Rhaenyra's attack came swiftly.

It was too swift for Daenys, who had only said goodbye to Aenar days prior. She kept seeing him there, in the funeral pyre she'd built. His serene face, exactly like Otto. Eyes closed and dressed in some of his Tully garments, but wrapped in the cloak of House Targaryen.

She remembered caressing his face one last time, kissing his forehead as she always did before she put him to sleep. Rolf and Cliff hadn't been there, so she'd wrapped her arms around the three children that remained and silently gave Vhagar the command to send him off to the gods.

The image cropped up again when she'd described the funeral to Rolf and Cliff. Again that first night she tried to sleep after they came back. It was a fitful sleep, if it was sleep at all. She'd kept sitting up, startled, reaching out to a son who was not there, but had just been right in front of her. Rolf had not slept at all, and would wrap his arms around her to try and soothe her.

He'd cry silently and she'd cry noisily, so much that their door was opened four times that night– once to let in Alyssa, once for Gemma, once for Bertram, and finally for Cliff. Even then, Daenys kept waiting for the door to open a fifth time– I'm missing one, I have one more child, I have another son who will come and find me. Aenar always used to be the one coming to interrupt them. Rolf and Daenys had laughed about it many times, but now she could not laugh. She would give anything for Aenar to walk through the threshold and ask her to sing him a lullaby.

He was only twenty years old. Twenty. What had she even done by that age? Married Gareth Tyrell, been widowed in the year, and rushed back to the Red Keep to threaten her brother with death and usurpation.

She had no accomplishments back then, but Aenar had been immensely successful before his twenty-first nameday. He was honored at Stone Hedge, where Gemma had sent a raven with a handkerchief of his name for Daisy. He was honored at Harrenhal and Riverrun, at High Tide and Winterfell.

Ravens had flown throughout the entire Realm the day he died to remind the Seven Kingdoms of what they'd known for many years– Aenar Tully, though he'd more than deserved to have been called Prince Aenar Targaryen all his life, had left men, women, and children alike in awe of him.

Daenys wondered if the men of the court– some Greens now– remembered how she used to run around with him and Alyssa. Aenar used to ask them all so many smart questions, used to sit at the foot of the throne while Viserys held court and grinned up at his uncle with such admiration. Even when they left to Dragonstone, it was known that Aenar was good with his words and his sword. He'd proven that tenfold as a young boy flying out to settle conflicts and as a young man uniting the Riverlands.

And still, there was so much he hadn't done. He never got to see what could have been with Daisy. Never got to decide if he wanted children. Never got to know if he would be heir to Riverrun or not. Never got to watch Bertram become a maester or his sisters get married or Cliff reach fame untold. He'd never be Jacaerys's Hand nor would he watch his parents grow old on Dragonstone with proud smiles on their faces.

Even as Rhaenyra planned her seizure of King's Landing, Daenys could not focus. She could not eat, either, hard as she tried. The sight of food– food that Aenar could never have again– made her want to empty her stomach. Rolf wasn't eating, either, but he at least was doing enough to keep their children fed.

Daenys thought she was failing them, too. They needed her to remain strong, and though she was trying, all she wanted to do was burn the world. Burn it, let it all turn to ashes, ashes like Aenar was now, ashes drowned in an ocean of grief that she couldn't swim out of. She'd never been as strong as swimmer as her husband or her children.

He knew he was a strong swimmer, that's why he tried to save Jace. He did save him, he did, he gave his life for the heir to the Iron Throne.

She kept avoiding Rhaenyra, which probably didn't sit well with her Queen. But a part of her needed that distance to keep herself from blaming her niece for something that wasn't her fault. Daenys felt guilty for resenting that Rhaenyra's son got to live while hers died. Even if Rhaenyra had lost a son before and had another in the Triarchy's grasp– possibly dead, too– Daenys didn't like knowing that Aenar died for Jace. It wasn't fair to them to show that anger, and so she'd rather let it dissipate.

