Dragonstone, 133 AC

The 1st year of Rhaenyra the Dragon Queen's rule

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They convened for their first Small Council session under their new monarch.

The Chamber of the Painted Table was filled to the brim. Ladies-in-waiting would stand with the guards listening as their gathered lords and knights, the youngest of the family invited to hear the first decisions that would be made in this war.

Daenys's children stood with Rolf oppose the table as Rhaenyra's sons, Rhaenys, Daemon, and Daenys, who would be closet to Rhaenyra as she took the head of the table. Daenys would never have imagined herself, Rhaenys, and Daemon standing here like this back when she was a little girl and barely discovering how powerful the three of them were when they weren't caught in mischief. At present, they were Rhaenyra's greatest resource. With years of experience in court, on dragonback, mounts of three of the largest beasts left in the world, it was hard for Daenys to see anything other than Aemon, Alyssa, and Baelon come again to set things right.

Her first words as Queen were spoken, "I declare Ser Otto Hightower and Queen Alicent as traitors and rebels. As for my half-brothers and my sweet sister, Helaena, they have been led astray by the counsel of evil men. Let them come to Dragonstone, bend the knee, and ask for my forgiveness, and I shall gladly spare their lives and take them back into my heart, for they are of my own blood, and no man or woman is as accursed as the kingslayer."

They nodded in agreement– this was fair. "I affirm my son, Jacaerys of House Velaryon," said Rhaenyra, "as heir to the Iron Throne and Prince of Dragonstone. At the time that he ascends the Iron Throne, he will be Jacaerys of House Targaryen, First of His Name." More agreement. "I name my lord husband, Daemon Targaryen, as King Consort and Protector of the Realm. I name my aunt, Daenys Targaryen, as Hand of the Queen."

Daenys looked up in surprise. "You honor me, Your Grace."

"It is no less than you deserve," said Rhaenyra. She would have probably smiled if it were not such a serious moment; Daenys understood. "What is our standing here?"

"We have thirty knights," reported Daemon, "a hundred crossbowmen, and three-hundred men-at-arms. Dragonstone is relatively easy to defend, but as an instrument of conquest, our army leaves a lot to be desired. We have sent word to my loyal men in the City Watch. I'll have some support there, but I cannot speak to the numbers."

Maester Gerardys spoke, "We already have declarations from Celtigar and Staunton, Massey, Darklyn, Bar Emmon."

Rhaenyra nodded. "My lady mother was an Arryn. The Vale will not turn cloak against their own kin."

Rolf cleared his throat, "Riverrun was always a close friend to your father, Your Grace. I have already sent word to mine. He is an old man, and of late he has trouble rising from his bed, but I assure you that both he and my nephew Elmo, who rules in all but name, are sure supporters. However, the Riverlands are vast, and as you recall, my sons and I have gone there before to settle disputes. There is much yet to be seen of what individual houses will believe. That being said, my nephew will rally all that he can under your name. Traitors will be snuffed out. Daenys and I have five children; if there are five traitors then their houses will be forgotten and our children will have their keeps and lands."

"Thank you, Ser Rolf," said Rhaenyra. "It pleases me to hear this."

"What of Storm's End and Winterfell?" asked Lord Bartimos Celtigar.

"There has never lived a Stark who forgot an oath," offered the maester. "And with House Stark, the North will follow."

"Lord Borros Baratheon will need to be reminded of his father's promises," noted Rhaenyra. She looked down at the Painted Table, where Jacaerys had been moving pieces around to demonstrate where they had allies and where they had enemies. She turned to Rhaenys, "What news from Driftmark?"

"Lord Corlys sails for Dragonstone," said Rhaenys. "The Velaryon fleet is in my husband's yoke."

"We shall pray for both you and your husband's support," said Rhaenyra. It was expected but still critical; the wealth of House Velaryon and their strength at sea would be difficult to surpass. Though the Redwynes and Lannisters had ships that would likely go to Aegon, only Greyjoys could hope to match the Velaryons in the water. "Just as we prayed nightly for the Sea Snake's return to good health. There's no port on the Narrow Sea that would dare to make an enemy of the Velaryon fleet." To the rest, she inquired, "And our enemies?"

