A cave had never felt so warm.

The caves of Dragonstone were warm the deeper down one went, if only because the air could not escape. Amalia knew Vermithor and Silverwing had dens there. Some said that Sheepstealer and Grey Ghost sometimes remained there for long periods of time. Seasmoke and Syrax had certainly always liked the warmth.

Yet the dragonmount was right at the mouth of the cave, too close to where wind could bite. Amalia's face was stiff and cold from the urgent flight, her hands aching not only from the beating she gave Alicent but the way she'd been gripping her own body tight trying to warm herself and even more comfort herself knowing three parts of her remained behind.

When they dismounted, she tripped into Daeron and Jaehaerys's arms. She did not shiver, however, though the cold persisted. The cave felt safe, the cave felt like home. Dragonstone was not often so to her, but at the moment, it was the most secure place they could be.

Meleys and Tessarion made themselves scarce as Rhaenys ushered them quickly into the castle. The Dragonkeepers had already sent word ahead to Rhaenyra about her arrival, asking her, Laenor, and Daemon to meet them at once in the Chamber of the Painted Table, where the boys often took their lessons while away from the Red Keep.

Amalia had her sons rush off to their usual rooms and clean the ink off their heads. She and Rhaenys moved, still in rags– though Rhaenys had slipped her dragonriding armor beneath it before their departure– until Ser Lorent Marbrand opened the door for them, Rhaenyra and Laenor awaiting inside.

"Amalia," said Rhaenyra, surprised. "Rhaenys– might we hope for news of... Lord Corlys?" She sounded apprehensive, as if she thought this rushed arrival might mean something had happened to Corlys.

"Viserys is dead," said Rhaenys bluntly. Rhaenyra staggered, grabbing the edge of the painted table. "I grieve this loss with you, Rhaenyra. My cousin... your father... possessed a kind heart. There is more."

"Your throne has been usurped," Amalia told her gravely. "Alicent was in the castle– I don't know how long– and she and my father seized my children. We saw the ceremony in the Dragonpit as we were escaping. Aegon and Helaena were wed by force and Ser Criston placed the Conqueror's crown on my son's head. Aemond was beat–" Her voice broke, "for resisting. We got Daeron and Jaehaerys out but they– they have my children hostage. Aegon will do whatever they ask of him so long as they threaten the lives of Helaena and Aemond. My father is sure to puppeteer him around if he is not complicit."

Rhaenyra was crying, too. "Alicent demanded you both declare for Aegon?"

"She did," said Rhaenys. "We refused her." She side-eyed Amalia, as if thinking to mention how Amalia had beat Alicent bloody– perhaps this was not the right moment. "Your enemies are coming for you, Rhaenyra. And for your children."

Laenor put an arm around Rhaenyra. "Well, then, we ought to leave here at once."

"And go where?" asked Rhaenyra anxiously. "They've the advantage now, at least a day ahead of us in planning. We must send word to our allies—"

"I've had letters sent to as many of mine as I could," said Amalia. Assuming the letters made it to the ravens. But I trust Ser Luthor if Daemon does. "You must gather your maester— I will help you write, too. We must write to Harwin, he's the one person we forgot. Harrenhal... we knew Harrenhal would be needed."

Rhaenyra's eyes softened in recognition. So long ago, when they'd only just rekindled their friendship. Harwin made to leave, Amalia saving his life, entrusting him with strengthening a hold in the Riverlands. He was a sure ally and at this moment, their fiercest ally. Dragonstone would be good to hold, but Harrenhal was where their forces need gather.

"I've written as well to Lords and Ladies Stark, Greyjoy, Arryn, Tyrell, and Tully," added Amalia. "I made sure to note they ought send their replies to you at Dragonstone. Ravens must fly to smaller houses within, though I've asked them to alert their vassals at once if they will defend your throne. All those who have favors to repay, all those we must make our peace with, now is the time."

The doors opened, Daemon striding in as fashionably late and dramatic as he always was. He had his dragonriding armor— surely he'd been out on Caraxes. "Daemon," said Rhaenys, giving her cousin the weakest of smiles. "Viserys..." He showed little emotion as she told him what had happened. Amalia recognized the smallest of twitches in his face— she knew he wanted so badly to be strong in front of Rhaenyra, for he remembered well the pain of losing a father. It was no easy thing.

