Rhaenyra knew.

Ravens had been sent to all those they knew would immediately stand behind her. The truth was this, Daella knew: all of them would be considered traitors to Aegon, though they'd call themselves loyalists to Rhaenyra. But, she hoped, they would be wise enough to pick the winning side... which Rhaenyra's was not.

Daella knew they held all the advantages possible. No host that Rhaenyra could muster would match the power of the Hightowers alone... and they had many more houses united to that great army, which would be led by young Ormund Hightower. Then, they had Oldtown and Lannisport at their back with all the associated riches and might. The only thing Rhaenyra had that they did not was superiority at sea... but how long that might last, who knew. Aegon still had the Lannister Fleet, and it was Otto's hope that the smell of blood would be enough to lure Dalton Greyjoy out from Pyke.

Perhaps, the only other advantage Rhaenyra had were the dragons. They had more that were in fighting condition, though smaller. Caraxes and Meleys were a formidable pair who had seen battle. Though Rhaenyra was unlike to ride on Syrax, she could still field more strength there than someone like Daeron on little Tessarion. Tessarion was growing, but not as fast as Moondancer, Vermax, and Arrax had on Dragonstone. And, what Daella dreaded most, was knowing that Rhaenyra had wild and unclaimed dragons at her disposal. If Rhaena managed to bond with Seasmoke, Silverwing, or another one of those beasts... no, Daella did not want to think of it.

She and Aemond alone with Vermithor and Vhagar– or together, if made a team– could make quick work of any lone dragon. The problem would be a battle with all of them. Though their dragons were far larger, Vhagar was old and slow and Vermithor's size made him vulnerable to the sort of surprise attacks a smaller dragon could field. Caught under the right circumstances by experts in battle– which, Daella and Aemond were not, having never ridden their dragons against any sort of opposition– they could be felled. But she tried to soothe herself knowing that even if they had not seen battle, both Vhagar and Vermithor had... battles much harder than anything Caraxes or Meleys might have faced. No, perhaps Rhaenyra did not have an advantage after all.

At any rate, the playing field was in their control now. Even if Rhaenyra somehow managed to take the throne physically, she would not hold it. Tyland had ensured that when he divided the Crown's wealth. He knew that Rhaenyra would have no choice but to tax her citizens... and she was already not a favorite in the city. In fact, Daella finally had a leg up against her sister there. The smallfolk remembered seeing Princess Daella escorting Helaena to the sept. They'd not seen Rhaenyra anywhere for years. All they knew were rumors... rumors that had truth to them.

They watched and waited for Rhaenyra's response. The only indication they had that Rhaenyra had found out (perhaps quicker than the ravens they sent, with Ser Steffon Darklyn having rushed off to find her) was their own receipt of letters calling for the lords of the Seven Kingdoms to declare allegiance to the 'true' Queen. She'd declared Otto, Alicent, and Daella as traitors and rebels– but to Daella's surprise, her own children and her siblings were said to have been led astray by the counsel of 'evil' men and women. She offered for them to come to Dragonstone, bend the knee, ask for forgiveness, and gladly be spared.

The letter had been read in front of the Small Council, earning a scoff from Aegon. "Well, this message is obviously high treason," he said matter-of-factly. He sounded like such a green boy when he said it, but Daella knew he would learn. "They should be attainted, arrested, and killed." He looked to his sister at once, but she knew it was not so simple– though she would like the same.

"The princess must be made to see that her cause is hopeless," offered Orwyle. "Brother should not war against sister. Send me to her, that we may talk and reach an amicable accord."

Aegon made a face so comical that Daella wanted to laugh. He seemed confused and disgusted at the same time. "Amicable? Isn't it a little late for that?" His eyes flickered to Daella once more. Did he want her approval? "Perhaps you are disloyal, Grand Maester."

"He is not wrong, Aegon," said Daella cautiously. "Making Rhaenyra lose hope prevents many of our resources from being depleted. It will dawn on her soon that she cannot win anything. We maintain peace for now... let it be her that makes the first move, to show the Realm how irrational she is."

He pursed his lips, almost pouting. Daella was disappointed– Aeneas would have never acted so. She understood his impulse– she had it too– but to call Orwyle disloyal for trying to keep the peace, gods it was as if he had learned nothing.

"We will support this mission," decided Otto. "You will sail across Blackwater Bay under a banner of peace."

"Ensure the message is delivered only to Rhaenyra," said Alicent. Daella didn't know why they still had her here– she no longer needed to speak for the King. Aegon was old enough to do it himself, and if he did not perform well... that only further served Daella. After all, her own opinion was much aligned with Otto's, with Alicent's left as being of no consequence.

