"My heart is thrilled by the still of your hand
That's how I know now that you understand
How big the hourglass, how deep the sand
I shouldn't hope to know, but here I stand"

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇

The streets of King's Landing were bustling with activity as Daenys made her way toward the Dragonpit. Her steps were hurried, driven by a sense of urgency that had plagued her since morning. She rounded a corner and froze, spotting Daemon a short distance ahead. He was walking briskly, his dark cloak billowing behind him, seemingly heading towards the city's outskirts. Without hesitation, she abandoned her original route and hurried after him instead.

"Daemon!" she called out, her voice ringing through the narrow street. He did not turn, his pace unrelenting. Daenys quickened her steps, her heart pounding as she closed the distance between them. When she was finally close enough, she hollered again, "Where are you going?"

The Rogue Prince halted abruptly, whirling around with flaming eyes, his hand twitching towards the hilt of his sword, and for a brief moment, Daenys thought he might lash out at her. 

"Where are you off to?" she demanded, breathless from her pursuit.

"To Harrenhal," he snapped. "I might as well make myself useful since your mother wants nothing to do with me for the moment."

"And what have you done this time to vex her?"

"She is a little more than simply vexed. The queen cannot stand the sight of me."

Daenys exhaled softly, a bitter understanding washing over her. "So she finally found out, did she? About what you did."

Daemon's lips curled into a smirk. "I have done a great many things over the course of my brief life. You'll have to be more specific."

The princess paused, knowing there was only one act that could have incensed her mother to such an extent, only one act horrific enough for her to banish him in such a way. 

"Helaena's child. The queen found out about what you did to him."

Her stepfather's eyes flashed with defiance. "I have done nothing. I simply wrote to Mysaria and asked that the matter be handled." He paused, his lips twisting into a satisfied smile. "So you knew?"

"Of course, I knew. I have known for a long time."

Daemon seemed even more pleased by her response. "And yet you said nothing to your mother? You must have understood the necessity of it. Perhaps you may convey that to her when I am gone so that she might hate me a little less."

"I will do no such thing," Daenys grit out through clenched teeth, "and I most certainly do not approve. What you did was unforgivable. You killed Helaena's boy."

Her blood boiled, and she could scarcely make eye contact with the man, wanting more than anything to scream at him, to finally ask him why he did it, why he had reduced her most beloved girl to the state she was in now.

"I killed the usurper's child, and I did it for Luke."

His words were only fuel to the fire, and her anger flared, wishing she could physically wrench her brother's name from his mouth. 

"My brother would not want the blood of another innocent shed. My brother would never have condoned such a thing in his name."

Daemon sighed, his hand tightening around the hilt of his sword out of habit. "If it is an apology you are looking for, you will not receive one."

"I wouldn't expect one from you."

"I did what was necessary. My only regret is the pain it causes your mother, but it had to be done. To bring the usurper down from his high horse of arrogance. His son for mine."

"Luke was no son of yours!" Daenys snapped. "Do not use his name to justify what you have done. And Jaehaerys had always been Helaena's son more than he had been Aegon's. If my uncle cared much for his family, for his children or his wife, he would not have escaped like a coward and left them to face the queen's wrath alone. It is my Helaena's son you have stolen, not the usurper's, regardless of what you tell yourself."

Daemon's expression darkened, but Daenys doubted he felt much guilt. Helaena was simply another one of his brother's children that he disapproved of, as unworthy of his sympathy as Aegon. 

"You are no saint either," he spat. "You are no better than me. Perhaps we shall revisit your views on morality once you have returned from Tumbleton with your exploits, and I have returned from Harrenhal to put your Kinslayer husband's head on a spike."

"No!"

"No? You wish to spare him even now, after all that he has done? Then you are a craven as well as a traitor to your queen and your brother."

"It is not that I wish to spare him! I simply do not wish to leave the city undefended."

"Undefended from what? I will eliminate the biggest threat to the queen."

Daenys resisted the urge to roll her eyes. "And what if you are unable to find him in time? What if he returns to King's Landing to take it back by force for his brother, who may I remind you, has still not been found. My mother would be defenceless. My brothers and Rhaena cannot ride, and Baela would not survive a fight against Vhagar if it came down to it."

At the mention of his daughter, Daemon's eyes softened. "You cannot possibly expect me to sit here and do nothing. This war will only end when the heads of the traitors are mounted on spikes above the King's Gate, and not before. The usurper will be found in time, hiding under some rock, but in the meantime, we should bring war to his brothers."