"We can count out the Lannisters," said Daenys, having Jacaerys move another piece. "Jason and Tyland have been in Otto's pockets for a long time, they will not turn from him now. Though, Tyland always struck me an opportunistic man... we may yet have hope if we prove that we will be the side to prevail. Lions are proud and will not wish to be marred with defeat."

"Without the Lannisters," muttered Rhaenyra, "we're not like to find any allies west of the Golden Tooth."

"No," agreed Daenys. "We thank the gods for the support of the Riverlands." I made the best alliance I could have made for her when I chose Rolf. Thank the gods for putting him in my path, thank him for being as he is, a husband I love, a good father to our children, and ever loving of his family despite his distance.

Lord Bartimos noted, "Pray forgive my bluntness, Your Grace, but talk of men is moot. Your cause owns a power that has not been seen in this world since the days of Old Valyria. Dragons."

"The Greens have dragons as well," said Rhaenyra.

Rhaenys added, "We have more, yes, and ours are larger and stronger, but for Vermithor. Dragons thrive best here on Dragonstone, and even Dreamfyre has not known it for a long time. Sunfyre is a splendid beast, though young. Aemond rides Vermithor... and this peril cannot be gainsaid. Daeron has Tessarion as well. That makes four dragons of fighting size, and Helaena's twins have hatchlings. Meleys may have grown lazy, but she remains fearsome when roused, and she has seen battle."

Clearing her throat, Alyssa went on, "Caraxes and Syrax are both large and formidable. Caraxes is no stranger to blood, either. Since we moved to Dragonstone, Aenar's Aegarax, Gemma's Starbeam, Cliff's Goldhorn, and mine own Frostbite have become much larger and we've simulated battle on them, dodging arrows and spears. Vermax, Arrax, and Tyraxes have been thriving here. Little Aegon's Stormcloud may be small, but soon he will mount him, as will Baela with Moondancer. Viserys's egg may yet hatch. And let us not forget my mother's mount. Vhagar may be very old but she is a dragon of the conquest. She alone could take Vermithor. Vermithor may be younger and quicker but Vhagar's fire burns very hot."

Daenys pursed her lips. "That is true, my girl, but we must be realistic. Vhagar's age is a great detriment now. I am sure that if Aemond and I, with our dragons, clashed in a sky, all four of us will fall whether we want them to or not. Vhagar is nigh a hundred and eighty; Balerion died at two-hundred. We cannot pit lone dragons against each other simply because their sizes are matched, and we must consider the experience of the riders as well. Of you young ones, only Aenar and Cliff have been in real battle on their dragons. It is enough, but it would not hurt to have more."

"There are more dragons here," agreed Rhaenys, following her train of thought. "If we were to find riders for Silverwing, Seasmoke, Sheepstealer, Grey Ghost, and perhaps even the Cannibal..."

She looked to both Rhaena and Bertram, the only two of all the children who did not have dragons of their own. Shyly, Bertram admitted, "I could... try." But Daenys knew he would not enjoy it; he'd never been much interested in dragons, and suspected if he could have one, it would be Vhagar. Her boy would prefer to fight this war with books and words than with swords and wings. He'd document their war, that she knew, and fight from the sidelines, rather than take to the skies and burn people.

"Yes," said Daenys. "I do not believe any of us are comfortable with sending Gemma, Prince Jacaerys, Prince Lucerys, Prince Joffrey, or Princess Baela into battle."

"And it will be unlikely that I will be in any condition to ride Syrax yet," admitted Rhaenyra.

Daenys nodded. "In truth, we have only Caraxes, Meleys, Vhagar, Aegarax, Frostbite, and Goldhorn to rely on... and even so I am worried to send my children out there with us. We need those larger dragons with adult riders."

Lords Celtigar and Staunton both seemed to like this idea. "Aegon the Conqueror and his sisters proved that knights and armies could not stand against fire and blood," offered Lord Staunton.

"Fly against King's Landing at once," offered Lord Bartimos, "and reduce the city to ash and bone."

"Then who and what will she preside over?" asked Daenys.