In the end, it was decided that Otto would accompany Orwyle in this endeavor, if only to see it was done right. After much insistence, Otto had consented that Daella accompany them, if only to demonstrate to Rhaenyra that there would be no confusion between who her sister was supporting– she was not to be her Hand anymore, that was certain. She knew of the unspoken words in Otto's permission– you will do nothing, say nothing, let me handle it. She wasn't sure she could manage that.

It took them two days to sail to Dragonstone, when it should have only taken them a few hours on dragonback– she would've preferred to go on the back of Vermithor to make her statement, but Otto noted this wasn't exactly peaceful. On the serpentine steps connecting the ship landing to the castle, they were met by Daemon and several guards– Rhaenyra was nowhere in sight.

Gods, perhaps she is dead, thought Daella to herself as she saw Daemon leaning on his sword. She was surprised not to see Caraxes behind him. Perhaps he'd even killed Rhaenyra to try and make himself King– wouldn't that make it all easier. One look from Otto and she could slash through Daemon's throat before anyone could react.

"I've been directed to deliver a message only to Princess Rhaenyra," said Otto when Rhaenyra did not make herself known amongst the group of knights. "Where is the Princess?"

There came a screech from overhead. From the top of the castle, through the evening mist, Syrax and Rhaenyra swept down, circling and flying low over their heads as a threat. She landed behind them, Syrax roaring at the knights and Orwyle (who leapt to stand closer to Daella immediately). Loud though it was, Daella found it a rather pitiful attempt at being menacing. It was akin to a cat mewling, thinking itself a lion. The knights were scared because they did not know dragons– Orwyle was afraid because he was a timid man in general. For Daella, well, she stared at the pair unimpressed. If she had brought Vermithor, his roar would've deafened them... and then, even Rhaenyra would be afraid. Daella had never been so sensitive.

The look Rhaenyra gave her was one of loathing. Her nose was curled up the way it used to be when she was fed something she did not like. Her lips were twitching as if restraining themselves from spouting out vile insults. She dismounted slowly, steadily, as if in great pain. Her cloak hid the shape of her body well, leaving Daella no indication of whether she was still with child or not. Pity, if the child is gone, it did not take her with them to meet the Stranger.

She strode past them, and none touched her, of course– they were there peacefully. She turned to face them once she was beside Daemon, whose watchful eyes had not left Otto and Daella. He was like a dog waiting for permission to bite. "Princess Rhaenyra," said Otto when he realized Orwyle was too afraid to say anything at all with Syrax sneering behind them.

"I'm Queen Rhaenyra now," said Rhaenyra sharply. "And you are all traitors to the realm." She seemed to take special interest in glaring at Daella. What did you expect, sister?

"So we've been told," said Daella curtly. Otto glanced at her for silence, saying, "King Aegon Targaryen, Second of His Name... in his wisdom and desire for peace, is offering terms." He paused, as if to give them a moment to argue, but they were willing to hear them. "Acknowledge Aegon as King and swear obeisance before the Iron Throne. In exchange, His Grace will confirm your possession of Dragonstone. It will pass to your trueborn son, Jacaerys, upon your death. Lucerys will be confirmed as the legitimate heir to Driftmark and all the lands and holdings of House Velaryon. Your sons by Prince Daemon will also be given places of high honor at court: Aegon the Younger as the King's squire, Viserys as his cupbearer. Finally, the King, in his good grace, will pardon any knight or lord who conspired against his ascent."

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

"Who is it that sits the Iron Throne?" questioned Daella, unable to stop the twitching of her lips as she fought back a smirk. "It is Aegon who sits it, wearing the Conqueror's crown and wielding his sword– which he knows how to use– and bearing the Conqueror's name. He was anointed by a septon of the Faith in front of tens of thousands. It is no coincidence our father named him so."

Rhaenyra looked at Orwyle, who seemed eager to make himself as small as possible behind Otto. "You, Grand Maester. Do you remember my father, King Viserys?"

The question was so ridiculous, Orwyle was stunned. "Of course I do." Rhaenyra hummed, "Perhaps you can tell us who he named as his heir and successor." That caught him, and Daella rolled her eyes as Orwyle admitted, "You, Your Grace."

