It was time for the trap.

Word came of the fall of Duskendale, after Ser Criston had added Rosby and Stokeworth's armies to his cause. The town had been sacked, ships in the harbor set afire, and when Lord Darklyn refused to renounce Rhaenyra, he'd been beheaded. All members of his household and garrison were given a choice: declare for Aegon or share their lord's fate. The majority added themselves to Aegon's cause.

Though Rhysaenya remained upset with Cole for the plot to send Ser Arryk to Dragonstone, she had to admit this was going better than anticipated. The trap they would lay would undeniably draw a dragon now, if it hadn't at Duskendale. Lord Darklyn had been the father of Ser Steffon Darklyn, sure to create some enmity between himself and the false Queen he served.

All knew by now that Cole would be marching on Rook's Rest. Her father had counseled against it. He still believed it a poor idea to field their men and risk losing them to dragons. Yes, most likely Rhaenyra would at last send one. And if she did, they would lose many of their own men before the trap could be sprung, for they'd need to make the dragon feel secure before they launched their own. It was an unnecessary bit of bloodshed. Not to mention that fielding a dragon put them at risk as well.

With Vhagar gone, the city was vulnerable– Rhaenyra could already suspect a trap and be prepared to launch one of her own on the city. With Dreamfyre and Sunfyre unlike to fly, it would be Rhysaenya alone defending against what could be Caraxes, Syrax, Vermax, and Moondancer.

On top of this, there was the possibility of what could happen to Aemond at Rook's Rest. Meleys was the most likely to be sent, but if Rhaenyra did indeed suspect anything, she may leave Harrenhal defended by men alone and have Caraxes accompany her. Vhagar was old and slow to move, she could easily be overwhelmed by two dragons of that size if alone. Not to mention that Meleys remained the fastest dragon– without help she might die, but not before dealing what could be grievous wounds to Vhagar and rendering her near useless. Aemond could lose his life even if Vhagar didn't.

"I apologize for raising the issue again, Your Grace," said Karrhys, exasperated. It was the night where they would decide if Aemond would fly out or not– it had to happen then, the decision could not be delayed lest Rhaenyra get word that Vhagar was flying in broad daylight. They had to assume she would know nothing of a trap being sent. But Rhysaenya knew her father considered everything. "But we must reconsider Prince Aemond and Ser Criston Cole's plan here. Should a dragon need to be sent–"

"I know what you will recommend, Lord Karrhys," replied Aemond before Aegon had a chance to answer. "You would prefer I remain here to defend the city and that your daughter should go in my stead."

He spread his arms as if it were obvious. "I myself ensured that Rhysaenya and Skyfall were prepared for all sorts of battle. In the near-decade she lived at Tarth, they were put through trials that would prepare them to deal with men on the ground. Forgive me, my Prince, but Vhagar is the veteran you are not. You fight well with your sword, yes, but it is an entirely different matter to battle in the sky."

"The Queen would do no better with it," said Aemond curtly, though he glanced at Rhysaenya as if to demonstrate he was not wishing to insult her skill. "Skyfall has not killed a dragon. Vhagar has." She almost scoffed, if only because Arrax had not put up a fight in that case. "Not to mention she is smaller than Meleys."

"I would not be so sure this is such a great disadvantage," replied Karrhys. "Your Vhagar is old, born fifty-two years before the Conquest. Skyfall is at least twelve years younger than Meleys, the difference is not so great. You forget that while Meleys was housed here in the Dragonpit for most of her life, Skyfall was wild from the moment she was born. They are nearly the same size despite the years between them. Skyfall has seen even a simulated battle where Meleys has seen nothing."

This was not pleasing Aemond, Rhysaenya knew. She could see the way his mouth was twitching, sense how tense he was becoming. He did not enjoy disagreements, he did not appreciate being told what to do. Her father was pushing every last button he had and she worried it would not end well.

She saw the way he turned to Aegon, as if urging him to see that this was madness where they were concerned as her lovers and supporters of her life as Queen. She knew that they had reason to their worries, that she could not completely deny the way they feared for her safety. But she believed her father had one thing correct which neither of them could care to see– Vhagar's age made her vulnerable. Consuming Arrax had been mere play for her. How could they compare such a feat to battling and killing a dragon as large as Meleys or Caraxes– or Meleys and Caraxes?