"And we are. I am doing my best. I will not rest until we have dealt with the Hightower host and the Kinslayer's brother, so surely there are other ways for you to make yourself useful here. You must remain to defend the city. My mother's dragon is not seasoned in battle, and as the queen, she cannot be expected to risk her life like that. It has to be you, it can only be you."

"Leave behind the dragonseeds then, if you are so worried. They should be enough to defend the city," Daemon sneered. "Your brother seemed very confident in their abilities when he had them initiated into the council."

"Mother no longer trusts them." Daenys was beginning to get impatient. "If they remain here, sooner or later, the councilmen will convince her that they are traitors and if she has them arrested for treason, it would be the gravest mistake. She would lose the Sea Snake's support. Addam and Nettles are of more use to her fighting her enemies, so that they may prove their loyalty once and for all."

"She does not even wish to see me. You are much too confident in naming me her protector."

"Then make yourself scarce and do not cross paths with her until she has forgiven you, but do not leave her. Do not abandon her to be defeated by her enemies. They are everywhere and you know it. Even as we speak, Joffrey lies abed because someone wanted him dead, wanted our queen crippled by yet another loss."

The Rogue Prince considered her words carefully, glancing at her with a curious expression. "You do seem to place a lot of faith in my abilities, for someone who disapproves of my methods."

It seemed that, for a moment, he had silenced her, for she had no response. His words reminded her once again, that she was a hypocrite. She disapproved of his cruelty only when it was leveraged against Helaena, someone she cared about. Truth be told, she did not concern herself with who else he hurt in his quest to safeguard the throne, as long as it was not someone else she was fond of. Her indifference was easy enough, considering that her aunt and her children were the only ones from amongst the Greens she valued. The sentiment curdled in her stomach, shameful and persistent, and she swallowed the bile that rose in her throat. 

He was right. She was no saint either, and to preach to him of all people about brutality seemed almost foolish—a cosmic joke of sorts. Here she was, on a quest to yet again take another family member from Helaena, the brother she had cherished so deeply when they were children. She was going to deliver him right to her mother who would have his head for treason. She would do to her aunt, what her husband had done to her, making her just as wretched as the man she had cursed over and over. Maybe she was much worse even, knowingly inflicting such pain on another when she knew how it felt. 

Daemon placed a hand on her shoulder, and if she wasn't so repulsed by it, it would have comforted her. She had always been someone who craved validation. 

"War demands sacrifice. We must bear the burdens so that those we care about do not have to."

"And what good are the burdens if we hurt those very people through our actions."

"Who knows?" Daemon shrugged, then he smiled at her and it was almost paternal. "But one thing I know for certain, your father would be proud of you. As will I be, when you take back Tumbleton for your queen."

Daenys nodded stiffly. His approval felt strange, and she was unsure how she was meant to accept it. 

 "Then please return to my mother, and protect her."

"And what of your husband who terrorizes the river lords even now as we speak?"

"The Hightower host is a greater threat that must be abated," Daenys paused, mulling over her next words before she let them slip past her lips. "The kinslayer is mine to punish. You have already had your revenge through Jaehaerys. This next retribution is mine to claim."

The kinslayer was indeed hers, in more ways than one. 

She could tell that her stepfather did not quite believe her words, but he only gave a noncommittal hum and a knowing glance before making his way back toward the Red Keep. 

"I do hope you bring the young prince home in one piece," he called out behind him, "so that I may have the pleasure of taking his head myself...but if you feel inclined to do so instead, I wouldn't mind it entirely."

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇

It had long been the custom for at least one dragon rider to reside at the dragon pit, so as to be able to rise to the defence of the city should the need arise. As the queen preferred to keep her children by her side, that duty fell to Addam Velaryon, but even his position had become precarious, and he was beginning to wonder if he should abandon his post. He had heard the rumours, had heard of every ill thought and cruel joke made at his expense in the council room as the people he had so loyally served questioned his devotion. Although Lord Corlys had reassured him that the queen's heir still held him in high regard, it was clear that his position in her eyes was becoming more precarious after Hugh Hammer's betrayal. 

