Dragonstone, 126 AC

The 23rd year of King Viserys the Peaceful's rule

_

She'd practically given birth to a band of wildlings.

Daenys remembered her grandmother, the Good Queen Alysanne, talking to her about raising children. "You will be a mother one day," said Alysanne, smiling down at Daenys as she carried her to bed after a long day holding court with Jaehaerys, watching curiously from his lap as he addressed matters of importance. "You will find your children to be as wild as you and your brother, when they are small. But, mostly, they will calm down. Even your mother gave me less of a constant fright as she grew."

This had not proven at all true for her own children. Ten years ought to have been enough time for them to understand there was a time and place for games. Yet, it seemed, the lack of the public gaze did more for encouraging adventure than snuffing out ideas of mischief.

Daenys had been sitting with Rolf having breakfast by her balcony when a dragon swooped past. Then another. Then another. Then another. Below, she heard her youngest son shouting, "ALMOST THERE!"

"By all the gods," said Rolf, peeking over. He leapt back as the dragons swooped back down, the white in the lead, followed by the black, the green, and the blue. They heard Alyssa's resounding shout of approval, followed by Cliff's huff of indignation.

Daenys leaned onto the stone railing, smiling as the dragons circled about until they were each able to land. The four beasts had thrived here, growing rapidly with the openness of Dragonstone. There was sea in every direction, large fields of grass, caves to explore, and ships that would bring them livestock for the dragons and cooks. If it were up to her, she'd never see them confined in a Dragonpit again.

Time had flown, her children having lost the sweet little faces that used to giggle up at her and beg to be carried. They walked on their own now. Aenar and Alyssa were tall for their age of three-and-ten, her daughter flowered and growing more beautiful by the year, as content in dresses as she was in her dragon riding frock, while her son's voice had begun to change, the beginning of some light whiskers growing over the top of his lip.

Alyssa remained as temperamental as she'd been when she was a little girl. She often acted before she thought, but Aenar was always there to rein her in if she was getting carried away. He was wise and mature for his age, finding himself most at home observing people and calculating before he spoke. He was a good listener, and resembled Otto more and more with each passing year. Daenys knew that as soon as his mustache and beard had finished growing, the similarities would be undeniable.

Still, they thought themselves young, much to her pleasure. Aenar still expected a goodnight kiss from both his parents each night, while Alyssa constantly came to Rolf to receive her heart's every desire, pleased that her father could not deny her anything once she gave him those sweet puppy eyes.

Cliff was twelve, but he seemed to think himself brave as a boy of sixteen. He let his hair grow out, and still came to Daenys so she might braid it elaborately as if he were off to battle each time he rode Goldhorn, perhaps the creature who most understood her adventurous little boy. She knew he was planning a bit of mischief whenever his green eye glowed particularly bright in the morning.

He was an able archer and loved to hunt with Rolf when they visited the Kingswood or the Stormlands. He was certainly the better sword between him and Aenar, quickly progressing under Daenys's tutelage. She dared to think he was better than Daemon had been at his age, though Cliff had always been much more respectful... except for the moments where he and Alyssa schemed to prank the others. Then, all courtesies flew out the window.

Gemma, eleven, had a fair little face, as calm as Rolf thought she would be. She was a sweet girl who spoke kindly with Helaena each time they visited King's Landing. Sometimes, they'd disappear for hours on their respective dragons, presumably finding a quiet place to look for insects. Gemma did not care for them, but she liked to pick flowers and make crowns of them. She'd make her own wreaths whenever her siblings held tournaments with each other, and each of them agreed– no matter the winner or the circumstance– that Gemma was always to be crowned their Queen of Love and Beauty.

She was everyone's favorite, for she always maintained her calm and did not take sides (though, if the boys were being particularly obnoxious, she was sure to defend Alyssa more oft than not). The servants and guards loved their sweet lady, who always remembered to ask everyone about their families. She, unlike Alyssa, thought with her head and heart before she did anything. She'd claimed her dragon when she was five, during a visit to King's Landing, thinking long and hard about those available before she decided on Starbeam, to keep Vhagar and her hatchlings together on Dragonstone.

