It was an intermingling of animals waiting for bloodshed.

Houses of all sigils, vicious predators and weak prey, all of whom had their own ideas about how the day should proceed. Rhysaenya saw colors of every kind, lords and ladies standing with many of their family members or few. Lions, sheep, seahorses, stags, phoenixes, dragons, they were all here and everyone wished to be the first to make someone bleed.

She'd left Jaehaerys and Jaehaera with a maid, having hugged them tight and whispering that she hoped it would go as was necessary to bring the truth to light. She wanted to see little Jaehaerys– who still enjoyed sucking on his thumb– wearing a crown. She wanted to see Jaehaera in a larger version of the little dresses she wore, smiling at the smallfolk while they reached out to her the way they did Rhysaenya. Her children had become her everything, and for them she wanted it all.

At her mother's request, she had donned a dress in similar fashion to Helaena. She would have preferred to wear her dragon riding frock or her armor to show the strength of her house, but at Rhaelyn's insistence, had instead donned a green dress with a high neckline, nearly as reserved as that which the Queen wore– always with the seven-pointed star at her neck. Rhysaenya forewent any necklaces, instead choosing bracelets to adorn her wrists visible through loose sleeves that stopped at her elbows and hung beside her skirt, embroidered with a pattern of dragon scales. Helaena had made braids throughout her hair, then interconnected the braids in a beautiful netting that kept the rest of it flat– her mother worried too much about any visible curling that might cause Daemon to look too close– his own curled when wet.

She looked ever the part of a future (though annoyingly gentle) Queen, stepping in alongside Aegon, who had his arm looped through hers and guided her to stand with them and the members of the Small Council. Behind them, in the gallery, were presumably all the people who shared their perspective. As such, the court as a whole appeared split in two, wherein Rhaenyra and Daemon's brood stood on the opposite side as them accompanied by others who must have been in support of the Princess.

Rhysaenya noticed at once that Rhaenyra did not care to even look at her siblings, to even notice how much they had grown since she last saw them. It didn't matter to her, they would always be her father's children by a woman she hated, a woman who had refused to be a mother to her and had only pretended to be kind at first when Viserys needed to see them interact.

She knew how the story went, where they were concerned. It was said Alicent had tended to Jaehaerys during his final weeks, many accusing her of having surrendered her virtue to him and even comforting Viserys immediately after Queen Aemma's passing. She had named Rhaenyra a daughter on the day she wed her father, but had quickly become incessant– like her father, Ser Otto Hightower– in questioning Viserys's lack of change in the succession.

Two years before Rhysaenya was born, Ser Otto had been stripped of his chain of office for questioning the King too much. But the Queen had still had her friends even after her father left. During the tourney to celebrate the King and Queen's fifth marriage anniversary– the same tourney where her mother and Daemon conceived her, Rhaenyra and Alicent had arrived wearing different colors. Rhaenyra, in the traditional Targaryen red and black. Queen Alicent, donning the green of her house. They'd started calling them the 'Blacks' and 'Greens' ever after that– she heard the whisperers in the hall using such words.

Then there was the entire scandal with Daemon, all these tales of him claiming Rhaenyra's virtue during the course of the tourney, of him being banished by King Viserys. Thereafter had begun the calling for a husband for Rhaenyra. Rhysaenya heard that duels had been fought over her, even Lord Jason and Ser Tyland Lannister had wanted to wed her. At one point, the King had supposedly considered wedding her to the Prince of Dorne to bring them into the Realm. This was when Alicent had put Aegon forth as a candidate. And, well, they'd seen how that went.

She was beautiful even now, Rhysaenya knew. Rhaenyra had not lost the features that made her a rare beauty in the Realm, with her long silvery hair, bring purple eyes, a perfect aquiline nose, and a gentle voice. She dressed lavishly, to be sure, but Rhysaenya expected as much from the daughter of any King– the same had been said about Saera and Viserra. She admired her, in a way, though she hardly knew her. She should have known her better, having grown up in the castle. She should have had any sort of relationship with this cousin of hers.