"Viserys has been slain," said Daemon coldly. He looked at Rhaenys, "You could have burned them for it."

Rhaenys glared in exasperation. "A war is like to be fought over this treachery, to be sure. But that war is not mine to begin. What was I to do, risking the lives of your nephews and niece, of young Alyrie?" Certainly he remembered how close Luke and Alyrie were— Lannister-Hightower or not, that girl could not be harmed, none here would stand for it.

His gaze flickered to Amalia, whose fingers burned and ached from how hard she tugged at them. She was moments away from picking at her flesh the way Alicent did. "I know what to do to get them out of there," he muttered. "Their grip on Aegon will be tightest— they will make decrees and claim they were his, but it is entirely likely they'll keep him shut up for he'll never be complicit without an active threat. But I can ensure Helaena's safe return. Aemond's, if they become careless."

"Please," Amalia begged. She'd never felt so desperate, looking at him to save them— to save her. Please, for whatever affections you bore me or bear me, for whatever those children mean to you, for the love you had for your brother, for the promises you made me long ago.

He gave only a simple nod. "Rhaenyra, you ought to command patrols along the island's perimeter, looking for any small ships that might set ashore. If the Greens attack now, it will be by stealth, not directly. We don't have enough men to surround the island, but we can make ourselves appear stronger than they are. We ought to conscript the Dragonkeepers as well, they're capable fighters."

Overwhelmed, Rhaenyra wove her hand at him in a gesture that gave him permission to send out the orders on her behalf. "Laenor," she said shakily, "the boys—"

"I'll tell them and the girls," he promised her. "You send your letters. I'll have Jace, Luke, and Baela join me on patrol. Meleys and Tessarion need rest after that urgent flight. I'll call Rhaena to help you write."

"Jaehaerys can, as well," said Amalia. "Daeron, if he is not too tired. Rhaenyra, I—"

"You need your rest," said Daemon firmly. "You've not slept nor have you nursed those wounds on your hands." Of course you were the only one looking at the blood. "I'll send someone to look at them."

Although flattered, she felt so useless. She offered a final thing, "I... I will, I only wished to say, Rhaenyra needs a coronation to rival Aegon's. The crown of Jaehaerys— I know my boys brought it the last time they were here to play with, though I had asked them not to. If it is still here, we must use it. Otherwise, the crown of Alysanne lingers somewhere."

It was the only thing they allowed her to say before uniting to usher her to some rest. Amalia felt her feet dragging as she made for her usual apartments. Daeron and Jaehaerys were there, hair and faces washed. Taking their hands, she pulled them to the window, feeling the warmth of the setting sun caressing her face.

"There is much I should have told you," she lamented. "The truth of how my father forced me to marry yours... how I chose to accept the burden to protect Alicent. I failed you all, thinking I was protecting you. I tried to keep you near me, but if I had gotten you all away from danger sooner, if I'd been more honest and given you a chance to escape— gods, my weakness has been our ruin."

"Weakness?" Jaehaerys sounded the most offended he'd ever been. He didn't often take that tone, for no one ever questioned a prince and no one had ever, in the history of his little life, disliked him.

Amalia blinked at him, wondering if he was upset with her. She wouldn't blame him if he was— she'd had to smuggle her own children out of their home. In rags. How embarrassing for a mother, to do this, to leave her eldest three behind. "Yes, I have... been weaker than I would've liked. I thought I was so clever, I thought I had control—"

"Mother, no." Jaehaerys held her hands so tight. "You are not weak." She fought back tears— really, how could she be wanting to cry when her boys were scared, when they needed her to show them that all would be well? "You're the strongest person I've ever known."

She flushed, shaking her head. "Oh, Jaehaerys, you are sweet to say it, but it is nonsense, others have survived far worse in battle and beyond—"

"That doesn't matter!" he insisted. "You fight harder with words and actions than some do with swords. You have no dragon or blade to rely on, only yourself and your wit. You got us here. You learned, you taught yourself to defend those that mattered to you. We would've still been trapped there if you were weak. We wouldn't have this family. We'd hardly have gotten to know Father if you hadn't made sure he cared about us."

