Daemon's stay was dragging on.

The last time he came, he didn't even last a week prowling about the castle. He always ended up saying or doing something that earned him banishment. Surprisingly, that had not happened yet.

The day after his arrival, Aegon and Aemond had begged Amalia to let them see their uncle's practice. It reminded her of how she used to sneak over the yard with Gwayne and the twins, the four of them peering down at Daemon, back before she knew she would come to dislike him.

Helaena was asleep at her breast while the boys sat on chairs at the edge of the yard, watching Daemon make quick work of the men. Ever so often, he'd turn to the boys and twirl his sword, which made Aemond clap enthusiastically. Amalia still thought him a great fighter, swift and calculating, and most importantly, so brave and reckless that it somehow worked. Everyone in the Realm knew that Daemon Targaryen was a man who could stand alone against masses on a battlefield. He'd proven that on the Stepstones.

Then, the boys had grown needlessly insistent on being taken to the Dragonpit to meet Caraxes. Viserys had thought it a good idea, but said perhaps another time– he would be busy that day. Seeing how much it meant to them, Amalia left Helaena with Alicent and took the boys in the carriage with her, much as she used to with her girls. She didn't know if Daemon and Caraxes would be there, and doubted she'd be given leave to enter, but even from there they could see the dragons coming and going.

To their delight, Daemon was preparing for a flight. "My Prince," greeted Amalia as she walked to the mouth of the Dragonpit with her sons. "My boys wish to meet your dragon, if it is alright with you."

He glanced at her, noting the absence of Helaena, Viserys, Rhaenyra, anyone he might've expected to be there with her. It was just the two of them adults, it seemed. He said something in High Valyrian to the Dragonkeepers, who moved out of the way as he beckoned them in. She ushered the boys after him, but Daemon spoke, "Come along, all of you."

Lifting her skirts, she chose to follow them. Aegon and Aemond were 'ooing' at every last cave they saw. When Syrax peeked out at them curiously, half obscured by the stone and blinking slowly like a cat, Aemond burst into a fit of giggles. Aegon walked ahead with Daemon, already badgering him with questions about Caraxes. Was he really red or did the sun make him look red? Nyra said he had a long neck, was that true? Did he actually like going to battle or did he simply tolerate it?

"He's red," said Daemon. "And he does have a long neck, it is why they call him the Blood Wyrm. He loves battle, same as I. Our dragons, they feel as we do. They adapt to their rider, some say, but Caraxes was once my uncle Aemon's dragon, and I believe he already had this personality before I bonded with him. Must be why I always liked him so much."

He spoke out again in High Valyrian, the boys repeating after him. She assumed it was a dragon command; she'd need to start memorizing those to ensure the boys (once they had dragons, of course) did not command their beasts to burn and steal on their adventures. Gods, Rhaenyra had been a dragonrider at seven– would she trust these young boys to go riding off on their own at seven? Rhaenyra had always been more trustworthy and mature.

The Blood Wyrm emerged from his cave. He truly was Daemon in dragon form, at least what she'd always grown to associate with him. It made sense in her mind. Red, huge, and lean, Caraxes was known to be fearsome. He was supposedly small by dragon standards, only half the size of Vhagar, who she'd never seen, and slower than Meleys the Red Queen. Still, he was magnificent to look upon, with a high-pitched trill and serpent eyes that blinked down as his long neck stretched towards them.

Daemon calmed him with his words, leaning forward and pressing his cheek against Caraxes. The dragon lowered itself fully to the ground, the boys given leave to approach. Aemond was bravest, coming to stand right beside Daemon and extending his hand to caress the scales by the dragon's jaws. Amalia's heart beat hard imagining her tiny little boys so close to the dragon's mouth– they were so small, it would hardly take Caraxes a second to swallow them whole.

But the dragon only seemed to purr, the low rumbles echoing through the cavern. Aegon gathered his wits and went up next, the two boys petting Caraxes the same gentle way Amalia taught them to pet cats and dogs. "Your Grace," said Daemon. "Would they like to go for a ride?"