Yet, Rhaenyra had not been preoccupied with anything involving other people's children. In fact, even with her own children, it seemed she had been willing to make choices that would affect them one day. Rhysaenya could not judge her for having passions, but there had been a clear solution to these passions that might have prevented this moment.

Ser Otto Hightower presided over the trial, standing before the Iron Throne. "Though it is the great hope of the court that Lord Corlys Velaryon survive his wounds, we gather here with the grim task of dealing with the succession of Driftmark. As Hand, I speak with the King's voice on this and all other matters. The Crown will now hear the petitions."

He sat himself down– gods, the Iron Throne was but a toy in her eyes after seeing the Throne of Agni. She glanced over her shoulder at her parents, who did not seem all that happy to see Otto on the throne. One of their lessons had been that none but the lord who the throne belonged to should sit on it in matters of court. For example, Eilryd should never sit the Throne of Agni, not even when he was presiding in his father's stead. Not until he himself held the title of Keeper of the Throne of Agni– this was very important. It preserved the power in the throne.

"Ser Vaemond of House Velaryon," called Otto. The man strode up to the center, his face one reflecting arrogance and disgust with the entire matter. Rhysaenya could see the way Daemon glared at the man, imagining him skewered she would think.

Vaemond greeted them respectfully. "My Queen," he said to Alicent, nodding to her and the rest of them who stood at her side. "My Lord Hand." He faced the throne. "The history of our noble houses extends beyond the Seven Kingdoms to the days of Old Valyria." This would have made sense if you were speaking to the King or to Aegon, but they are not dragons. I suppose Queen Alicent and I were made dragons by marriage in their eyes, but it is not so. "For as long as House Targaryen has ruled the skies, House Velaryon has ruled the seas." She noticed the way her father twitched– he loathed whenever anyone disregarded House Ignividus as being Valyrian. They certainly no longer looked it, but none should ever forget it.

Indeed they did. She knew from her parents that it was important this trial establish the support of House Velaryon to Aegon's cause– while they already held dominance on the mainland with House Ignividus's support, they needed to find the same at sea. "When the Doom fell on Valyria," continued Vaemond, "our houses became the last of their kind." Admittedly, her father could not be upset about this– House Ignividus had established themselves on Tarth nearly thirty years before the Doom. "Our forebearers came to this knew land, knowing that were they to fail, it would mean the end to their bloodlines and their name."

She saw how her father's jaw twitched, she knew what he would have said. Their houses survived because we had our dominion already, he had once told her. Had House Ignividus not supported them, they would have been lost. We should have been named Lords Paramount of the Stormlands, were it not for the Conqueror's half-brother Orys Baratheon. How easily they forget who it was that helped them when they had nothing. This is why you must avenge us, all the times House Targaryen forgot we mattered. Show them that without us, they are nothing.

"I have spent my entire life on Driftmark defending my brother's seat," finished Ser Vaemond. "I am Lord Corlys's closest kin, his own blood. The true, unimpeachable blood of House Velaryon runs through my veins."

Without much of a glance, Princess Rhaenyra muttered, "As it does in my sons, the offspring of Laenor Velaryon. If you cared so much about your house's blood, Ser Vaemond, you would not be so bold as to supplant its rightful heir. No, you only speak for yourself and for your own ambition–"

Alicent put a stop to her little tirade, "You will have a chance to make your own petition, Princess Rhaenyra. Do Ser Vaemond the courtesy of allowing his to be heard." Quite an embarrassing thing, in Rhysaenya's eyes.

Ser Vaemond seemed glad for the opportunity to direct himself at Rhaenyra. "What do you know of Velaryon blood, Princess? I could cut my veins and show it to you and you still wouldn't recognize it. This is about the future and survival of my house, not yours."

She saw the way Jacaerys and Lucerys looked ready to wet themselves. Lucerys especially looked so afraid. Rhysaenya pitied what he was enduring because of his mother's choices. She saw the way he looked over at them. Glancing at Aemond, she could see why the boy looked so scared– her lover was staring at him with that smirk on his face. Oh, he knew how to instigate.