He began to cry again, leaning his head on her shoulder. "Father's dead. Father's dead, and they wanted to kill you, too. I can survive losing Father but if they had hurt you, I wouldn't be able to tolerate it."

"Oh, my dearest love," she whispered, holding the back of his head and rocking him gently. She opened her arms to pull Daeron in, kissing the tops of both of their heads. "I'm going to fix this, somehow. I swear to you."

"Let us help you," said Daeron. "Mother, we are grown. We want to save Aegon, Aemond, and Hel, too. We can fight. We're ready."

She gave them the task she knew they would be fulfilled with. Gladly, the boys would let their hands feel limp if it would help Rhaenyra with all those letters. Jaehaerys even volunteered to run around gathering the lords in the castle— he was fastest, he said.

She sat in her room, grimacing while one of the servants washed her wounds and dressed them carefully. She'd bruised her own fingers, leaving her hands stiff from all the pulling. She hadn't realized she'd been doing it so hard.

Despite her exhaustion, she could not go to sleep. And there was no point, for within the hour, they had prepared Rhaenyra for her coronation. Dressed in the richest black and red velvets, they gathered on the hill to present her with the crown of Jaehaerys. Daemon had passed it to her, and for the first time, they had knelt to her and called her their Queen.

They convened for their first Small Council immediately afterwards, Rhaenys informing them that a raven had arrived hours prior— his fever had broken and he would be joining them on Dragonstone as soon as he could. Rhaenyra had the fullest support of House Velaryon, as Laenor was now King Consort.

The Chamber of the Painted Table was filled to the brim, every last lord, lady, handmaiden, and guard within. Rhaenyra was escorted in by Ser Harrold, Ser Steffon, Ser Lorent, and Ser Erryk, who announced her as Queen Rhaenyra of House Targaryen, First of Her Name, Queen of the Andals and the Rhoynar and the First Men, Ruler of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm. Amalia knew Viserys would've wept to see it— she almost did.

Rhaenyra's first act was to declare Otto, Alicent, Tyland, and the other remaining members of the Green Small Council as traitors. She made clear that Aegon, Aemond, and Helaena were hostages– they'd done nothing to earn the title of traitors, and her terms demanded their immediate release and the surrender of the Greens. She affirmed Jacaerys as her heir, naming him Prince of Dragonstone and immediately assuming the name of Jacaerys Targaryen, as had been desired by Viserys when he arranged the match between Rhaenyra and Laenor.

"Before we proceed," said Rhaenyra, "I wish to make clear my Small Council. My good-father, Lord Corlys Velaryon, is named at once my Master of Ships. My faithful Maester Gerardys is henceforth Grand Maester to me. Lord Bartimos Celtigar, I've need of a Master of Coin. Ser Harrold Westerling, the Lord Commander of my Queensguard."

The men present bowed their heads with pride. "I've need of a Hand, however," said Rhaenyra. "I've many here who will advise me, to be sure, but I require one above all the rest to tell me what others may not dare to. To use their experience to guide me the way I did my best to guide my father. Admittedly, in my last years as Hand, I assumed duties beyond Handship. Yet, there is one who taught me what I would do to begin with. It is her I name now as my Hand. Amalia of House Hightower."

Amalia had been pulling her bandaged fingers again. She snapped out of it, looking up at Rhaenyra in confusion. "Rhae– Your Grace. I am not... I am not worthy."

"You learned to be Hand when your father served my grandsire and my father," said Rhaenyra. "You were a faithful consort to my father, and I have always held you in high regard. You have honesty and faith, a ferocity and cunning I will require. It is my desire you accept this role."

Gods, she could not keep feeling so emotional. She saw Jaehaerys and Daeron clapping silently, and forced a grateful smile though she wanted to bawl– she'd never felt like crying so easily. "I accept, Your Grace. Thank you, you honor me."

Rhaenyra offered a comforting smile. "Now, to our position. What is our standing here?"

"We have thirty knights," reported Daemon, "a hundred crossbowmen, and three-hundred men-at-arms. Dragonstone is relatively easy to defend, but as an instrument of conquest, our army leaves a lot to be desired. We have sent word to my loyal men in the City Watch. I'll have some support there, but I cannot speak to the numbers."