"YES!" Aemond was so loud, Caraxes let out a snort. "Mother, Mama, Mummy, please."

She wasn't sure how Viserys would feel about that, but perhaps he'd like it– he told her that he and Daemon were taken up on Meleys by their mother the Princess Alyssa when they were days old. "If your uncle is fine with it, so am I," said Amalia. They started to cheer. "But– come here first, boys." She knelt, the two running to her. "Rules. You do not try to take the reins from your uncle. You listen to his every instruction. You hold on tight and you do not let go. If you are afraid or you cannot breathe well, you tell him, understood?"

"Yes, Mother," said Aegon. "May we go, pleeeease?"

She nodded. They ran back to Daemon, who scooped them up and placed them on the saddle, fastening a harness around them to secure them onto the dragon. He climbed on behind them, Caraxes trilling in excitement. Amalia stepped out of their way, the dragon slithering out of the pit. She heard her boys shouting one word over and over, 'Sōvēs.' When Daemon repeated it and Caraxes took off, she understood it to mean 'Fly.'

Amalia watched from the carriage, squinting up at the sky as Daemon gave the boys their tour of the city. When they passed near enough, she heard them screaming in delight– well, likely Aemond was. Aegon might've regretted it. She remembered all the times she and Alicent came here to wait for Rhaenyra and Syrax. Simpler and better times.

She sat alone in the shade for what felt like an hour, one of the Dragonkeepers talking to her about how they cared for the dragons. Finally, Daemon brought Caraxes back, the boys clapping and waving when they saw their mother. She blew them kisses, the boys returning them gladly.

"It was the best," said Aemond when they dismounted. He almost tripped as he ran to her. "Mother, Mother, I want my dragon now."

"Soon, my love," she told him, kissing his forehead. When Aegon arrived, she did the same. "Your father wants you to be a little older before you try. Nyra claimed Syrax at seven, that's about a good time to try. Besides, it's alright if you're a bit older."

"I claimed Caraxes when I was six," said Daemon. "Though I did not ride him until I was ten— I apparently could not be trusted any sooner. Princess Rhaenys claimed Meleys at six-and-ten. It's different for everyone. You'll know when you're ready and so will the dragon. Your Grace, if we may speak alone?"

She wondered what that was about. "Boys, go into the carriage and wait for me. We'll return to the castle soon. Thank your uncle."

"Thank you!" called Aegon first. Aemond chimed in, then the two ran back the way they came. Amalia entered the pit again. "Thank you," she repeated to Daemon. "This has made them very happy."

"I remember being as excited at their age," said Daemon. "I always appreciated my uncle for taking me into the skies with him." He saw the way she tugged at her fingers. "Do I terrify you?"

"No," she said. "I'm still growing accustomed to the fact we are speaking kindly to one another, you'll forgive me if I'm adjusting."

"I should never have thought you anything like your father," said Daemon. "You're like your mother was, though you do have the Hightower tongue, it seems. You've given Viserys three children he cares for. You've not moved to harm Rhaenyra. For that, you will have my gratitude and..." He looked around as if to ensure no one else was there, "Apology. I should not have said those things about your mother."

"Or Lady Rhea," she said, if only to be fair. "Nor should you have hurt my brother."

"No, I shouldn't have done that either. Perhaps you and I understand each other well where marriage is concerned."

"Well, I suppose yes, though I don't think she's so ugly that the Vale men would rather fuck sheep."

Daemon's lips twitched. "She's certainly not as comely as you." She tried to maintain her composure and not blush, taking it as a compliment everyone gave often, especially the smallfolk. He motioned to Caraxes, "Would you like to greet him?"

She hesitated. "Would that be alright?"

"Yes. He won't hurt you while I'm here." The dragon trained his gaze on her, perhaps imagining her as a post-flight snack. Daemon took her hand, guiding it over the bridge of Caraxes's nose. His eyes closed and so did Daemon's.

