Daemon took her up on her proposal.

He confirmed to her that Baela was leading Rhaena back to King's Landing. Then, that he would fly to Harrenhal. Though his letter had been brief, she was still reminded of his words to make the most of the time that was left.

She'd spent the days leading to her flight cuddled up with her children and Rolf in their bed, telling stories and listening to Bertram read. Gemma had told them how she'd altered Daenys's old wedding dress to fit her, and had started on making Alyssa's winter wedding cloak with Dyana's help. Hugh's daughter was rather good at needlework as well, having regained much dexterity with her medicines.

"But why?" Alyssa's eyes were teary and wide when Rolf said he would be accompanying Daenys to Harrenhal. "Why are you both going?"

"It's my wish to be there, in the event..." Rolf hesitated. "If anything happens to your Uncle Daemon, I will be there for her. If only Aemond dies, well, I am still there to celebrate with her."

"You two are never too old for that, are you?" said Bertram, trying to crack a joke as Cliff might've. Gemma managed a smile, but Alyssa was not amused.

"And if Mother..." Alyssa didn't even want to say it. "What then?"

"Then," said Rolf, "I intend to be there to hold her in my arms and see her pyre made. But it will not come to that. I feel it in my bones, your mother and I will come back to you."

"I feel the same," said Daenys, taking Alyssa's hand. "I've never been a dreamer, really. I've had but a handful of dreams that seem to predict something, but it is not the same as what others in our line have had. Like Helaena with her prophecies... I don't know. But I sense this, Aemond will be felled. He cannot survive against Vhagar and Caraxes both."

"Helaena believes he will perish," said Gemma. "Last I spoke to her... well, tried to speak to her... she kept muttering something about the God's Eye swallowing Aemond. That... is right next to Harrenhal, isn't it?"

Bertram nodded. "Even with Vermithor, Aemond doesn't stand a chance if he comes to face them. Mother and Uncle Daemon are the greatest warriors since their uncle Aemon, since Maegor, since Visenya, since Aegon the Conqueror. They'll make quick work of them."

"Cliff could make quick work of him," noted Alyssa. "But that is on the ground, all that you say. Vermithor is still younger and quicker than Vhagar and much larger than Caraxes. I worry... I do worry..."

"I can make no promises," said Daenys, "but I am confident in that this must be done. There is no sense in chasing Aemond while he continues burning towns, no sense in risking Baela and Rhaena any further. You three will be here to receive your cousins when they return. Alyssa, Gemma, you will teach Rhaena all that you can about riding a dragon— have a proper saddle made for Sheepstealer and see if you can teach her to shoot a bow as well as you can. Bertram, you will continue your practice patrolling over the Gullet. I will come back expecting to hear great strides being taken."

Alyssa still sniffled, laying her head on her father's lap while her mother caressed her arm. "And what if all these hopes are wrong? What if this is the last time we are all... gods, we're not even all together. Cliff is so far away, Aenar is gone, what if the family becomes even smaller after this?"

"Then it will be the will of the gods," said Daenys. "Regardless, Aemond will fall even if both Daemon and I do. Your father will ensure we are burned as we would've wished to be. This is not the end for me, I feel it. It will come... surely, it will come. But not now. Not yet."

They joined in a hug once more when she left from the Dragonpit the following morning. She entrusted her daughters and son with keeping an eye on Hugh and Addam at a distance. Then, with Rolf secured in the saddle behind her, Daenys guided Vhagar into the skies, turning over the city and looking down for a good while— in case it was the last time she ever saw it.

Daemon was there to greet them, Caraxes having made for himself a little nest in the mountains around the castle. Vhagar was almost too large to share the space, but managed to flop herself down behind some trees, closing her eyes after the long flight. Hang on, old girl, I need you to fly with me one more time...

"Sister." Daemon pulled her into a hug. "Good-brother." He shook Rolf's hand. Whatever those two must have been quipping to each other the last time they were here together, Daenys did not know, but surely it was forgotten. "Did you say your goodbyes? Spend time with your children?"

"Yes," said Daenys. "It ends now." Assuming he is brave enough to face us. She'd worried perhaps Aemond would risk going all the way back to King's Landing even with all the dragons waiting there to attack Vermithor as a unit. No, she had to believe his pride was too great to ignore this challenge.

They had a quiet dinner with what remained of the household. Ser Simon Strong had been a good and faithful man, both Rolf and Daemon toasted to him. Daenys made her toast for Lady Sabitha Frey, who had bravely retaken Harrenhal for them and cleverly hidden from Aemond and even now kept Alys Rivers at the Twins.

"Do you think Father imagined this?" asked Daemon, he and Daenys standing in the Harrenhal Godswood. He admitted to spending time here during his previous stay— he'd dreamt things while here, things that somehow changed him.

