A/N: Above are the faceclaims for Daenys and Rolf's children! Additionally, I wished to both apologize for the lack of updates (the work commute is rough) and announce that I will be developing a full story for the OC I made in my one-shots paired with Daemon. I might publish that story after this one, or perhaps after the next I have planned— not sure yet.

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Dragonstone, 133 AC

The 30th year of King Viserys the Peaceful's rule

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The word hung around them like a curse.

No one spoke it on Dragonstone, though everyone knew where it was and wasn't true. On their little island, to be a bastard was not a true insult, it was a fact that had to be known and pushed past. Daenys's own children held no animosity towards the word, but would not tolerate anyone outside their household saying it with the intention of cutting like a blade.

She shouldn't have been astounded when Aenar and Alyssa were not at all surprised by her confession of their true parentage. It seemed the children had all but figured it out on their own. The day they'd seen Otto, weary and aging, Alyssa had teased Aenar that that was how he'd look when he was an old man. Aenar had told her she'd age as badly as a prune, but the two had taken pause of their jokes to consider that there was a resemblance. Aenar had already told Alyssa earlier that week that she looked much like the Queen.

It was Bertram who all but confirmed it. The twins had asked him for his neutral perspective, and Bertram had said it was very likely, for in Grand Maester Mellos's journal, Daenys and Otto had once been called 'great friends.' He explained to them that when Mellos was alive, he had thought that Daenys would keep Otto as her Hand were she Queen, for he was the Hand who'd served her grandsire and brother faithfully. The children alone made the assumption that, given Daenys was known to hate Otto Hightower, the relationship had soured somehow.

Not once had they minded. That same night, Aenar said that he didn't think it mattered at all. Rolf was his father, the father who raised him and taught him to hunt. More than anything, he was a Targaryen, a dragon rider. The blood of his father was nothing compared to the blood of the dragon. Alyssa had hugged Rolf. She was her father's daughter, and hewas her father. Rolf loved all his children equally (well, perhaps Gemma was like to be his favorite, with her sweet little projects and kind words), and that included the twins.

With the revelation of broken hearts, lies, and betrayal came a choice. Daenys and Rolf told their five children that they had another option. If, knowing what they did now, they did not wish to be part of what was to come in defending Rhaenyra's rights to her throne, they could leave. Their grandsire at Riverrun could foster them, or Aemma's cousin in the Eyrie, or Rolf's Blackwood family on his mother's side.

They could even have them fostered in Essos as well. Daemon had recent friends in Pentos and Daenys remembered many young boys and girls from her youth who'd come with their families from Norvos, Volantis, and Braavos. They'd be sure to find someone in the Free Cities more than happy to host one of her children.

Daenys had expected that Gemma and Bertram would want to leave. Gemma was too gentle for what was to come; she'd be happier in a place like Norvos, where she could do as she pleased and even participate in their observance of prayer. Bertram, she thought would ask to be sent to the Citadel already for his training, though she would have inevitably persuaded him to study the same arts in the Free Cities to keep him away from the Hightowers.

However, none of them wished to go. Aenar, Alyssa, and Cliff were all insistent that when the time came, they would defend their cousin's crown. They would do right by their grandmother and great-grandmother, by their aunts and female cousins. Bertram did not wish to leave the family, which gave Rolf significant comfort.

It was Gemma who spoke last, saying that as little as she liked the idea of living through a war, she alone might remember to smile— they'd have need of smiles when that time came. She'd hugged Daenys and said that she would miss her too much. Daenys had kissed the top of her head, blushing and teary-eyed as her little girl squeezed her.

Their family had left Driftmark the next morning, but had arrived on Dragonstone to news of Laenor's untimely death. Daenys didn't believe it for a second, not once Daemon and Rhaenyra returned together to Dragonstone and were wed by a Valyrian priest. She didn't think Rhaenys deserved the pain they'd saddled her with, she didn't think it had been necessary to be so cruel.

But her brother and niece seldom heeded her advice. She'd had every mind to leave them to the mess of their own making. She considered taking the whole of the family into the Riverlands or even returning to King's Landing if only to sit the Council and monitor what was being done without Viserys's leave. Rolf convinced her to stay, despite her exhaustion with all the lies. He doubted all their dragons would fare well at Riverrun, and he was loath to return home. At the Red Keep, they'd find the same degree of tension, and they had to worry about Aegon and Aemond prowling around with reasons to either bother or hurt their children. In the end, they remained.

