The Red Keep, King's Landing, 112 AC

The 9th year of King Viserys the Peaceful's rule

_

The Red Keep had become boring.

As a child, Daenys had always found something to do. In her earliest years, Daemon had introduced her to the tunnels made by King Maegor and had taught her to slip around the castle unseen. Her day was filled otherwise by her grandparents, aunts and uncles, especially by Rhaenyra and Vhagar once they'd entered her life.

Her time being needed felt like it'd come to an end. Rhaenyra was fifteen now and spent her time with Alicent. Daemon came and went from the Vale, never keeping up with his responsibilities even when Viserys had finally named him Master of Coin then Master of Laws. She took care of Aemma and yet the outcome never changed. Her life felt it carried no meaning.

Daenys had been wed for less than a year. Gareth had been a good husband through it all, but he could never make her forget how Viserys had hurt her. Her curiosity towards sex was the only reason she agreed to a consummation, hoping Gareth would teach her about pleasure and at least allow her to get something out of this wretched affair.

And even then, she'd taken tansy tea to prevent pregnancy. He'd immediately accepted that this was what she preferred and raised no complaints, going so far as to repeatedly assure his badgering mother that he was the one that did not feel ready to become a father.

Still, it being painfully obvious that Daenys spent most of her time in the sky with Vhagar— she visited Runestone often and actually very much liked Lady Rhea on top of Daemon's always welcome company. At the very least, it was also obvious that Daenys and Gareth did often meet in his chambers and kept the castle awake for hours on end.

All of it couldn't make her love him. She didn't want to have this duty and he didn't seem all that fond of being a husband either— he liked being out and about with friends and guards, always exploring the Reach and riding horses for long distances. He was too shy to carry much of a conversation and in all, they didn't have many things in common. She loved her family and he tolerated his.

She thought it was excellent that she was a skilled swordswoman and he made it clear that he believed her an anomaly among proper women who did not do such things. He liked her for being a dragon, for exciting him, but beyond that he hadn't exactly wanted anything to do with her, either. The mutual respect and the constant availability for pleasure was about as much as either of them wished for— granted easily.

One night, they'd had an argument about Gareth not wanting her to join him and his friends on a day trip to test some young knights. He claimed that she would sour the mood with her constant pessimism and she claimed he was embarrassed that she could use a sword better than him. As angry as they were, they'd still met in his chambers and ridden away the fury on each other. Daenys had fallen asleep and woken up to find Gareth rigid and cold.

She screamed her head off, Vhagar roaring loud enough to wake the entire Reach. As soon as the Maesters had confirmed his death and Gareth's brother Ayden was informed that he was now Highgarden's heir, Daenys took her mount and rushed right back to King's Landing before any raven could get there first and give Viserys the impression that she should now be wed to nineteen-year-old Ayden Tyrell.

She'd stormed into a Small Council meeting before Viserys had even learned of her return to the city. In front of all his little lords, she demanded she not be wed again lest it was by her choice. When Viserys had tried to say she would wed again when it was beneficial to the realm and their family, she'd ripped his catspaw dagger from its hilt and put it beneath his chin.

As the men had drawn their swords in alarm, Daenys sneered, 'Betrothe me to any other and I will write in your scrawl a letter to annul Daemon's marriage. I will feed you to Vhagar and when your crown is placed atop our brother's head, I will marry him.' No further attempts were made to wed her off after that, and Viserys soon laughed about it like it were some great joke, despite the men of the Small Council being ever wary of Daenys after that.

Her outburst did little to help her public image. Some called it treasonous while others said it was a younger sister's immaturity or a woman's rage. Her threats had drawn too many ears, and rumors circulated quickly about the nature of it all. Soon all anyone could talk about were their theories on how Daenys had poisoned her husband, how she played the role of grieving wife too well, how she would have fed him to Vhagar if she hadn't been discovered.

It was a great insult. She had never even thought to kill Gareth because he'd respected her. Her terror and grief were as real as her anger. Was she really so awful that everyone assumed she would kill her own spouse? She'd lost countless people already, why would she have added to the list for no reason? Aemma had sadly surmised that as of late, many thought her to be much like Daemon, though they did not know that she was much less likely to act impulsively as he– she made her threats and she would hold her word, but she'd never truly lash out without proper cause.