Daenys had noticed a difference in him since the war first started. He respected Rhaenyra more and held his tongue in Small Council meetings. He'd apologized to Daenys as well, he'd showed his pride in his daughters. It saddened Daenys that the version of brother she'd wanted came too late. Where was this kinder yet still courageous Daemon when she'd needed him? She was glad his children had had that, for a time.

"I don't know," admitted Daenys. "He was always so happy. You know, sometimes I wish they'd married Rhaenys and Viserys and you and Aemma. It might've solved a lot of problems."

He snorted. "Rhaenys and Viserys would've been a powerful force to be reckoned with."

And Aemma would still be alive, because I know that if she'd had a difficult labor the first time, you never would have risked her health as repeatedly as Viserys did.

"Father would be so disappointed in us," mused Daenys. "For all we did. We weren't the future he and Jaehaerys hoped for. We did it, that which Grandsire feared. We tore down the House of the Dragon being selfish."

He made a face. "I hardly see how you disappointed Father. Viserys, I understand. Me, well, it's heavily implied. But you?"

She shrugged, staring at her hands. "I should have just given Gareth Tyrell a child and done my duty, seized control of the Reach. I shouldn't have let myself be tricked by Otto— you saw through him and I never listened. And my children, my sweet children, I made them be warriors then damaged them all. Aenar dead, Alyssa so impulsive she'll likely never forgive herself, Cliff bordering on being bloodthirsty, Gemma afraid of this war I let happen, Bertram forced to mount a dragon he never wanted."

"Father would have been most proud of you," said Daemon. "In my mind, I always thought Father would see you elevated as high as he could. You were always his favorite. I thought that if he became King, he'd keep you nearby, with a high seat on the Council. He would have heeded your counsel better than Viserys or I ever did. What's done is done, sister. It no longer matters. You found a good husband, you made good children. We've lived... and we will die to set things right."

She gave a weary nod. He put a hand over hers. "Daenys," he whispered. He leaned onto her, resting his forehead with hers, though his mouth felt so close. "Once. As a goodbye."

She tilted her head up to him, eyes full of sorrow. "You're still alive but I think I've mourned you every day since you first asked me to marry you, Daemon. You were rarely the brother I needed. The answer is no, Daemon. It will always be no."

She left him alone to ponder what was to come, gripping Wildfyre's hilt in case he tried to pursue as he had the day in King's Landing, when he thought he could make Daenys have another child for Rolf to raise, knowing it was not his blood. She remembered that day fondly for one reason only– Daemon had angered her and Rolf so much that they'd bedded each other like dragons and made Bertram. How curious that her sweet boy had been so calm after such a conception.

I might never see my sweet, clever Bertram ever again. Or my kind, gentle Gemma. My wild, brave Cliff. My fiery, fierce Alyssa. But Aenar, Aenar will be waiting for me if I die.

Daenys curled up beside Rolf, listening to water drip from the stones. Rolf kept her warm, his arms wrapped around her as she thought of the history in this castle. Her ancestor, Aegon the Conqueror, made Harrenhal as she saw it now, some towers inaccessible and the curses still running rampant.

Her husband held her for three days more. Daemon slashed the heart tree in the godswood each morn to mark the passing of another day– there had been ten marks already when Daenys arrived. No banners flew in Harrenhal, and the three of them were each other's only company. Daemon kept his distance after Daenys's last refusal, sharing meals with them in peace and otherwise not seeking her out.

Finally, there was a shadow. They'd been making the mark of the afternoon of the fourteenth day. First, there was a low rumble from Vhagar in the distance. The birds in the godswood took to the air in fright, the sky darkening overhead. Vermithor broke through the clouds, circling overhead. Daenys had wasted no time in kissing Rolf firmly, asking him to take shelter.

She and Daemon, always clad in their nightblack armor with dragon helms, swords in hand, strode out to meet Aemond after he'd circled the towers of Harrenhal. In the outer ward, both Caraxes and Vhagar sneered over at Vermithor when he landed, the three mighty beasts but a hundred metres from each other.

Aemond had not come alone, much to Daenys's distance. With him was who she could only assume to be Alys Rivers, seen now as Daemon had described her, with long hair streaming black behind her, her belly swollen with child. Daenys thought sadly of Sabitha Frey– what must have happened to her for Aemond to access Alys?

The woman's expression was difficult to read. Daenys seemed to think her unwilling to be here, yet Daemon had told her enough about the witch to know that Alys wasn't as helpless as one might think, looking at her now. Do she and Aemond look to each other as victims, and think of themselves as the one in power?