For nine years, her children had continued to thrive with their dragons. Vhagar's four hatchlings had been born before Syrax, and had enjoyed a freedom that Rhaenyra's spoiled little beast had rarely known. Aegarax, Frostbite, Goldhorn, and Starbeam were all larger than Syrax, though still not the size of decades-older Meleys and Caraxes.

Aenar had finally reached his full height, much taller than Daenys and only an inch shy of six-foot-three Rolf. He was a handsome youth of twenty with a man's whiskers all around his mouth– he looked just as Otto had when she met him, but had the lean look of a warrior as Rolf had always kept, his sword strapped to his hip and a Tully blue cloak swirling behind him. He looked serious most of the time, calm and observant as he'd been when he was a boy, but with his family he'd laugh and smile incredibly wide, the same way Rolf had and Otto never did.

Alyssa, their fierce beauty, remained as outspoken as ever, wearing expensive dresses as often as she donned the armor that matched her blood-red spear. Her hair had darkened with the years, as had parts of her temperament. With greater maturity came her greater ability to cut to bits anyone who insulted her or her siblings– whether it was with her words or with her spear. She refused to wed until she found a man who could best her in combat. Few would dare try, Daenys knew, and even fewer would manage to overpower her.

Cliff, her wild little boy, was now nine-and-ten, a fierce swordsman who was called 'Cliff Cutthroat' in the Riverlands. He had his father's same build, and was often in some sort of armor. Daenys had already promised to pass Bloodrain down to him upon her death– he'd earned it the day he followed his father into the Riverlands and leapt off of Goldhorn as he flew low, landing on the back of a horse to slit the throat of his rider. He remained ever the prankster, bringing smiles to the faces of his siblings and cousins.

Gemma, their gentle beauty, remained as delicate and sweet as when she was younger, but at eighteen spoke eloquently and sang beautifully, much loved by her young cousins. She was wonderful with the children, little Aegon and Viserys, and was seldom alone– they all wished to follow her around when they had the time. Though her aim was deadly when given a bow and an arrow to nock, both on the ground and in the sky, she seldom liked to handle weapons, preferring to disappear into books and in conversations with her sister. Daenys remembered her aunt Gael and cousin Aemma being much like her. Rolf said she was exactly like his mother had been.

Bertram could not be stopped. His curiosity knew no bounds, and no boy of seventeen was going to let limits be placed on what he could learn. He'd read everything in Dragonstone's library, everything Maester Gerardys had brought from the Red Keep and the Citadel, and even so, Bertram liked to explore things with his hands. He'd made himself a garden to learn the properties of plants, he spent days entirely at Gerardys's side learning to heal and even hurt with poisons, and when he didn't have his nose in a new book, he was following his parents and siblings around trying to have conversations about everything and anything in the world that interested him. He showed no interest in the idea of marriage, though Alyssa and Gemma both agreed that there was only one girl Bertram had ever thought right for him– Helaena.

Unfortunately for him, Helaena was spoken for already. Daenys had learned some years ago that Aegon and Helaena had been wed. They had children now, one-year-old twins named Jaehaerys and Jaehaera. Daenys had seen Bertram pretend the letter with this news hadn't bothered him, though she learned later from Cliff that Bertram had been angrily muttering that he could treat Helaena more kindly than Aegon ever would.

Her youngest son had his bits of rage as well, though never in the worrisome fashion of Alyssa and Cliff. Rolf teased that if Bertram were more like them, he would have stolen Vermithor for himself at Driftmark and run away with Helaena and Dreamfyre. They'd probably find them years later with a house in Lorath, a beautiful garden, a room of insects, and a library the size of Dragonstone.

Daenys had been glad for the proximity between herself and the children of Daemon and Rhaenyra. The twins, Baela and Rhaena, were fifteen and two sides of the same coin. Baela was fiery, every bit a younger version of Daemon– less restrained than Daenys, even, as she'd been called the female Daemon for years growing up. Rhaena was more gentle, and happy to spend time with Gemma, who took her into the skies on Starbeam to give Rhaena a taste of having a dragon. Daenys liked to pay special attention to Rhaena, who seemed to need it the most especially after Baela was taken to Driftmark to be fostered by Rhaenys, and often spoke with her to hear her many thoughts.