Jacaerys was doing better now, but the news of Aenar's death had shattered him. She knew he felt guiltiest of all, for Aenar had risked it all to save him. Alyssa and Cliff hadn't wanted to see him yet, but Gemma and Bertram had gone to check on his wounds. Dyana scarcely left Gemma's side even with her desire to be hidden away from watchful eyes, and had helped to nurse Jacaerys whenever Baela or Gemma was occupied.

She wondered, as she stood on the Dragonmount watching Bertram shakily approach Aegarax, whether Otto knew by now. It was all the castle could talk about, surely the guards had let it slip unintentionally. If he didn't know, should she tell him? Aenar was his blood, but he hadn't truly been his son. No, she decided she didn't think Otto had any right to grieve Aenar. His choices had compounded and killed him. Otto sought the alliance with the Triarchy, Otto pulled the strings that planted Aegon on the throne.

If you'd thought differently of me, of Rhaenyra, of women, then our boy could have been heir to that throne. He'd be alive and well instead of ash in the sea.

Her body ached from a lack of sleep and food, yet still she stood on guard as Bertram came to sit down in front of Aegarax, using Aenar's knife to cut some meat for him. Aegarax trilled sadly, green form slithering closer as Bertram began to toss the chunks near him. The dragon ate sadly– much how Vhagar had when Daenys found her after her father's death.

She'd told Bertram to talk to Aegarax, to coax him closer, but the boy remained silent and seated. Once he finished cutting the meat, his eyes closed, and he sat with his palms up against his knees. He hummed to himself, as if to convey everything he didn't wish to say. Bertram had always spoken High Valyrian best out of all his siblings, yet using it was apparently out of the question.

Aegarax looked confused, though it fed into intrigue that had him lift himself fully onto the Dragonmount, slithering towards Bertram. The dragon laid down in front of him, a mournful gaze shot at Bertram's empty hands. Daenys could feel that the dragon and Bertram both wanted comfort, both wanted the space filled, both wanted to avenge Aenar. For why else did Bertram open his eyes with determination, why else did Aegarax press his snout into Bertram's knees?

"He's really gone, then," said Bertram quietly. A dragon cannot bond with more than one person at a time. He extended his hand, caressing Aegarax's snout. "I don't want a dragon any more than you want another rider who isn't Aenar. But you and I, together, we're going to do something he would have liked. We don't have a choice, do we?"

It was with a new fortitude that they united to follow Rhaenyra to King's Landing. Only Jacaerys, Joffrey, and Aegon would remain behind, as two no longer had a dragon and the one who did was too young to come along. If all went well, Daenys and one of her children would come to fetch them for the coronation. If not... no, that could not possibly happen, not now.

Daemon had gripped Daenys's hand tight when he saw her on the Dragonmount donning her armor, the first time she'd seen her brother since before he left for Harrenhal. He'd pressed his forehead to hers, whispered that her boy would be avenged, and asked her to fly right beside him.

Rhaenyra and Syrax led the way, flanked by Daemon on Caraxes and Daenys on Vhagar. Behind them trailed Alyssa on Frostbite, Gemma on Starbeam, Cliff on Goldhorn, Bertram on Aegarax, Baela with Moondancer, and at last the dragonseeds.

The smallfolk screamed as they made their descent over the city. Thousands of them streamed out the gates in a rush, carrying their children and what little possessions they had left. Some of them tried to hide under their hovels, others started riots. The Sea Snake's ships filled Blackwater Bay, making for the river. Each sept in the city had its bells tolling, mobs looting and being slayed as the Gold Cloaks tried to restore peace.

What could be done, with Aegon barely alive in there? With Helaena unwilling to fly against them? With Aemond gone, Daeron too far away, Otto imprisoned in Dragonstone, Criston on his way to Harrenhal? Perhaps Harrenhal would fall to the Kingmaker's army, but King's Landing itself would fall with much greater ease.

Riders had come out of the castle, likely carrying messages of distress, but some Gold Cloaks had stopped them– many still remained loyal to Daemon. The captains at the gates still loved him, and forced all the gates open even as a command from within– perhaps Alicent– tried to have them closed.

