The lords could no longer complain.

If ever there was a time to show force, Rhaenyra was doing so in its ripest moment. Now, more than ever, she needed to know who her allies were within the walls of the Red Keep... and give rewards to those who had been at her side from the first.

Ser Luthor Largent remained a loyal commander of the Gold Cloaks, Ser Lorent Marbrand was Lord Commander of the Queensguard, and Gerardys had come from Dragonstone to be her Grand Maester. Her council was strong, and the men seemed finally satisfied. Lord Wylde had been executed, Ser Tyland given to torturers to see if they could recover some of the Crown's treasure.

Lords Rosby and Stokeworth had been black, then gone green to avoid the dungeons, and were now attempting to turn black again. Rhaenyra made a show of strength removing their tongues before executing them. Their children remained– Rosby had a daughter of twelve and Stokeworth a daughter of six.

Daemon proposed to wed them to loyal friends of theirs and use the girls as heirs, while Corlys noted that it would be a risk to have Rhaenyra ignore the sons both men left behind– he argued her case was special, as her father named her heir while Rosby and Stokeworth did no such thing.

It fell to Daenys to break the tie, and she argued in Corlys's favor if only to prevent such young girls from being wed to someone like Ulf or Hugh. Additionally, it would keep Rosby and Stokeworth under Rhaenyra's banners without inciting further revolt. She told Rhaenyra to give into knighting Ulf, Hugh, and Addam, which displeased her in Ulf's case as much as any of it. (Though, Ulf had been much quieter around her since Aenar's passing. He'd liked the boy, and liked Gemma most of all, for who in the Seven Kingdoms didn't like Gemma?).

As little as Daenys and Rhaenyra liked Lord Bartimos Celtigar, they had need of a Master of Coin. Thailand had been clever, seizing the Crown's gold as soon as Viserys had passed. They weren't entirely sure where the other three-quarters of gold had gone, for the quarter that supposedly remained here was all used up, surely by Aegon. They suspected it'd been distributed between the most loyal families– Hightower and Lannister, to be sure– and perhaps elsewhere. Lord Bartimos, for all his faults, was unrelenting, ingenious, and very wealthy.

But Daenys saw that things would go wrong almost as soon as he imposed the taxes his own ancestor Lord Edwell enacted during Jaehaerys's reign. She remembered her grandfather telling her about such a time, repeated now where taxes on wine and ale were doubled, port fees tripled. Every shopkeeper within the city walls was assessed a fee for the right to keep his doors open. Innkeeps were required to pay one silver stag for each bed in their ins. There were taxes on property; rich merchants in their manses or beggars in hovels, all had to pay.

The merchants and traders were feeling it most heavily of all. Some tried to show proof that they'd paid taxes already, but Lord Bartimos noted that they'd paid their coin to the Usurper. Executions soon brought income, as well, for the traitors and rebels were beheaded in the Dragonpit and fed to the multitude of dragons now housed there– save for Vhagar, who was too large for it now and did not care to be around most of the dragons, hardly even her hatchlings.

Three pennies at the gate had to be paid to be admitted to witness the executions. Daenys had done what she could, trying to distract herself from her grief, asking to borrow coin from her and Daemon's friends in Essos, and even sent an inquiry to the Iron Bank of Braavos. Rolf had graciously offered some Tully coin, and Gemma said she would not mind going off to marry Alan Tarly if it meant potentially taking a loan from him.

Still, it wasn't going to be enough to bring Rhaenyra further favor. Daenys worried her niece was going to become quickly hated, despite her gift of food and the many reasons that there were for her to be preferred to Aegon. Even if the citizens of King's Landing had hated Aegon and Aemond, they would still find reasons to sneer at her if they thought she was the reason they were becoming even poorer.

And so, Daenys asked the Tyrells for help, little as she liked it. She arranged for food to be brought and distributed out at no cost– Daenys would have a new loan taken out from Lady Brys. Then, Gemma and Alyssa arranged a day where they gave away their old dresses to girls in the city, the expensive cloth completely free of charge to anyone interested in using it for children's clothes or even donning the dresses as they were. Bertram, when not in the skies, was already searching for further solutions in history.

Mysaria was helping where she could, too, bringing whispers to Rhaenyra from all over the city. She was good at gathering news from within in the same way the ravens were good at bringing news from beyond. Daenys did not fully trust her even after all of it.

She felt so powerless, even as she sat at Rhaenyra's immediate right each time the Small Council met. At times, the meetings would blur by, and she'd hardly remember what was decided if she didn't speak directly on the matter. Part of Daenys was both dead and alive each time she sat down in Otto's chair.