Jacaerys, Lucerys, and Joffrey were growing fast. Nearly seventeen, Jacaerys had grown into a lean young man, with dark curly hair and the same penetrating gaze that Rhaenyra often had when she wanted to get her way. His cheeks had thinned out as he grew, making him favor his mother over his father. Fifteen-year-old Lucerys reminded Daenys very much of Rhaenyra at that age. He was a sweet boy, creative and kind, always dutiful and better at speaking High Valyrian than Jacaerys, who often grew frustrated watching Daenys's children have full conversations with each other. Joffrey was beginning to learn as well, though he was seven and more interested in running around in the yard while his brothers trained.

Aegon had been born to Rhaenyra and Daemon four years prior. Daenys wished that Daemon hadn't also wanted to honor their brother, her twin, for she'd smelled the tension a mile away when a bitter letter arrived from Otto congratulating them on Viserys's behalf. He was a good boy, though quiet, and liked to follow Jacaerys around all day. He looked up to his big brother, but sometimes was equally as interested in watching Aenar and Cliff zip around each other with their swords. Daenys had begun training little Aegon to hold a sparring sword.

Viserys, only two, had yet to show much of who he was. He reminded her of Gemma at his age, a curious babe who looked around and watched, ever so often babbling to give input. He hung to Rhaenyra closely, though of late he'd had to keep his distance as her belly grew great with another child. The way she was carrying, Maester Gerardys believed that she was finally to have a girl. Daenys knew what name Rhaenyra had picked out.

The children were all loved. All valued. The ones who were bastards did not let the word mean a thing to them, the ones who knew of it loved them all the same. Their worth did not come from the status of their birth. As Corlys Velaryon had told Rhaenys, history would remember names, not blood. If they made themselves known for something truly great, none would recall that they might have been some other man's bastard children.

Still, others were not so quick to share these beliefs. Not long after a letter from Driftmark informed them that Lord Corlys was making his way home feverish after a corsair's dagger slashed his neck, another informed them that Vaemond Velaryon was seeking an audience with King Viserys regarding the passing of the Driftwood Throne. He believed his brother would die from his wounds, and did not wish the seat to pass to Lucerys, as was Corlys's decision.

Rhaenyra held back a sneer as she held the scroll in her hands, "He means to call into question Luke's legitimacy. And by extension Jace, and by extension my own claim to the throne."

"Vaemond cares only about Driftmark and the Velaryon line," said Daemon. "Not about our politics."

"Perhaps he does not," said Rolf. "But you know he'll easily find an ear with Otto High-cunt." That made Daenys giggle. "It's only a matter of time before this blows into a greater proportion. The Queen and Hand will give him this audience as publicly as possible."

Rhaenyra muttered, "Rhaenys has flown to court. Surely she cannot mean to back him?"

"Never," said Daenys. "Though she had her moments of frustration, she knows Corlys never wavered on his decision to name Lucerys his heir. Rhaenys and I have spoken of this before. The last time I flew to Driftmark with Gemma so that she might see Baela, she spoke more favorably of my years-ago proposal to wed the twins to Jacaerys and Lucerys. Why do that if she believes what Vaemond does now?"

"To King's Landing, then," said Daemon, side-eyeing his sister. "With the entire strength of our family, no less."

Daenys nodded in agreement. "All of us, with all our dragons, save for Tyraxes; he is too young. I will ready my children."

Rhaenyra set out on her ship first, intending to arrive before Daenys and Rolf. Daenys let her be the one to handle the Hightowers, as it was her own claim that needed to be defended. It was better for her that she didn't see Otto or Alicent, for she had nothing kind to say to either of them. She still remembered easy days with Rhaenyra and Alicent picnicking in the godswood. Days when Daenys would sit and chat with Aemma while the girls ran around. This Alicent was different now, and it seemed her own children were, as well.

She briefed her children on what to expect from their childhood companions. Aemond was said to be a magnificent swordfighter, perhaps as good as Cliff or better; they could not know for certain. Losing his eye had hardened him, and he refused to be at a disadvantage. He would not forget how, despite trying to save his life, both Bertram and Cliff had spoken a truth that had not been in his favor.

Alyssa remembered very well that Aegon could not keep his hands to himself. She might not have had another incident occur on Driftmark, but it did not mean they were safe. Daemon's old friends in the City Watch often saw Aegon on the Street of Silk. He could easily think himself entitled to further attention from Alyssa, though she was prepared to relieve him of his hands if he lay one on her again. Aenar, meanwhile, was set to minimize the fallout of whatever his sister's reaction would be.

