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CHAPTER THREE

A CROWN FOR A KING

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UNEASE HUNG IN THE AIR as the coronation bells rang out.

The morning of a King's coronation was typically a cause of celebration, but this was no ordinary coronation.

Instead three girls were sitting in the shop of a seamstress waiting for a blow they weren't sure would come.

Dark circles stained the undereyes of Reyna, Lacey, and Ivy, each burdened from a lack of sleep.

Most of the night had been spent waiting with bated breath for the Gold Cloaks or Kingsguard to knock on their door and take their heads.

Ser Criston seemed to have kept his word. For the most part.

The manse beside the shop was still smoldering.

"They burned us out," Lacey had spat as she'd crawled through the window, soot and ash decorating her porcelain skin. "Lady Misery was nowhere to be found."

And she wouldn't be, Reyna mused, taking another gulp of ale.

If the White Worm knew what was good for her, she would have fled the city long before they smoked her and her spiders out.

And now Lacey was under the thumb of a new Madame.

A woman from the Westerlands named Malina, and while she was Westerosi, it didn't make her any less miserable.

As for Ivy, she was half-asleep on three new dresses she'd made overnight. A nobleman had promised her more than a week's wages of gold dragons if she managed to deliver three new garments for his wife and two daughters for the coronation.

In dire need for money, she'd agreed.

Promised to a blacksmith, Ivy needed to save as much as she could if she wished to be married before winter. So she'd slaved the night away, Reyna and Lacey stepping into help whenever they could.

All of them knew how to work with a needle on some level, but their stitches weren't as neat as Ivy's. Several kirtles had to be sewn together before the bells of the church chimed, all delivered to the noble house before the wheelhouse left the Red Keep.

It wouldn't do to look like a commoner the day the King was crowned.

Reyna narrowed her eyes at the brocade and chiffon they were stitching together, knowing the noble family would wear it once and then it would rot in a chest never to be worn again. She wondered what it would take for her to finally be able to wear such finery without dirt or blood or sewage staining it.

Even Lacey was not exempt from the blemishes of Flea Bottom, her silks needing to be washed near daily or risk stinking of the seed of men.

The apartment was awash in the orange of the sunrise when they finished the kirtles. Thankfully, all laborers were given a day of rest when the realm welcomed a new king.
"Coronation day is a day of rest," Ivy parroted the Seven Pointed Star, her words muffled by the fabric, "And gods do I need it."

"We all do," Lacey poured herself a drink and downed it just as fast, whistling low outside the window.

A boy with pale silver hair peeked his head through the window, where he'd been patiently waiting for the package Ivy had hired him to deliver.

The girls wrapped up the dresses and paid him with a silver stag and off he ran.

When he returned, his pockets were several coins heavier and Ivy gave him three gold dragons to spend on himself.

"You're too nice," Lacey snorted, shaking her head as she slipped out of her pink silks into a pale green cotton dress, the color complementing the golden locks threaded with red. The garment hugged her thicker figure tightly, the slope of the neckline showing the barest hint of her chest.

It was a far cry from what she typically wore, but Reyna thought it fit her better.

It was the style of the Reach, and Lacey looked more herself in plain cotton and woolspun skirts than the silks she'd been forced to drape herself with.

Ivy sighed and began to tie her hair into a braid, "He deserves something nice," She walked over to her shop, turning the sign from open to close to prevent any more last minute orders, "Besides, what else is he supposed to do today? I won't have any more orders for at least a week."

Lacey rolled her eyes, "He's a child, he'll find something to do."
"Exactly," Ivy smiled, "He's a child."

"And we all know how we feel about children," Reyna chimed in, sharing a knowing look with Lacey as she began to comb out the knots in her hair.

Ivy inhaled sharply and began to wrap herself in her tunic, "Just because you two wish to remain miserable, lonely spinsters for the rest of your lives, doesn't mean I do." She studied her feet, pink dusting her cheeks, "I want a family, a large one."

"And you shall have it," Reyna engulfed her friend's hands in her own, a slow burning erupting in her chest, "I predict we will soon see a house filled with children, each more talented and beautiful than the last."