Shortly after her return to King's Landing, Alyrie Hightower passed. Daenys became needed again to comfort Otto's young children. Gwayne had been only ten, the twins eight, and Alicent barely six. For a time, it was all she did— keep the children company and ensure they knew they were still loved and would not be alone. A girl of twenty, she was suddenly a mother of four, the eldest half her age.

She wished only that Otto's own grief hadn't made him withdraw— most days, Alicent questioned if their father still loved them. It was easier for Gwayne, Norman, and Bryndon to believe her when Daenys said he certainly did; they were just a bit older and able to feel the difference of her words. Alicent was much younger and in need of a firm confirmation. Otto hadn't involved himself the way Baelon did with his children after losing Alyssa. For a time, Daenys worried the children would lose their father, too.

About two years later, Daemon began to frequent the Red Keep again. He attended Council meetings sparingly, having been named Commander of the City Watch. At least this seemed to excite him more— he liked the men and enjoyed teaching them to use their swords.

Daenys used it as inspiration to keep up with the Hightower boys' lessons, supporting them in their endeavors as much as she supported Alicent in reconnecting with her feeling of belonging in the world. Somewhere in all that, Viserys had offered her a seat on his Council, filling the simple role of Princess and yet with subtext that said one, she was needed to balance out Daemon, and two, Otto Hightower valued her opinion to some degree.

Daemon had taken it upon himself to congratulate her on her new role. He'd gathered some of his friends and two rapers to have her wet her sword for the first time. He'd staged it as a contest: she had to try to get past his friends (without killing them) then the rapers (who'd been given swords) to kill the criminals and prove herself in a fight. Daemon himself had elected to judge. Daenys had killed both rapers and nearly cut the hand off one of Daemon's friends. He found in it a funny story to tell and she decided it was his strange way of bonding now that they'd reconciled from their last argument.

For her success, he'd given her gifts. He wore a steel helm with dragon wings emerging on both sides, and as such had made for her a helm with the pattern of Vhagar's horns sticking out along the back of her head. He claimed she could kill someone by beating them with the helm, and she didn't doubt it.

He'd even given her a new sword— while it wasn't Valyrian steel, it was still a beautiful and sturdy longsword with a hilt bathed a deep red to match her helm and Daemon's. She'd named it Bloodrain, vowing it would bring her the blood of her enemies and always defend the blood of her family.

With her new helm and sword, she'd begun to walk with more confidence. She spoke up more often now that she'd passed the test of taking lives and using her skills against men who would have gladly knocked her down and threatened to cut her throat to show Daemon whether his little sister was a dud or not. It certainly caught the attention of the men she worked with, especially Otto, who'd always disliked Daemon for those reasons. Apparently, she made a much better impression than her brother, because Otto's attitude demonstrated interest rather than disgust.

They'd never quite conversed much, given she left the Red Keep soon after he arrived and returned to keep an eye on his children for every hour of the day that he wasn't with them. Now that Alicent was faring a bit better and finding more to do around the castle with Rhaenyra, Daenys's time was freed up enough to see Otto around and strike up a conversation. She updated him on how his boys were doing with swords, she told him that Alicent had taken up an anxious habit of picking at her nails, she would tell him once Daemon had unceremoniously departed again and had freed the Small Council of tension for a short time.

Often, exiting the Small Council meetings, he'd walk her to her chambers or to the Dragonpit. They'd speak about anything; Otto could carry a conversation about threads on a handkerchief if he wanted to. Such was his passion and sincerity. She began to learn more about his past, about his interests, about the ideas he had of the world. She gathered that Otto, like most of the other men in the Realm (including her husband) had been brought up with this erroneous idea of feminine weakness.

Daenys began to speak to him carefully about it— no, she never ever thought she would wield a sword as well as Daemon, no, she never ever thought she could build castles with her bare hands because such wasn't the physical strength she was gifted. To attempt to dislodge the ideas about women that had been ingrained into him, she told him stories where her ancestors demonstrated mental prowess.

She talked to him about her mother, her grandmother, about Jaehaerys's sister Rhaena, about Visenya and Rhaenys, about the great advice made as Targaryen women challenged tradition. Intellectually, women were just as capable as men and had no need of cocks to make a difference. She told him it had been a woman ruling Dorne that gave the command which killed Meraxes and Rhaenys, successfully keeping Dorne out of the Seven Kingdoms even now.

