The day of the tourney comes to King's Landing, a celebration for an heir still sitting in his mother's womb. The day of battle, disguised as a celebration, after a night of dread for some within the city when the Gold Cloaks ran rampant and slaughter those who had darkened their hearts with sin.

" Be welcome! I know many of you have traveled long leagues to be at these games. But I promise you will not be disappointed. When I look at the fine knights in these lists, I see a group without equal in our histories. And this great day has been made more auspicious by the news that I am happy to share: Queen Aemma has begun her labors! May the luck of the Seven shine upon all combatants!"

Rhaenyra takes her seat quickly and swiftly, sitting in between her sister and her best friend as the tourney begins. Vaemyra smiles up at her older sister, who in turn smiles back.

Their attention turns to the jousting before them, watching as knights get plunged off their horses and injured beyond belief.

A victorious knight comes forth to the viewing deck, and bows before the royals then rides off to the sidelines

" A mystery knight?" Rhaenyra asks.

" No a Cole, of the Stormlands," Alicent answers.

" Where are the Stormlands?" Vaemyra inquires.

" South of Kingslanding," The Lady responds.

" Princess Rhaenys Targaryen!" A Baratheon knight calls out from down below, " I would humbly ask for the favor of the Queen Who Never Was."

Despite the snide comment, the princess gives the knight her favor as the tourney continues and the drums begin.

" Lord Stokeworth's daughter is promised to that young Tarly squire," Rhaenyra comments.

" Lord Massey's son?" Alicent asks.

" They're to be married as soon as he wins his knighthood," Rhaenyra states.

" Best get on with it," Alicent tuts," I heard that Lady Elinor is hiding a swollen belly beneath her dress."

The Baratheon knight gets knocked off his horse, left to writhe in pain on the grounds of the tourney as the audience cheers in delight.

Ser Harold Westerlings kneels before the princess as she motions for him to come forth.  Rhaenyra asks about the mysterious Cole as Vaemyra eyes the horses down below.

She hates the idea that such beautiful creatures could get hurt whilst bearing their riders, but she always loves to watch them run.

Ser Criston Cole rides again, and is once more victorious as he knocks his opponent off the lovely stead.

But then, the royal family is at the center of focus. Prince Daemon Targaryen enters the pit as all other contenders line up. Daemon reveals in the cheers and applause as he rides his horse down the line of men until he points his lance at the knight in green.

" For his first challenge, Prince Daemon Targaryen chooses Ser Gwanye Hightower of Oldtown, eldest son of the Hand of the King!"

The drums continue as the knights leave the pit. Daemon and his challenge stand on either ends of the tilt barrier with a lance in one hand and a shield in the other.  Their horses heave as they prepare to attack, and not a moment later the horses go into a full gallop. Lances are faced towards one another.

Daemon gets hit by the Hightower knight, sending a smile to Otto's smug face.  But Daemon perceives, he picks up another lance and readies his horse to go again. The men ride their horses down the tilt barrier once more,  only this time, Daemon takes a cheap shot. He slices the skin of the horse the Hightower Knight rides upon, sending him hurdling towards the ground.

Vaemyra gasps in shock, her eyes nearly bulging out of her head as her hand reaches out for her sister. Her jaw trembles as the overwhelming sense of fear and sadness runs through her. But even as the horse stands up, her eyes still brim with tears.

Daemon faces the viewing deck, eyeing his options for a favor, but once he sees his darling little niece, he almost regrets his actions during the joust. Almost.

" Now, I'm fairly certain I can win these games, Lady Alicent. Having your favor would all but assure it."

Alicent smiles at the offer as she fetches her favor, but loses it once she meets her father's hardened gaze. She places the circular favor upon  Daemon's lance, and it's back to battle he goes.

Rhaenyra looks down at her younger sister, who's oozing sadness as she keeps her focus on the injured horse, and reassuringly grasps her small and chilly hands.

" It's alright, sister," She chimes, " The horse will live."

Vaemyra sniffs as her tear-stained eyes meet that of her sister's, but nods nonetheless.

From there on, Vaemyra loses interest in the tourney. There's nothing fun or exciting about it. It's not a real battle, it's all just for show. Men are injured, and in some cases killed... and for what? For sport? For celebration?

Pathetic.

Barbaric.

Vaemyra detests the savage ways of men, but it's those ways that she has no say in. She has no place to give her thoughts on such a topic, for she's not expected to have one to begin with.

Whispers are exchanged between the King and his Hand, the truth being shielded from the rest. The King ends up leaving the tourney, a luxury Vaemyra wishes she had.

But the King goes from one battle to another as he enters the Queen's chambers during her labors.