"Let us hope they look like their mother then," Lacey chimed in, chuckles echoing through the kitchen, "As pleasant as your betrothed is...I'm sorry to say he's not very easy on the eyes."

Ivy's shoulders shook, but she said nothing to dispute the girl's point.

The red tinge of her cheeks and the spread of her lips betraying her happiness to the girls. Neither of them had ever seen their friend so in love.

"Then let us hope the day goes by quickly," Reyna smiled, "So we can finally get to planning the merry occasion."

"The High Septon never does anything quickly," Lacey rolled her eyes, "Hopefully the Hand provided him suitable compensation for a quick coronation."

Reyna's stomach churned and twisted, mind drifting to the gold lining her pockets and the promise Queen Alicent had given her once she'd returned to the castle.

"The crown thanks you for your service, Reyna. I will see to it personally." The Queen's auburn hair encircled her like a halo, the sun illuminating the fine beadwork and embroidery of her gown. Reyna's eyes dipped to the gold glint of the seven pointed star. "Now go, be with your family on this blessed day."

She couldn't very well tell the Queen her family was dead.

At least those who mattered were.

And those who didn't had declared her dead long ago.

She was nothing to anybody anymore, and even the ravens her father and brother sent her were not enough to detract from the constant ache in her chest.

Her hand flew to the last name day present she'd received. A silver pendant her father had commissioned from the finest jewelers in Myr.

Carved out of pure amethyst, a lone star sat between her breasts, as a reminder of where she came from.

It was a reminder she wore often, if only to remember the nights spent before the war of the Stepstones broke out and her father was called back to Dorne out of duty rather than love.

Of glass merchants and performances in a village she could no longer recall.

Whatever memories she held were of her mother, a golden skinned, dark-haired woman with a voice like honeywine and a smile as bright as the sun.

The only home she remembered was Starfall, a tall whitestone castle with rushing water and lavender banners flying high with a sword and a falling star.

Some days, she thought the necklace resembled Dawn.

Silence stood between the three girls, each contemplating the hand before them and wondering if they were truly better off with a drunk on the throne instead of a woman.

It was certainly better than Daemon, she thought.

"I suppose we better get going," Reyna spoke solemnly, all three girls refusing to meet each other's gaze. "Earlier means better seats."

Lacey chuckled. A rueful, sour thing that turned the air bitter.

She didn't need to say what they were all thinking.

If the rumors were true and King Viserys named Aegon heir with his last breath, he'd ensured his legacy would be one of violence, not peace.

Twenty years he'd named Rhaenyra heir, and suddenly with his last breath he'd revoked it.

He'd left the smallfolk a cunt for a king, and felt no remorse for it.

There'd been no sightings of dragons though, and Reyna supposed she should thank the gods for that at least.

If Princess Rhaenyra had been made aware, she either didn't care or was rallying her forces.

Reyna hoped it was the former, if only to grant the people of King's Landing some much needed peace.

"Let's be on our way then."

Ivy's words cut through the tension and suddenly the three of them were on their feet, ready for the day to be over.

They all smelled of sweat and ash and smoke with only Lacey having changed out of her clothes from the previous day.

Ivy's tunic and trousers were nearly worn through, the commission providing little time for her to patch them up before the coronation.

And while Reyna was wearing the newest clothes out of all of them, she still felt naked in some ways. The bodice over her chemise was a pale imitation of armor, embroidered with roses and hyacinths and violets while the skirt swished just above her ankles.

Clothes cast off by nobles for being too gaudy, too vulgar. A constant reminder of her status wherever she went.

They were no ladies of the court.

So why did it feel like a sword was hanging over their heads, waiting to crush them all?

High lords do not care for the smallfolk, little star , a voice rang in her head, So long as they move their cyvasse pieces, we are simply pawns in their game. Do not do yourself the disservice of imagining you will be anything more.

Smoke lingered in her lungs as she stepped out into Flea Bottom.

The crowds were already beginning to gather toward the Dragonpit.

The three girls marched down the Street of Sisters, using their knowledge of alleys and shadows and dark corners to place them toward the front of the crowds. Once they reached Rhaenys' hill, however, they were forced to remain in place.

Gold Cloaks were stationed at every alley, merchants torn from their carts and pushed into the crowds, the threat of their swords enough to deter rebellion.

