Her father had gone out on a hunt, hale and hearty and laughing with his men. He came back early, groaning in agony, carried between four guards, unable to even sit his horse.

Both Daena and Viserys rushed to his bedside upon hearing the news, and even the Old King came, helped by his attendants.

"My son," Daena's grandfather sounded broken, staggering to a chair that Viserys quickly vacated. The King had grown used to grief over the years, but Queen Alysanne's death had been the worst blow yet, and his face was anguished as he stared at her father.

"The maester says it's a burst belly," Viserys was crying, unashamed of his tears. Part of Daena envied him. Her own eyes were dry even as she wished the tears would fall. The whole thing didn't feel quite real. "He won't last the night,"

"Can they give him anything - anything for the pain?" Jaehaerys raised a shaking hand, caressing Baelon's brow.

"He's had milk-of-the-poppy," Daena said in a monotone. "It didn't help much. Any more will kill him quicker,"

Inside her head was a roiling mass of grief, anger and injustice. It's not fair, it's not fair, it's not fair. They had taken her mother, and now her father too. Baelon was brave, strong, and would make a good king when her grandfather passed. Now, King Jaehaerys would outlive his son, and Viserys would be the sole heir.

"Daena,"

"Yes Father?" She leaned over him as he clutched her hand almost painfully.

"I want you to - " He broke off, face twisted in agony. " - You will have Dark sister,"

Her eyes widened. "But Father - "

"Who else would it go to? Your son is too young, and Viserys will have Blackfyre. You fight well, you're worthy of the blade,"

She was honoured, more than honoured, for her father to give her his sword; that, of all things, was what finally brought the tears to her eyes. Nonetheless, Daena glanced doubtfully at her grandfather, who did not look pleased. Viserys' mouth was hanging open slightly, but it was he who next spoke.

"Of course, Father," He said. "Anything. Daena will have Dark Sister, if that is what you wish,"

"Thank you, my son," Baelon forced a smile, though it was more of a grimace. "You will - you will look after each other,"

"We will," Daena spoke this time, looking down at where her father's hand still gripped her own. "Issa, Kepa. Kirimvose,"

"Always," Viserys said, tears streaming down his face.

"Father - " The Prince turned to the King, almost pleading, suddenly transformed from a grown man of forty into a boy again. "Father, it hurts,"

"Not for long," The King replied, voice thick with grief. "You are a good boy, Baelon. Tell my Alysanne I love her still. And - and everyone. You will be with Alyssa, at last,"

The list of people her grandfather had lost was too long to name.

Baelon Targaryen, the Spring Prince, died that night in agony, with his children and his father at his side. Her father was dead, and Daena's world became a whole lot darker. He was the one person who perhaps understood her, one she had looked up to, laughed with, loved. 

She kept Dark Sister, despite her grandfather's disapproval. The King was hardly present, anyway, keeping to his chambers in his grief. For a while, she just set it on a table and stared at it; secretly, she had longed for Queen Visenya's sword, made for a woman's hand, balanced for someone her size, but she had never meant for her father to die for her to have it. The sword was beautiful, with its black hilt, golden crossguard and inlaid ruby, the characteristic ripples of Valyrian steel colouring the blade.

For the first time since she grew pregnant with her son Baelon, Daena shared a bed with Viserys, not as husband and wife but as brother and sister, as they had done when their mother died, and Balerion. She cried then, and so did he, holding her close in the dark where no one else would see.

Yet they scarcely had time to grieve, for a Great Council was being called, to decide the next heir to the throne.

"Why would it not be you?" She stormed back and forth across Viserys' chambers. "It has been agreed for years. Father would be King, and his son after him,"

"Precisely," Her brother said, much calmer than she would like. "This is simply a display to the lords, to consolidate my support. Let there be no doubt that my claim supercedes Rhaenys',"

"How can you be so complacent?" Daena rounded on him. "If you will not bestir yourself to ensure the throne is ours, then I will do it myself,"

How could she not be Queen, after everything? The thought was incomprehensible. She loved her cousin Rhaenys, and was good friends with Lord Corlys, but in this matter, she would not concede an inch. With Dark Sister belted around her waist, she stormed off into the city, openly for the first time, Harwin Strong and Willem Byrch beside her. Daena went to market squares, taverns and septs, stirring up the common folk, gathering to her a rowdy army of men-at-arms and sworn swords to defend her brother's claim. She flew on Caraxes to the keeps of lords and landed knights in the Crownlands and beyond, at her most charming and her most threatening, pledging name after name to her cause.

She was not sure why they followed her, in truth. Perhaps the sight of a Targaryen princess wearing tight flying leathers and a sharp smile was enough to tempt many. Perhaps the threat of Caraxes and Queen Visenya's sword at her belt persuaded many others. Some, however, were beyond her.