She hoped he was open-minded enough to see it, with time. She hoped that if she could change his perspective, the perspective of the whole Realm could one day be adjusted to see a woman on the Iron Throne without a great fuss. She did genuinely believe she stood a chance of convincing him, given that when he spoke of his late wife, it was clear he had loved her very much. She knew it from the way Alyrie had always spoken of him and even now she heard how he regarded her with great respect, admitting she was amusing and witty and even fierce when needed, on top of behaving so gently with their children.

Daemon had been right about a few things he complained about when it came to Otto. As a second son, he seized everything he could because it was all he had. He couldn't afford to be foolish in anything he did. Daenys could see how it reflected Daemon's feelings about himself, even hers as the third child. She began to think him an honorable man without holding such a thing against him. It brought her to observe every last detail, the way one would with a friend.

He was well studied. Time and time again he burst out quotes from past texts no longer stored in the Red Keep, rather, filed away in Oldtown. His time there had been spent educating himself thoroughly, and it had worked. Whenever he wasn't being stubborn (as all those on the Small Council tended to be at certain points), he brought insight from said texts that no one often thought of. Like her brother had said to mind their histories, Otto did just that. He wielded words like Daemon and Daenys did their swords.

He was calm, too calm. So calm it chilled her to the bone at times, and during others brought her the most comfort. If Otto Hightower was calm, either everything was perfectly fine or everything was about to descend into chaos– there was no in-between. He had a soothing presence for the best and worst of times. And his voice matched it. She'd heard him speak passionately, but even then his voice never raised to a shout the way hers did when she was scolding her brothers.

He did not have any anxious ticks. While Alicent picked at her nails, Rhaenyra ran her hands through her hair, and Daenys rolled the little ball on the Small Council table over and over until she grew more bored of that than of the conversation, Otto did nothing. He sat perfectly still, he paid close attention, he remembered every single thing said even when it had already flown through one of Daenys's ears and out the other. He could focus without needing to release any stress through another method.

He could be friendly if one paid attention. It was the most subtle thing; Rhaenyra made a comment about cake and Alicent was suddenly given a platter to take to her. Viserys had a new idea for his model city and suddenly there was a new figurine hand-crafted by the stonemasons delivered to match his plans.

Daenys had mentioned one random day that she wished for a saddle where she could stand on Vhagar. A week later, mysteriously, one of the Dragonkeepers offered a design for that and would not tell her where it came from. But she knew. Otto didn't like showing he cared; he thought it made him weak.

Daemon never liked it, from the moment he noticed Otto and Daenys would speak to one another in the hallways, sometimes standing together watching Gwayne practice with the master-at-arms. Once, before departing to Runestone again, he'd made a snide comment to Daenys that the Hand was attempting to use his fingers with her in a different way.

She'd thrown a stone at him and told him the next time he insinuated such a thing where people could hear, she'd cut his throat. That year, she hadn't visited him in the Vale at all, despite having grown accustomed to flying there for a week's end to talk with him and even hunt with Lady Rhea, who she liked very much and was liked by.

She was not opposed to the idea of being with Otto. Recently, she did find sufficient comfort in Otto to imagine them taking their friendship further. Bryndon and Norman had been sent to ward under Otto's brother in Oldtown, freeing Daenys's schedule significantly for further talk. She liked the way she felt when she was with him, she already got along well with his children, and the Hand was not bad on the eyes.

The only thing that kept her from it was the idea of marriage, the idea that perhaps Otto might expect her to give him more children that she didn't want. Why would she want any? Rhaenyra, Alicent, and Alicent's brothers had been taken care of by Daenys for many years. They were her children in all but name and blood— she'd practically raised them. And such a conversation could not arise unless she admitted to Otto that she thought of him in a different way. Their entire dynamic was set to change after that, and what if he admitted he did not feel the same?

It was what she thought of that morning at the Small Council, after she'd returned from bidding Aemma good morning as she braved yet another painful pregnancy. She stared at the small porcelain ball in front of her, ears buzzing as she tuned out all the noise around her. Foolish conversations, all that ridiculous talk her brother liked to make which had nothing to do with the Small Council. He could save it for another time.