Gemma was excited to meet Helaena's children. Daenys felt so deeply for young Helaena, who must have been as scared as she and Aemma both were during their first beddings. As for the birth, Daenys remembered very well the terror she felt when having the twins, not knowing there was another babe coming until Aenar was taken from her arms and Mellos had told her that he felt movement beneath her flesh.

She was glad none of her children were wed, both by her choices and theirs. Matches had been offered; Elmo had heard of men and women in the Riverlands interested in marrying into House Targaryen, though the children carried Tully names. Borros Baratheon had daughters for her sons, Jeyne Arryn male cousins for her girls, and even in Dorne there was a Martell girl to be wed. But as long as her children remained uninterested, Daenys had no intention of pressuring them. If they never married, so be it.

Once their family arrived in the castle, their carriage about an hour behind Rhaenyra's, they were received with a somber welcome. Few had come to see them, mostly men who had served under Daemon in the City Watch and been distant friends of Daenys, as well as her old handmaidens and the children's septas. Lord Caswell was especially kind and Ser Steffon Darklyn was ever gallant.

She had her children follow her to her brother's chambers. The castle was different, many carvings made over archways depicting the Seven-Pointed Star and other busts of the Seven. A few of the tapestries were different as well, images of piety replacing dragons. Daenys instructed them all to wait outside while she entered.

The room was dusty and stuffy. Viserys's old model of Valyria's capital had not been touched in at least a year. The smell of sickness and death lingered, causing Daenys to hold her breath as she neared his bed, thin silk curtains concealing him from her immediate view.

He was nothing like how she'd last seen him. Skeletal and deathly pale, with age spots over what remained of his hands, he didn't even notice her when she first entered. His skin was tightly pulled over his skull, thin wisps of hair clinging for dear life beneath bandages that covered half of his face. He'd lost several teeth and had dark circles around his visible eye. He groaned weakly, already sitting up– Rhaenyra and Daemon had surely already come to see him.

"Brother," she called gently. "Brother, it's Daenys."

He opened his eye as much as he must have been able to. "Daenys?" He didn't appear to see her. "Daenys..."

She sat on the edge of his bed, taking his hand. "Big brother, I've come home." She should have returned sooner, when she wanted to after Driftmark. She could have left the children with Rhaenyra and Daemon on Dragonstone. She ought to have brought Rolf and Bertram here with her, here to watch over her brother. "I've missed you."

"I've missed you," he repeated mournfully. He turned away and sniffled. "I regret... I regret..."

"Shh." She kissed his hand, squeezing it gently. "It's alright. Whatever happened... it doesn't matter anymore. It's not your fault."

"It is." A tear rolled down his bony cheek. "I never... Gareth Tyrell... never... I should have let you choose."

"I found Rolf," said Daenys softly. "Well, he found me. We've been very happy together, Viserys. Everything came at the right time."

He shook his head. "No better... than Jaehaerys. With you... with Rhaenyra... Rhaenyra is here, she worries. The succession, my decision..."

"We are going to defend her," swore Daenys. "We will defend her until our dying breaths. I will not see anyone take that throne from her."

He sobbed, "I should not... have tried to marry you. I should have..." He whimpered, "If I made you heir..."

"Please, brother." She leaned down to kiss his forehead. "It is in the past. She was the right choice. War would've still followed if you named me heir. Please, do not blame yourself. I beg you." She sighed deeply, wishing to cry at the sight of him so weak, so sad. "May I bring my children in? I want them to see you."

He nodded weakly. She gave a low whistle, the door opening again. Rolf ushered them in, a quiet line making for him. "Your Grace," said Rolf, taking his hand over Daenys's. "My King."

"Rolf," said Viserys, smiling as best as he could. "Rolf... kind Rolf. You have been... good to my sister."

"As she has been good to me," said Rolf. He beckoned the children closer. "They've grown since you last saw them. "Aenar... Alyssa... Cliff... Gemma... Bertram."

They took their turns greeting him, dipping down to kiss his cheek, calling him 'King Uncle.' Viserys moaned in pain after they'd stood, holding his head. "We'll leave you to rest. I'll be back in the evening."

She helped him down some of his tea, smelling strong of milk of the poppy. Once he'd calmed, she ushered the children and Rolf back out. They walked back to their quarters, ensuring all was well with Rhaenyra and her family– as well as things could be, back under the watchful eyes of the vipers.