Daemon surprisingly agreed, "In the Stepstones, our enemies learned to run and hide when they saw Vhagar and Caraxes, when they heard their wings beating and their roars resounding... but they had no dragons of their own, then. It is no easy thing for a man to be a dragonslayer. But dragons can kill dragons and have. Any maester who has ever studied the history of Valyria can tell you that. We will not throw our dragons against the Usurper's unless we have no other choice, and I will surely not risk mine own or my sister's children in the skies." He glanced at his nephews and nieces. "Aenar, Alyssa, and Cliff are too stubborn to be told no, however. But there are other ways to use these dragons, better ways."

"We must focus on our men before we jump to dragons," added Daenys. "We may win the war faster with dragons, but what will be left of the lands? Of the people? We mean for Rhaenyra to take the Iron Throne and keep it, until natural death dictates that it pass to Jacaerys. If we reduce it all to ash, if we become too hasty... many of us will die, our dragons will die, and the people will remove Rhaenyra from the throne themselves. We must focus on the bannermen first, then we can think to the dragons. There will be a time for them."

Daemon murmured, "We have the Vale and the Riverlands. We may yet have the Stormlands and the North– though, I admit, the North is too remote to be of much import in a fight... by the time the Starks gather their banners and march south, the war might well be over. The Westerlands are for the Greens, Dorne is unlikely to partake... what of the Reach?"

He looked to Daenys, whose skin crawled. "The current Lord Tyrell," she muttered, "is a mewling boy in swaddling clothes. He is grandson to the brother of my late lord husband, Ayden Tyrell... but he died, so did his son, and now the boy's mother and great-grandmother– my good-mother who despised me– sit as regents for him. The Hightowers have many banners of their own, and I believe the Tyrells may be persuaded to side with them."

Daemon murmured, "It may be only you can change their minds."

"I will consider it," murmured Daenys. "We ought to consider the Iron Islands as well. Dalton Greyjoy is a boy who loves blood and battle... we may persuade him to support Rhaenyra, if only to keep him away from the Greens. Let us keep them in the back of our mind. Where, however, will we gather these troops?"

"We need a place where we can gather," said Daemon. "A toehold on the mainland large enough to house a sizeable host and strong enough to hold against whatever forces the usurper can send against us." He pointed down at the map. "Here. Harrenhal."

Before he could say more, Ser Erryk arrived. "Your Grace." He addressed Rhaenyra, "A ship has been sighted offshore, a lone galleon flying a banner of a three-headed green dragon."

They moved at once. Rolf and Daenys would come as part of the guard, and after a minute of badgering, were persuaded to bring along Aenar, Alyssa, and Cliff, who would like to make an appearance with their weapons in support of Rhaenyra.

Together, they walked out to the stony bridge of Dragonstone that connected the beach ship landing with the cliffs leading to the castle. They were met there by Otto, Ser Criston, Maester Orwyle, and some of Aegon's Kingsguard. Daenys glared at Otto as he said, "I come at the behest of the Dowager Queen Alicent, mother of King Aegon, Second of His Name, Lord and Protector of the Seven Kingdoms. Princess Rhaenyra–"

"I'm Queen Rhaenyra now," she said sharply. "And you all are traitors to the realm."

Otto continued, "King Aegon, Second of His Name, in his wisdom and desire for peace–" Daenys almost laughed, Aegon wise and desiring peace did not sound at all like her nephew, "is offering terms. Acknowledge Aegon as king and swear obeisance before the Iron Throne. In exchange, His Grace will confirm your possession of Dragonstone. It will pass to your trueborn son Jacaerys, upon your death. Lucerys will be confirmed as the legitimate heir to Driftmark, and all the lands and holdings of House Velaryon. Your sons by Prince Daemon will also be given places of high honor at court: Aegon the Younger as the King's squire, Viserys as his cupbearer. Finally, the King, in his good grace, will pardon any knight or lord who conspired against his ascent."

Daemon sneered, "I would rather feed my sons to the dragons than have them carry shields and cups for your drunken, usurper cunt of a king."