In less than a day, the city was theirs. Daenys and Alyssa had the outlet for their anger when a line of Hightower knights and men-at-arms tried to mass at the River Gate. They blew it open and let the Sea Snake's men in. Those who'd come with Daemon from Harrenhal assaulted another end of the city while Cliff and Gemma flew overhead. Aegon's supporters either burned, hid, fled, or finally bent the knee.

At last, the dragons descended. Daemon and Rhaenyra had been circling above Visenya's Hill while the dragonseeds kept to Rhaenys's Hill. Caraxes lowered himself into the outer ward, and when it was certain it was safe, Daemon signaled for Rhaenyra to descend on Syrax. Seasmoke, Grey Ghost, and Silverwing kept the guard while Daenys's children made for the Red Keep. She returned out to the River Gate to collect Rolf from one of Corlys's ships, carrying him on Vhagar until they reached the castle.

Their own banners swept the castle to gather their prisoners. Aegon was nowhere to be found, and neither, it seemed, was Larys Strong. Alicent, Helaena, and Jaehaera were confined to one chamber, while the members of the Small Council were taken– Maester Orwyle went to the black cells immediately, though Lord Jasper Wylde tried to offer the possibility of a Great Council. Daenys thought he was lucky she didn't kill him and Ser Tyland Lannister outright.

With them out of the way, it was Daenys and Daemon who escorted Rhaenyra to the throne room. They stopped at the foot of the Iron Throne when they reached it, letting Rhaenyra ascend alone. She turned to face them, standing much like Viserys had when he first took the throne. For a moment, Daenys saw Jaehaerys, she saw Alysanne, she saw Baelon, she saw Rhaenys. When Rhaenyra finally took a seat, they all knelt.

Aenar would have loved to see this. He would have wept, I know it, he would have held Alyssa and Gemma's hands and he would have smiled at Jace, if he were here.

Daenys let Daemon and Rolf stand guard while the city was secured. She flew to Dragonstone with Alyssa and Gemma to fetch Rhaenyra's sons. Still, there was no sign of Rhaena, who they'd known nothing of since Aegon came on Stormcloud. The last thing they'd managed to gather from him was that Rhaena had been 'chasing a dragon' and as such had not wanted to go to Pentos with them. She hoped it would be true, that Rhaena would return on this mystery dragon, perhaps Sheepstealer.

In the evening, with the children there, they repeated Rhaenyra's coronation and affirmed Jacaerys as Prince of Dragonstone. Daenys had handled accommodations for Corlys's sailors and the dragonseeds– Ulf had gotten on her nerves asking if they'd be knighted anytime soon.

In doing her sweep of the outer yard, she learned some disappointing news. Gwayne Hightower had been killed when he tried to close the city's gates. Ser Luthor Largent of the Gold Cloaks had driven his sword through Gwayne's belly after Gwayne called him a turncloak, replying, "Daemon gave us these cloaks, and they're gold no matter how you turn them."

She held a silent prayer for Gwayne, but was disturbed by her own lack of sadness. Otto has lost two sons now, but only one he raised. Look what you've done, their blood is on your hands. I lost my boy, my true boy, and you never let me be more of a mother to Gwayne. It wasn't Gwayne's fault, but somehow, she did not feel further anguish for him. It had all been left behind long ago, and she wanted Aenar back, not him.

She had been given leave to do as she pleased with the prisoners, Hightower knights who didn't wish to denounce Aegon. With her bare hands she beat them, imagining Otto's face. Some, she stabbed to death, others, she beheaded. Still, the hurt did nothing. Aenar did not come back. Her body was growing weaker, weaker, her age had never weighed on her as she did now. She was out of breath killing men, when once she'd done so as a warm-up.

"I will see them alone." Daenys swept past one of their guards, entering the room where Alicent, Helaena, and Jaehaera had been confined. She saw Helaena in the corner, hugging her daughter in fear. You never needed to fear me, little one, I remember holding you when you were born. Would that I'd been able to do the same for your daughter.