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

Orwyle stammered, "A-Andal law and– and– well, the Great Council of–" He would not be heard. "Gods, leave him," said Daella sharply, ignoring the way Otto motioned for her to be quiet. "We know the truth of it all, Rhaenyra. The oaths sworn to you that day are stale– the men who swore them are dead and their sons rule now. We both knew that when our father remarried, he would supplant you as heir. He killed our mother for a son, have you forgotten? He named you out of guilt, because he hated Daemon." She sneered in her uncle's direction, "You've clearly forgotten all the things he's done and said, for now you wish to give him a path to be King."

Rhaenyra gave her a hard look. "You wound me, Daella."

"She is a fool, that is why," said Daemon. In the same fashion, Rhaenyra seemed to not want him to speak. "It is jealousy that makes her so– she has always resented you for being older, prettier, smarter, stronger–"

"In what sense has she ever been stronger?" snarled Daella, stepping forward. She felt the knights behind her stirring in anticipation. "You've always been afraid of blood, Rhaenyra, do not jest. No blood needs to be spilled over what was inevitable. Even Rhaenys told us so, when our father was being courted. I made my peace with it. If you have not, you are only inviting further disappointment. What you begin here, the Realm will suffer... and I promise you, sister, if you try to install yourself as Queen, they will loathe you."

"Just as the Realm loathed you, I remember," shot back Daemon. "Perhaps it wounds you, Daella, to the point that you've deluded yourself into thinking that your father would've chosen Aegon over Rhaenyra... forgetting that he'd be completely surpassing you even if he did regret naming your sister as his heir. Is that it?" She felt anger rising in her, hands clenching as he continued despite Rhaenyra snapping her head towards him, "Are you so aware of your worthlessness that you never thought to contend for the Iron Throne yourself? You should know, in the event of lingering confusion, that Viserys always made it clear to me who his favorite daughter–"

The blade had slipped out of her sleeve, but she did not get a chance to raise her arm. She would've managed to lodge it into Daemon's throat, she knew, but Otto had reacted far faster. He knew her too well. He'd seized her forearm and drawn her to him before she could flick the blade at Daemon. Rhaenyra staggered back at the realization, her knights unsheathing their swords and swarming to shield her. It was Daemon who remained immobile, eyes narrow and flickering between Daella's face, the blade... and Otto's hand on her elbow. She knew he knew, in that moment. Why hadn't she been more careful, why hadn't she just listened? Why else would Otto have known to stop her?

Seeing her truly, Rhaenyra stood straight and spat, "Tell our half-brother that I will have my throne or I will have his head. Along with yours, if you are so eager to place a crown on his. Be on your way."

Behind them, Syrax roared anew, warning them to take their leave. Daella wished that Otto would release her, let her blades fly, fly, fly. They were already here, she might as well kill Daemon and Rhaenyra while she had the chance. When else would they have this opportunity so directly? It was useless, useless, a waste of a trip, a waste of a life. Rhaenyra, that miserable cunt, Daella wanted her dead. And Daemon, she wanted him to be rotting at the bottom of Blackwater Bay now, now, now.

Otto held her tight, yanking her with him and snatching from her hand the blade that should've been Daemon's end. She could hear Rhaenyra hissing something to Daemon from behind her, once Syrax had ascended and made her way back to the Dragonmount. Daella might've heard it, if not for the beating of dragon wings. Perhaps she was chastising Daemon for what he'd said. Otto was sure to do the same to her.

_

By some miracle, it was not Otto that dealt the blow she was anticipating to come to her... and, even more miraculously, the blow did not hit her, specifically.

It was raining the day Aemond and Vhagar returned from Storm's End. No letter had been sent ahead announcing to them which of Borros Baratheon's daughters he'd chosen to wed... or wed already. He was not married, certainly, for he wouldn't have returned as he did.

He was in disarray when they met with him. He'd sent word ahead from the Dragonpit for Daella, his mother, Otto, and Aegon to be gathered and waiting. Their expectations had been set high for this announcement... and crushed within seconds. Aemond had looked much unlike himself when he strode in, hands shaking as they never did.

"You're back, then," said Aegon, the only one who didn't seem to sense how distressed he was. "Which of Borros's daughters was pretty enough for you to marry, eh?" He grinned, but Aemond did not smile back.

"I'm afraid I've erred." He looked at his mother, at Otto, then finally at Daella. It was before her that he fell to his knees, that his face scrunched and he began to sob. "I did it... I did it, I did."

She sank down, grabbing his shoulders. "Did what?" Had he lost the support of the Stormlands? Had he done or said something that made Borros align with Rhaenyra? It was a difficult situation to manage, but not impossible.