He seldom saw Nettles anymore too, the bold and foul-mouthed girl occasionally stopping by to relay the latest news from the city as she patrolled overhead, joined by the Lady Baela as they frequented the journey between Driftmark, Dragonstone, and King's Landing. Perhaps his fellow dragonseed had made herself scarce for fear of the queen sending her guards after them for perceived treason—a decision he would not fault her for. 

He too thought about it sometimes, leaving it all behind. It would have been all too easy, to abandon everything, take his brother, and flee. Still, there was something to be said about honour, and Addam Velaryon thought himself an honourable man. The young Prince Jacaerys had placed his trust in him, and treated him like a brother even, despite the fact that sometimes Addam felt that he should have despised him for being a replacement for his trueborn brother. He had taken the dead prince's seat, his betrothed, and had claimed their father's dragon, yet the Velaryon siblings remained kind to him. Lord Corlys had even gone as far as to name him the heir to Driftmark—a decision Addam found difficult to accept when the Sea snake had a remaining Velaryon grandson, Joffrey. They chose to have faith in him, and his mother had raised him to be righteous. 

We may not be of noble blood, she had once said, but we must be noble of character. 

Nonetheless, it felt somewhat futile to remain here, awaiting the queen's decision to behead him while her enemies drew closer. Addam had heard of how her army had been defeated at Tumbleton, but if he could just leave the city, he was certain he could gather another, even if he had to visit every castle great and small whose lords were still loyal. He would piece together a host of his own that would show the queen and all those who doubted him. He was determined to prove that all bastards need not be turncloaks, because to doubt his blood was to doubt his mother, and Marilda of Hull was no coward. She was brave beyond measure and she had raised her boys to be as such. 

If he saw Nettles again, he would ask her to take his place at the dragon pit, so that he might put his scheme into action. 

He was then caught off guard when he saw the princess storming toward him, her single eye blazing, and a fearsome scowl marred her usually dissociatively blank features. Addam's heart sank. He had been expecting this moment, dreading it ever since the rumours began to swirl. He wondered if the queen had finally succumbed to the whispers and decided to lock him in the black cells. As Daenys stopped in front of him, arms crossed and appraising him carefully, he swallowed hard. He was significantly taller than her, but she still managed to look almost comically fearsome, somewhat helped by the ragged leather eyepatch she wore.

"Princess," he began hastily. "Whatever you have heard, it is not true. I would never betray—"

Daenys frowned in confusion, cutting him off. "I am not here to... betray? No, I am not here to arrest you. We are here to recruit."

"Recruit?" Addam echoed, his heart still hammering in his chest. "We?"

She pointed upwards, where Nettles circled above on Sheepstealer. The great dragon cast a long shadow over them as it soared gracefully through the sky.

"The queen has given us permission to defend Tumbleton," the princess explained. "Our mission is to cause enough damage to the Hightower army to dissuade them from taking King's Landing."

Addam looked at her in slight amusement. "You look like you want to arrest me," he remarked dryly.

"I do not think I could manage such a feat all on my own."

"Wouldn't stop you from trying."

Daenys smoothed a hand down her face, massaging her temples. "I apologize if I came across that way. I, like my brother, have faith in your loyalties. Loyalties you now have the chance to prove by accompanying us to Tumbleton."

"And what of the queen?"

"Do not worry. The men of the council may clamour against you, but there is no opinion my mother values more than that of my brother. As long as you have Jace's confidence, you have hers too. It also helps that the Sea Snake is firmly on your side."

Addam glanced at her, considering her words. "And what of the city? Who will defend King's Landing if all the dragon riders have been sent away?"

Daenys' scowl returned. "I have managed to convince my mother's husband to remain here. Let us hope he heeds my counsel...though perhaps it is unwise to trust him. Perhaps we might leave Nettles behind."

"I do not wish to be left behind!" Nettles exclaimed from behind her, having already landed her dragon to listen in on their conversation. "I will be useful at Tumbleton. They have Vermithor, for fuck's sake."

"Netty!" Addam chastised, glancing at Daenys with a pointed look as if to remind the younger girl to mind her language in front of the princess.  

Nettles rolled her eyes, feeling very much like a reprimanded child, a foreign concept to a girl who had never had any family and then suddenly gained two brothers in the form of Addam and Alyn. 

"What I mean to say, princess," she amended with an exaggerated drawl of her title, "is that they have two dragons already, so we should outnumber them. Especially since you ride with us. You cannot put yourself at risk."