Lord Corlys Velaryon seemed to be the only other person who shared her dislike for all this useless banter. He leaned back in his chair just enough for it to creak, gathering her attention and making their eyes meet. They didn't need to speak to convey the fact they were both wishing the council would get to the damn point so they could leave.

There were other things Daenys would rather be doing. She'd yet to ride Vhagar today, having offered the first slot to Rhaenyra so she might have the skies to herself later in the day and not have to worry that her ancient beast would see little Syrax as food. After that, she'd yet another sword session, and before bed, had promised Alicent and Rhaenyra a fun night.

She'd arranged a court fool to come and entertain them while she braided their hair, and then she had sworn that they could have a 'girl' chat, where they could ask her any question under the sun and she would answer with complete honesty— this included asking for details about her marriage with Gareth, which she never spoke about.

Daenys cleared her throat loudly as Viserys finished his joke and the men burst out laughing. "Viserys," she said with a cheeky smile. "We do not have all day to sit here listening to you tell the same jokes over and over."

"You laughed when Father told them," said Viserys, always one to bother his little sister in any way he could. "Have you lost your sense of humor?"

"I've simply lost my patience for you. Lord Corlys, I believe you wished to speak?"

He sat up gratefully. "Indeed. Thank you, Princess. My lords, the growing alliance among the Free Cities has taken to styling itself 'The Triarchy.'" He stood, spreading a map over the table, "They have massed on Bloodstone and are presently ridding the Stepstones of its pirate infestation."

"Well that sounds suspiciously like good news, Lord Corlys," replied Viserys.

He didn't think so. "A man called Craghas Drahar has styled himself the price-admiral of this Triarchy. They call him 'The Crabfeeder–'" They all looked at the doorway as it opened, letting Rhaenyra skip in, "Due to his inventive methods of punishing his enemies."

"And are we meant to weep for dead pirates?" asked Viserys.

"No, Your Grace," said Lord Corlys carefully.

The King paused, "Rhaenyra, you're late. King's cupbearer must not be late. Leaves people wanting for cups."

Daenys reached out her hand, catching Rhaenyra's and pressing it to her forehead in greeting, able to sense the lingering scent of dragon as she flew to grab their cups. "I was visiting Mother," said Rhaenyra, kissing her aunt's cheek, then her father's. Viserys sniffed, "On dragonback?"

Rhaenyra grinned. Lord Beesbury, their Master of Coin, cut in, "Your Grace, at Prince Daemon's urging, the crown has invested significant capital in the retraining and re-equipping of his City Watch. I thought you might urge your brother to fill his seat on the council and provide an assessment of his progress as commander of the Watch."

Daenys wiggled her eyebrows at Rhaenyra, trying to make her laugh (and perhaps spill the wine she poured) as she filled her cup. The girl rolled her eyes playfully, passing behind her and making toward Lord Beesbury as the King replied, "Do you think Daemon is distracted by his present tasks? And that his thoughts and energies are occupied?"

"Well, one would hope so, considering the associated costs."

"Then let us all consider your gold well-invested Lord Beesbury."

Lord Corlys tried to make his point again. "I would urge that you not allow this Triarchy much latitude in the Stepstones, Your Grace. If those shipping lanes should fall, it will beggar our ports."

"The Crown has heard your report, Lord Corlys, and takes it under advisement," said Otto, eager to put the conversation to rest.

"Forgive me, Lord Hand," said Daenys, "I would at least like to finish hearing what Lord Corlys has to report. If only so we may keep it all in mind, and all advice henceforth be given whilst wholly aware."

He nodded, a twitch in his lip making her think he would have smiled in amusement if they weren't here. "Thank you, Princess," said Lord Corlys. "I have only a final request: that we take action against this Triarchy before they acquire too much power. We must clear out the Stepstones."

"I will handle the planning myself," promised Daenys. "When Daemon returns and the tourney is concluded, we will fly to Driftmark and coordinate our plan of attack there with you and my dear cousin..." She eyed the other men in the Council, "With hopefully some input from others."

"Yes, yes," said Viserys, who clearly wasn't in the mood to hear more of it. "I will hear no more of it."

"Shall we discuss the Heir's Tournament, Your Grace?" asked Otto, knowing exactly where Viserys wanted to devote his attention.

"I would be delighted," said Viserys eagerly, tapping his hands on the table. "Will the maester's name day prediction hold, Mellos?"

