The castle was in a state of chaos.

No one could locate Aegon or Aemond, which brought Rhysaenya no comfort whatsoever. Her screams had roused every guest housed nearest to Maegor's Holdfast, which meant they'd woken up and gone around asking what was going on. As soon as they learned that someone in the castle had killed the Prince... well, there was a whole new flood of screaming after that.

Rhysaenya couldn't stand the noise. It infuriated her, frustrated her. Her father had taken her to Helaena's chambers, the Princess's hands trembling as she tried to soothe Rhysaenya as she cried and hugged Jaehaera, her nightgown still covered in the blood she'd been sitting on.

As far as anyone was able to determine, the men had acted alone within the castle. Answers as to who they'd worked with to get inside were still unknown. Rhysaenya supposed she should not have been so quick to kill the man who'd murdered her son, and yet, she wasn't sure she could have stopped herself if she tried. In that moment, she only wanted him dead, she wanted him to never kill another person again.

When they found Aegon, he'd been returning from the Street of Silk with friends. He came to find her immediately, staggering through the door when he saw the state of her. "They told me– they said–" He couldn't even get the words out. "No."

She didn't go with him when her father gently– and this was genuinely surprising her, she'd never known her father to be so calm and comforting– escorted him to the twins' chambers to see what had been done to his son. Otto was there by then, Alicent, probably the rest of the Small Council. It had been decided that they would meet before dawn to discuss what had happened– neither Aegon nor Rhysaenya wanted to attend, but she knew they were expected to.

Helaena was too unnerved by the blood to help her clean herself up. Rhysaenya sat motionless and zoned-out in her tub while her handmaidens scrubbed her. Jaehaera was being held by one of them– Rhysaenya refused to let her out of her sight. She could hear Aegon screaming and raging in his chambers– one of the maids told her he'd beaten into his father's model of Old Valyria, broken stone littering the floor. She heard him calling Rhaenyra a whore, calling her Blacks traitors and villains, declaring war. Oh, war had been declared. Rhysaenya would be glad to see it through.

He came to her side once it was time for them to go to the Small Council. They shared a quiet look– neither knew what to say. He offered his hand and she broke, starting to sob. He delayed their passage for a moment to hug her, rubbing her back while she caressed her belly. Like the babe she carried, she remembered the feeling of when she learned she was pregnant with the twins, her excitement, her happiness when Jaehaerys was born. All of the memories rushed at her, her body aching as if a part of it had been cut away.

"I should have been here," he said as they walked. "I should have–"

"They could have killed you," she murmured. "They could have done worse. It doesn't matter. 'Ifs' are words in the wind now... it wasn't so. Our son is dead. You are alive. And Rhaenyra will pay for it, either way."

The sky was still dark outside, the sound of rain falling resembling more the beating of war drums in Rhysaenya's ears. The Small Council members looked to be in shock as they made their appearance, hand in hand. They looked to her with pity– she hated it. She didn't want their pity, she wanted their action.

"And where were the members of this council while the murderer threatened their Queen?" demanded Aegon as they entered. He glared at them with complete loathing. He stopped at his seat, jabbing a finger into the air, "My son is my legacy! My son is heir to the Iron Throne!"

Rhysaenya stifled another sob into her palm, collapsing into her chair. Alicent reached a hand out immediately, caressing her shoulder. All Rhysaenya could think was that Jaehaerys was Aegon's legacy, he was heir to the Iron Throne. Not anymore.

"And where were you?" demanded Aegon to Ser Criston, who stood quietly in the corner. "The Lord Commander of my Kingsguard?"

"I was abed, Your Grace," he said calmly, as he had to her father. "Having ordered the Night's Watch."

Aegon smiled mirthlessly. "Abed. Abed! Instead of safeguarding the sanctity of my family!"

Otto pulled him back to the situation at hand. "This is not the time for blind accusations, Your Grace. We will determine who–"

"We know who did this," said Rhysaenya much sharper than she intended. Her eyes flickered to Aemond's empty seat out of habit, then turned to Otto. "He told me Daemon's name. He wanted his pain to end, he wouldn't have lied under such savagery. He wouldn't have hidden his real employer's name. Daemon did this for Rhaenyra, to avenge her son."

"Who else would do this, save that bitch Queen of Bastards?" agreed Aegon. "The smug cunt of Dragonstone?" He pointed towards the island, arm shaking with rage. Rhysaenya heard the door open, Lord Larys limping in. "There she sits across the bay, on her rock, laughing at me. She's fucking laughing at me!" He flung his own cup across the room, right between where Lord Jasper and Maester Orwyle stood.