He held her skirts, he clutched tight as if desperate for some solace. He hesitated as if he was hoping they could read his mind and know already what he was going to say. But they did not, and so he had to say, "I killed the boy. Luke. And his dragon. Vhagar... I wanted... no, not that, but... she reacted and I could not stop her."

What he did not have the gall to say was that he wanted the boy dead. For taking his eye. Daella recoiled, she stepped back and let Aemond's hands fall to the floor. "Mother have mercy on us all," said Alicent, turning away and covering her mouth.

Even Otto was infuriated– and more infuriated than he'd been when she killed Lord Beesbury. "You only lost one eye– how could you be so blind? You've won yourself the undying enmity of Rhaenyra. You are a Kinslayer, Aemond, do you understand this?"

The adults all looked to each other for some solution, though there was none. It was Aegon who seemed not to understand the gravity of the situation. "Well, this deserves a feast, doesn't it?" he offered. "He is the true blood of the dragon, is he not? My brother, the one who has made a good beginning. Get up, Aemond, it isn't so bad."

"Not so bad?" Daella seethed. "We meant for Rhaenyra to be the first to spill blood. Daemon will retaliate, you know this. The patrol will need to be doubled. She will consider this an act of war, she will– she will–" Even I know a mother's love knows no bounds. And I wouldn't have taken her sons from her until she was dead and unable to see it.

"I'm sorry," he said to Daella, so heartbroken that it was as if she'd struck him across the face. She wanted to, even. Aeneas was right, she could not approve of him and Aelora together. "I am sorry, I truly am..."

"You can show you are sorry by getting control of your dragon," she said curtly. "You are too experienced a dragonrider to let Vhagar's wants get the better of you. If you cannot be trusted in the skies, Aemond, you are useless to us." That boy can never be king. Never, never.

None had been pleased with Aemond. Otto and Daella had both been in a fury about what had happened. Otto had taken his anger out on her, fucking her unbearably hard as he sneered about how she could not control Aemond. When she'd ridden him, she'd clawed at his chest and retorted that he could not control Aemond, either. He could not even control her. None of it mattered now, none of it. She had even forgotten the fear she had of what Daemon knew– it wouldn't be important now that Rhaenyra would be out for blood.

As a preventative measure, scorpion bolts like the ones the Dornish used to bring down Meraxes were scattered along all the watchtowers. Every guard on the nearby ramparts was taught to man them and use them. They were monstrous things, so heavy that they required several men to fire them. It was better they were careful, for Daella expected that Daemon and Rhaenys would come calling soon enough.

Her punishment came, though not as severe as she might like. She and Aemond had turns patrolling the city for hours on end, expecting an attack. Vermithor disliked it as much as she did– circling the same parts over and over was unbearable. At times, she would miss Small Council meetings. Otto would always tell her what was said afterwards, but she loathed knowing that important things were being said without her there. Alicent even got to hear them, but Daella did not.

She was not much in the mood to speak with Aemond after what he'd done. According to Aeneas, he'd been taunting her son for being important enough (and able, what with his dragon) to deliver messages personally and serve his King. Now, it was Aeneas who was laughing– Aemond had barely managed to secure his betrothal to one of Lord Borros's daughters before he lost control of that dragon and killed a little boy.

'How much of a fight did he put up, Aemond?' she heard Aeneas ask him one night. 'I bet he was such a difficult morsel... a boy of fourteen a great threat to someone like you. That's what you'd been training for, then, wasn't it?' She'd had to intervene when they began to argue, Aelora begging them in exasperation to cease it all. Helaena would say nothing of it, she hated to be around them at all when they were like this. She'd been distant of late, perhaps confused with the ordeal or (as Aegon was suspecting, due to an increase in daydreaming) once more with child.

It must have been true, for Aegon quite happily brought Jaehaerys to a Small Council meeting not long after. "Good morrow, my lords," he said, ever smiling as he settled into his chair with his quiet little babe on his lap. "Mother, sister." He greeted Alicent and Daella with a smile– he was often cheerful even when there wasn't fully reason to be. "What news?"

"Our letters to the Vale and to the North continue to go unanswered," said Otto in disappointment. To this, Aegon shrugged and replied, "Cunts." Otto gave him a look and continued, "The Stormlands should be ours after Prince Aemond's marriage pact to the Lady Floris Baratheon. I anticipate their sworn declaration."

Tyland offered, "My brother is raising the strength of the West to mass at the Golden Tooth. His daughter, the Lady Tyshara, is due to arrive any day now for her wedding to Prince Aeneas." He smiled at Daella, looking eager for her approval. She gave it to him in the form of a smile– of late she hadn't been giving him attention.