"Aegon Targaryen sits the Iron Throne," said Otto. "He wears the Conqueror's crown, wields the Conqueror's sword, has the Conqueror's name. He was anointed by a septon of the Faith before the eyes of thousands. Every symbol of legitimacy belongs to him."

Rhaenyra's face was stone. She looked to Orwyle, who looked ready to soil himself, "Do you remember my father, Maester?"

"Of course, your Grace," he answered timidly.

"Perhaps you could tell us who he named as his heir and successor."

"You, Your Grace."

Rhaenyra nodded. "With your own tongue, you admit I am your lawful queen. Why then do you serve my half-brother, the Pretender?"

"Stale oaths will not put you on the Iron Throne, Princess," replied Otto when Orwyle stared at his feet. The Hand moved closer, Daenys and Daemon both tense. "The succession changed the day your father sired a son. I only regret that you and he were the last to see the truth of it."

She snapped, "A Grand Maester and Hand should both know the law and serve it. You are no Grand Maester, Orwell, and you, Otto, are no more Hand than Aegon is king. You bring only shame and dishonor on the chain and pin you wear." She strode to them, ripping away Orwyle's chain and then Otto's pin. "Fucking traitors. Tell my half-brother that I will have my throne, or I will have his head."

She strode away, her Queensguard following. Otto watched Aenar, Alyssa, and Cliff following along, the youngest of the three turning back to scowl at him. Were it up to Daemon, Cliff probably would have killed Otto himself.

"Perhaps you ought to have sabotaged Viserys's children when you had the chance," muttered Daemon as they returned.

"What would you have had me do?" muttered Daenys. "Kill and cripple them? They were still our nephews and niece." What she wished she'd done was kill Otto when she had the chance.

Before they returned to the Chamber of the Painted Table, Daenys called her children to her apartments. She told Gemma and Bertram about what had happened with Otto and Orwyle, she told them to know the truth– Aegon would tell the whole of the Realm that the lot of them were traitors. Their names would be stained with that from the perspective of the Greens. It no longer mattered that they had all grown up together. Once more, she offered them an out. They could still send them to safety, right now when the Narrow Sea had no blockade.

As they reconvened, she thought back to where they'd left off. The Hightowers and the Lannisters were both wealthy, leaving Oldtown, King's Landing, and Lannisport– the three largest and richest cities in the Realm– all under the control of the Greens.

She feared she had no choice but to try to bring them the wealth of Highgarden. Perhaps they could have some banners from the Reach. Rolf's grandmother on his mother's side was a Mullendore of the Reach and his own mother had been a Frey; their wealth would never be enough for them but the Tyrells' might be.

"At present," continued Rhaenyra as they gathered once more, "Princess Rhaenys has informed me that it is most likely the Sea Snake will create a blockade along the Narrow Sea. The Gullet will be sealed, cutting off all seaborn travel and trade to King's Landing. She will patrol the Gullet herself on Meleys while this is arranged."

Lord Bartimos offered, "When we drain the Narrow Sea, we can surround King's Landing, lay siege to the Red Keep, and force the Greens' surrender."

"If we are to have enough swords to surround King's Landing," said Rhaenyra, "we must first secure the support of those we hope to be our allies. Daemon, you will lead the assault on Harrenhal with Caraxes while I remain here to recover my strength."

"Yes," said Daemon. "Soon we will have the strength to take King's Landing by storm. Aegon is a green boy, and green boys are easily provoked. Mayhaps we will goad him into a rash attack. I will heed your Hand's advice and I will send word to Dalton Greyjoy as well... perhaps he would like to partake in this."

Rhaenyra nodded and went on, "I made a promise to my father to hold the realm strong and united. If war's first stroke is to fall, it will not be by my hand. Taking caution does not mean standing fast. I wish to know who my allies are before I send them to war."

Maester Gerardys offered, "I will prepare the ravens."

Jacaerys, however, said, "We should bear those messages. Dragons can fly faster than ravens and they're more convincing. Send us."