He tucked his hands behind his back, looking at the throne anew. "My Queen, my Lord Hand, this is a matter of blood, not ambition. I place the continuation of the survival of my house and my line above all. I humbly put myself before you as my brother's successor... the Lord of Driftmark and Lord of the Tides." He glanced at Rhaenyra as he stepped aside, as if challenging her to find an explanation as to why he should not become Lord of the Tides.

She saw the way Lucerys twitched anxiously as his mother left his side. Was he so green he needed her this badly? Rhaenyra took Ser Vaemond's place before the court, beginning, "If I am to grace this farce with some answer, I will start by reminding the court that nearly twenty years ago..."

Rhysaenya knew at once she was going to reference herself becoming heir. It's not about that, Rhaenyra, not now. It's about how, when made heir, you did not produce Valyrian-looking offspring. You would be questioned as heir regardless, but you affected another house when you made your choice. That said little to the matter at hand.

But Rhaenyra did not get to properly start her argument. The entrance doors boomed open, everyone's necks snapping to the entrance hall to see who had arrived so late. Rhysaenya was shocked to see Ser Erryk of the Kingsguard stepping aside to let in the King himself, a golden mask over the side of his face.

"King Viserys of House Targaryen," he announced, "the First of His Name, King of the Andals, and the Rhoynar, and the First Men. Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm."

None one spoke as King Viserys limped forward with his cane in hand, making towards the Iron Throne. Rhysaenya felt Aegon's hand slide into hers, felt the tight squeeze from it. When had his father ever mustered such strength for him? He'd had to be carried to attend their wedding, and he had not been there long. Rhysaenya remembered a quick wheeze of congratulations and nothing more– he'd never cared to know her, never cared to know his own son.

She looked towards her parents as the King passed them, his cane echoing with each painful step. Her father's eyes gleamed darkly, partially in admiration of the old man and in frustration knowing that all would go as Rhaenyra wished it now that he had come to vouch for her and her boys. He was blinder even than a man with no eyes.

The King glanced sideways at them as he passed. She had bowed her head respectfully, but still managed to look at him– gods, he had no hair on the top of his head, what remained wisps behind his ears. The crown barely sat still over his forehead, all visible skin covered in scars or wounds. She could smell the rotted flesh he hid beneath the mask– Aemond and Aegon had told her that half of their father's face had already been eaten away by his disease.

She saw the way he looked at Alicent, completely disregarding his children. Helaena's look was so hopeful, Rhysaenya knew she wanted her father to look at her but he did not. By then, Ser Otto had descended from the throne. The King rasped weakly, "I will sit the throne today." The Hand stepped aside, almost with embarrassment. Viserys could hardly pass the first step, declining help from the Kingsguard. He groaned in effort and agony, and at last his crown fell from his head well before he reached the throne. Daemon flew to his side, picking up the crown and helping him up the rest of the way. Once he'd sat, the crown was planted back on his head. She'd never once seen Daemon be a brother to the King. She'd hardly known him to be anything but a cunt, in the stories her parents told.

As the King caught his breath, he began, "I must... admit... my confusion. I do not understand why petitions are being heard over a settled succession. The only one... present... who might offer keener insight into Lord Corlys's wishes is the Princess Rhaenys."

Rhysaenya's heart skipped a beat, thinking perhaps they were still going to be fine. Rhaenys took the floor, "Indeed, Your Grace. It was ever my husband's will that Driftmark pass through Ser Laenor to his trueborn son... Lucerys Velaryon. His mind never changed. Nor did my support of him. As a matter of fact, the Princess Rhaenyra has just informed me of her desire to marry her sons Jace and Luke to Lord Corlys's granddaughters, Baela and Rhaena. A proposal to which I heartily agree."

Gods, they'd done it again. How Rhaenyra managed to scheme her way there would not be easily understood. Lucerys's children would certainly be Velaryons even if he was not. Rhysaenya could see the way her father fought the urge to roll his eyes– she felt the same way, honestly.

"Well," said the King, "the matter is settled. Again. I hereby reaffirm Prince Lucerys of House Velaryon as heir to Driftmark, the Driftwood Throne, and the next Lord of the Tides." Some began to clap. She saw the way Rhaenyra and her children looked so happy, so satisfied with themselves.