"Daenys." Alicent had never sounded so defeated. "Are we to be put to death?"

"Rhaenyra is not so heartless and you know that," said Daenys. "No harm will come to Helaena or Jaehaera. It is Aegon we wanted, and mysteriously, he is gone."

"I know nothing of it," said Alicent. "Neither does Helaena. Please, mercy."

"Mercy. You ask for mercy now. Funny." Daenys couldn't help but be annoyed with her. Where was the mercy for Lucerys? For Aegon and Viserys? For Aenar? Why does your son get to run away and live while mine died?

"I am sorry... for the loss of your son. I lit a candle for him when I heard. I never..."

"You lit a candle. How thoughtful."

Alicent's lips trembled. "I always knew." She stepped closer, but didn't seem to mind if Helaena heard. She was in no state to be repeating anything. "I knew that the twins were my father's. From the moment they were born, I knew. I never said anything. I didn't... I didn't entirely like it. But I still wanted to be your daughter, too. Then, it all changed."

"I remember," said Daenys coolly. "You tried to betrothe your children to mine, I didn't approve, little by little we were drawn away. I held some hope at that dinner that it was not too late, but your father's cards played out as he wished them to. We've all suffered for it."

That seemed to annoy her. "You know, it was never fair to me. I did my duty."

"I did mine, too," snapped Daenys. She wanted to hurt Alicent for Aenar, even if she hadn't directly caused any of it. "I did what was right. I know your father manipulated you, but you could have seen reason of late and you never did."

"You and Rhaenyra, you got to do what you pleased!" insisted Alicent. "You got to marry as you wished, have children as you wished. Bastards–"

Daenys slapped her across the face. Helaena flinched. Alicent drew back, bringing her hand up to shield her burning cheek.

"You hold your tongue about my children," sneered Daenys. "My son is dead, I don't care if he was a bastard, I don't even care that he was your brother by chance. He was my son. You had your chances and naught was done. Do not blame me. I tried to take care of you, tried to guide you down the right path. You started to hate me as much as you hated Rhaenyra. And for what? You are jealous I had children I love? I tried to save you from it, I did."

She saw the hurt in Alicent's eyes. Daenys had never raised a hand to her or Rhaenyra before, even if she'd lectured them. She just hated to see Alicent acting this way in the wake of it all, of Aenar being gone, it wasn't right for her to be so upset. Daenys got to be upset, not Alicent.

Perhaps Alicent had hated that Daenys got a good husband. That Daenys got to have children only when she was ready. Perhaps she resented Otto for denying Daenys as a maternal figure she needed, but instead that anger was turned towards Daenys for not following Otto's plan. Alicent, for all her virtues and even faults, never seemed to realize how much her father had looked down on women. Alicent regretted it all now, it seemed, and yet she saw the woman– Daenys– as the enemy, rather than her father. It wasn't what Daenys was equipped to tolerate now.

"It has all come to pass," said Daenys at last. "Rhaenyra has her throne. We will find Aegon sooner than late. I know Viserys never changed his mind, no matter what you want to believe. You have a choice again, Alicent, set things right or continue to believe Otto's lies. It is your choice."

"What would you have me do?" whispered Alicent in a hard voice.

"If you know anything of Aegon's whereabouts, tell us. Otherwise... cause us no further problems."

Even with the throne in their grasp, naught was simple. The Lannister host– now led by Adrian Tarbeck– continued to move on eastward while Aemond and Cole swept towards a now abandoned Harrenhal. The last word Rolf had from his nephew, his sons had succumbed to their wounds. Elmo moved with the westbound host, weary and grieving, and was like to encounter Tarbeck sooner than Cole would encounter Harrenhal. None thought it would bode well.