Soon enough, Prince Daemon goes up against Ser Criston, a battle of which  has most of the arena at the edge of their nonexistent seats. All have eyes on the Prince but hopes for the knight.

The men race towards each other, and the Prince nearly gets knocked off his horse, the back of his metal armor gliding against the barrier creating an ear-piercing noise to those who listen.

And this only furthers the flames of his motivation.

Prince  Daemon strikes again, only this time getting flung from his horse, but he doesn't give up there. He continues the fight with a sword as Ser  Criston picks up a mace, and the men dual one another until one is victorious.

And of course, that man is the Prince. He refuses to lose, so he forces the other to yield. A win by default, but not a true win in of itself.

And this is the high point of the day. Everything else is downhill. Everything else is much... much worse.

The  Queen's labors were far from easy. The labors ended with her death. The birth of her son came at a cost, the cost of her life. A price that the  King made her pay. A choice that he made for her.

And while he mourns the loss of his wife, he celebrates the birth of his son.

Up until the babe takes its last breath.

Both taken from the King within the same day.

The news reaches all corners of the realm with such speed and velocity,  that everyone seems to forget about the preexisting children of the  King.

News reaches far and wide about the babe who did not make it to the cradle.

As soon as she heard of her mother's passing, the youngest princess seems  to have disappeared without a trace. The guards cannot find her and have no idea where she has gone, but she is in the most obvious of places.

Vaemyra sprints to the dragon it with tears streaming down her pink cheeks,  rushing towards her dear dragon, who's curled up and sleeping. The princess embraces the scaly creature, and the dragon awakens, opening her eyes to see who dare bothers her.

But once Drea sees the crying princess, she calms. Drea inches her head towards the little girl, acting as a shield and a hug all at once as the tears flow freely.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                          Vaemyra cries her little heart out as she mourns the loss of her mother and brother, her snot-filled nose no longer able to inhale the stench of  dragon from within the pit.

And soon enough, the princess falls asleep, cradled within the embrace of the pitch-black dragon as those within the walls of the Red Keep go back.

The King is furious with the guards for losing his daughter, ordering all of them to search as long as it will take to find the girl. And it's her sister who proposes to search the dragon pit.

And that's exactly where they find her. The Dragon Keepers enter the pit,  seeing the girl within the grasp of the beast. They act slowly and carefully as to not poke the beast, but once the orders in High Valyrian leave their tongues, it is obvious that Drea has no intentions of  listening. She opens her eyes and stares at the keepers with a bubbling fury, fully prepared to kill those before her to protect the girl nuzzled against her scales.

But the commotion awakes the young princess, who opens her eyes to see Drea ready to fight.

" Iōragon ilagon, Drea (Stand down)" The princess orders as she pets the dragon's belly.

Drea's throat rumbles with a booming growl as she reluctantly obeys, moving her body to allow for Vaemyra to follow the Dragon Keepers out of the pit. She rushes back into the castle and into a bath as the handmaidens prepare her for the funeral of her family. She's adorned with black clothing and ushered out into the empty field by the sea, as the process  begins. All those present mourn the loss of two royals, but their bodies lay untouched until Rhaenyra utters a single word.

" Dracarys."

The breath of Syrax burns the bodies of the dead, allowing for the smell of burning flesh to plague those in the field.

Some could say the dead are lucky, for the do not have to deal with the affairs of the living.

Some could say the living are lucky, for they still have the ability to do as they wish.

Both can be true, but neither are true.

The dead are damned with what awaits them in the afterlife, and the living are cursed with pain and suffering.

The  Small Council convenes to deal with the loss of the babe and to handle the succession of the throne, but seemingly no one can agree as to whom the throne should be passed to.

Obviously not Vaemyra, she's the second-born and a girl.

While Rhaenyra may be the firstborn, she does not have a cock.

And while Daemon does indeed have a cock, he is by no means fit to be King.

Word spreads quickly of Daemon's time in a pleasure house, and how he gave a speech in honor of the dead babe. And word also spreads quickly of the title he supposedly gave the fallen prince.

The Heir for a Day.

A title the King does not take lightly.

Even still, the matter of succession has still not reached a conclusion. Tis still up in the air.

The King has his choice, and he ultimately makes the decision that he sees to be fit.

His firstborn shall be named heir.

Rhaenyra.

And all shall bend the knee and swear fealty to the princess. All houses will bow before Princess Rhaenyra.

She's dressed and decorated for the ceremony and stands before the Iron Throne as all houses bend their knee.

Her sister stands on the sidelines, watching the eldest princess get the recognition she deserves, but as Rhaenyra is officially announced as heir to the Iron Throne, Vaemyra can't help but wonder when the time will come for her to receive the same deserved recognition, or if that time will ever come into existence.

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