Bertram was the child she had to worry least about, even with Gemma being so darling. He was ten now, ever the scholar like his father. He spent most of his days following Maester Gerardys around Dragonstone. He and Rolf spent much time talking about books and histories, which Bertram was especially fond of. She was sure he had every last bit of Jaehaerys's reign memorized, down to every last battle and significant decision. Though he practiced swords with them and his brothers, he preferred to fight with words, and was very good at it.

He had a bit of a temper as well, but his annoyances were limited to matters of his siblings, and he was always better at composing himself than Alyssa. He'd get his revenge in clever ways, if at all, for he didn't seem the sort to hold grudges. Daenys never had to worry he'd do something as naughty as Cliff or Alyssa, and sometimes Aenar.

Bertram had never shown much of an interest in dragons. He'd not tried to bond with one in the Dragonpit, or out in the wild, and only seemed to enjoy flying if it was alone with Daenys and Vhagar. She assumed, if anything, he was like her– he wanted Vhagar for his mount but could only do so after she passed on. Even then, she wasn't sure he'd try to claim her. He seemed inclined to become a maester, already studying flowers with Gemma to learn of their healing properties. A passive boy, he kept Vhagar's last egg on his desk while he read, not minding that it never seemed to want to hatch.

The children all spoke fluent High Valyrian, which was more than Daenys knew Aegon could, but Bertram was certainly the best, given he read it as often as he spoke it, while the others only ever used their tongues. She thought often of Viserys's children, of how they must be. She rarely saw them now, but had gone to visit alone when Alicent gave birth to his final child, a boy named Daeron, after her. Even then, Alicent hadn't been warm. She'd never gotten to interact as much with Aemond and Daeron as she had with Aegon and Helaena when they were little, and even then, the children were more interested in each other and their cousins than in speaking with their aunt. Aemond, it seemed, didn't much care for her at all.

Daenys's initial plan had been to spend every half year on Dragonstone with the other half in King's Landing, to give the children and dragons space for a time then allow them to still learn the ways of the court and keep knowing their cousins. That had gone south quickly, for the last time they'd gone to King's Landing, there'd been a bit of a problem.

They'd gone as a family a few years prior, for the children to meet young Lucerys and celebrate one of Viserys's birthdays. Aegon had demonstrated a more haughty attitude than before, which Aenar and Alyssa had not appreciated. While Cliff and Aemond had gotten along swimmingly and even Bertram and Daeron seemed content while Gemma and Helaena disappeared into the gardens, Daenys had heard shouts of outrage.

As it turned out, Aegon had tried to kiss Alyssa and touch her breasts. Her daughter had immediately kicked Aegon in the groin and smacked him over the head, and perhaps would have beaten him further if Aenar hadn't ripped her off of him. Even Daenys had been so upset that she'd smacked Aegon soundly and told him that even if he was a prince, it did not mean he could cross such boundaries, especially not with her children.

Alicent had been more upset with Daenys and Alyssa, and had not so much as reprimanded Aegon. That was when Alyssa had gotten even angrier, and had started shouting at the Queen for 'enabling' her son. Rolf had dragged Alyssa away before she could say more, but all that did was cause her to start crying in fury, calmed only by her father's embrace.

Daenys had been proud her daughter defended herself so, but wished she hadn't had to. Alyssa was not wrong– it concerned Daenys that Alicent did nothing to stop Aegon's behavior. Viserys's health was declining more rapidly, to the point he began to lose his train of thought in conversations. He sometimes forgot his children's names.