With Aenar gone and Alyssa betrothed to Cregan Stark, Cliff was Rolf's heir. Only now that it had all come to pass, Cliff no longer wanted it. He'd whispered that he wasn't ready, that it could not be so, that it should have been Aenar. Daenys had given up Bloodrain that day, offering her son the sword she always promised him for his skill. It was not Valyrian steel, but it meant more to Cliff than Wildfyre, that she knew, even if he wished to do right by his brother. She'd kept Wildfyre for herself, in the belief that Aenar would fight with her when she wielded it.

Tarbeck was slain in the next battle by a hedge knight named Ser Harry Penny. The command passed to the aged Lord Humfrey Lefford, who suffered so many wounds that he commanded from a litter. He was being advanced upon past Acorn Hall by Cregan's Winter Wolves, led by Roderick Dustin, Lord of Barrowtown. He'd told Lady Sabitha Frey a the Twins that they'd 'come to die for the Dragon Queen.' Soon, they'd crush Lefford's army.

As Rhaenyra scrambled to secure the city, Dragonstone, and even still keep track of her army, word came from Harrenhal. Without a guard, it had fallen easily, much to Aemond's frustration. Unfortunately, Ser Simon Strong was put to death. Still, Aemond had been kept occupied and unable to help Lefford as he was caught between the Northerners and still the rivermen, led by Ser Garibald Grey, Lord Jon Charlton, and the new Lord of Raventree, the eleven-year-old Benjicot Blackwood.

They battled there at Lakeshore (though word reached them of the battle being known as 'Fishfeed'), with casualties great on both sides. Lord Frey, Lord Lefford, Lord Bigglestone, Lord Charlton, Lord Swyft, Lord Reyne, Ser Clarent Crakehall, and Ser Emory Hill, the Bastard of Lannisport, had all perished. The most painful losses came to the Northmen, who Alyssa called brave. Daenys suspected that Alyssa was still so lost without Aenar that she had half a mind to escape to Winterfell and simply marry Cregan to get away from the misery.

Meanwhile, Oldtown's army was rising again, with Prince Daeron– now called the 'Daring' for his bravery– flying over Lord Ormund's army. Lord Borros Baratheon had now called his banners and assembled near six-thousand men at Storm's End, intending to march to King's Landing, though he ended up leading them south into the mountains, pretending there was a Dornish incursion. Daemon thought that Borros was afraid of the dragons.

In the Sunset Sea, the Red Kraken was falling upon Fair Isle in Rhaenyra's name, Lord Farman calling out for aid that would never come. Daenys worried that all of this was only pushing Aemond and Cole to respond. The time was nearing, she knew, for Aemond and Vermithor to be killed.

It hurt her to think of it, killing Aemond– for he was still her nephew, still her blood, still Viserys and Alicent's son– and more importantly, killing Vermithor. She remembered riding Vermithor many times with her grandsire, she remembered loving that old beast. If Jaehaerys had died first, she imagined she would have claimed Vermithor instead of Vhagar.

Still, Daemon insisted that it would have to come to pass– the rider was the problem, not the dragon. Vermithor cared nothing for them anymore if Aemond felt such hate. Aemond seemed to think himself fierce, but Daemon insisted that the boy was afraid of both him and Daenys, otherwise, he would have faced them head-on by now and saved them a lot of time and trouble.

"You remain lost, sister." Daemon stood beside her as she watched Cliff and Rolf in the yard. Bertram had been a natural in flying Aegarax, though swords still gave him trouble. Alyssa had finally cracked a smile watching from below while Gemma made a handkerchief of Jaehaerys's name for Helaena.

"It is hard to be found in such circumstances," she said without looking at him. The past few days had been even harder. Returning to this castle without Aenar wasn't right. She fought hard to stay firm for the sake of her children, and yet it seemed to amount to nothing. "I am sure you are suffering as well, for we know nothing of Rhaena or Viserys."

Nothing felt as though it would ever be alright again. Seeing Rhaenyra on the Iron Throne had not satisfied her, it only frustrated her. Aenar would have loved to see Rhaenyra on that throne and what was he seeing now? Nothing.