"My loyalty is to Princess Rhaenys and Corlys Velaryon," The stubborn old Lord Celtigar insisted, despite her best efforts. "Respectfully, Princess, we decline your offer of alliance,"

Irritated, Daena was about to call this one a lost cause and leave before she lost her temper, though stopped dead when she heard a whisper behind her.

"Not to arrogant little girls dressing in men's clothes and playing with swords,"

Slowly, she turned. Everyone was looking at the husband of one of Lord Celtigar's daughters, a man in his forties. Even the old lord himself looked furious. Evidently, she was not supposed to have heard.

"Whispering insults behind my back and not to my face implies you are afraid of an arrogant little girl playing with swords, ser," Her tone was dangerous.

The man could have apologised and backed down, no doubt as the furious glances from his goodfather, and the insistent tugging of his elbow from his wife, were encouraging him to do. Instead, he bristled, stepping forward to meet her challenge. 

"Princess or not, I will not have a woman call me craven. Never mind that her brother sends her to treat with lords, too lazy to do it himself," 

Daena smiled. "Well I shall think you craven until you draw your sword and defend your words,"

"Ser Janos, stand down," Lord Celtigar ordered. 

"Janos, please," His wife begged. 

"Go on, ser," Daena's smile sharpened, her tone mocking, goading him. "Put me in my place. Show an arrogant little girl the consequences of daring to insult a big, brave warrior such as yourself,"

"Janos, she is a princess - "

"The King's granddaughter, you fool - "

"The Blood Wyrm waits outside - "

"The Blood Wyrm stays outside," Daena cut through the multitude of voices. "You need only deal with me,"

Ser Janos needed no more persuading. Red in the face from rage, he drew his sword and strode forward, incensed. Daena drew Dark Sister and waited for him to come to her. The swords met with a violent clash, and she relished being in a true fight instead of the training yard. This man hated her, and his blows reflected that. He was far from a poor opponent either, though Daena, to her vicious satisfaction, was better.

At first, he was no doubt not planning to kill her. Neither of them wore armour, and she was a princess, after all; even he was not as stupid as that. No, Ser Janos wished to humiliate her, to put her in her place and knock her down a few pegs. But as his blows failed to land, he grew angrier and angrier, his sword coming down harder but less focused, and he was no longer being careful not to damage her too much. 

He was also growing clumsy. A well placed blow coupled with a kick took his leg out from under him and the man sprawled on the floor, his sword knocked from his hand. Daena laughed, turning around to leave. 

She should have known men like that did not take well to either losing, nor being laughed at. The punch caught her around the back of the head. Though she staggered, stunned from the force of it, Daena spun around, Dark Sister still in her hand. Outside, Caraxes roared. 

"Lykirī, Caraxes!" She yelled, their bond carrying her intention more than sound. Her dragon would tear apart the castle, if he thought she was harmed. Tempting though that was, it would be more trouble than it was worth.

Around her, people were shouting. Daena ignored them all. It was reflex and spite and furious pride that drove her. Before she quite knew what she had done, her sword was buried in Ser Janos' gut, slashing violently.

His wife screamed and his goodfather looked on in horror. The hall was in uproar, but Daena's world narrowed to just the two of them. Her, and the third man she had killed. 

"How noble a knight you are," She hissed, sinking to the floor with him as he gasped and his knees buckled. "To try to beat an opponent with a blow to the back of the head whilst they walk away. I am a Princess of House Targaryen, I will one day be Queen, whilst your name will fade with the shame of your stupidity,"

She straightened up, turning to Lord Celtigar, spitting out a gob of blood from where she had bitten her tongue from the blow to the head. 

"Princess Rhaenys is welcome to you, my lord, if this is the calibre of your allies,"

Daena left the stunned hall with a bloody sword, no one moving to stop her, climbing onto Caraxes and taking off into the evening sky. There was a painful lump forming on the back of her head, and she felt dizzy. Never had she been so grateful for the chains fastening her to the saddle. Not that Caraxes would ever let her fall.

"You did what?" Viserys' eyes bulged when she told him.

"Trust me, he had it coming,"

"You cannot just murder the goodson of Lord Celtigar, Daena, they are one of the last houses of Old Valyria,"

"A minor house of Old Valyria," She corrected, tired of his whining. "He punched me in the back of the head, Viserys, after I had beaten him fair and square. What was I meant to do, leave with my tail between my legs?"