Even with Rhaenyra, the visit had not gone well. Lucerys looked as much like Ser Harwin Strong as Jacaerys had. In public, Daenys had put the rumors to rest around a particularly chatty group of maidens by saying that the boys took after the Arryns, for Aemma's father looked much like Jacaerys and Lucerys– how would they ever know? Rodrick Arryn had died long ago.

Daenys never actually met him. Still, it wasn't entirely a lie. She had met young Lady Jeyne Arryn and her close friend Jessamyn Redfort, and did indeed see a resemblance between her hair color with that of the boys. It was closer to Arryn color than to that of the Baratheons, Targaryens, or Velaryons.

She'd refrained from saying anything about it to Rhaenyra, but she knew her niece was well aware of her continued disappointment. In the end, they left King's Landing and had not been back since. She would have liked to visit Pentos, where Laena and Daemon currently resided, not having seen their young twins Baela and Rhaena since a few years after their birth– Baela reminded her of a miniature, female Daemon, while Rhaena was more like Laena, though even Laena had her bits of temper and matched well with Jaehaerys's old mount, Vermithor the Bronze Fury, which she'd claimed after Rhaenyra's wedding.

As her children ran into her solar, breathless and excited, she turned from the balcony, holding a slip of parchment in her hands. "A raven came?" asked Bertram, always perceptive. "Is it from our uncle the King?"

"You think every raven is from our King-uncle, Ram," said Cliff, wiping his brow and accepting a cup of water offered by Rolf. "Mother, did you see? Goldhorn was almost faster than Frostbite."

"I did see," said Daenys. "You almost took your father's head off when he leaned out to watch."

Cliff blushed, but Rolf ruffled his head to show he was not upset. "At any rate," said Rolf, "Bertram is right. We did receive a letter from King's Landing. Your cousin, the Princess Rhaenyra, has had another son."

Gemma squealed happily. "Another babe in the family! Will we be going to King's Landing?"

Daenys pursed her lips. "It is your decision, my little ones. There was... trouble the last time we were in King's Landing. We've learned now that Aegon cannot keep his hands to himself, and... though I have tried to keep you all out of it, you have all managed to become well-aware of the tension between me, Her Grace the Queen, and your cousin Rhaenyra. Years have passed, to be sure, but I want you all to feel safe when we are there. You may decide amongst yourselves if we go."

Aenar and Alyssa shared a silent look. "I will go," said Alyssa. "I can use a sword better than Aegon, that I've always known. I doubt he will try to touch me again after the smack I gave him before, but if he tries again, I will kiss him with steel."

Rolf's lips tugged towards a smile, though his mouth twitched as if he knew he should not be encouraging her to make such threats. All the same, Daenys knew why he was wanting to laugh– Alyssa sounded almost exactly like Daenys at times. Aenar offered, "I would like to see my uncle again. I worry we may not have much longer with him, and... I would think it wise to put as much of our trials behind us as possible. The date of my cousins's ascension to the Iron Throne nears. Our family must seem united, and at present, we are so distant from court emotionally and physically that the Realm may think we are in support of Aegon."

"I agree with Aenar," said Bertram. "Our continued and uninterrupted presence here gives the Queen's men more reason to believe her son the rightful heir."

"Those books have turned you into an old man," said Cliff honestly. "You sound like Maester Gerardys." He smirked and leapt away as Bertram tried to pinch his arm. "Yet, I stand with my brothers. I do miss Aemond, I want to see if he's better than I am with my sword. As for Rammy, I know he dreams of his dear princess."

"Oh, Cliff," chided Gemma as Bertram turned beet red. Daenys knew that Bertram had seemed to fancy Helaena the last time they'd been in the Red Keep. Gemma surely knew if Helaena felt the same, but was unlike to say anything. Though Daenys had promised Rolf she'd not marry her children to each other, nothing had been decided about what would happen if the children wanted to marry their cousins.