Larys cleared his throat, "If I may, Your Grace." Rhysaenya looked at him, she felt so hopeless, she needed a bit of good news. "The men have been examined by the other ratcatchers– all of whom claim they knew nothing of this plot. The man with his throat slit was a simple ratcatcher on the lower floors... they called him Cheese. No family, no wealth, born and raised in Flea Bottom. The other man... he was called Blood. He was known to us– he was a Gold Cloak, noted for his brutal nature."

"Loyal still to Daemon, no doubt," said Rhysaenya coldly. She looked at her father. "I want these new Ignividosi soldiers to replace all existing Gold Cloaks. Let the others find work elsewhere, I trust none of them. Question them if they are worthy, but I will err on the side of caution for the safety that remains to my daughter. I want you to summon Arrwyth, I will name him the new Lord Commander of the Gold Cloaks. Ignividosi soldiers are trained for silence, discretion, and utmost loyalty. Mark my words, an act like this will never happen again."

Karrhys nodded. "Of course, Your Grace. I will send word to my son at once. I will aid Lord Larys in questioning any of the other Gold Cloaks for further accomplices."

"I trust in the mastery of your trade, Lord Larys," said Otto, as if prompting him to be gone. He took the hint. The man nodded, taking his leave.

Aegon snarled, "Oh, always studying, always protocol!" He paced back and forth like a madman. "We know our enemy!"

"A king may have more than one enemy, Your Grace," said Lord Jasper calmly. "We would do well to ascertain if this is your sister's hand... or if there is a serpent nestled closer to our bosoms."

Aegon threw up his hands. "I suppose you're right, Ironrod. Could be anyone." He slowly walked towards him, pointing around, "It could be any one of you in this room. He stopped beside Maester Orwyle, who he knew was the shyest.

Otto regained control, "Lord Jasper is correct. In one sense, we must determine what happened and... if we in the Keep are still in peril. In another sense, of course... it doesn't matter."

Ser Tyland realized what he meant. "You mean to blame Rhaenyra. Tell the Realm she has done this."

"I'll have the realm told nothing," spat Aegon. "We were assaulted within our own walls. Within our own beds. I will not be seen as weak!"

"And so you would name her monster, slayer of infants?" asked Orwyle softly. He still seemed the only person willing to lean onto Rhaenyra's side– Rhysaenya did not much like him for it.

"I would do more than that," said Otto. "A funeral progress– let the people see the child." Rhysaenya started to cry again when she realized what it meant. "Let them look upon the works of this pretender to the throne."

Aegon fell into his chair. Even Alicent seemed shocked. "Father..." She was not in agreement. "No," said Aegon weakly. "I will not have my little son's body dragged through the street like a dead dog."

"Not dragged!" said Otto loudly. "Honored. Escorted to the Dragonpit to be burned as a Targaryen prince."

Lord Jasper leaned forward, "Your Grace..." But Aegon insisted, "No." He looked at Rhysaenya, expecting her to agree. "No..."

She looked at Otto, at Lord Jasper, at her father. She could already hear her father's words in her head, 'Ignividosi don't show weakness, you will bleed before anyone sees you cry.' But she knew the situation was different this time– this was a necessary show of vulnerability.

"I think they are right," she told Aegon softly, as much as she disliked it. "When Aemond killed Luke, it became only... a rumor, really. We know the truth but many are saying Lucerys and Arrax ran away, some are saying the boy is still alive. No one will know because there is no body. It did damage to your cause but not as much as this would do to Rhaenyra's. I want her to pay for this, Aegon, I want her to suffer for what she has done. If I cannot go to Dragonstone myself and slay her sons, if I cannot kill her with my bare hands, let the people see my tears."

She stood, her body shaking. "The smallfolk have seen me go to the sept, they've seen us fly on our dragons. They like us, they respect us. If– if... if they see my pain, it will double theirs. Do you really think people like those noble Starks will still support Rhaenyra when they hear of this?"

She knew he understood her point, but she doubted he wanted to see it. She didn't like the idea either– this grief should have been private, it should never have been needed in the first place. But what was done was done. Rhaenyra would answer for her crimes.

"Let no one say I do not grieve," said Otto. " Jaehaerys was my grandson. I loved him. I will not have him die in vain. Those who declared for Rhaenyra, will they still support her when they hear of her depravity? Or will they rather renounce her? Jaehaerys will do more for us now than a thousand knights in battle."

