."
"A wise observation," Aemma agreed, settling carefully into one of the comfortable chairs arranged near the windows. "One that applies to more than just military strategy, I suspect."
Her violet eyes moved between the two girls with something that might have been calculation mixed with maternal concern. "Speaking of coordination and teamwork, Rhaenyra, how are you feeling about the arrangements your great-grandfather announced? I know they represent significant changes to what you might have expected for your future."
Rhaenyra exchanged glances with Alicent, both recognizing that this was a more serious conversation than their previous discussion of toys and historical reenactments. "I think they're sensible," the princess replied with careful honesty. "Maybe not what other people expected, but sensible for our family's situation and the challenges we might face."
"And sharing your future husband with another wife doesn't concern you?" Aemma pressed gently, though her tone carried understanding rather than judgment.
"It might have, if I'd been planning a different kind of marriage," Rhaenyra admitted. "But royal marriages aren't really about the same things that other marriages are about. They're about building alliances, preventing wars, ensuring stable succession. If having two wives makes Prince Jaehaerys better able to handle those responsibilities, then it serves everyone's interests."
Aemma studied her stepdaughter's face with the sort of careful attention that mothers gave to children who were growing up faster than expected. "You sound very... mature about these arrangements. But you're still very young, sweetling. It's all right to have concerns or doubts about such significant changes to your future."
"I do have concerns," Rhaenyra replied with refreshing honesty, "but they're mostly practical ones. How will the household arrangements work? How will we divide responsibilities when we're older? What happens if Jaehaerys and I disagree about important decisions—do we consult with Laena, or does he make final choices, or do we need some other way to resolve conflicts?"
She paused, her expression growing more thoughtful. "I suppose my biggest concern is whether I'll be good at the kind of partnership this marriage will require. I've never had to share authority or compromise on things that matter to me. Learning to do that effectively might be... challenging."
"Those are remarkably thoughtful concerns for someone your age," Alicent observed with obvious admiration, though something in her expression suggested surprise at the princess's analytical approach to her own future.
"Great-grandmother has been teaching me about governance and diplomacy," Rhaenyra explained with obvious pride. "She says that if I'm going to be queen someday, I need to understand how power actually works rather than just expecting people to obey me because of my titles."
"And what have you learned about how power actually works?" Aemma asked with genuine curiosity.
"That it's more about building consensus than giving orders," Rhaenyra replied immediately. "That people follow leaders who make them feel heard and valued, not just leaders who can force compliance. That the best decisions usually come from considering multiple perspectives rather than assuming any one person has all the right answers."
Her violet eyes grew distant as she organized her thoughts. "Great-grandmother says that queens who try to rule through fear or intimidation eventually face rebellion, but queens who rule through respect and partnership create stability that lasts for generations. The marriage arrangements are designed to give me partners who can help me be the second kind of queen rather than the first."
The explanation revealed understanding of political dynamics that went far beyond what most children her age could grasp, suggesting either exceptional tutoring or natural aptitude for the complexities of governance. Alicent found herself genuinely impressed by the depth of Rhaenyra's analysis.
"Your great-grandmother sounds like an excellent teacher," she said with sincere admiration. "Though I suspect you're also a naturally gifted student. Not everyone could absorb such sophisticated concepts so thoroughly at your age."
"The concepts aren't really that sophisticated once you start thinking about them systematically," Rhaenyra replied with the sort of matter-of-fact confidence that suggested she had never doubted her ability to understand complex ideas. "Most politics is just people trying to get what they want while preventing other people from taking what they have. Once you understand that basic dynamic, everything else is just variations on the same themes."
"And what do you want?" Aemma asked quietly, her voice carrying the sort of maternal concern that suggested deeper interest in her stepdaughter's inner emotional life rather than just her political development.
Rhaenyra was quiet for a long moment, her small hands folded in her lap as she considered the question with obvious seriousness. When she spoke, her voice carried a wistfulness that reminded everyone present that despite her analytical sophistication, she was still a very young child contemplating an adult future she couldn't fully understand yet.
"I want to be remembered as a good queen," she said finally. "Not just successful or powerful, but genuinely good—someone who made people's lives better rather than worse, who built things that lasted, who left the kingdom stronger and happier than she found it."
Her expression grew more animated as she warmed to her theme. "I want to fly with Syrax to all the places that dragons used to go, see the ruins of Old Valyria and the Free Cities and maybe even the lands beyond the known maps. I want to read every book in the Red Keep's library and understand how all the different kinds of knowledge connect to each other."
She paused, her voice growing softer. "And I want to have children who grow up feeling loved and secure, who never have to wonder whether their mother sees them as political assets or just... people. I want to give them the kind of childhood that prepares them to be good rulers without stealing away their ability to be happy."
The heartfelt confession drew understanding looks from both Aemma and Alicent, both recognizing the universal desire to balance duty with personal fulfillment that characterized every thoughtful person born to positions of authority.
"Those are beautiful ambitions," Aemma said with obvious maternal pride, though her voice carried notes of concern about the challenges such goals would face. "Though I suspect achieving them will require exactly the sort of partnership and support that these marriage arrangements are designed to provide."
As the morning wore on and their conversation shifted to lighter topics—Syrax's continued growth, plans for Rhaenyra's upcoming nameday celebration, speculation about whether Aemma's pregnancy would produce another Targaryen princess or the long-hoped-for prince—none of them could know that they were laying the emotional and intellectual groundwork for relationships that would either prevent or enable one of the most devastating civil wars in Westerosi history.
The Dance was still years away, but its choreography was already being written in the choices, alliances, and understanding being forged between children who would someday command dragons and reshape kingdoms.
Whether that dance would be performed to music of harmony or discord remained to be seen.
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