None of the others had shown such inclinations. Aenar was not at all shy around girls, but had never shown interest in Alyssa, Gemma, or Helaena. Alyssa wanted a strong knight who could fight as well as her, imagining a dark-haired youth that would ride horses at her side. Cliff, of course, already claimed to have kissed a girl, though Daenys and Rofl thought it more like to be a lie, for they knew he'd never lay a hand on any of the servant girls even if they wanted him to. Unless, of course, he'd kissed some girl at court, though no witnesses spoke on his behalf. At any rate, the girl kissed was no one in the family, to be sure.

Gemma had not yet shown much interest in boys or girls, but had never seemed intrigued by any of her cousins or siblings. Bertram was the only one inclined towards the blood of the dragon, a longing look in his eyes whenever Helaena was even mentioned. How he expected to be both her husband and a maester, Daenys did not know.

Perhaps he'd give up his dreams of going to the Citadel (and searching amongst the oldest men for one named 'Vaegon') for a quiet life here on Dragonstone with Helaena. That's where Daenys pictured them both, in such a situation. They were both unlike to enjoy continued life at court. Perhaps Gemma would join them, until she inevitably married– her daughter was shy, but she did like being around people and thought children to be absolutely darling.

Rolf looked to Gemma, who was shaking her head at Cliff to have him stop teasing Bertram. "My girl," he said gently. "What do you think? The decision must be unanimous."

Gemma shrugged. "We ought to, Daeron will leave for Oldtown soon, he told me in his last letter. I want to see Helaena again as well. She likes to ride Dreamfyre but prefers company, and Starbeam gets on so well with them both."

"Then I call the matter settled," said Rolf. "We will go to King's Landing and greet your new cousin." The children began to smile excitedly, Alyssa and Gemma immediately running out to prepare their dresses. Daenys heard Gemma ask if she should bring her bow, for she was a great shot both on and off her dragon, but practicing would be much harder in a city.

The boys lingered. "Helaena says tension persists in the castle," said Aenar. "At least, she implied it in her last letter. Rhaenyra's boys aren't oft on good terms with the others. There was rivalry between Jacaerys and Daeron. Aemond does not have a dragon, and he is teased for it. She insists he must close an eye for one, I assume she means that he is not seeing things clearly. But it may be that our presence will further aggravate them. What must we do to keep the peace, Mother?"

"What I'm sure you can already assume, that is all I will ask of you," said Daenys. "Do not add fodder to the fire. If Rhaenyra's sons are being unjust, you defend your cousins. If your cousins are being unjust, you defend Rhaenyra's sons. And under no circumstance do you say anything about their looks. Should you hear anyone call them bastards... you tell me or your father. It doesn't matter what the truth is, they have Baratheon and Arryn blood heavily mixed in with the blood of the dragon and the sea. They, too, are storm and sky."

Aenar nodded. "I'm sure Alyssa will be glad to point out any and all injustices. As for Cliff..." He smirked at his younger brother, who shrugged and toyed with the hilt of his sword, perhaps imagining himself having a go at anyone who annoyed him.

He might even try to settle the matter with swords. Cliff cleared his throat. "What about Aegon? What should we do about him?"

"Nothing," said Rolf. "If your uncle and the Queen have not taught him better... then there is nothing we can do to change him. It is not on us to educate him beyond what he does directly to any of you. Should another incident happen with Alyssa again, or worse with Gemma... only then do we become involved."

"Family, Duty, Honor," repeated Bertram. "But there is more to that. They are family, yes, and we must defend our sisters first and foremost. Yet, there is no honor in sitting aside even if he does not insult us directly. We have a duty to Princess Rhaenyra and the Realm. Surely it would be important to... learn what Aegon knows."

Cliff made a face. "Aegon's a talker. Give him two cups of wine and he'll say anything. Or I can put my sword to his neck and he's like to tell us whatever we want."

Aenar tapped his shoulder, "And that, brother, does little to ease any tensions. We'll not threaten Aegon. But, Bert is right. We ought to get him to talk, if only to see what lies the Hightowers have been feeding him. Last I remember, Aegon had no desire or ambition to be king. He wants the same thing Alyssa wants, honestly. Freedom to do what he pleases with no one expecting anything of him."