Daenys frowned. "I am perfectly capable of protecting myself, but I appreciate the concern."

"If you say so."

Then the princess allowed herself a small smile. The girl before her reminded her of a more rowdy version of Baela. Anyone else would have balked at speaking to her in such a way, but Nettles was cavalier and Daenys appreciated it. 

Addam looked between the two of them, his apprehension slowly giving way to determination. "Very well. If the prince and the Sea Snake believe in us, then we must ride to Tumbleton at once. We will defend the realm and show the Hightowers that they cannot take the queen for a fool."

"And show that Hugh fellow what is done with traitors," Nettles scorned. "It's his fault everyone is after us now, calling us all sorts of names when they know nothing about us."

The girl made a fist and ground it into her other hand, an act her companions found comical coming from someone of her stature. 

Daenys nodded, her expression softening slightly. "Good. We leave at first light. Make your preparations."

"Of course."

"And one more thing," the princess paused, unsure how to phrase her next words. "Do not die."

Nettles snickered, "Is that not part of our oath, to die for our queen."

"You are more useful to her alive. So do not die. I will do my best to—"

"To what, princess? Protect us?" Addam winked. "That is our duty, I believe. You sure are a funny sort of commander. Most would order us to die, to give our all."

"I believe live soldiers are more capable of giving their best than dead ones, Ser Addam," Daenys arched an eyebrow in amusement. 

Just do not die, please.

What she did not say was that she could bear another death on her conscience. She was asking them to risk their lives for her family after all. A bleeding heart, some might have called her, but she liked to think that somewhere in the afterlife, wherever her father was now, he approved. Ser Laenor had always emphasized the importance of the men he had led, and in every story he told, he highlighted the courage of his companions even more than his own feats. 

Addam inclined his head in acknowledgment, as if understanding her deeper sentiments. "Thank you, princess. For your faith in me."

"You have earned it. Do not make me regret it."

They were interrupted by the sound of hooves pounding against the cobblestones, and the trio turned to see a knight galloping toward them on a gleaming silver steed. The man's dark hair was windswept, and his armour clinked softly with each stride of his horse. As he drew closer, it was clear he was out of breath. He reined in his horse sharply, coming to a stop just in front of Daenys.

"Glad I caught you in time, princess," he said, his voice tinged with relief. "Your brother said you might be here."

"Ser Atticus?" Daenys exclaimed, her surprise evident. "What are you doing here?"

Ser Atticus shrugged, as if the answer were obvious. "Accompanying you, of course. You could not possibly expect me to let you go alone."

"But Helaena—"

Ser Atticus cut her off gently. "The princess is well protected. Ser Lyonel is an honourable man and will guard her and her children with his life. But my place is, as it has always been, with you. I am your sworn protector, and now I shall be your eyes and ears on the ground."

Daenys hesitated, still concerned for her aunt's well-being, particularly now that she shared a roof with Daemon. She would not put it past him to hurt them in an attempt to lure Aegon out of hiding, or simply just to enjoy Alicent's torment, because no one was angrier than he when Rhaenyra refused to send the dowager queen to the chopping block alongside her father. 

"There is nothing you could say that would dissuade me, princess," Ser Atticus beseeched apologetically. "I must come with you. Ser Lyonel is a good friend, and the queen herself has taken an interest in her half-sister's safety as well. To cause harm to her would be akin to treason, she has decreed."

At times she wished she had a less steadfast sworn shield. Still, the gods had blessed her with possibly the most honourable man in all of Westeros, so she shrugged, eventually giving in. If her mother had ordered protection for Helaena, then there was little else she could do to supplement her efforts. 

"I suppose if you can keep up, you may come along."

Ser Atticus laughed heartily and patted his steed's flank. "Oh, we shall keep up alright. My girl here is as fast as she is beautiful."

The words brought a smile to Daenys' face, her second that day which was a marvel, as the horse nickered softly in response. She had always found a strange comfort in the fact that her knight's horse matched her dragon, both in temperament and colouring. There was something amusing about it that had delighted her in her youth—their mounts an echo of themselves.

Nettles, who had been listening quietly, finally spoke up. "Seems like we're gathering quite the party," she said with a grin. "Are there any other stragglers who would join us?"

Joffrey would have liked to, Daenys thought bitterly. He would be sour-faced and ill-tempered when he awoke to discover she had left again, breaking her promise to not leave him once more. 