Her skin crawled each time she did so. She remembered sitting across from this chair– a place Daemon now held– and looking across at Otto whenever she grew bored, rolling her little porcelain ball mindlessly while Viserys cracked jokes to avoid the most serious chats. She remembered how she and Otto used to make faces at each other whenever anyone said something stupid or funny, she remembered how she'd squirm to the end of the chair and reach her legs out as far as they went to nudge him under the table.

Once, in the dead of night, once they'd confessed their feelings, he'd sat in this same chair and she'd ridden him hard, gripping the table for support. Once, in the light of day, when all others had left, she'd whispered to him how much she cared for him. Did any of that matter now?

She couldn't even bring herself to grab the porcelain ball and spin it. There would be no reaching across the table, because all that would serve as was a reminder of how things were. This seat, it haunted her.

It wasn't that she felt she shouldn't be Hand. It was that in her mind, years ago, this seat would have remained occupied by Otto. He would have been Rhaenyra's Hand while Daenys sat across from him as she always had, giving her input as Princess of the Council. That was how things were supposed to be. And Aenar would have been alive for all of it.

"My love." Rolf leaned forward in the bath, kissing her shoulder. The water was much colder than Daenys usually liked it, but it could not be so hot with Rolf there. "Please, talk to me."

She talked to him often, mostly about nothing. It was becoming more and more difficult to explain how empty she continued to feel without Aenar, even though everyone else seemed to be moving on a month, two months... gods, she did not know how much time had passed. Her other children were returning to their routine steadily, in honor of their brother. Though she'd asked her daughters if they'd like to go marry, neither of them wanted to leave yet.

Cliff was the only one who seemed restless, having left a day prior to find his cousin Elmo in the Riverlands. Rolf had given him a scroll where he wrote in his own hand that if his father should pass and Elmo become Lord of Riverrun, he ought to name Cliff his heir directly– Rolf had never wanted to be Lord of Riverrun and that was not about to change now.

Her son had sworn to them that he'd make them proud (and they'd insisted they were already proud of them). Daenys felt in him a similar desperation to her own– she knew Cliff's guilt was almost as great as Jacaerys's, and now he held the burden of having to learn to lead in the way Aenar had always done so naturally. When he told them he'd make them proud, she felt what he really meant was that he'd make Aenar proud in the only way he knew how.

They were all well, aside from that. Bertram was still terrible with swords, but was bonding well with Aegarax. He liked to go read in the Dragonpit now, undisturbed and with Aegarax napping behind him. All of them seemed... normal again. Rolf had not cried in at least a week, and had started eating again. Only Daenys seemed stuck in this pit of misery.

"I don't know what to say," she said sadly, hugging herself even as he wrapped his arms around her. It's still not warm enough, I still feel so lost. "I don't even know how to describe it... this pain. I tire of this, every day, we keep going on and on and I feel stuck behind. How do you... do it? How do you move past it?"

"I can never move past it," he whispered. "He was my boy, our first boy. I feel so wretched, knowing I was not there for his funeral, that I had not seen him in months... I should have done more to keep him safe. It's not that I've moved on, it's... there is still so much to do, I fear I have to put my grief on halt. I know I have to be strong for the children we still have, strong for you."

She shook her head. "I cannot do it, though I want to come out of it, though I want to put on a brave face for our children the way you do. All the work I'm assigning myself, none of it helps me forget. I think I've always been cursed to remember... I remember all of it, everything that hurts me, though my body grows weak."

"Eventually, we were all going to look our age." He kissed her again. "You remain as beautiful as ever. As inspiring as ever. Our boy looked up to you so much. You were his favorite person. Even as a babe, I remember he'd lift his head to seek you out. He never fell asleep on my chest like the others, he wanted you. Your body remembers carrying him, feeling him wiggle within you. That is why you cannot help but feel empty. Those memories haunt you because you love so deeply, Daenys. With every bit of your soul, you've loved those you've lost."

She leaned back into him. "I love and it cuts me each time. I cannot survive losing anyone else, Rolf, I know it, this is my limit. If I cannot come out of this after... after she took her throne, after the rest of you are forcing yourself to keep at it... then I have given all I can. I feel it, my death, it is near."

"I feel the same, most days. I don't know how to explain it, but I feel something big is coming." She felt him sigh, felt him shake as he did when he started to cry. She reached a hand back to cup his face. "If anything happens to me," murmured Rolf, "you get the children to stop fighting. Please. Fly Alyssa to Winterfell, see her wed. Do the same with Gemma once the fighting in the Reach comes to an end. Bertram will be safe at Winterfell or in the Eyrie, he'll have a whole new library to indulge in."

Daenys nodded slowly. "Do the same if anything happens to me. Have Rhaenyra name you Hand– she needs a voice like yours. The children can be safe and she can have your words, which I've always valued."