"This bond," whispered Daemon as he let go of her hand, allowing her to caress the dragon alone, "it is perfect. The love that exists between a dragon and its rider cannot be replicated so easily. The blood my family carries, it is important." He looked at Caraxes. "He can sense the fire in you as well. You may not be of dragon blood, but you carry a dragon's temperament. You were... a good choice to carry dragon children into this world. I am sure if Viserys had his way, he'd keep you full with child."

"If the gods bless us," she said cautiously. It made her belly turn, to hear him talking about her birthing dragon children, being with child, as if... as if he was thinking that, too. She stepped away from Caraxes. "Thank you for your time today, My Prince. My boys ought to bathe, or they will reek of dragon as I remember with Rhaenyra."

"The smell is not so bad," he replied. "You've not recoiled from me."

No, I don't smell dragon when I smell you, at least not the way it smelled on her. I smell sex on you, that's the problem. She offered him a simple smile, "I am within the pit, the smell is muted. On such young boys... I'll soon drown in it."

All the boys could talk about on the ride back was Caraxes. If it were up to Aemond, he'd claim Caraxes, but he could not do so until Daemon was dead. Surprisingly, she didn't wish that to happen.

They reported to Viserys at dinner that they'd been given a chance to fly. He was mildly surprised that his brother had allowed it, but certainly pleased. It must have given him hope for Daemon, though Amalia kept thinking Daemon was already here for too long without trouble. What was brewing in his mind?

Viserys came to her chambers that night, and she knew what he wanted from her. It felt wrong to have him there, when the night before she'd been dreaming that Daemon came to find her and fuck her there. But Viserys had his desires and still wished for another child. In a way, she wanted one, too, another sweet little thing to love and take care of.

"Would that Balerion the Black Dread were still alive," he said as she lay naked on her side, letting him admire her before he began. "The boys would have adored it much more. I could have fit you, them, Helaena, even Rhaenyra on that saddle."

"I would like that," she said. She'd been afraid of the idea of flying, but might not have that if someone was there to handle the dragon. She thought about what it would be like to fly behind Daemon on Caraxes, hugging his waist and looking over his shoulder. "To be in the skies... away from watchful eyes."

He must have thought she was insinuating something else. He started to knead over her breasts, "Would you like that? To have... complete privacy there, out in the open but where none could see?"

Gods, that sounded like something Daemon would say and do. She wondered if the dragons would care at all. Would they be disgusted or not even notice as long as their rider was happy? He saw her biting her lip and squeezed her flesh. "Ride me tonight, My Queen."

In an effort to try and dissociate Daemon from her mind, she asked, "Do you think we might manage multiple positions tonight? We are both weary, perhaps we might both take a turn."

"We could try," he said. "It is difficult to contain myself within you. Once I feel your warmth..."

I know, all you can think about is filling me and filling me and keeping me filled. No one ever asked me if I was alright with that. After Aegon, I wouldn't complain, but before then, I was terrified. But all you wanted to do was see how much of it I could take. Even now, you want to see how many children you can squeeze out of me.

Will you care if it kills me? Do you think you love me because I've given you healthy children? I suppose the true test of that will come if I ever find myself in a labor as hard as Aemma's. Even so, you will never love me as much as you did her, and still you gave the command to butcher her...

"Try," she repeated. "Try..." She crawled onto him, holding his wrists and pushing them over his head, thinking to try and restrain him. She thought to make it a game– that was something Daemon probably wouldn't like, for he enjoyed control. Perhaps if she liked games with Viserys, she would not crave them with Daemon. "Let's do something different. You must hold back while I ride you... you cannot finish until I say so."

He raised a brow, intrigued. Of course, she was going to do everything to make him want to. She slid him into her, watching him moan and throw his head back. She started to ride him as he wished to, but this time, by force, in a way she'd never ever done, she said his name. "Viserys," she whispered breathily. She held his wrists together with one hand, bringing the other to his chest, raking her nails against it. He shivered. "Viserys, Viserys, Viserys."