Bodies pressed against her, bumping and knocking into one another with little apology, just grunts and groans of confusion as the crowds continued toward the Dragonpit.

"Why won't they let us pass?" Ivy whispered in her ear. "Surely they realize some of us know the city better than them right?"

Reyna bit down on her lip, "It's to keep us in one place," She uttered, the lump in her throat growing bigger, "To ensure none of us reveal the coronation before they command it."

"He's a Targaryen," Ivy spoke candidly, not bothering to hide the disgust in her voice, "The whole realm must know of it by now."

Reyna said nothing.

She'd heard of plots in the Red Keep, mentions of usurping the throne, all she put out of her mind at the time because the King was adamant.

Princess Rhaenyra would succeed him.

There was no disputing that. Until he'd chosen on his deathbed to upend that claim.

And Reyna did not have the patience to listen to men complain about centuries of tradition being passed over. What did succession matter when she was starving?

When her friend was forced to work herself for the bone?

When the three of them were forced to sell themselves to the upper classes just to see the next morning?

Who cared about the King?

Who cared about the Queen?

So long as dragons were at bay and summer was long, there was no need to pay any attention to rumors of usurping or plots made in secret.

But Reyna wasn't sure how long dragons would be kept away, and winter is coming.

The chill in the air as she stepped into the Dragonpit all but confirmed it.

She grasped at her necklace.

"People of King's Landing!" Otto Hightower's voice echoed off the dome of the structure, surveying the crowds with a serious expression, "Today....is the saddest of days. Our beloved king, Viserys the Peaceful...is dead."

The crowd erupted into gasps and murmurs.

The three girls looked at each other, not an ounce of surprise on their faces.

They were the only ones other than the royal family to know the truth of this farce.
"But it is also the most joyous of days!" Otto's baritone rumbled in her chest, his frown turning upward into a victorious smirk, "For as his spirit left us, he whispered his final wish," He paused, letting the audience soak in his words, "That his firstborn son, Aegon...should succeed him."

The murmurs stopped for a brief moment, silence hanging over the crowd.

It was only when a man she recognized from the Street of Steel clapped his hands together it was finally broken.

The crowd burst into rapturous applause, shaking the very ground beneath her feet.

Reyna furrowed her brow.

She hadn't thought the smallfolk cared one way or another for Aegon.

But now here she was.

People on all sides cheering on the prince, from the depths of the Flea Bottom the top of Visenya's Hill.

Lacey and Ivy were agape with equal confusion.

"Is this–"

A yell broke through the noise and people scrambled behind her.

Reyna found herself shoved forward, pressing against bodies directly in front of her. They continued to push until she slipped through the cracks and ended up near the front.

Lacey managed to stay somewhat near their original position, but Ivy was pushed further back.

Reyna's first thought was that someone had attempted to stop the coronation, but the flash of the gold cloaks cleared her head.

They marched down the aisle they'd made, forcing people to the sides as their Captain bellowed out orders with each movement.

A head of silver dressed in green appeared out of the shadows.

Ser Otto's voice grew muffled in her ears as Reyna stared at the man before her, looking less like a drunk and more like a lamb headed to a butcher's block.

The swords of the City Watch sliced the air behind him, barely missing the prince's head as he strode through the mob, eyes forever gazing above him.

The Queen stood unflinching, hands crossed and dressed in her favored greens, the glint of the seven-pointed star catching in the sun.

Tear tracks stained her son's porcelain face, and Reyna's chest clenched.

It is a blessed day.

He was headed to his own death.

And it seemed like he was the only one who knew it.

He paused at the bottom of the steps and turned to meet her gaze.

Something unknown and foreign pressed against her eyes, threatening to drop.

Aegon's eyes shone and his throat bobbed.

She'd never felt pity for someone so high above her until now.

As a reward for your boldness.

The gold hung heavy in her skirts.

He turned away.

It felt like a lifetime before he finally kneeled before Septon Eustace.

"May the Warrior give him courage."

Reyna's breath hitched.

"May the Smith lend strength to his sword and shield."

Her throat began to close up.

"May the Father defend him in his need."

She needed to leave. Now.