Aegon was on the verge of tears again, shaking and looking around for someone to agree with him. Rhysaenya took his hand, squeezed it. Otto continued, "You will have your war, Your Grace. But if you wait a short time, you may yet double your strength."

"Mother," pleaded Aegon, thinking Alicent may do what Rhysaenya did not. But Alicent said only, "The Hand sets a difficult path, my darling, but it... it might be the right one."

Preparations were made at once. Rhysaenya stood over the Silent Sisters as they prepared her little boy, wrapping him in cloths but letting his face be shown. Helaena came once he'd been covered with a sheet, offering Rhysaenya the green cloak she remembered her sewing when she came. Now, she knew what it had been for.

It was Rhysaenya who wrapped Jaehaerys tenderly before they placed him on a cart surrounded by flowers. She held Jaehaera tight to her chest– she refused to go without her. Hugging her tightly and with Alicent and Rhaelyn seated at her side, Rhysaenya stared up at the sky in anger, in sadness. She hugged her daughter tight as the progression began, her tears escaping. Her mother quietly pushed back her mourning veil, letting the people see how she cried.

All along the path to the Dragonpit, drums beat. Guards called out for them to behold the works of Rhaenyra– they called her the Pretender, they called her a Kinslayer, Defiler of the Innocent, Rhaenyra the Cruel. People called back to her, they told her how sorry they were, they tossed flowers her way. She hated the way it felt on her skin when it hit her, she hated their grating voices. All of it sounded like a blur– she felt she hardly knew what was going on.

It was she who had to ask Skyfall to burn her son's body, giving him to the gods. Her mother's hand was on her shoulder the entire time. Skyfall trilled at her, feeling her pain, but burned the boy all the same. Rhysaenya turned away, sobbing and pulling away from the progression. She couldn't be there, she couldn't stand the smell of the burning body or the sight of the people around her.

She took to Skyfall without caring that her mother and Alicent were there. With Jaehaera nestled to her, she flew out without a care for where she was going. She found herself as always on that cliff where she, Aegon, and the twins had shared many a happy memory. It was all she could do to not fall apart.

She cried and cried, wailing at the sky while she hugged Jaehaera. The flap of dragon wings arrived what felt like hours later, with Rhysaenya still seated in the damp grass and Jaehaera fussing. The beat of the wings was too heavy to be Sunfyre– it was Aemond who had come at last.

Rhysaenya couldn't help but feel so angry when she looked at him. "Where were you?" she asked, starting to cry. "Where were you, Aemond?"

"I know," he said quietly. "I am sorry, Rhysaenya."

"Where were you?" She got to her feet. "They were there looking for you! You would have made quick work of them, I know you could have..." She cried more, hating how he just stood there. She wanted to strike him, wanted to blame him, wanted to make him feel as awful as she did. But how could he? He wasn't a father to the twins, whether they might be his or not. He had caused this by killing Lucerys, he knew he was guilty and knew it.

"I should have been there," he affirmed. "If they had happened upon my chambers as they might have intended, I would have stopped them. I am sorry that I did not. I am sorry for what they did to your son."

She cried to herself, rocking Jaehaera back and forth. He came closer, placing a hand on her shoulder. Her lips quivered as she looked up at him, shaking her head and closing her eyes. He put his arms around her, drawing her closer.

"I will help you avenge your son tenfold," he whispered in her ear, rubbing her back gently. "I swear to you, they will pay for this."

Her face contorted angrily– she drew away, not upset with him but with Daemon and Rhaenyra. "Those cunts, I will see them flayed. I should unleash the phoenix on them to burn their dragons from within, to kill them all."

"What would happen if you did?" He seemed genuinely curious. "Has anyone ever done it?"

"Not that I know of. The phoenix is free to go anywhere, it is only caged when it is about to rebirth. It could go where it pleases but it chooses us. I do not know if its power can even be harnessed that way. I only want to see them suffer, I want to offer their bloody fucking corpses for it to eat." She sneered, turning away. "I want more revenge than this, I will do it myself if I have to."

He carefully cupped her face, bringing her back to him. "Do you crave that darkness?"

Her eyes must have confirmed it before her voice did. "I have learned to kill... I have killed and been apathetic about it. But the moment I killed those men for what they did for my son, I enjoyed it. I felt a satisfaction unlike anything I'd ever experienced. I want fire and blood now, Aemond. Is that the answer you were hoping for?"