"Ormund is mustering his forces to sally forth from Oldtown," added Daella. "Given Lord Tyrell is a mewling babe in swaddling clothes, they are expected to march quickly and meet little resistance... at least until they reach the Riverlands. The letters we sent to Lord Grover were answered by his grandson and heir, Elmo... it appears no decision has been made yet. He fears all the dragons involved, I wager. The problems will come at Harrenhal, where I hear Daemon will be responsible for massing an army."

Alicent burst in, "My letters to Rhaenyra. Has there been any answer?" Gods, thought Daella, why does she care about that at a time like this?

Lord Jasper Wylde replied somewhat sarcastically, "An apology for her dead son?" But Grand Maester Orwyle tried to be more gentle, "None, Your Grace. Between that and their blockade of the Gullet, we must presume that the princess has refused the offered terms... and that war is now inevitable."

This had been recent news to her– she had not been pleased to have missed the Small Council meeting where they discussed at length that the Sea Snake's fleet had spread a blockade through the Gullet. Tyland had told her this, along with the talk of rousing the help of the Triarchy across the Narrow Sea.

"Rhaenyra's blockade has placed King's Landing under strain," added Otto. "And those pressures will multiply quickly."

"Well," said Aegon, "you should've let Daella kill her when she had the chance."

Otto did not like this. "Regrettably, the opportunity for surprise has been lost, and with it, the chance to end this conflict quickly. We must play the board before us."

"If we are to break the Sea Snake's blockade," said Tyland, "we will need to bolster both the Lannister and Hightower navies."

"We do have need for a new Master of Ships," said Orwyle, reminding them of Tyland's recent move into the vacant slot of Master of Coin. "Perhaps to further sway young Lord Dalton Greyjoy, we could offer him the title."

Daella cleared her throat, "Indeed, we must appeal to the Red Kraken in any way we can. Perhaps a marriage proposal." He seemed the sort of boy that her fiery Aelora might like, and this could keep her from Aemond. "To my daughter, the Princess Aelora."

"He would be a fool to refuse us, then," said Aegon, starting to grin. "Lucky Aelora, then."

"Additionally," she said, "perhaps a similar arrangement could be made to ensure the Tyrells will continue to acknowledge the authority Oldtown currently holds in deciding the Reach's allegiance to you. Food shipments from the Reach could ease the burden of starvation on our people, ensure they do not resent you. If the Lord Tyrell is but a boy, perhaps betrothing him to the Princess Jaehaera would be useful."

She noticed at once that Aegon did not seem to like this idea. "It is to be considered," he said, motioning for Otto to stay quiet when he opened his mouth. "If that is all for today, my lords, I am to hold court." He scooped up the little porcelain ball before him, dismissing them without another word.

Daella heaved a sigh. He lacked patience. Of course, she would rather let the world burn and bleed to see it done quickly. But it was not the way, not this time. She planned to speak to him later, to try and make him understand. He was always easier than Aemond, that was for certain.

She'd told Aelora of her idea for marrying Dalton Greyjoy. Her daughter had taken the news with a stiff lip– she hadn't been in the best of moods since Aemond killed Lucerys. Whether it was because she was afraid of him now or because she was angry he was marrying another, Daella didn't know. Each time she asked, her daughter would say nothing.

She hoped he would be at Alicent's that evening. Her new chambers were in the Tower of the Hand, having given up her apartments for Helaena to live now that she was Queen. Every evening, Helaena took the children to see their grandmother. Aemma often went with them, which meant Daella was welcome. She didn't often join them, feeling it unnecessary, but today she wished for a chance to speak to Alicent and Helaena, women to women, and perhaps see what could be done to help Aegon listen.

Helaena was already gone when she reached her chambers. Aegon's apartments were empty as well. Daella lifted her skirts, quickly crossing the moat the separated Maegor's Holdfast from the rest of the castle and making for the Tower of the Hand. It was strange to go to it directly, when so often she had to sneak through the tunnels.

She hadn't yet reached it when she heard the first scream. A scream of horror, a scream of agony, a scream of complete fear. Her blood ran cold and in seconds she was running, a blade out in her hand as she made for the sound, as she ran towards Helaena, who she'd only ever heard scream few times in her life.

But she was too late when she arrived. Alicent was bound and gagged, guards were dead inside the room, Jaehaera was wailing in Helaena's arms as she stared at the body of a headless baby on the floor, a pool of blood so thick it reflected the torchlight.

Look at what you've caused, Aemond.