Maester Gerardys spoke, "We already have declarations from Celtigar and Staunton, Massey, Darklyn, Bar Emmon. The ravens have flown to all those not addressed already by your Lady Hand. We will await to hear from the other Great Houses. Winterfell, we can expect support from– there has never lived a Stark who forgot an oath. The North will follow. At present, we have lost our hope only in the Stormlands."

"I asked Daeron to send another raven– to House Caron," spoke Amalia. "I was attempting to broker a betrothal between Lord Caron's daughter and my... my Aegon." My Aegon, my sweet boy, my first boy, what are they doing to you now?"We may yet find some support in the Stormlands, though it will likely be little."

"Good," said Rhaenyra. "What news from Driftmark?"

"Lord Corlys sails for Dragonstone," said Rhaenys. "The Velaryon fleet is in my husband's yoke."

"We shall pray for both you and your husband's support," said Rhaenyra, though she knew she had it. It was expected but still critical; the wealth of House Velaryon and their strength at sea would be difficult to surpass. Though the Redwynes and Lannisters had ships that would likely go to Aegon, only Greyjoys could hope to match the Velaryons in the water– and Amalia was holding out hope on what young Lord Dalton would think. "Just as we prayed nightly for the Sea Snake's return to good health. There's no port on the Narrow Sea that would dare to make an enemy of the Velaryon fleet." To the rest, she inquired, "And our enemies?"

"The Baratheons and Lannisters," said Daemon, having Jacaerys move pieces around the Painted Table to make note of what they could expect.

"Without the Lannisters," muttered Rhaenyra, "we're not like to find any allies west of the Golden Tooth."

"Or perhaps southwest of Tumbleton," said Amalia regrettably. "The Tyrells may not stand against House Hightower, and they alone field a great deal of support."

Lord Bartimos cleared his throat, "Pray forgive my bluntness, Your Grace, but talk of men is moot. Your cause owns a power that has not been seen in this world since the days of Old Valyria. Dragons."

"Vhagar, Sunfyre, and Dreamfyre are hostages," piped up Jaehaerys, though he looked mildly embarrassed when all turned to him. He'd never addressed a group so large. "They cannot fly against us. We have every advantage there."

"But we must be cautious," said Amalia. "The Greens know this, and are sure to have archers lining every tower they can. A well-aimed arrow could take a dragon's eye. There are worse weapons to be used against dragons. Even only using mirrors, they could blind their path and make them susceptible to an attack. We cannot rely on dragons alone, though we have every advantage."

"We must also think of which dragonriders are experienced," said Daemon. "Baela, Jacaerys, Lucerys, and Daeron have never flown in battle. In actuality, all we have is Caraxes, Meleys, and Seasmoke, for it is too great a risk to put forth our Queen on Syrax. They have known battle, yes, but our Lady Hand is correct."

Lord Staunton spoke this time, "Aegon the Conqueror and his sisters proved that knights and armies could not stand against fire and blood. Were we meticulous in our planning and if the elder dragons could guard the younger in swifter and calculated attacks..."

Lord Bartimos agreed, "Then we could reduce the city to ash and bone. I say we fly against King's Landing at once."

"We?" Jaehaerys could not hold his tongue, but it made Rhaenyra smile. "I only mean– why are we going to risk hurting innocents? We want the smallfolk to want her as Queen. They were wondering about her in the Dragonpit when Aegon was being crowned, they were beat for chanting in support of her. We cannot possibly have them start to hate her because she burned their homes and let her dragons stomp on their children. Mother used to take us to pray with them, they are faithful and they think the dragons are gods. Turning them against them would do more harm than good."

Rhaenyra looked to her littlest brother with a pride Amalia had never seen. Though twenty years separated them in age, they had never been more alike. "This is precisely my thinking," said Rhaenyra. "When dragons flew to war in the past, everything burned. We do not know how they may try to weaponize my siblings' dragons. If they were to threaten one's safety and force the other two to attack us... they're still so young, I do not want to jeopardize them."

"In the end, Jaehaerys has great reason," said Amalia. "We do not enter this fight to have Rhaenyra sit on the Iron Throne– she has done so before. It is to keep the Iron Throne for as long as she may live. To ensure the continuation of loyalty, of oaths once sworn. Even if we fly and force a surrender, her enemies are still out there. Armies could come, people will burn, keeps will burn. They could start conflicts with other parts of the Realm looking to have them unite against Rhaenyra. Then, we'd be burning those who were originally our allies but were perhaps forced or persuaded into being traitors. Many are so easily swayed, as we've seen... those same people could rip Rhaenyra off the throne themselves if they feel they've been massacred."