No one could have convinced her that she'd one day be riding Viserys, that she'd have learned to be alright with his company in bed, with his babes in her belly, with his children sucking at her breasts. She'd have laughed in the face of anyone who said it. Perhaps she wasn't happy, but she had grown to care and worry for him in her own way. She had grown to like these moments with him, though she supposed she'd trained herself to tolerate them by replacing his face. This time, she tried not to.

She looked at him, digging her nails into his side as she rode. To her surprise, he said her name as well, "Amalia... Amalia. Gods be good. In you, I forget everything. Pain is nothing. Dragons are nothing. Dreams are nothing."

Well, it was good to know she had that much power over him. She might need that to defend Rhaenyra. Then again, she'd always known how much Viserys would listen to her. She felt him start to tense and stopped her movements. "You cannot finish until I say so," she reminded him. "That's the game, Viserys."

"Fuck the game," he said lowly. "I want to finish in you now." When she didn't move, he tried to fight her hold on his wrists. She resisted as best as she could. "I want to. Why won't you let me?"

"Because it is fun," she said. "Why do you want to so badly? Don't you want to drag this out?"

"I want to put another child in you. I want him to see another one in your belly."

That interested her. "Why does Daemon have to see anything?"

"He covets my daughter's status as heir," said Viserys, shaking his head. "He covets my throne. I don't trust him yet, Amalia, I feel this is too good to be true. I want to know what he wants, why he's here. He never desired Aemma, but he desires you. I know it. I want him to know you are mine. "

Her heart beat fast, wondering if he had also noticed the way she looked at Daemon. If he had, he didn't say it. "Then show him," was all she said, to keep him unaware. Perhaps that would also help her not think of Daemon. "Show him whose wife I am. Which dragon has claimed me."

She let go of him and slid off of him, crawling back onto the bed. Viserys sat up, purple eyes dark with lust. He pulled her close and kissed her hard. He moved his lips to her neck and sucked, he bit in hard enough that it would leave a mark. She tried to think of how it was Viserys who was pleasuring her, Viserys who was laying his claim.

She grabbed his good hand and pushed his fingers into her, grinding her hips into his palm. He indulged her, mouth moving back to her breasts– how he loved her breasts ever since they first started to swell. She gasped and cried out, she wanted Daemon to hear her.

"Let him know," said Viserys, withdrawing his fingers and pushing her onto her hands and knees again, the same way he took her the first time she thought of his brother. "Let him know, tell him which dragon has you."

Everything after that was a blur. She didn't think he'd ever been so rough with her. It hurt, it hurt good. She wailed and moaned his name, then at his bequest begged him to put another child in her. That part, she ought to have resisted for Rhaenyra's sake, but for Daemon, well, it was a necessity.

Amalia was crying by the end of it, tears she didn't know the source of. Partially the bruising, partially the ecstasy, and she feared, to her disappointment, partially the knowledge that it wasn't enough. She still thought of Daemon that night, as Viserys filled her again and said that she'd have a babe in her belly by morning. His babe, his son, nothing like Daemon.

-

Viserys had smiled when he noticed the purple love bite on her neck the following morning, something she made no effort to conceal as she donned her black dress and veil for a day of prayer in the sept.

The boys and Helaena were left with her maids as she went, a carriage taking her up Visenya's Hill. The women that normally prayed at the same hour were there, ladies and septas and smallfolk alike. Many reached out to her, and she gathered their wishes and listened to what ailed them before she disappeared into the sept, kneeling before the candles and the great skull of Balerion to ask the Seven to give the people what they most needed.

"For Marei," she whispered, hands clasped together, "may her mother's illness be taken away. For Willow, may she and her husband finally be blessed with a child. For Ellyn, who has come from the Stormlands, may our maesters have the wisdom to heal her son..."

Amalia liked to pray aloud, there in the silence of the sept. She felt the gods heard her better, that she could concentrate better. She felt someone kneel beside her and lowered her voice, startled when the person placed their hand on hers.

"Daemon!" She looked around wildly, the sept suddenly devoid of septas. "What are you—?"