From there, the children split. Alyssa and Gemma would go to visit Helaena and meet her children while Aenar and Cliff went down to the yard with Jacaerys and Lucerys. Joffrey had lessons with his septa, and Bertram was more interested in finding a book he could read to the King in the evening. He swore to Daenys that he'd go with her to bid him goodnight.

"All the Targaryen heraldry, stripped from each wall," said Daemon coldly. "Seven-Pointed Stars everywhere, I'd like to use their points to cut the throat of each cunt on the Small Council."

"Save for Lord Beesbury," said Daenys, sitting down by the fire in Rhaenyra's apartments. She leaned down to scoop up little Viserys, who whined from the lack of attention. "Rolf..." She gave him a significant look.

"I know," he replied, sighing deeply. "I do not wish to bring the children, but I do not wish to part with them, either. Yet, it seems, we have to come back here, you and I."

"It seems so. Aenar and Alyssa, I want as far away from the Hightowers and Aegon as possible. Cliff, he'd be happy anywhere, but I prefer he not be near Aemond. He likes Dragonstone and learning from Daemon. Bertram would like to be here, that I know. Gemma... I am not certain."

"Perhaps... we could say Bertram wishes to be an apprentice of Maester Orwyle. It'll keep him close enough to monitor him... for he's surely Otto's creature. Bertram could say he's helping to take care of His Grace."

"I think it a good idea. I do not trust Orwyle. Bertram has studied well under Maester Gerardys. It is like he will find a better way to treat my brother."

"Gemma would enjoy being nearer to Helaena," offered Rolf. "Perhaps in her own way, our timid girl would find out things we may need to know when you sit the Small Council anew."

Daemon snorted, "If Otto allows it. He only liked having Daenys on the Small Council when I had a seat as Prince of Dragonstone, because then she'd agree with him and Viserys and chastise me."

"As if you did not do and say things that merited scolding," replied his sister. She tickled Viserys's neck with her nose, making him squeal. "At any rate, being closer to court helps our brother. They'd dare to do less with one of us around."

Rhaenyra heaved a sigh, holding her belly, "We will consider it. Perhaps... I ought to consider us all returning. We are stronger when there are more of us. Let us see how tomorrow goes."

The morrow did not bode well when even that same day was less than favorable. When Vaemond Velaryon had arrived that afternoon, Daenys had gone to greet him, only to find he was as cold with her as she expected he'd be with Rhaenyra. What she did to him personally, she had no idea.

"Princess Daenys," he'd said, with an air of superiority. He was the brother to the Lord of the Tides and she sister to the King, not to mention a Princess well-known for her bark, bite, and love for her family. What was Vaemond Velaryon ever known for? "I am surprised to see you here."

"Are you, Vaemond?" she asked, a hand hovering over the hilt of her sword. "Surely you saw Vhagar flying overhead."

"I did," he said calmly. "Yet, I was given to understand you prefer being on Dragonstone with your quite grown children." She smiled thinly, knowing what he was insinuating before he said, "My son Daeron and his wife Lady Hazel Hoarte have a six-year-old daughter now. I am a proud grandsire to my clever little Daenaera."

"How good for them," said Daenys. "They must be very happy."

"Indeed they are. Perhaps your own children will know that same joy soon... if they marry, that is."

"They'll marry when they want to," she replied, patience thinning. Perhaps if she cut Vaemond's throat now, she'd save them all his chatter on the morrow.

Vaemond seemed skeptical. "Perhaps. Given how late your own marriage was to your lord husband, we're like to wait the rest of our lives."

"Well," said Daenys, eyes flashing with malice, "luckily for us, Vaemond, you're not long for this world, are you? I'm sure their marriages will come soon... you simply won't be there to see them." She took her hand off Bloodrain's hilt to pat his shoulder. "You were a brave man to wag your tongue with me... an even braver one to bring this matter before the King... though both these things still make you stupid. We'll see if you still have your tongue by the end of this."

His eye twitched. "Are you threatening me, Princess?"

"I am educating you. You don't seem to realize you speak treasons, denying what both the King and Lord Corlys have decided since years ago. You'll reap what you've sown, of that I am sure. Good day, Vaemond."

She could deal with the likes of Vaemond Velaryon, especially alone. She made a point to tell Daemon and Rolf of the interaction— if at any point he got too carried away tomorrow, either Daemon or Daenys would take matters into their own hands and set an example for those watching.

Children could be taught to understand something serious, they could be taught to think before they spoke. Old men, it seemed, were difficult to teach.

Only with blood spilt did they appear to learn.