"We must gather an army, for the Greens will surely do the same," said Daemon. "We need a place to gather, a toehold on the mainland large enough to house a sizeable host and strong enough to hold against whatever forces the usurper can send against us. Lord Strong has been readying Harrenhal for years. That is where we will have our allies meet us."

Before he could elaborate, the doors opened, allowing in Ser Erryk, who had slipped back out to keep the guard in the halls. "Your Grace," he said urgently, "a ship has been sighted offshore, a lone galleon flying a banner of a three-headed green dragon."

They mobilized at once– these were terms being brought to them, undoubtedly. Rhaenyra made for the Dragonpit, while Daemon urged the Queensguard out with him. Amalia made to join them, but Daemon stopped her at the door. "I am her Hand now," said Amalia. "I ought to–"

"They will find some way to hurt you," said Daemon. "Whoever is here– be it your father or Alicent or another– will direct some threat to you, looking to provoke a reaction. Stay. Rhaenyra must show her strength, she must assert herself in ways you already have. You must rest, Amalia, please."

Well, she'd never been begged to rest. In the end, she knew she needed it. Though frustrated, she returned to her apartments. Without anyone there, nothing stopped her from collapsing on her bed, sleep overtaking her in an instant.

She woke up to bright sunlight— not the sort one had in the afternoon. Embarrassed, she knew they'd let her sleep until the next day. That Daemon, he probably ordered them not to disturb her. Turning on her side, she saw her bed was not occupied by only her. Daeron and Jaehaerys were both curled up beside her, her youngest son with his hand over her arm.

She slipped out as quietly as she could, letting them sleep. She did feel much better now, even if her hands still ached. On her desk was a parchment. She recognized the writing at once— only Daemon could write in letters that screamed that he'd been a defiant student as a young boy, writing sideways only to bother his septa.

Amalia,

You did not miss much on the bridge. Your father was there, with Maester Orwyle and Ser Criston Cole. They deny your children's statuses as captives and claim Aegon himself sends terms asking Rhaenyra to surrender. You best believe no surrenders happened.

It was made annoyingly clear that Aegon is wed, though when I have Helaena rescued, any septon who isn't in your father's pocket will annul the marriage, for they cannot force them to be bed. I presume she will re-marry at once to Jacaerys— only if she is willing, however. At present, Rhaenyra's succession is much stronger than Aegon's. You did well, protecting your son from too-young a marriage.

They said the same as you told us, that Viserys was heard to have proclaimed Aegon as heir. We asked Daeron, and he told us of the song. Rhaenyra knew what he meant; Viserys had never shared this with me. Relaying the message back to your father will do little good, they'll believe what they want to believe.

Your ravens flew at the perfect time, preserving our dragons where we need them. We expect to hear from our allies very soon. Once Lord Harwin confirms receipt of Rhaenyra's message, it is likely Laenor and Jacaerys will be tasked with gathering our allies there. I offered myself, but Rhaenyra has assigned me first to ensuring your children's return. Come find me when you're awake.

She ran her fingers delicately over the parchment. Instinctively, she held it to her heart. It was probably trivial to anyone, but to her spoke volumes. Daemon had ensured she was informed but still had her sleep. She couldn't explain how she felt. Anxious and angry, still, but oddly secure. She blushed, to think he was now personally tasked with taking care of her worries. He'd promised once to care for her the way she cared for others.

At Rhaenyra's wedding, he told her that one day she'd realize what she truly wanted. That he wanted her to remember, in that moment, that he was right there.. I remember, I remember... Yet how it terrified her to think of it now, that letting go, relinquishing control to another when she'd fought so hard to protect herself by seizing a hold of everything she could.

To be vulnerable like that with Daemon... she didn't know if she could fully let go. But she wanted to, she wanted to, gods, what was stopping her now?

-

A/N: Happy 400 pages!!! I have been so excited these past two days publishing the most long-awaited chapters of this fic. I hope you are enjoying them.