The Grand Maester hesitated. "You must understand that these things are mere estimations, my King, but we have all been poring over the moon charts, and we feel that our forecast is as accurate as it can be."

"The cost of the tournament is not negligible," said Lord Beesbury. "Perhaps we might delay until the child is in hand?"

Lord Lyonel Strong, their Master of Laws, disagreed. "Most of the lords and knights are certainly on their way to King's Landing already. To turn them back now—"

"The tourney will take the better part of a week," said the King. "Before the games are over, my son will be born, and the whole realm will celebrate."

The Grand Maester spoke up, "We have no way of predicting the sex of the child."

"Of course, no maester's capable of rendering an opinion free of conditions, are they now?" said Viserys. "There's a boy in the Queen's belly. I know it. And my heir will soon put all of this damnable hand-wringing to rest himself."

Daenys eyed Rhaenyra, who didn't seem very pleased with the idea. She offered her niece a gentle smile, to encourage her from overthinking it. Unfortunately for all of them, no amount of speaking with Viserys on the matter seemed to turn him away from his dream of a male babe being born to him wearing the Conqueror's crown. Daenys insisted all he was doing was hurting Aemma, but then again, the same brother had tossed her away to Highgarden even as she kicked and screamed. She hadn't fully forgiven Viserys for it, but she supposed in a way she'd never fully understood her big brother the way she did Daemon.

She made for the Dragonpit as soon as the insufferable meeting was over. She could feel Otto's stare following her as she left, probably wondering why she hadn't let him walk with her this time. She was too frustrated to take pause. Upon arrival, she realized Otto's mood was about to worsen exponentially— she could hear Caraxes's trills inside and knew Daemon was finally back from wherever he'd gone this time.

"Rytsas, gevie valītsos," she said, passing by Caraxes, his long neck extending out to follow her. (T: Hello, beautiful boy.)

"Skore mēre?" (T: Which one?)

She grinned, turning on her heel. "Rōva lēkia, emagon ao daor jūndan isse iā jenenka hae hen eglie?" (T: Big brother, have you not looked in a mirror as of late?)

He tapped his chest, feigning offense. "I thought you'd be happier to see me."

"This may surprise you, but I thoroughly enjoy my time away from my nosy brothers," said Daenys, pulling him into a hug. "I thought you'd never come back. Wondered if our last spat got rid of you for good."

He shrugged. "A tourney is being held in my honor, of course I'm back. And I've never even been afraid of you when you're wielding a sword... why would I be afraid of you wielding a stone?"

"I can do quite a bit of damage, as you well know. You taught me to wet my sword, did you not? I could kill you now. And for clarification, dear brother, since your empty head cannot capture complex thoughts: the Heir's tourney is not for you."

Daemon smirked. "Oh, so I've heard. You say it with such hatred."

"Everyone knows you're going to win, it's boring." She gestured to Caraxes. "Well, are you going to join me, or will you be going to say hello to your very best friend?"

His smirk fell, and he rolled his eyes. "I ought to feed your little chamber companion to my dragon the way you did your husband."

Daenys crossed her arms. "You know I did not kill Gareth and you know you cannot hurt Otto. I know you refuse to see it, but he is a good man for the Realm. He is my friend."

He noticed what she hadn't addressed in his statement. "Still only a friend? Or have you finally bedded him?"

"He is still grieving his wife and I am still enjoying my life as it is."

"When was the last time you bedded anyone?" He started to grin again when she rolled her eyes and turned on her heel, walking closer to Vhagar's cave. "Since Gareth, really? You've multiple people in the castle wanting to bed you and it isn't as though your virtue is in question. You were wed once already, now you can do as you please."

"I'd fuck Rhea Royce if you weren't watching us like hawks everytime I go. Really, you simply cannot fathom that anyone would like her."

He raised his eyebrows. "I certainly didn't expect it from you. But, I suppose, if you wish to lay with her, I may be persuaded to finally consummate my marriage."

"Gods, no," she said curtly without looking back. "I won't get tangled up with anyone soon. Some of us have responsibilities we do not shirk. Gwayne and Rhaenyra require constant mischief-monitoring and Alicent still has nightmares sometimes, I cannot be off in another man's chamber if she comes looking for me."