"May the Crone lift her shining lamp and light his way to wisdom."

Reyna pushed her way through the tides of people, unshed tears burning her eyes as the blood rushed to her head, heart throbbing in her chest as she began to push her way back toward the entrance.

Ser Criston's voice echoed in her skull, but she was too far to hear it.

"Let the Seven bear witness!"

She stops, inches away from the door, as if something compels her to turn around and stay for one last moment. Even as her stomach crawled with a begging to be let go.

Sweat dripped down her back.

"Aegon Targaryen is the true heir to the Iron Throne!"

The crowd breaks into murmurs once more, with whispers of dragonfire and death around every corner.

She turns as they announce his name.

"All hail His Grace, Aegon."

The drums pound in victory.

"Second of his name,"

BOOM!

"King of the Andals and the First Men,"

She thinks it sounds like thunder.

"Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm."

Silence falls over the crowd once more.

The wind blows through an open window.

The bells ring out.

No one is willing to make the first move.

Ser Criston cuts through the silence.

"Aegon the King!"

His gaze meets hers once more.

Lilac meets violet, the yawning gap between them seemingly growing bigger with each chime of the bells.

His face is lined with the desperate want for approval.

Her stomach churns, pain bursting across her chest as she watches the man who would be king stare directly at her, wondering if she will be the first or last to kneel.

She lowers herself into a deep bow, arms spread wide.

It is a mockery of every noble woman who came before her.

His face shifts and the crowd erupts into applause.

She hears them cheering his name almost as loudly as they cheered for Viserys.

It is only when she turns to leave once more she is struck with a memory of the night before the Prince escaped.

Helaena had been restless, refusing to dress for bed as she stayed sitting on the seat beside her window, staring out at the Dragonpit as if she expected it to burn.

The dragon has crushed the butterfly and swallowed the stars.

Reyna had shrugged it off as part of the Queen's unusual behavior. Placating her by placing Jaehaerys and Jaehaera's cribs near the end of her bed.

"Dragons are powerful things, my princess," Reyna had said, pulling the covers back and tucking the children away, "But even their maws are not big enough to swallow the sky."

Helaena smiles at her, a queer thing that makes Reyna feel as though the Princess is not truly looking at her, but through her.

"My brothers would say otherwise."

"Your brothers ride the largest dragons in the world, my princess."

"And yet still they do not listen. Not like you do."

The pale girl had taken Reyna's hands in her own then, clasping them tightly until fingernails broke skin. The Princess leaned in, suddenly serious.

"You hear the rats in the tunnels, the dogs in the kennels, and the spiders in the garden. The dragons heed your words where none else would."

Her lavender gaze is intense, sending a chill down Reyna's spine.

She pulls Reyna in close, breath hissing against her ear.

There is a beast beneath the boards.

The world erupts.

Dust and debris obscures her vision.

She tastes iron on her tongue and dirt on her lip.

When the ringing in her ear subsides, she can hear it clearer than anything else she'd ever heard before.

Her chest thrums, blood rushing through her veins.

But it is there, as clear as the bells of the Grand Sept.

A dragon's roar shakes the stone beneath her.

Shadowed wings block her vision of the dais, the animal's footsteps thundering through the halls of her cage, each accompanied by a larger and more ferocious shriek than before.

Everybody flees.

Reyna's legs shake as she pulls herself up off the ground so as not to get trampled, brick and debris flying as the dragon's tail sweeps through the common folk like a hammer to a nail.

Her eyes fly across the heads of the crowd, searching for those she'd been separated from.

Ivy...

Lacey...

Her friends were closer to the front, closer to the dragon.

She pushes against the grain, calling out their names as she rushes around the edges of the pit, screams and shrieks echoing in her head.

People throw themselves over the higher balconies or attempt to break the rough iron fencing placed around the edge to keep the dragons out.

It is not enough.

The dragon tramples them all, and those it doesn't trample each other as they begin to run for the doors.

"Open the doors!" Someone shouts.

Reyna does not recognize the voice amidst the chaos. Her throat closes up as she scans the bodies, searching for a glimpse of pale green and golden hair, or the flash of a blue tunic and a long braid. She sees naught but red when the dust clears.