She knew he liked that in her, the fact she had those burns on her back, the fact she had offered sacrifices to the phoenix. He didn't want some gentle lady, he'd always liked the idea of someone who understood his thirst for fighting, for carnage, for glory.

He took her hand, toying with her fingers. "Ser Criston and I have a plan. Your father may not approve of it, but if the trap is set right, we could take from Rhaenyra one of her dragons."

She wasn't sure she could get behind anything Ser Criston planned, but she wanted to listen to Aemond. "The Riverlands are the key to the war, and Harrenhal is the key to the Riverlands. Ser Criston can ride out with fewer men now, without waiting for our armies, but he can move swiftly. Force the Crownlands houses that back Rhaenyra to our cause. Gather strength and move for Harrenhal on one front while Lord Jason approaches from the west. There will come a point where Rhaenyra will have to send a dragon. She will either go herself, send Daemon, or send Rhaenys. Either way... I will be waiting with Vhagar. Should you wish to come, you and Skyfall will help us kill them."

She had to admit, she liked the sound of that. No, her father would not have approved of this. His position was for them to stabilize themselves before making major military moves– wait for their armies, hold their strength where it maintained Aegon's legitimacy. But this, while bold, could cost Rhaenyra a desperately needed dragon.

"Let us think about it," she murmured, not wishing to act rashly in the wake of this. The tides may yet turn on Rhaenyra as news spread of what she'd done to Jaehaerys. "I am not ready to fly to battle yet. I am more like to make a mistake. I have to grieve, Aemond. I lost a piece of me. It is not so easily replaced."

He understood, she knew, but he might not have liked her desire to hold back. He must have thought she'd jump quickly at the idea, be as bloodthirsty as he seemed to be. She was– ravenous really for someone's suffering, but how could she abandon Jaehaera to go to battle? How could she support a plan that may not be in their best interests? No, her father had taught her patience. She had to show restraint now, little as she liked it.

Apparently, not everyone thought the same. She learned when she returned to the castle that Aegon had approved of a plan enacted entirely by Ser Criston– to send Ser Arryk to Dragonstone and kill Rhaenyra while posing as his own twin, the traitor Ser Erryk. She'd been furious at the sight of Aegon's glee– it undid everything the funeral procession had done for them. In a moment where they needed to milk every last drop of sympathy their people would have for them, now they had shown they would play just as dirty. It was only somewhat good if they were successful– even then it only passed the cause to Jacaerys Velaryon. It was incredibly damaging if the likely outcome came– failure. She did not trust Ser Criston in the slightest– this was rash, too rash. How could Aegon support it?

She didn't see him the following days. She didn't attend the Small Council meetings, avoiding the sight of people who would only look at her with pity. Aemond was the one coming to update her– Aegon seemed to be avoiding her. Not that she was seeking him out.

House Bracken of the Riverlands had taken it upon themselves to attack House Blackwood, who declared for Rhaenyra. Grievous losses were suffered by both sides. Lord Blackwood had been slain, but Ser Amos Bracken was dead, too. Stone Hedge, seat of House Bracken, had been taken in their absence by Daemon, flying over a host made of Darrys, Rootes, Pipers, and Freys. Any who had declared for Aegon seemed to be laying their swords down now.

Moreover, the marriage proposals sent out were not bearing fruit. Lord Dalton Greyjoy had not replied, and Prince Qoren Martell had immediately declared he would not take part in this war. Ser Alan Beesbury was stirring trouble in the Reach, demanding the 'release' of his grandsire, Lord Lyman. He did not yet know the man was dead. This had prompted the next blatant refusal from the mother of the babe Lord Tyrell of Highgarden– she declared they would not be a part of the struggle.

Otto was attempting to treat now with the Triarchy in Essos, finding for them a fleet that could match the Velaryons at sea. The Triarchy was slow in making decisions, however, and they'd need eventually to send an emissary to secure the deal. Aegon had grown impatient from it, and had declared that blood needed to be spilt.

All the lords and ladies that had been kept captive for declaring for Rhaenyra were effectively given a choice between swearing fealty to Aegon or succumbing to the King's Justice and his axe. Only Lords Butterwell, Stokeworth, and Rosby had bent the knee. Lords Hayford, Merryweather, Harte, Buckler, Caswell, and Lady Fell had been beheaded, their bodies at once seized to dry meat for the dragons as her father had suggested. She doubted her father had been in agreement about conducting the executions at this time. She heard Ser Otto had been most wroth to hear of it. Aegon had warned him that being so vocal about his disapproval would earn him a horse headed right back to Oldtown if he wasn't careful.