"I know this place better than any of you ever will," said Daemon with a smirk, head lowered as if he was praying. He nodded towards her neck, "I surmise that was all he left you, rather than a babe in your belly?"

Her cheeks burned. "If the gods are good, it is yet to be seen." She wouldn't know for at least a fortnight, and Daemon might be gone by then, unless they'd continue to endure this streak of good behavior. She turned away, staring at the flickering flames. "I come here to be alone with the gods."

"So do I," he said matter-of-factly. "You're distracting me, Your Grace. Please be quiet."

She turned back to stare at him incredulously. The arrogant arse snickered at her. Huffing, she tried to go back to her prayers, but found herself too distracted. Thinking to cut it short for the day, she rose, but Daemon followed her.

"You call them all by their names," he said as he followed her to the exit. "You know the face of every single person you pray for."

"It's the least I can do," Amalia replied. "They believe a Queen's prayers more powerful, they believe the Mother herself speaks through me and that I can help intercede to her on their behalf. I want to help them in the best way I can. Some days I sit and talk to them, I give advice, I give coin and clothes. But many want my love, my worry, my prayers. I give them that, it costs me nothing."

"I noticed," said Daemon. How long have you been watching me today? "You give kisses to the smallfolk's children as if they were your own. I'm told you've given jobs in the castle to orphans. You employ them in the kitchens and as playmates for your children."

"It brings them a comfortable life," she murmured. "I get to see them often. How do you know all these things?"

"I have my sources." He opened the door for her, and she tried to rush out faster than he could catch up. He kept tight to her heels. "You might want to trust Talya less."

Amalia scowled. "I don't trust my handmaidens. I learned a long time ago that when a person wants power, others will watch and wait and want for the same. It's why I fed all my children by my own breasts. Why I leave them to be supervised by Viserys or my father or Alicent before I seek out handmaidens." My father, I trust less these days with Aegon and Aemond, but he's been sweet to Helaena and I wish with all my heart that time spent with her will remind him of when I was his little girl and he would've burned the world before burning me.

He nodded. "A good thing to know, yet I counsel you to use it to your advantage. You ought to start by finding out who is an informant around the castle. To others within, to those in the city. Have them rely on you, and they will bring you information as well. Have them willing to do things for you."

It wasn't bad advice. He looked smug as he added, "I'll start you off with ten names. Then, you can build your network from there."

"Thank you," she said, somewhat suspiciously. She managed a smile for the crowds who waved at her as she was ushered back into her carriage. Annoyingly, Daemon welcomed himself in. "Excuse me, My Prince, I mean to continue my prayers here after being interrupted."

"I'm not disturbing you," he replied smartly, leaning back in the carriage. "Perhaps instead of praying, you might plan. Those orphans you employ are a good start, you know. They owe you much. When men like your father whisper, they scarcely care if children hear, is that not so? He used to tell you things."

She made a face at him, the carriage beginning to roll. What would happen if they returned to the Red Keep and he was still in the carriage? What might someone think if they saw them stepping out together? This felt wrong. Still, she replied, "It feels inappropriate to use children as spies."

"Children will become adults. You needn't always use children. I presume you intend to keep them in your service permanently, otherwise, why else rescue them? Not all of them are so young."

"Perhaps."

"Think, Your Grace, what are the two greatest motivations behind why a person would agree to be an informant?"

"I suppose something along the lines of fear and coin."

"Love, not fear," he corrected. Gods, she hated how he always stared at her, a gaze so penetrating she felt naked in his presence. "It is through love that they fear, that they anger, that they submit to another's will. For those with something to lose, you need only find who and what they love and use that for your gains."

Amalia crossed her arms. "And if I should be discovered? Motivating these people with coin, threatening to hurt their families... it is not the image I have."

"I never said you had to threaten them, Your Grace. You sound like your father." She scoffed, insulted, and he smirked before adding, "No, you must only continue to do what you already do. Care for your people. Show them your love, learn what they love, and ensure they can continue loving those things."