He put his hand on hers. Her instinct was to withdraw, but she noticed that for once, Daemon did not hold her with malice, with any intention of using her grief for his own gains. "I don't worry about my children," said Daemon quietly. "If what Aegon says is true, Rhaena will claim a dragon. She is strong, even though she is often silent. As for Viserys, I feel my son is alive, though I do not think I will ever see him again. I have not lost my children, but you have lost your son."

Her face scrunched up even with the effort she put in, trying to hold back tears. She failed, turning away from him. "I am sorry, sister," he said at last. "I should have been there to help you, I should have come back faster. When I heard about Rhaenys, I should have handed the command to your husband and come back myself. Your boy shouldn't have had to be anywhere near that danger."

For so long, loss after loss, she'd wanted Daemon to be there for her. He'd come back too late after her father died, after Jaehaerys died. When Aemma died, Daemon had been off drinking and speaking ill of Baelon. He'd done more harm than good after Lucerys, and even with Rhaenys he was nowhere to be found. Finally, he was here, here and comforting her. The first time he was doing so this genuinely.

She put a hand over her eyes and cried, hoping her children would not look up and see her breaking down once more. She rested her forehead on Daemon's chest and he rubbed her shoulders. "You don't need to stay strong for them," said Daemon. "They are old enough to see you bend, for you've never truly broken, sister, not in the face of any of it. Father always said I should be more like you. He was right."

"I miss him so much," whispered Daenys. "I wish he were here. I wish Aenar were here."

"We will avenge him, you and I. Soon. Together, you and I are going to end all of this and see Rhaenyra has her peace. I should have listened to you a long time ago, Daenys. I should have seen you for what you were. You were more loyal to this family than I ever was." He tapped the back of her head. "You need to keep being loyal to it. You need some rest."

"I can't rest," said Daenys weakly. "I'm her Hand, I have to be here. Even if I've not been much help of late, she's dealing with traitors and rewards and I don't know what else."

"Take your rest, we can hold things for now. Do what comforts you. Go to Winterfell, see Alyssa wed to Cregan Stark. Go to Horn Hill, see Gemma wed to Alan Tarly. Get your girls away from the fighting, away from the grief."

"They won't want to go," she whispered. "They're all in shambles, all of them. I would like to get them away from the fighting, but they won't listen. Even Bertram is attempting to take up arms. To have claimed a dragon is a great feat for him, but swords... I don't think swords were ever meant to be his strength."

Daemon peered down at him, "No, certainly not." He drew back, tucking his hand under her chin. "But your love for them is your strength. You won't be at peace until you're sure they'll be alright. Offer them this choice. There is word that Cole means to move his army to join the Hightowers in the Reach. You and I have a duty, soon. We must face Aemond and Vermithor together and deliver them both to their graves. Our time... runs short. I feel it, I know it, I don't know how to explain it but we're nearing our end, sister. We won't watch more of our children die, but they will lose us. Take one more moment with them before we need to go."

She heaved a sigh, worried he was right. Yes, now that Rhaenyra had her throne, it was time to crush the enemies that remained. At least when I die, I will see my boy again. I will see Rhaenys, Laena, Laenor, my father, my grandsire, my grandmother, Gael, Aemma, Uncle Aemon, Aunt Jocelyn, all the others I barely knew.

Rhaenyra would be alright without her, soon enough. Rhaenys had always told her to let go... but only now did Daenys feel ready to rest where Rhaenyra was concerned. Were it not for her children and Rolf, Daenys would have attacked Aemond and Vermithor right after Lucerys's death.

Even now, though she wanted to wash her hands clean of her duty to Rhaenyra after so many years, what anchored her were her children. Daemon was right– she had to use every moment that was left, for she believed the same thing her brother did.

Their end was near. Whether she wanted it or not, she felt she would not live to meet her grandchildren. She did not fear death, but her heart ached to think of leaving them all behind.

They will be alright, Alysanne whispered to Jaehaerys on her deathbed, when she thought Daenys had fallen asleep beside her. They are grown. They will survive it.