"My brother...is he..."

Ser Atticus hung his head. "No change in his condition, I'm afraid."

"I see." 

"But the maesters are hopeful. He shall welcome you most joyfully when you return victorious, princess."

If I return. 

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇

Across the city, Aegon Targaryen's downfall had begun to take form, orchestrated at the hands of one of his earliest victims. 

Dyana stood outside the dingy exterior of one of the brothels that lined the streets of silk, her breaths coming in short, anxious bursts as she steeled herself to cross the threshold. The structure loomed over her, its windows flickering with the dim light of oil lamps, casting eerie shadows on the street. The smell of cheap perfume and stale ale wafted out, mingling with the pungent scent of the harbour.

When she had first seen the familiar form of the hunched figure and cruel features framed by greasy silver hair, half obscured by his ragged hooded cloak, she had almost thought she was dreaming. It had been weeks ago, during the chaos when the new queen stormed the city. She had watched the man be ushered onto a small boat at the harbour, heard the man who led him exchange hushed words with the owner of the boat, and saw a pouch heavy with gold trade hands. Dyana had not told a single soul about what she saw. Her mother had always strictly demanded that she stay out of the affairs of the filthy nobles, particularly after all she had suffered at their hands, but now her mother was dead, and Dyana had seven younger siblings to feed. Surely information like this would be useful to someone.

She repeated this justification to herself as she approached the brothel where the infamous White Worm was said to frequent. Now here was a woman who dealt in secrets, and rumour had it, she had the ear of the queen too. Perhaps she would be able to petition for Dyana to be returned to her old position. It was not an entirely appealing prospect, but there were far worse fates, and working in the Red Keep once more had to be better than selling herself to any brothel that would take her.

Dyana's thoughts briefly wandered to the one friend she had made in the Red Keep, the only friend she had ever made really, for people like her seldom had time for companionship; the girl whom she had driven away herself. She had seen the princess as of late, scouting the streets of the city's underbelly, but she had never managed to summon the courage to approach her, or to face her. Partially because she no longer recognized her, with the crude scar that stretched across her skin like a grotesque canyon, and the stiff way she held herself, like something under her skin was simply waiting to rip open her flesh and leap out. It unnerved Dyana more than she cared to admit, and she did not wish to speak to the princess. She did worry for her though; she always worried for her.

She took another deep breath. This was her last hope. If the White Worm would not help her, she didn't know what she would do. The weight of her responsibility pressed down on her like a physical burden. Seven mouths to feed, seven innocent lives depending on her. 

And she would be lying if she said she would not feel some modicum of satisfaction when the bawdy prince was dragged before the queen. Surely he would be beheaded, and Dyana would take great pleasure in watching his head be mounted at the city gate. 

Slowly, she pushed open the heavy wooden door and stepped inside. The brothel was dimly lit, and women in various states of undress lounged about, their eyes sharp and assessing as they took in the newcomer—business was running as usual even in the middle of a war it seemed. Dyana felt their gazes prickling against her skin, but she kept her chin up, determined not to show her fear.

The brothel madame approached her first, looking her up and down, then jerking her head toward a door at the back. "Through there. She's expecting you."

"Who—"

"You know who."

Dyana's heart skipped a beat. She hadn't expected to be recognized, but it seemed her presence had already been noted. With a hesitant nod, she made her way to the door, her steps echoing in the dimly lit corridor beyond.

The chambers were at the end of the hall, guarded by two imposing men who stepped aside at her approach. The trembling girl knocked once, then entered without waiting for a response. Inside, a woman stood with her arms crossed, a swathe of ink-black hair spilling out of her pale hood, her eyes sharp and calculating as she appraised her. She was beautiful in a way that was almost otherworldly, her presence commanding the room. 

"I know who you are," she said, her voice smooth and accented. 

Dyana swallowed hard, feeling the weight of the woman's gaze. "You...you do?"

"Of course. I know everybody."

"Oh."

"Go on then, I hear you have something of value for me."

 "I have information," Dyana whispered, trying to steady her breathing enough to push the words out. "About—about the...usurper."

The White Worm's anticipatory smile was almost predatory in nature as it widened. 

"Do tell."

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇

A/N: As usual, don't be a ghost reader. I live for yalls comments/questions/concerns/reactions, even a keyboard smash is highly appreciated and encouraged! Would love to hear your predictions/hopes for future battles/events :)