Aemond helped Alys off of Vermithor, gently motioning her back to the castle. Daenys thought of Rolf, what he might do if Alys found him. If it were up to her, she'd execute Alys as a precaution. The woman was dangerous alone and more dangerous with Aemond's child in her belly. The child could be drawn up by the Greens against Rhaenyra, or the witch could choose to go to whichever side benefited her more... that would not necessarily mean she'd side with Rhaenyra, despite Daemon claiming that he and Alys had had an understanding about many things. Much had changed since he left her to her fate with Aemond.

"Uncle," said Aemond, lingering too-near Vermithor to seem as brave as he must have intended, with his hand caressing his sword. "Aunt. I hear you have been seeking us."

"Only you," replied Daemon. "Who told you where to find us?"

"My lady. She saw you both in a storm cloud, in a mountain pool at dusk, in the fire we lit to cook our suppers. She sees much and more, my Alys. You were fools to come alone."

Daenys squinted at him. The boy was attempting to feign not being afraid of them, perhaps rationalizing it by believing that Caraxes was too small, Vhagar too old, and both Daemon and Daenys less nimble than him now. "Had we brought all our other dragons, you'd never have faced us," she replied. "You think yourself assured of victory now, Nephew."

Aemond's lips twitched. Where is the little boy I once held and thought so sweet? Where is the boy Cliff loved to run around with? What did your parents do to you, Aemond? Tell me all the ways I failed you... gods, I should have taken you, Aegon, Helaena, and Daeron with me to Dragonstone or Essos, I should have saved you all from this.

At last, Aemond spoke, "You two have lived too long."

"On that much, we agree," said Daemon. He looked to Daenys and offered her a nod. It was time.

They'd made somewhat of a plan. Each of them mounted their beasts, though Aemond took great care to fasten the four short chains between his belt and saddle. Daemon and Daenys had agreed to leave theirs unfastened. Rhaenys and Meleys had died together fastened by chains, and while that was all good and well, it would not help them in this battle. They needed a greater range of movement and, if there was an opening, an escape route. Daemon had said quietly that should things go astray, Daenys had to try and make it back to Rhaenyra and to the children. Rhaenyra could live without Daemon, but she'd lose herself without Daenys.

Daemon rose first on Caraxes, the Blood Wyrm hissing and filling the air with flame. Vermithor rose next with a roar, followed by Vhagar, who was slowest and quietest, watching and waiting as they reached a suitable height to circle. They moved for the God's Eye, water all that would catch them if they fell. The lake was calm, its surface glimmering like a sheet of beaten copper.

We know Aemond, Daenys had told Daemon. He is rash and half his vision is occluded. I must face him with Vhagar, and you must use Caraxes to rip at him.

But Vhagar will take great damage, said Daemon. You must return to Nyra and the children.

I may yet return, only, my old girl will likely meet her end. We knew this could happen. It is a risk we must take. If you take the first attack, Vhagar cannot move as easily in your defense.

She let Aemond make the first move, and of course he chose to charge Vermithor right at Vhagar. Daenys lowered her helm and readied herself, smoothing her hands along Vhagar's neck. "One last time, old girl," she whispered to herself. "To end our greatest threat. I am sorry that this will most like be our end."

But Vhagar did not seem to mind. She roared once in Vermithor's face, turning her legs up to catch his tail when his claws made contact with her belly. Daenys felt Vhagar leaning into it, much as it hurt her to have Vermithor tearing away. Daenys leaned sideways as Vermithor tried to blast his fire at them, Vhagar answering with hotter flames of her own.

She felt a force slamming into them, accompanied by a piercing shriek– Caraxes had made his first attack. The setting sun did not do a kindness on Aemond's blind side, and Daemon had exploited it perfectly. The fires went out, and only roars echoed. Vhagar tugged down on Vermithor's tail, at the peril of letting his claws rake further at her belly, then turned her neck down to bite his throat.

Caraxes flailed, joining Vhagar in ripping away at Vermithor. Vermithor had removed its claws from Vhagar, trying his hardest to turn them on Caraxes. The dragons were falling, then, Daenys could feel it. Vermithor trapped, Vhagar injured, and Caraxes's wing was now in Vermithor's jaws as the Blood Wyrm ripped around where Aemond sat, the boy dodging and cowering in fear.

Daenys looked across at Daemon, who gave her a nod. Let go, that look told him. Let go and save yourself. Unwillingly, tears sparked in her eyes, and she guided Vhagar in releasing Vermithor's throat.

Caraxes and Vermithor continued to fall. Daenys saw Daemon rip himself away from his saddle, Dark Sister raised as he leapt onto Vermithor. Aemond turned up in terror, fumbling with his chains a moment before Daemon landed, ripped off Aemond's helm, and drove Dark Sister through his blind eye, so hard she saw the point come out the back of Aemond's throat.