She leaned back onto him, weary. Shutting her eyes, she accepted gentle caresses over her head. "I thank you, Rolf," she whispered, "for having always loved me so much. I always felt needed, and surely I felt loved by those who needed me, but it wasn't until you that I felt loved unconditionally. Whenever we pass... I hope to find you in the afterlife. I hope to spend another twenty years by your side."

"For my sake," he whispered back, "I hope to die first, so I will never know the pain of losing you. I could not survive it. Then I could be there waiting for you. But... for your sake... knowing how many losses you've endured... I should hope you to die in the way you choose, to be there waiting for me and never again feeling such pain."

She took his hand, kissing the back of it hard. "My love... I need closure. Before I am ready to die, I must see some things ended."

"Otto," he assumed. "You mean to kill him."

"Yes," she replied. "No matter how hard I try to forget, I can't. I don't think I will. All it does is anger me. I regret trusting him, though, how could I have ever known he'd do something like that? Sometimes I wish I never became entangled with him, that I'd kept that distance, but then... we would never have had Aenar and Alyssa. The other children would be different, everything would be different. But that anger, when it rises, that regret makes me think... if I had not been so naive, perhaps I could have been heir."

She ran her fingertips in the water, "Aenar would have made a great king, that I know. I just know our boy would have made Cliff his Master of War, Bertram his Grand Maester, Gemma and Alyssa joint Hands... the only times I wish I could have been Queen are the times where I wish things could have been better for Rhaenyra, for our children, for you. I would have made you my King Consort. But none of that ever happened and that fury... it must go somewhere. I think to move on, I must end that story. I must finalize it, to know none of this ever happened, and return with a new vigor to the Small Council."

Rolf nipped at her ear, "Do as you need, my love. Otto has offered nothing of substance, and now that we have King's Landing, I doubt there is anything more he can give. Give yourself the peace you need. But, promise me, that you will tell me if that's not enough. Tell me if you need more to heal... I want to help you feel better. Neither of us will ever forget Aenar, but one day, perhaps, we will hurt less... and I want to ensure I do all I can to bring you out of this pit of despair."

"This is all I need for now," whispered Daenys. "I need Otto dead. For he should not live while Aenar does not."

She flew to Dragonstone on the morrow, the guards asked to clean Otto's cell an hour before she meant to see him. Surely, he would know she was coming. But she doubted he knew that today would be the day he died.

It smelled less this time, though Otto looked worse. He'd lost some hair on the back of his head, and his beard was unkempt in a way she'd never seen before. His knuckles were red and raw, a fingernail missing from where he'd tried to claw at the door. He was thinner than she remembered him last, though, she had a feeling she'd grown thinner, too, as her cheeks seemed more hollow each time she glanced at her looking glass.

"I thought I would be left to die here without seeing you again," said Otto. He sounded like a man who hadn't spoken in weeks. His voice was barely above a whisper. "I was told King's Landing was seized."

"It was," said Daenys. She stood by the door this time. "Gwayne is dead. I have sources that tell me Norman and Bryndon are dead, too, after the trouble with the Two Alans. My condolences for the boys."

He closed his eyes. "I expected as much. Aegon... is he dead?"

"He fled before we took the city. Any idea where Larys Strong might've taken him? I assume Harrenhal is out of the question even with Aemond's recapture... my nephews don't appear to like each other."

Otto shook his head. "I never knew much of what Larys Strong did. We all keep to our own networks. What of Helaena? Jaehaera? Alicent?"

"They remain unharmed. I won't let them hurt Helaena or Jaehaera, there is no reason to. As for Alicent, that all depends on her decisions. I don't know if Rhaenyra's spoken to her or not, but... we will see."

"Is that all you came to say?" asked Otto, eyeing her closely. He looked like a starved animal, wondering if someone was going to give it food. "I've heard whispers... that you've been unwell lately. Is it true, what the guards murmur about? Aenar... dead?"

She had to look away to remind herself she was meant to be the strong one here, for she was not intimidating if she wept. Still, hard as she tried, her lip trembled and tears pooled in her eyes. "My son is dead," she confirmed. "My suffering finds no end."

There was a beat of silence. "That is why you are here. To... end it. End me."

"It's been difficult for me to forget what we had. It ails me and I cannot tolerate it alongside the pain of losing my son. You've nothing else to offer us, Otto. I had you seized and... loss after loss has crippled me. I cannot question you and you've said nothing despite your own regrets. You remain a traitor in Rhaenyra's eyes and mine. Others have already been executed for lesser crimes than you. It... it has come to this."