At last, news of Ser Arryk's death reached them. Ser Erryk had fallen too– none could say clearly what had happened, but the few servants in Larys's employ at Dragonstone had agreed that the brothers had killed each other. Whether it happened as one said– they declared their love for each other before battling for an hour– or as another did– Ser Erryk had lain in agony for days cursing his dead traitor brother before he finally succumbed to his wound– it no longer mattered.

It left Aemond and Ser Criston to pose their plan. Rhysaenya was furious that the plot with Ser Arryk had gone precisely as she had expected it to, and now Ser Criston was still being given the power to proceed. Aegon had liked their plan about as much as Karrhys and Otto had disliked it. In the end, the King's word was law. What he wasn't happy about was that he'd been told to stay put. Aemond had neglected to mention the trap they would lay with their dragons.

"This is ridiculous, Aegon," Rhysaenya said, frustrated when she found him being fitted into the armor once worn by Aegon the Conqueror. It was large on him. "First, Arrwyth is bringing with him Ignividosi armor bound with phoenixfire for you. Use that instead, it will be far better than this old relic."

"I was given the Conqueror's name and his crown," he said bluntly. "So I shall wear his armor to war."

"Do you even hear yourself? You invite peril, Aegon." She didn't want him to get hurt, she couldn't imagine losing him the way they had lost Jaehaerys. "You are our King, do you think Rhaenyra will be flying to battle? If we lose you, we lose everything."

He shoved aside the man who'd been adjusting his armor. "Leave us." He spoke in a hard voice, beckoning his guards to leave. They gave a quick nod of respect and darted out. Once they were gone, he said lowly, "My heir is gone. The child you carry now will not be born for months. I need to do something before we lose everything."

She placed her hand instinctively on her belly, feeling a flutter within. It had yet to swell, but she knew she was not long from it. In the weeks that had passed since telling Aegon she was with child, much had changed for them. She felt exhausted, she felt defeated. But she believed in him, she wanted him to succeed, she wanted Rhaenyra to fail.

"We won't lose everything if we are careful," she told him. "I told you, listen to your advisors and question them if you don't understand. You approved of this plan, let it be seen through."

His face turned red. "Today at the Small Council, Aemond made a fool of me. Speaking to me in High Valyrian knowing I still struggle to muster up sentences. I can write it and read it far better since you began practicing with me, but he knew– he knew. And he tells me Cole will be marching on Rook's Rest to cut Rhaenyra off by land, he makes me look a fool in front of everyone. I named him hand out of respect for him. But all he does is undermine me."

"He is trying to support you," she said tiredly, wishing Aemond had not wanted to poke at him this way, but also wishing that Aegon could understand that Aemond was his one true ally in there, the one who was trying to keep him as King. The other men would easily shift their alliances depending on what suited them, even her father could one day decide to kill Aegon, marry her to Jacaerys, and have her become Queen a different way if it stood to benefit him. But Aemond, for all his jealousies, was not one to plot against his brother. She believed that, she truly did.

"Please," she begged, coming closer. She touched his face, arm shrinking back as he pulled away. "Don't do this, Aegon, don't put yourself at risk. Please, for me, for Jaehaera... be patient, I beg you."

He sighed, looking at her and letting her caress his temple. "Please don't leave me," she whispered. "I cannot bear the thought of losing you. I..." She wanted to say it, but she did not think he was ready to hear it. The last thing she wanted was for him to think of her as manipulating him into doing her bidding with this declaration. "I cannot lose you as we lost our son."

"Aemond flies alone," he decided. "When needed. You will not go with him. Do you understand me? If I cannot go, you cannot go."

Rhysaenya relented, if only to keep him here. She wasn't sure she wanted to listen. "Fine, Aemond goes alone." She did not think it wise– old Vhagar alone against Caraxes or Meleys, it was certainly a possible victory but also possible defeat. A second dragon should be had in the event it was needed.

"You know," he murmured, "you Ignividosi would have been far more lethal from the start if you were dragonlords. The look you're giving me now, I am surprised more men haven't emptied their bowels into their breeches at the sight of you."

She started to smile, finding it the first time in awhile that she found anything funny. "Come off it, Aegon. You're not scared of me, are you?"

He gave her a look of fondness. "Not at all. I never could be." He drew her into a hug, rubbing her back. It was the first time they'd embraced since before Jaehaerys was killed. She started to cry, letting him comfort her.