But Ser Vaemond was not satisfied. "You break law and centuries of tradition to install your daughter as heir. Yet you dare tell me who deserves to inherit the name Velaryon. No. I will not allow it."

That was the wrong thing to say. "Allow it?" The King sounded about as sharp as he must have been able to. "Do not forget yourself, Vaemond."

The man would not let it rest. He jabbed a finger towards Lucerys, who flinched. "That is no true Velaryon, and certainly no nephew of mine."

"Go to your chambers," said Rhaenyra, motioning for Lucerys to take his leave. She'd hide this from him, coddle him as things got ugly. And she judged him ready to become Lord of the Tides? To Vaemond, she spoke coolly, "You have said enough."

"Lucerys is my true-born grandson," affirmed the King. "And you are no more than the second son of Driftmark."

"You may run your house as you see fit," said Vaemond angrily, "but you will not decide the future of mine. My house survived the Doom and a thousand tribulations besides. And gods be damned–" He looked at Lucerys again, "I will not see it ended on account of this–" He pressed his lips together, stopping himself from saying what everyone was thinking.

"Say it," whispered Daemon, always instigating. Vaemond's anger burst, perhaps furious with everyone's blindness. He shouted out, "Her children are bastards!" There were audible gasps throughout, but it paled in comparison to what he said next, "And she... is a whore."

That might have taken it too far. Had he stopped at calling them bastards, they might have had the opportunity to question why he would say such a thing, what his evidence was to that account. But instead, he put the entire court in uproar. "Let's go," said Rhysaenya, turning Helaena away with the intention of sparing her whatever shouting match was about to ensue.

She did so just in time. The King had stood from his throne, brandishing the Valyrian steel dagger he wore at his hip, "I... will have your tongue for that."

There was a slicing sound, sharp steel cutting through cold air. Dark Sister, Daemon's sword, had cut through Vaemond's head, severing it in half. "He can keep his tongue," he said as the body fell.

Karrhys reacted faster than the Kingsguard, Backbiter leaving its scabbard at once and pointed right at Daemon's chest while the White Cloaks had barely realized what had happened. But her father was not so bold as to have threatened Daemon further– he was far enough away that it was a warning not to shed any further blood. She saw the way Daemon smiled, amused, and tucked his sword away as if he'd done no wrong.

At the throne, the King had almost collapsed. The Queen ran to him at once, asking for maesters. Rhysaenya kept Helaena facing away from the scene, ushering her out of the throne room. She could see the way her father and Daemon were still glaring at each other, challenging one another. It looked almost funny to her, what with the way her father towered over him. She would have liked to see how quickly Karrhys would cut him down if the necessity had been real. Even her mother could have made quick work of Daemon– and it looked as though she wanted to, with the way she stared as if ready to kill him with her bare hands.

Helaena had been in a state after that, shivering and covering her ears, telling her all she could hear was the steel, the sword cutting into Ser Vaemond. She spoke of visions where she'd seen it happen, how some flashes finally made sense. It must have been so exhausting to know the future in pieces and not understand things until they came to pass. She was sure that a kind person like Helaena would have hoped to change so many things for innocent people who got hurt, seeing their fates and being unable to stop their progression.

Rhysaenya had no intention of attending the dinner they were invited to after the trial, an attempt by the King to pacify relations within his family. She didn't think Helaena was interested in attending, either, but as the King's daughter, she had no choice. Aegon had been surprisingly gentle when he came to fetch her from Rhysaenya's rooms, where she'd brought Helaena to hold the babes and calm herself. Helaena so loved Jaehaerys, always cradling him and telling him not to play with rats. Which rats, Rhysaenya never saw, but the boy must have been curious already.

"I'm sorry, Hel," he told his sister. "But we must go, it is time. Rhysaenya... you will not join us?"

She shook her head. "It is not my place. I would rather not be in such close quarters with any of them after what happened." She knew he would understand– I do not wish to be seated so close to Daemon, where he might do or says something. I am not sure I can control a vicious remark if he tries. "I will remain here, with our children." She gave him a hopeful look. "Come and find me when you are done. I hope it will remain peaceful."