Daenys worried about this, but admitted, "We were looking for another use for dragons. If the Greens are thinking the same, they have only Vermithor to send... Aegon and Helaena will not be allowed to or willing to leave to send messages, and I have not heard of Daeron taking flight on Tessarion yet. But we have numerous dragonriders here... a threat can be posed, a persuasion that will save us fire and blood for now... to not tarnish our reputation. It will be a strong way of convincing our allies to remember the oaths sworn, and as Prince Jacaerys has said, more efficient."

"Our uncle calls us Strong," said Lucerys, "but when the lords see us on dragonback they will know that for a lie. Only Targaryens ride dragons."

"Very well," said Rhaenyra. She thought of it for a moment. "Cliff, you have flown to the Riverlands many times. Take Goldhorn to Riverrun and ensure your cousin has received your father's message. Lady Alyssa, you are fierce and the sort of girl I believe young Cregan Stark will enjoy speaking with. Take Frostbite to Winterfell. On the way, you will pay a visit to the Freys at the Twins and ensure they have not forgotten your grandmother was born in their house. Prince Jacaerys, you will fly to the Eyrie to speak with my mother's cousin, the Lady Jeyne Arryn. Prince Lucerys, you will fly south to Storm's End and treat with Lord Borros Baratheon. Remind these lords of the oaths they swore and the cost of breaking them."

Aenar cleared his throat. "And what of us, Your Grace?"

Rhaenyra smiled, looking to those not being sent out. "Princess Baela, I task you with readying yourself to mount Moondancer. Lady Gemma will teach you, whenever she is not patrolling the skies keeping her eyes sharp and her heart steady. Bertram, you will be assisting Maester Gerardys with the ravens. I task you with reading about previous wars... so you might bring to each meeting knowledge that we may need. Aenar... you are a clever boy and persuasive. I task you with following Daemon to Harrenhal. You will give him all the aid he needs."

Daenys smiled to herself, knowing what else that implied– Aenar had always found a way to keep Alyssa out of trouble. He was meant to do the same with Daemon. Rolf smiled proudly, "Ser Simon Strong is sure to like you, my boy. He is a good man and he will support us. Larys the Clubfoot's absence from Harrenhal has been noted. You will restore it well."

"My dear aunt and Lady Hand," said Rhaenyra at last. "I task you with flying to Highgarden. Do what you can to sway them to our side, or at the very least, to declare the Hightowers and their banners traitors. It is an impossible task, this I know, but I must ask it of you."

"I will serve you, Your Grace," swore Daenys. "Without question."

She gave her children the tightest of hugs before her departure that afternoon. She kissed their foreheads, she prayed over each of them, and sent them on their way– Alyssa needed to leave first, having the furthest journey. Cliff followed after her, excited to see his grandfather again. Rolf would accompany Daemon and Aenar to Harrenhal, leaving Gemma and Bertram alone on Dragonstone. Neither of them minded; Gemma was glad to not be needed anywhere else. She was happier here with the younger children.

Daenys set off, Vhagar soaring high over the clouds and moving as fast as she could for Highgarden. She'd thought to send a letter, perhaps, announcing her arrival. But it was likely to be better for her that she didn't say anything at all. She did not like the idea of seeing Gareth's mother again, and it was better that she didn't know they were coming.

Lady Brys Tyrell had been a particular woman even when Daenys met her. She never thought Daenys good enough for her son, a stupid thing to think when the idiot had been paired with a Targaryen princess. But it seemed that Lady Brys had taken it personally when Gareth told her that neither of them wanted children, as an explanation for why Daenys never grew pregnant even when all of Highgarden heard them in throes. She must have thought Daenys corrupted her son, and likely blamed her for his death though she'd done nothing to hurt him. Her son had been a misogynist in his own ways, Daenys could not believe she'd be so blind to it.

It was sure to smack a frown onto the old woman's face once she heard Daenys had arrived with no prior warning. She made sure to keep Vhagar out of sight until at last she was descending over Highgarden, men screaming below and alerting all the Reach with their shouts that a dragon had come to see them.

Ayden had been a good lad when Daenys knew him, but she figured his son might not have been so bright or kind a man, for his lady wife gave her a patronizing gaze as she strode into the high hall. The woman had her little son seated on her lap, and beside them sat wrinkled Lady Brys, eyes white and milky with age, though she remained surprisingly firm.