Daenys and Rolf shared a look at Bertram, who pursed his lips and stared down at his feet as if thinking something entirely different. She knew the look in her son's eyes, that same pensive expression he got right before he started questioning his histories and asking aloud what was true, what wasn't. He was thinking far more ahead than Cliff or Aenar or even his parents must be capable of understanding, but he'd not voice it. He had something in mind about Aegon, that was sure, but he didn't seem to want to say it.

Aenar was likely thinking along the same lines, but spoke well enough to conceal his thoughts. He was a scholar as well, and sometimes said that certain conflicts might've been solved with calculated killings or bits of manipulation. He never said it with malice, only with honesty. Yet, he was older than Bertram and able to understand Aegon better. Bertram was thinking the way any seasoned counselor of the Small Council would, most like wishing to eliminate a threat, but Aenar was thinking like a Hand, already with the knowledge that the threat was less of a threat than others perceived.

Cliff pursed his lips as if to ask a question, then decided to say only, "At any rate, I look forward to our trip. My sword is ready... should it be needed." Daenys frowned, worried that a twelve-year-old would think such a thing necessary. She'd never send him into a fight at twelve, that was absurd. Still, her boy was brave, that she never doubted.

"I should hope it won't come to that," she said, reaching out to kiss the top of his head. "My sweet boys. You keep to your studies, whatever they may be. Most importantly... be children. I know I've been insistent on all the things you must know, but all these problems... they are for adults. Things your father and I have been thinking about for much longer than you've been alive. If I need your help, I will ask for it. But until then... enjoy yourselves."

Aenar nodded, but Bertram seemed less convinced of this possibility. As they left, Daenys made notes for herself about their visit. She would question servants, contact Mysaria to ask for information about Aegon, and likely speak to the boy herself if she could get him away from Alicent. Otto's influence still ran through the Queen, who must have leaned on him as the sole voice of reason after she felt so betrayed by Rhaenyra for the final time.

Yet, the only good thing Daenys saw was that Alicent was seemingly not as devoted a mother as Rhaenyra. It brought weaknesses in Alicent's children, and weaknesses could be exploited. Rhaenyra showed her sons love, Daenys had given her own many lessons that taught them to be independent, authentic, and still as wise as they could be, but she got the sense that Aegon and Aemond in particular were not being instructed on how to understand the game or its pieces. They would not yet know how small actions could tip the scales.

They'd not yet set a date for their departure when a raven arrived, addressed to Daenys. She was wary to open it, wondering if it would be from Alicent, asking her not to come, or some notice of her brother's worsening condition. To her surprise, the letters on it were in Rhaenyra's own hand. It had been quite some time since Rhaenyra had written her a letter.

Word from King's Landing often came by way of young Grand Maester Orwyle, who at Viserys's command gave Daenys general updates of the castle. The last time she'd heard from Rhaenyra must have been a letter she wrote to Daenys during one of her visits to Runestone, back when she would fly to see Daemon and spent time with Lady Rhea.

She tore open the letter carefully, unfurling the parchment. Her niece's neat scrawl covered the whole of it, tiny letters with the beautiful little curls at the ends that always used to make Daenys laugh; she wrote almost exactly like Aemma, while Daenys's letters had always been close to illegible, like her own mother. She wrote so fast, she never cared for them to look pretty, but Aemma and Gael had tried so often to encourage her to be slower, so her writing would be beautiful.

My dear aunt,

I sat at a meeting of the Small Council today, in the seat you used to occupy. I still remember when I was my father's cupbearer, and you would tap your forehead to my hand to greet me when I arrived. I remember when I first joined the council as Princess of Dragonstone, and how you gave me this seat so I might now sit at my father's right. You never minded moving a spot down for me, as you did not mind the day he named me heir in your stead.