Scales the size of her hand armored the beast in a scarlet brighter than any dye she'd ever seen and the shadowed wings became war banners as the sun passed through the leathery skin, bathing the royal family in crimson.

Spikes dotted the base of her neck, growing larger and thicker until they almost resembled tusks, a natural deterrent from anyone except the one who would claim her.

Reyna's eyes sting as she stares up at Meleys the Red Queen and her rider, a Targaryen princess who should've sat the throne instead of her cousin.

Princess Rhaenys doesn't even spare her a second glance.

"Open the doors!"

She cannot wrench her gaze from the beast above her.

Its steps thunder in her chest as it moves closer to the dais, Reyna mere inches away from it.

It does not turn to look at her though.

Instead, its slitted eyes remain focused on the would-be usurpers, chittering like a lion about to devour its prey.

The royal family stands above her to her right, the Queen stepping in front of Aegon while Prince Aemond and Ser Criston ready themselves for battle against the dragon.

The Princess Helaena simply stares.

Reyna wondered if this would be the last thing any of them ever saw.

She refuses to look away.

Meleys bellows out a shriek that bursts her eardrums and echoes in the back of her mind, warm spit hissing against her skin as she stares down the maw of the she-dragon, waiting for it to devour her whole.

Fly, Meleys, she hears Rhaenys whisper in Valyrian, and the two turn on their heel and flee.

Reyna finds herself staring after them in horror and awe, their shadows disappearing on the horizon.

The world is silent once more.

"Reyna," A voice chokes, and she turns to see who it belongs to.

Lacey sits on her knees, the pale green of her dress torn to shreds, her face covered in grime and dust and debris. Reyna's heart drops into her stomach when she sees the torn piece of cotton in her hand.

Her eyes drop to the ground, blood staining the stone red.

A cornflower blue peeks out from beneath the rubble.

No.

She rushes to her friend's side, the word dripping from her mouth like poison from a blade.

The two clear the rubble as best they can, but find their strength little and their exhaustion too much.

Come on. She pleads, a silent prayer to the gods above, straining to remove the bricks and stone which have wrought death upon King's Landing.

"Come on!" She yells, nails cracking as she digs deeper, blood staining her knuckles and scraping her fingers until they are raw.

She thinks she hears her name being called.

But she cannot stop.

She will not stop.

"Reyna!"

It is the voice of her Queen.

Alicent stands there in all her finery, eyes dotted with unshed tears as her two sons stand behind her, both unable to take their eyes off the scene before them.

Reyna's eyes burn.

She locks gazes with the newly crowned King, jaw set as her throat thickens.

It is enough to send Aemond and Aegon marching forward, Lacey watching with a quiet curiosity hidden behind her tears.

The two Targaryens wrench the bricks free, revealing a head of black hair.

No.

No, please.

She crawls forward, bare knees scraping themselves against the harsh stone. The pain feels like a dull ache compared to what writhes in her chest.

Her hands tremble as she reaches for the figure and a sob leaves her lips as she turns it over.

Ivy's blank face stares up at her in horror.

"No–" Lacey cracks beside her, collapsing on Reyna's shoulder.

Ivy must have been caught in the onslaught, her right arm missing from her shoulder, no doubt crushed underfoot.

It is– was her sewing arm, she thinks.

Blood oozes out of the wound onto the stone floor and where once there were rosy cheeks and tanned skin, there is a pallor as ghostly as the full moon.

Dried blood lingers near her temple, where she was no doubt knocked unconscious after Meleys erupted from the earth.

The fear remains etched on her face.

Reyna stares at the remains of her friend, trying to recall the last thing she ever said to her.

She couldn't even remember.

The lump in her throat breaks, eyes squeezing shut as hot water burns her cheeks.

It turns her hot, clutching Ivy's body to her chest as Lacey sobs beside her, the scene playing over and over in her mind once more.

The dragons had done this.

The Princess who'd never even spared her a glance.

Who held no care for the people of Westeros but only for the games they played.

It was them who'd taken her mother from her.

It was them who'd taken her friend from her.

She would not let them take anything else.

Reyna's breathing is heavy as she stares over the trail of bodies Rhaenys left in her wake.

A scream shreds her lungs.