"Is it true, then?" asked Lady Brys. "Daenys Targaryen at Highgarden again?"

"It is true," said Daenys. She bowed her head respectfully. "Lady Brys. Lady Ira, Lord Gadin." She smiled down at the babe; he did look like Ayden. Perhaps a child she had with Gareth would've borne this same likeness. "Thank you for welcoming me."

"We didn't appear to have much of a choice," said Lady Brys, motioning for Lady Ira to take her son and go. The girl did so without question, though she still turned her nose up at Daenys. Gods, this entire family made for a load of snobs. "Seeing as you arrived with no notice. Though, you always were unpredictable. Flying that dragon during the day when you lived here only to ride another at night. One cannot say you weren't dutiful, but you refused to give my son a child. The moment he was dead, you left, never caring to speak to us again."

"I was nineteen, my lady," said Daenys carefully, striding over to her. "I woke up to a man cold and dead beside me. A man I did not wish to marry but did marry and did care for. I was terrified. I needed the comforts of home, not a continued presence here where my brother bartered me off. Whatever you wish to believe, I never hurt your son."

Lady Brys narrowed her milky eyes. "You were never good enough for my son."

"More like your son was never good enough for me," said Daenys sharply. "Otherwise, the gods would have let his seed take and let him live to grow old beside me. He was heir to a wealthy and fertile house, I was forced to marry him... a dragon crammed into a garden. He is lucky such a mighty beast was ever corralled into the likes of Highgarden. In fact, I'd say, the lot of you will be lucky if you are still standing at all after this war."

Lady Brys leaned forward, "Is that a threat?"

"It is a fact. Oldtown has called its banners and has spoken for the Pretender, Aegon the Usurper. What do you intend to do, Lady Brys? I know you command Lady Ira to speak your ideas on her son's behalf."

Her lips curled. "I do not wish war to hurt my great-grandson nor do I wish to see my kingdom burnt to cinders. I do not mean to partake."

"You could declare for Rhaenyra," said Daenys. "The rightful Queen. I say we wed young Lord Gadin to Prince Jacaerys and Princess Baela's first daughter. You'll have a Targaryen-Velaryon Princess here anew, and this one will be able to meet your great-grandson from much earlier. She will come to love him and they will have many children together. The boy might even become King Consort of the Seven Kingdoms."

That intrigued her, but she knew the woman would not like assurances such as these when Jace and Baela weren't even wed yet. "I will think about it, of course. Your offer comes as a surprise. A desperate measure."

"I'm saving you your own desperate measure," said Daenys. "When Rhaenyra takes her throne, we will remember what Highgarden did during the war. Sitting idly by or siding with the Greens only ensures you will fade into memory like House Gardener. I'd be very happy to give this magnificent castle to one of my children. I am sure my young Alyssa would make many modifications. I call on you to remember the oath you and your son once swore to Rhaenyra as rightful heir to the throne. Call your own banners for her or ensure they do not rise with the Hightowers. Use them instead for a blockade and you will be rewarded."

"We shall see, Princess," said the old woman. A withered rose, she was. Not like to live much longer, but Daenys only needed her to act and have Ira give commands that would benefit Rhaenyra.

"Seeing does not appear to be your strength anymore," noted Daenys. "You will do. Otherwise, I will return personally and burn Highgarden to the ground."

The woman's lips thinned. "You do that."

Daenys made a note to remove the Tyrells the moment Rhaenyra was Queen. To not take a side in such a war was a stupidity in itself. Lady Brys, a woman, had been in charge of things since her lord husband died. She'd helped him rule, helped Ayden, helped her grandson, and now she pulled the strings for Gadin as well.

The door opened, a guard arriving to say, "My lady. Princess. A raven has arrived addressed to Princess Daenys. It comes from Dragonstone."

Daenys furrowed her brows, wondering what Rhaenyra wanted. She hoped she'd offered the right things to Lady Brys, if not, the raven had come at a good time. But as she went to accept the letter, unfurling it, she saw that something worse had come. The first casualty, one that would change all.

Lucerys was dead.