My son, Joffrey, is much like my others. I remember holding Aenar and Alyssa like this, when they were born. My father was telling me yestermorn how excited you were the day I was born. You held me and blessed me, you promised you would take me into the skies when you had a dragon of your own. I still remember our first flight on Vhagar, when I was only four. I remember how you encouraged me to spread my arms and feel the wind flow through my sleeves.

It took me many years to understand the things you would tell me. How important it was for me to listen to what you had to say. It was not until today that I have come to realize my hurtful treatments toward you. You raised me as your own from the moment of my birth, and when my mother passed, you were the only one who was constantly at my side and at my father's. He tells me you'd always taken care of everyone this way, that you did the same for your grandsire, grandmother, and father. I miss that.

You will surely hear of this from my father, but I thought to tell you first. Ser Harwin beat into Ser Criston much as Ser Criston did the night of my marriage to Laenor. You can imagine the reason. Lord Lyonel wished to resign the Handship, but my father refused. Instead, he will only be escorting Ser Harwin to Harrenhal to assume his duties as lord. I imagined that if my father had accepted his resignation, that he might have named you his Hand and brought you and your children, my sweet cousins, back to the Red Keep. It pains me that my own stubbornness has kept me from knowing them, for I know I would have loved them as you loved me, had I opened the opportunity. I'm sure they have grown into capable young boys and girls, who are fortunate to have a loving mother who gives such wise counsel.

I wish I'd been willing to listen sooner. That I'd understood the sacrifices you made to keep me happy. You let yourself endure pain for my sake, for I know you would have left the castle long ago had it not been for the love you bore me. For the love you bore your children, you left, and I never encouraged you to return. I should have. I would now, though I write to tell you that you ought to expect company. I will be bringing my family to live on Dragonstone now.

I need your counsel, Aunt, my second mother, and I will not dare to question you again. I need you to guide me now, for I fear what is close to come.

Still your little one,

Rhaenyra

Daenys held the letter tight in her hands. She folded it up, sighing deeply as tears welled in her eyes. Her little girl was coming home to her. She knew things must have reached an intolerable point for Rhaenyra to want to run, and Daenys would have liked to tell her to stand her ground, that instead she and her family would move back to the Red Keep permanently to support her there, but she knew that Rhaenyra was likely already on her way. Daenys wanted to be here to welcome her with open arms.

Though the children were disappointed that they'd not be going to King's Landing, their expressions changed as soon as they learned that Rhaenyra and her sons would be coming to live with them. Aenar, Alyssa, and Cliff remembered Ser Laenor most fondly. Rolf believed that with he and Daenys both instructing Rhaenyra's sons, the boys would improve exponentially in their swordsmanship. Their dragons would grow faster, as well.

The day that Rhaenyra arrived, Daenys lined her children up at the entrance to the castle, the five of them poking and teasing each other until Rolf whistled for them to be still. Daenys saw them, Rhaenyra and her little group, household knights following behind the princess, her consort, and the three boys. Jacaerys and Lucerys wore bright smiles when they saw Bertram, who waved kindly at the boys his age and younger.

"My girl," said Daenys when Rhaenyra reached her. She wrapped her arms around her niece, kissing her cheek and rubbing her back in comfort. She felt Rhaenyra tense and bury her head in her shoulder, sniffling as though she'd begun to cry. She imagined Rhaenyra had needed that embrace for years.

The children were quiet as Daenys whispered words of comfort, assuring her that she loved her, that she'd always loved her, that she always forgave her and supported her, for she was her first child, not borne of Daenys but of her same blood. She was her daughter, that had never changed.

"You were never forgotten," Daenys murmured, rocking Rhaenyra gently back and forth. "We will never stop affirming you as our Queen. You will sit your father's throne, the throne of my grandsire, the throne I have always admired. Even if I must slay your enemies with the crown of my grandsire and bloody its spikes before I place it on your head."