She sensed him approaching swiftly and whirled around with her sword drawn, his catching against hers close to her chest. He narrowed his eyes, pressing hard enough to make her stumble and corner her against the nearest wall. "Careful," she warned, not letting go of her sword and sensing her dragon lumbering out of her cave. "Vhagar will not show mercy if you cut me."

"I don't want to cut you," said Daemon, sheathing his sword when Vhagar's head stuck out, sneering at him and tilting her head, spikes on her neck vibrating with the noise. After a moment of evaluation, Daenys did the same with hers. He reached his hand out, holding her tenderly by the throat. "You continue to evade me."

"We have been over this countless times," said Daenys irritably as he pressed himself to her, burying his face in her hair, drawing a deep inhale. "I refuse to do things on your terms. Let me go, Daemon."

"Why do you continue to refuse me?" he groaned, removing his hand and kissing her neck. "I would end my marriage myself to be available for you."

She shoved him off. "And therein lies the problem you do not see, Daemon!" He was forced to step further away when Vhagar surged forward, groaning lowly and looking to Daenys for a signal. "You simply don't understand how unappealing you are to me when you say and do things like this!"

Daemon's jaw tightened. "Admit it, you've simply never liked me."

"That isn't true. Gods, Daemon, I was thirteen when you first wanted to marry me. Thirteen, I didn't even understand desire and I liked my life just as it was while you, at sixteen, were already thinking of fucking and glory. You only wanted to get out of a responsibility and you wished to pressure me into giving you an out, not caring whether I'd be happy!"

"You were a coward," he accused. "Jaehaerys and Alysanne were even younger when they wed on Dragonstone."

"And then you wished to marry me again when we were nineteen and twenty-two. You only wanted to spite Viserys and your wife, you claimed you wanted to protect me yet you never asked if that was what I wanted! Again, you would seek to marry me for personal gain without caring about my choice!"

"I would've saved you one miserable year in the Reach," he seethed.

"And yet still you would have taken my control, taken my happiness, taken my virtue! A thing you believe yourself owed— what, because you've always been my closest friend? My brother?"

"You've seen how Jaehaerys and his siblings all wed, how our father and mother wed. You were meant to marry me.Viserys might disagree because he's wanted you for himself since you finally grew and stopped wearing dresses, but you and I were made to marry as our parents did. I would think you'd have shown the same enthusiasm our mother did when wedding our father."

Daenys snorted angrily, "Oh, yes, you'd have wished for my sounds of pleasure to be heard all the way to Duskendale as hers were— do you even hear yourself? You've never once wanted to marry me because you care for me. You've never shown me that you wanted me as a wife because you admired my wit, my skill, or my ability to love our family. You haven't even shown me that you would be a good husband, given how you treat your lady wife. Why would I want to be saddled with a man like that?"

Daemon spit venomously, "And so you'd rather with Otto Hightower?"

"Otto respects me! He isn't constantly trying to seduce me or kidnap me for marriage!" She tried to calm herself, not wishing for the Dragonkeepers to hear. She took several slow breaths then whispered, "After I married Gareth and began indulging in desires, I did think of you. I did wonder how things might've been different if we ran away when we were children. But carnal desire aside, what do you really offer me, Daemon? You don't actually respect me. And so I do not entertain the idea. Even now your anger towards me proves my point. You would not be a kind husband to me."

He gave a scoff and stalked away, muttering curses and holding the hilt of his sword tight. Daenys sighed deeply, guiding Vhagar out and taking to the skies. It had always been her escape, now more than ever.

She'd put on a brave face for Ser Harrold at training, though he clearly knew that something was bothering her. Her ladies-in-waiting had sensed it, too, when she asked gently that they let her bathe herself. She was glad to finally welcome Rhaenyra and Alicent, who were much more oblivious and simply happy to spend time with one of their favorite people. They believed her when she said she was fine.

They had a list of questions already prepared, and Daenys was not surprised that now, most of them were about sex and marriage. She was very candid about it all, ensuring that they understood the broader implications of indulging in pleasure. She explained how to consider who was worthy of their love, how to avoid people who would only use them. She told them something her wise grandmother had always said: No one could cause them to feel small, weak, and insignificant unless they allowed it by believing it.

She'd shown her own resistance to Daemon and she feared how he'd retaliate for it. For not wanting him if he would treat her like she was worth nothing.