It was true, if the worst came to worst and both dragons were there, Rhysaenya would die. But she knew why her father would suggest it even if it could mean her death. Aegon's cause would remain. He could remarry and produce a son to replace Jaehaerys. Rhysaenya's death would mean little overall, though perhaps she might manage to use Skyfall to slay another dragon or even wound them if naught else came of it. They would still have the Iron Throne, however. They would still have all symbols of legitimacy.

The most likely scenario was that Rhaenyra may not even send a dragon, or if she did, send one alone. Her father was thinking like the enemy, and was considering the probable scene that would play out, one in which a singular dragon would be Skyfall's target. After all, even if Rhaenyra did suspect some attack, how could she know if this wasn't a plot to distract her while a dragon went to burn Harrenhal? Caraxes would have to remain there.

But what were the words of a military strategist, a man who knew Daemon and Rhaenyra as heads of a war, compared to the words of two boys who thought the crown wasn't too heavy for them to juggle? Two young men who cared more about love and lust than about the true cause they were after?

"I agree with Aemond," said Aegon. "If I will not be allowed to go, my Queen should not, either. I will not send her off alone to what could be her death. She carries a child in her now and I will not risk her. Aemond will go if this trap must be set."

That was when Aemond turned back to her. Alone, he didn't want to go. No, he was still encouraging her to give into her lust for battle, for blood, for carnage, for the revenge that could only come when she made a kill herself.

"Go then, brother," said Aegon, gesturing over mindlessly. "May the gods be with you." He clapped his hands, eager to be gone. "Let us adjourn for the night." He picked up his porcelain ball and left his seat at once. Gods, Rhysaenya could sense his frustration with not being able to go himself, with not being able to do anything about the situation. It bothered him so very much but he was doing well with listening to the counsel offered to him. He simply couldn't go, it was too dangerous.

To her surprise, it was not Aegon or Aemond who followed after her as she left, mildly annoyed that she was being barred as well. It should have been Aemond's plan to encourage them both to go if he was wanting her to give into her darkness. Why goad her otherwise? Unless, of course, he wanted her to break the rules on purpose, wanted her to spit in Aegon's face, wanted to drive a wedge between them. If so, he was an obnoxious cunt for that.

"Your Grace." Her father's voice was always strange when it came so formally, addressing her as he would the royals. She kept remembering the way he'd comforted her after Jaehaerys's murder. He'd never been so tender. He'd continued to be gentle since, not once raising his voice though he often did, whether angry or excited. "A word, if you please."

"Always, Father," she told him. It was still strange after all these years to call him that, having known for so long that Daemon– that cunt who killed her son– was really the man who sired her. But it did not matter– Daemon had been the cause of her misery while Karrhys had been the one to hold her when it had all begun to fall apart. "What is it?"

He waited for them to be a bit aways from the other council members, lowering his voice to say, "You ought to be following Aemond whether it is His Grace's command or not. You must prove yourself in battle. This is the only way you will feel peace."

"I know that," she murmured, figuring it was probably best to tell him the truth. "Aemond wants me to go with him. It is Aegon that is against it. He believes that if he cannot go, neither should I. But I have to do something. It is different with him, of course he must remain. And I understand that it is a risk for us to leave the city without a defense, but how can I be here, idle, when I could do great damage to Rhaenyra's cause and severely cripple her as she tried to do with us?"

His eyes shone with malice and glee. "It is left for you to decide, then, if you will listen to your husband or defy him. Which makes you more Ignividus?"

"You know the answer to that," said Rhysaenya. "You once told me when I was a little girl not to ask questions when I already knew the answers. It is unbecoming." She saw his lips curl. "The battle will begin tomorrow. If I leave on the morrow I will reach them as they are starting. I will engage Meleys first. Perhaps there will be no need for Aemond and Vhagar to fly with us."

"Good." He was satisfied, at least. "The Ignividosi warriors are nearly here to fill the City Watch, they should arrive in two days' time. Ser Irlyn will be named to the Kingsguard and denoted your sworn protector. He will be waiting for you as you return from your victory at Rook's Rest. A new Queen with new burns on her back and a new guard to ensure all who defy her meet the same fiery fate."

"I need you to have my mother look after Jaehaera," said Rhysaenya firmly. "Until this new guard arrives, she is her sworn protector. I won't let my daughter be in any danger while I am gone."

The look he gave her was surprisingly sympathetic. "All but fifty Ignividosi guards are coming to the Crownlands to bolster our forces and defend this castle. Tarth remains secured with these fifty good men, your brothers, and the phoenix to defy any and every threat that may try to come. Your daughter will encounter no danger here. I understand the urge to defend one's child, I see the pain and fear you have because of what was done to your son. That never should have happened. I assure you, it will not happen again."