A moment latter, she saw the dragons strike the lake, sending up a gout of water so high, she felt the splashing on her face. Vhagar roared mournfully, faltering even as she tried to lower herself on the ground. In her pain, she stumbled, laying her head down and struggling to breathe while she steadied herself for Daenys to dismount.

She saw Rolf running to them, his sword out and bloody– he must have thought the same fate for Alys as she did. The water had not settled in the lake– she saw Caraxes's head sticking out, wailing and crawling to the edge of the land. Daenys rushed to him, collapsing beside him as the dragon blinked, his eyes going dull.

"DAENYS!" Rolf made it past Vhagar, who continued to pant heavily. "Gods, gods, that was– it looked–"

She grabbed his hand, staring out at the water. "Daemon, I can try to fish him out! He leapt from his dragon, he won't be attached to the saddle, I could–"

Rolf set his sword down and dove into the lake without waiting for her. She watched his elegant strokes as he made for the center of the circles rippling out towards the land. He lifted his head and dove down. She got to her feet, watching and waiting, hugging herself and feeling the heat of Vermithor's fire still clinging to her like a warm embrace.

Caraxes dead, the last bit that remained of her dear uncle Aemon Targaryen. Vermithor dead, the beloved mount of her grandsire King Jaehaerys. Vhagar, gods, she didn't know if Vhagar would survive her wounds. She might never fly again even if she did. Aemond, surely dead, but Daemon... how could she still be holding out hope?

If Daemon was dead, then it left her as the last person of their family who remembered the long reign of Jaehaerys, save for if Saera and Vaegon were somehow alive. Without Daemon, she was the last of her generation... the last granddaughter to Jaehaerys. When she died, what would be left?

She saw Rolf emerge suddenly, and with him a figure that had silver hair. She rushed into the water to help him fish Daemon out, his body broken and cold. Rolf spat out water and spluttered, "He was stuck between the chains, but– but–"

Daenys pulled Daemon to land, laying him face-up and pumping hard at his chest. He could still be alive, he could still– "Daemon," she pleaded. "Daemon, wake up." She pressed and pressed but he did not return any water to her. She leaned down and planted her mouth on his, breathing in as Rolf had taught her to. She drew back up and pumped over his heart, but nothing stirred him.

"Daenys," said Rolf weakly after a third kiss did nothing. "Daenys, my love, no man could have survived that fall. He's gone."

Tears rose in her eyes. Daemon, her brave brother, her reckless and restless brother, could not have died so easily, not when he'd leapt from that saddle and slew Aemond like that... no, it could not be so, this could not truly be his end, they had to emerge victorious, for they were right, they were always right.

It was the only time she had ever kissed Daemon. The stubborn cunt should be awake, laughing at her, teasing that she finally admitted she once liked him. She had, she had, gods, what things would have been different if she'd chosen to marry Daemon the first time he asked. They would have been unstoppable. None of this would have happened. No, she knew they would have had a son for Rhaenyra to marry and all would have been well...

She sobbed, laying her forehead on Daemon's chest. "You idiot," she whispered. "You idiot, you don't get to go. You don't get to go, not without making it all right." But she accepted, then, that he was never going to be the brother she needed, he had already proved that he'd not changed, three days prior.

"I'm so sorry, my love." Rolf hugged her. He always knew, he always understood. She'd spoken to him many times about how she'd wished Daemon had been, how she might have loved him if he had respected her the way she deserved to be.

She steadied her breaths, eyes shut tight. This had happened, this was it, just as they had imagined. What mattered was that Aemond was dead, that Vermithor was dead. "The witch?"

"I gave her a quick death," said Rolf. "To ensure... no stone was left unchecked. One blow was all it took to rid her of her head. I'll make her a pyre."

"Thank you," whispered Daenys. She turned to him, pressing their foreheads together. She cupped his face, and he returned the gesture with hers, using his thumbs to clear her cheeks of tears.

She heard Vhagar groaning, and looked up to see her dragon had lifted her head, a look of determination still in her aged eyes. She'd manage one more flight, Daenys knew. Vhagar had always fought hard to give Daenys what she needed, no matter the cost to herself.

"Let us make that pyre now," whispered Daenys. "A pyre for Alys Rivers and Aemond's bastard. A pyre for my brother, Daemon of House Targaryen, the Rogue Prince and King Consort to the true Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen. And let us fly into the sunset, my love, to tell our children that we live to fight again."

-

A/N: Happy 400 pages and Happy New Year 2025! Apologies for the lack of updates, been busy with the holidays plus my laptop decided it did not want to live to see 2025 so I am back to my days of writing fanfic on my phone... which is not at all easy lol. I will do my best to keep updating this story, as it is coming to an end. Not sure when I will replace my laptop, so stay tuned for the next fic as well, whenever it comes.