She tried to think of how that might happen. "I know which of my handmaidens could use more coin to care for their children, which of those children are worthy of better matches than they can currently attain. If I arrange such things discreetly... I'd have their loyalty."

"Yes. And you needn't do what Larys Strong does, or what your father does, or what even Talya's employer– the White Wyrm– does. They use threats and sow uncertainty on any other path their little whisperers might take. It keeps them trapped there. But you are not the second son to the Master of Laws, nor the second son of Oldtown turned Hand, nor even a brothel proprietor. You are Her Grace, Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. Your mere name and presence will instill greater loyalty, for you have never shown those close to you that you are cruel."

Amalia questioned, "What if they think me weak for it? How can I be sure they won't inform to me and still someone else?"

"That is why I will give you your names. Individuals I know who inform to no one but who are still malleable. You will bring loyalty with your coin and influence, yes, and you will keep it through your kindness. Your orphans will thrive and they will know they are free to go whenever they please. Your handmaidens will see their children grow healthy and marry well and they will love you for it. They will bring you information not out of greed but out of a like concern for you, for your wellbeing, for the wellbeing of your children. Do you understand?"

She thought she did. But he made it sound much easier than what she was thinking it could be. Could she really bring herself to be so openly cunning and approach people about this task in the first place? Could she really maintain a network the way her father did, the way Larys Strong did, the way this White Wyrm did?

"Here." From his pocket, Daemon removed a strange item. It was a strange sort of hairpin, with strange protrusions on the sides that resembled fingers, or even the legs of a spider, or the claws of a dragon. It was a shining red, rubies glittering over every visible space. "This is from the Vale, a special pin that holds up more hair than usual. Ladies of the Vale are much like you, hair full and wild, only the winds are so unpredictable that even when they're only sitting outside, they've need for something stronger. Turn around."

She could hardly do so with the carriage bouncing back up to the castle. "Perhaps if you showed me how to use it–"

"Turn around, Your Grace." Nervously, she scooted closer to him and shifted her back to face him. She heard a faint click, his fingertips grazing the back of her neck as he tucked her hair together, coiled it, then lifted it. She felt him push the clip into place, the little arms of it grabbing her hair and keeping it pinned more easily than she'd ever managed, even when fighting to get it into a hairnet.

"There," she heard him say, thumbs against her bare skin. "Now your neck can be seen."

She remembered the love bite and flushed red, returning to her seat quickly. "Thank you, My Prince, this is a very kind gesture. It will save me much time."

"Good," said Daemon. "It will give you more time to take care of yourself." He pressed his fingertips together, still eyeing her neck closely. "You wish for Rhaenyra to be heir... yet you've given the King three children and perhaps another will soon be on the way. Why?"

"It is my duty to strengthen the line of succession," said Amalia cautiously. "I don't mean to deny Rhaenyra her throne by birthing so many children, but I can hardly deny your brother. I love my children, I will raise them to support their sister, and so that support will be numerous."

"Hmm." What was he thinking with that? Was he judging her again? Did he think he could not trust her? Did he think to snuff her out? She never knew with him. Surprisingly, he said, "You've made my brother happy. Perhaps he ought to appreciate what he has instead of seeking anything further. I'm surprised his illness has not yet affected him in that regard."

Sometimes, she had wished that Viserys lose his sexual appetite or even better, his ability to perform. In these recent weeks that it had been much harder to conceive, she wondered if he'd reached his limit, if three children were what she'd be content with. She wouldn't mind it; they were perfect. She'd love another if it came, but admittedly didn't seek it out as actively as she had after Aegon. She'd entertained the idea of taking tansy tea to slowly ease Viserys off her, but she knew she'd be caught if she even tried.

When she didn't reply, he said only, "I should hope this child will be the last, so my brother might be content, the succession might be stable, and you might at last have time for yourself."

"We will see what the gods have in store for us," she said quietly, so as to not clue him into her true feelings. Still, he watched her, and it felt like her heart wanted to jump out of her throat, right through Viserys's love bite.