He offered her a smile. "I'll come see you later, then." He took Jaehaerys from Helaena as she stood, kissing his son's cheek, then handing him to Rhysaenya. He was careful in the way he led his sister out, opening the door for her. She noticed an increase in these chivalrous habits since they learned they were going to marry– he was trying, he really was. He'd made changes in his behavior for her, for her. Gods, she did not think she could ever admire a man so much.

How she enjoyed his company, their talks, the way he cared for their children. The way he smiled when they rode their dragons together, the way he laughed. She adored his smile, the curls in his hair, the way his eyes would wander when he spoke as though he was really there with his thoughts. He would sometimes sing softly to the babes, he would rock them to sleep. When he fucked her gently, he'd interlace his fingers with hers, he'd kiss her sweetly and he'd talk about how glad he was that she was his wife, that she was the mother of his children.

She thought she might love him, if she really was at a point where she could understand what love was. She knew that what she felt for Aegon wasn't what she felt for Aemond. She knew that both of them excited her, but only one brought her comfort. Only one did she seek out when she needed peace and quiet, when she needed calm. It was Aegon, it was Aegon, and how could it be the same Aegon that she used to hit, the same Aegon that had annoyed her incessantly? How could they have come to this? She did not understand.

But she still remembered the day he found her in the gardens, the day he wanted to talk to her. How different that had felt, how he'd helped her find a spider for Helaena. Maybe it had been meant to happen all along. Gods, how could no one see that he was trying, he was trying to be good, he was trying to be better. If only one took the time to listen to him, to teach him, he could be good at anything, even at being King. She wanted to see him as King, not because it made her Queen or their children heirs to the Iron Throne, but because he was kind, he was worthy, he would listen to his people and he would try to help them.

She wondered if it was worth it to tell him what she felt. She knew it would not change his patterns of going to the Street of Silk– he still wanted and craved more than she could give. His appetite was something she couldn't match. As for herself, could she really give up Aemond? Was it safe to? He would never tell anyone what they had done, for it would incriminate himself. But she wanted him, too, even if she did not love him. Could she give that up to be truly and wholly Aegon's? Was there anything that would make him truly and wholly hers, not someone she shared with the whores?

He came to her that night, and she chose to say nothing. He told her the dinner had been fine. Declarations of love were made in front of the King. Daemon had raised his cup to Ser Otto and thanked him for his leal service as Hand, Ser Otto had spoken of the prince's courage. Alicent and Rhaenyra' had broken bread together, greeted one another kindly.

But everything had changed when the King was gone. It was Aemond who had instigated it all, calling Rhaenyra's strong. The princes had nearly come to blows, stopped by the Kingsguard. Helaena had been anxious again, and Aegon himself had walked her back to her rooms while Aemond walked off in glee. Rhysaenya knew and expected him to come and find her again that night for a victory fuck– he always liked to bed her when he felt particularly proud of himself.

Aegon must have been thinking the same thing, for he told her before he undressed that he intended to spend the night again. She still had the children with her, then, not having sent them off yet. It surprised her when he asked if they could remain there with them. She supposed it was fine, how could she say no? It meant much to her that he was willing to have them there at all, many fathers did not behave so.

They'd placed the babes in their cradle. Aegon kissed her passionately, he held her like she was the only thing that mattered to him. It made her weak at the knees, it brought her such pleasure as he caressed her, as he kissed her everywhere he could manage. He rocked into her slowly and steadily, kissing her neck, caressing her stomach, whispering in her ear how happy he was that she was with child again.

She laid beside him in bed, eyes closed as she felt him running his hands through her hair. She fell asleep without knowing if Aemond did or did not come– he hadn't when she last recalled opening her eyes and seeing how Aegon was awake and observing every last feature while he touched her. When she woke, the candles were no longer lit– he'd blown them out himself. The babes lay between them, Aegon now asleep with an arm around them. He looked so perfect, with his brows ever slightly furrowed, mouth barely ajar. She thought it was the most beautiful sight she'd ever beheld, him and their children in her bed.

Gods be good, I think I have fallen in love with Aegon Targaryen.