She felt the urge to cry again, but he had seen her cry enough– he was not meant to be a safe person she could sob to. No, those tears were coming from a place of rage. A rage that may soon be abated once she had her shot at revenge. That was the only time she would be able to tell him what she was really feeling, when the sadness was less, the anger dissipated, and the satisfaction at its peak. Jaehaera was all she had left, and Rhysaenya would be damned if she didn't do something to avenge her fallen twin, if she didn't make some move that would cripple the cause of the bitch who was willing to let a babe be slain for her 'claim.'

Aegon did not come to see her that night. It had been far too long since he did, since he wanted to lay beside her with their children in the middle. Their child. She hated having to correct her mind. Still, two or one, was it not still important to be there? Jaehaera had lost a brother already, she could not lose her parents as well. Rhysaenya wished she could explain to Aegon how essential it was that they continued to take care of her rather than demonstrating neglect. But how could she convey that to someone who no longer wished to make himself known? Their time together was so scarce, it was as if he'd never liked her at all.

As she lay in her bed that night, she wondered if he blamed her for what had happened. If he thought she should have been able to protect the twins because she could obviously defend herself and them better than he could hope to. If he thought that she had failed Jaehaerys by not keeping him at her side, if he thought she was an idiot for not carrying her spear everywhere she went.

She slept beside Jaehaera that night, using her pillows to mimic Aegon's presence. She thought perhaps she ought to reconsider going to Rook's Rest– it would only serve to anger him. It might fill him with further jealousy, with some sort of resentment that she was allowed to do things that he was not.

She decided that she would speak with him about her desire to go, about needing this to feel better the same way he needed his friends, his cups, his whores to feel better. After all, that must have been what he'd been doing since Jaehaerys's murder, as he was everywhere but with her. Maybe then he'd understand, maybe then he'd let her go.

But he was not in his chambers when she went searching, with Jaehaera in her arms. She immediately questioned the maids who were cleaning up some spilled wine and learned that he'd put on his armor and left. Armor. No one wore armor to go and enjoy themselves in the city. That stupid armor worn by Aegon the Conqueror– it had to be that. He never suited himself up quite so to ride Sunfyre. And as far as she knew, he hadn't gone to see his dragon since before Jaehaerys's death.

She left Jaehaera with her mother and ran back to her own chambers and sliding into her dragonriding armor while her handmaiden hastily braided her hair. She didn't care if it was perfect, she cared if it was out of her face. She waved her off as soon as she'd adjusted the last buckle, tying back the rest of it loosely and calling ahead for a horse escort to the Dragonpit– she'd waste no time in carriages.

Word must have spread by then that Aegon had taken off without notice to anyone. None would be happy that Rhysaenya had followed after him, but how could she stay here and lie in wait? Aegon and Sunfyre were nothing against any of Rhaenyra's dragons, not when neither had seen battle and Sunfyre was as spoiled as he was.

The Dragonkeepers confirmed that Aegon and Sunfyre left at least an hour prior. Even in the Dragonpit he'd been seen to down a cup of wine, smiling drunkenly before he took his mount. He'd been counseled against it by the Dragonkeepers, but he'd made his own decisions. Waiting there had been those stupid friends of his, boys that Rhysaenya hardly knew and did not care to know.

She urged Skyfall through the sky, hoping that they might even catch up to Aegon and Sunfyre in the hours it would take to fly to Rook's Rest. Skyfall understood her urgency and her fear, but slowed down as they cleared Rosby– if there was to be a battle, she had to preserve her strength. Rhysaenya ran her hand gently over her scales, apologizing for pushing her so hard. She was right– making such a mad flight might even render Skyfall useless if Aegon was needing help in that moment.

She questioned what Aemond would do when he looked up and saw Sunfyre instead of Skyfall. Would he think Rhysaenya was a coward or would he think Aegon was a madman? Would he help his brother and get him out of danger? She wanted to believe he would have already handled things... let the battle be nearly over, let Aegon arrive to nothing, let Aemond have already taken care of whatever dragon Rhaenyra had sent. Please, gods, please.

Fate would not have it so. She knew she was nearing Rook's Rest when she started to see a column of smoke rising from the forest. What, but dragons, could cause such a fire? The grey cloud shot so high that she knew before reaching it that a dragon had fallen. As she got closer, she could see two figures in the sky, one larger than the other, circling, waiting. The dragon opposite Vhagar was red, with a crown of horns over her large head.