He accepted it, she saw it. There was no fight left in him. Perhaps it was the misery of being in a cell, perhaps it was the isolation, perhaps it was feeling that all was lost and his cause had run down the sewers. Or maybe he accepted it because he knew no matter what, she would kill him. Even if he offered information, she would not let him live. Once she'd made a decision, she kept to it.

"I can never apologize enough," he said after a moment of consideration. "For all of it. Alyrie never would have liked what I did to Alicent. The way I... I plotted against Rhaenyra."

"No, she wouldn't have," agreed Daenys. "I never liked it, either, and you knew I wouldn't like it... that is why you kept it a secret from me. I never disagreed that Viserys had to marry to strengthen his line of succession. I feared my role in that, back when he wished to marry me. I am glad that never happened."

"He should have named you heir," said Otto. "I will stand by that belief, even if it would never have made me King. I told him as much. I brought the idea to the table that day because I knew the truth. You were what the Realm needed to thrive. You were more willing to take action and face the truth than Viserys but more open-minded and restrained than Daemon. You were more dutiful and compliant than Rhaenyra, rider of Vhagar, a woman who had seen blood without flinching, who wore dresses on formal occasions, dragon riding skirts in the mornings, and armor in the afternoons. You were... everything. It's why I fell in love with you."

Tears burst out, though she'd been trying to contain them. How could he say this now, after so long? She wanted to slap him. How could he apologize for his transgressions then claim to have loved her the whole time? He would never have hurt her if he loved her. If he loved her the way she'd wanted to be loved, deserved to be loved. If he had loved her the way Rolf loved her, if he had loved Alicent the way Daenys loved her own children, he never would have done any of it.

"Aenar should have been King after you," said Otto when she did not speak. "I regret it all... what I did to my daughter. What I did to Rhaenyra. What I did to you. I am sorry. I know it is too late. Would that my death could bring Aenar back. He was a good boy. He deserved better. Even when I... when I suspected he was my son... I should have stopped all my plots. I should have seen it possible for him and Alyssa to thrive. I ruined them. I ruined you, I ruined us, I ruined Alicent and even Aegon. I am ready to die, Daenys. The Stranger will take me and I am sure I will atone for my sins in the next world. I don't think you and I will ever see you again. You, you will go with your gods and your family and you will sup with them every day for eternity. Me, I know I will burn and writhe in torment. I am prepared for that."

She drew her sword, the Valyrian steel of Wildfyre glittering beneath the torches. Otto noted the difference in sword, and shrank back of instinct, but then turned on his hands and knees to rise. He was shaky, gripping the wall and limping towards her, legs nearly all bone.

Daenys's hand shook as she pointed the sword at him. He did not try to withdraw, only closed his eyes. "Do you remember," he said softly, "once, after we'd made love, you asked me how I would like to die?"

Of course she remembered, she could never forget. It was one of the last times they lay together. Perhaps the day we made the twins. "Yes," she replied.

"You told me," he rasped, "that you wished to die either in battle, defending Rhaenyra in this war we knew was coming, or of old age... quiet in your bed after a day watching Rhaenyra hold court with her eldest child grown and wise beside her. You said perhaps you'd know Rhaenyra's grandchildren, perhaps you would see them sit on her knee the way you sat on Jaehaerys's. And I said..."

"You said," she continued, voice breaking, "that the only way you'd like to die was as an old man, in my arms." She saw him now, his aged face, his bony figure, ten years seemingly added to his features since his imprisonment here. "And now you will."

She drove the sword through him, Valyrian steel cutting through him as if he were nothing– at this rate, he was nothing. He choked out a gasp, collapsing onto her. She put an arm around him, holding the back of his head and kneeling to bring him to the ground with her. He coughed, grabbing her shoulders tight and whispering, "Long live the rightful Queen of the Seven Kingdoms... you, my love. It was always you... and Rhaenyra will thrive because of it."

She withdrew the sword when she felt his movements cease. Wildfyre was tossed aside. She cupped his head gently to lay him down, his eyes still open. Those eyes, how she used to love watching them wrinkle at the edges. They haunted her, the same eyes Aenar had.

She looked down at Otto, a dead old man, and she thought of how Aenar never got to be old. If he had reached that age, he would have looked exactly like this. If she ever wanted to imagine Aenar, alive, growing old, all she had to do was think of Otto, from the moment she met him to the moment she killed him.

And so our story ends, Otto. As Aenar's story ended before it was his time. But Rhaenyra's story goes on... and thanks to Aenar, so does Jacaerys's.

Daenys picked up Wildfyre, and for once did not feel so weak. With her head held high, she strode out of the cell and called for the guards to clean up the body. She wiped her tears away and made for Vhagar to take her home. Home, where her children and husband were waiting.