Red flashed in Rhysaenya's mind as she blinked, anger overtaking her. That hole in the forest, where the smoke and flame rose, it had to be Aegon and Sunfyre. Aemond hadn't reacted fast enough, she wagered. Rhaenys and Meleys had dealt a terrible blow to her husband and his dragon– she would avenge him, she would avenge Jaehaerys.

Meleys roared as she sensed Skyfall approaching. Rhysaenya could think only of what to do, how to win. She's likely exhausted, she thought of Meleys. She is older, too, and slower to react. Don't give her access to a neck to bite down on.

She decided her plan of attack swiftly. Meleys was making right for her, about to extend her hind legs. Rhysaenya pulled Skyfall down, dropping so suddenly the large dragon grabbed at the empty air. Zipping back up, Skyfall rammed into Meleys, claws ripping away at her exposed belly, which had already been dealt wounds presumably from Sunfyre.

She pulled Skyfall away without latching on, leaving Meleys to blow her fire into nothing. She could see Vhagar approaching now, the larger dragon capable enough to grab Meleys and leave her to Skyfall's mercy. But this was not what Rhysaenya wanted– she wanted to kill them herself.

Meleys was bleeding, hot dragon blood bathing the soldiers below. Skyfall was faster, nimble, zipping back and forth and scratching wherever she could to irritate Meleys, to hurt her eyes and rip away at her horns, tearing her wings. Vhagar had reached them by then, hind legs taking Meleys and swinging her around like a toy to blow fire right over her and Rhaenys.

Rhysaenya and Aemond locked eyes– she gestured for him to let her go as Meleys began to claw at Vhagar's belly. He did so right as Skyfall lurched up, jaws wrapping over Meleys's throat. The Red Queen blew fire and cried out, but Skyfall would not let go, biting and clawing while Rhysaenya debated on whether she should unlatch her spear from the saddle and try to kill Rhaenys with it. No, the distance may be too great, and Skyfall wasn't leaving unscathed– Meleys was managing to claw at her, too, even with her suffering.

Skyfall was glad for the taste of blood, but Rhysaenya knew she was willing to continue biting even as she grew wounded. Rhysaenya urged her to let go. She wanted blood, too, she wanted death. As Meleys flew weakly, nearly broken, she urged Skyfall behind her, pulling her to descend from above. She unlatched the spear, then, Skyfall flying high above Meleys and suddenly dropping straight down. Rhysaenya turned the spear sideways, slicing in the direction of Rhaenys's throat as Skyfall crashed into Meleys, shoving her downwards.

The wind brought blood splattering into her face as she and Skyfall pulled away. Vhagar swooped down, then, biting hard into Meleys's throat. The dragon flailed for a moment, then stopped her fight. As Vhagar dropped her, Rhaenys's body went limp in the saddle, a pool of red bathing her armor. Rhysaenya wasn't sure if she'd killed her or not, but she surely died as the dragon crashed into the castle below, another column of smoke bursting up as the explosion resounded through the forest.

She turned at once to the other column, smoke billowing more feebly now. Skyfall was tired, she knew. She urged her towards the clearing that had been made in the fall, a lone knight there to see his king– the one who shouldn't have been here in the first place.

"AEGON!" She didn't care that he was unlikely to answer her, she wanted him to hear her voice and know that she was there. She ran to him as she landed, finding him in a heap beside a dying dragon. Or, at least, Sunfyre looked to be dying, clawed and bloody, one wing half torn from his body, and seeming to have several broken bones of his own.

When she saw her husband, she burst into tears. He was broken, truly, beneath armor that had melted into him. This never would have happened with Ignividosi armor, for phoenixfire-forged armor had magic that controlled flames, repelled them. It was better than Valyrian steel, if he had just waited, if he had just waited.

She didn't dare touch him, though she wanted so badly to cradle him. The slightest bit of pressure was sure to bring him more pain. "What happened?" she demanded from Ser Criston, who was staring at his king in shock, without knowing what to do. "This brilliant plan of yours, why wasn't Aemond already engaging with Meleys when he arrived?"

He looked afraid to say anything, but when she shot up and turned her spear on him, he admitted, "Prince Aemond did not respond to the signal as quickly as we'd hoped. In trying to wound Meleys, he... he..."

Rhysaenya knew, then, why the flame had burned so hot. Aemond did this, she realized. Aemond let him be attacked and then joined in while he feigned to target Meleys. I was wrong, I was so wrong. He wants control.

He wants to be King.