"You should not have fought him at all," Her brother said. "We are Targaryens - we are above petty insults,"

"I'm not," She said. "Though I showed him we are above him in every way that counts,"

Needless to say, she did not win House Celtigar to Viserys' cause, but at that point, she did not care. The rumours of what had occurred on Claw Isle spread to the other houses she had not yet visited, and she found many more... amenable than they might have been. If she had known that before, she would have visited the Celtigars first and saved herself a lot of trouble. People had always jumped to obey Daena, as a Targaryen, though never quite so quick as this. She found she liked the taste of a bad reputation, just as Dark Sister liked the taste of blood.

*

The outcome of the Great Council was closer than Daena would have liked. Due to Corlys' seafaring, the Velaryons were the richest house in Westeros, surpassing even the Lannisters, and had a great deal of influence and reach. The lords voted in favour of Viserys, though by a relatively small margin; without Daena's efforts, he may not have won at all. A victory was a victory, however, and her brother was named as Crown Prince in 102AC, and Rhaenys as the Queen-That-Never-Was.

There were none of the usual jokes or sniping between Rhaenys and Daena when the verdict was announced. Her cousin did not react to the news, standing with the grace of a Queen, but swept out once proceedings were over without a word to anyone. A traitorous part of Daena wondered if Rhaenys would have been the better option, though her pride and self-interest would not allow her to admit such.

Their grandfather King Jaehaerys died a year later - the old bastard was long overdue - and at the age of twenty-two, Daena got what she told herself she always wanted; a crown on her head and people calling her Your Grace.

Her childhood septa had been right. She was not a good Queen. Daena started off by insisting Viserys gave her a place on the Small Council, only to realise how dull those meetings were, listening to the words of stuffy old men, and how little actually got done. The Hand, Ser Otto Hightower, particularly resented her being there, given how she saw him for exactly what he was - an ambitious climber, keen to wrest what power he could from the King - and did not hesitate to vocalise this.

"Respectfully, Your Grace," The hateful man said to Viserys through gritted teeth, after one especially cutting comment from Daena. "The work of government lies in the hands of men. Her Grace no doubt wishes to aid her husband, and should be commended for her loyalty, though her presence here is unnecessary. She lacks the required education and fortitude for ruling the realm,"

Daena laughed in his face, though her eyes were cold. "Fortitude, Ser Otto? I have ridden a dragon, borne two children and suffered through hours of your company - you, on the other hand, have spent your life scuttling around in the shadow of better men. Who of the two of us has demonstrated more fortitude?"

"Daena, please," Viserys chided. "The Queen and the Hand should not be at each other's throats at every opportunity,"

"The Hand should know his place," She said darkly. "Doing the King's bidding, instead of grasping for any scrap of power he can,"

Tensions, perhaps predictably, did not ease. Soon, Ser Otto's resentment turned into outright loathing, whilst the same was true on Daena's side. He hissed poison into Viserys' ear about her at every turn - how it reflected poorly on him to be so upstaged by his own wife, how everyone spoke of her unsuitability to be Queen - and her foolish brother, ever eager-to-please, listened.

So much so that the King forbade her from the Small Council.

It was not worth fighting. "I want the City Watch," She said instead. "Perhaps I will actually manage to do something useful, instead of sitting around in here for hours bickering in endless circles with petty old men over grain reports and pointless land disputes,"

She needed to do something. Daena was not one to sit idle. Glad that he did not have to argue with her over leaving the council, Viserys readily agreed.

Her old friends, Harwin and Willem, were enlisted in her plan for the City Watch. Daena went in herself, with a bold new regime. The Queen's punishments were brutal, and discipline was swift, but those remaining and newly hired were given proper weapons and training, fine gold cloaks to wear, and respectable commanders to turn them into a proper fighting force. Queen of the City, they called her for that, which was a compliment or insult depending who said it. She would go and see them train in person sometimes, even do a little herself, escorted of course.

"Daena, must you be so - so brutal?" Her brother said, pained. "We scarcely have a City Watch left, given how many hands and heads you have ordered removed. Not to mention, do you have to enact such punishments yourself?"

She smiled. "Dark Sister is thirsty, Brother," At the look on his face, she sighed. "Read the report, Viserys. Your Master of Coin was astounded, as was the Master of Laws,"

"It is not just about the end result, Daena," Viserys ignored the paper she pushed across the table towards him. "It's no good putting gold cloaks on the Watch if the whole realm is whispering that my Queen is unnaturally bloodthirsty and cruel,"

"Just read it," She snapped, temper roused, then added when he tried to protest, "Now,"

Grumbling, he did as she asked. The report had been drafted by Lyman Beesbury, Master of Coin, and completed by the Master of Laws with reports from Harwin Strong and Luthor Largent, both commanders in the new City Watch. Slowly, the King's mouth dropped open.

"But this is impossible!" He said, baffled.

"Hardly," She grinned. "Not only has crime in the city drastically reduced, but the royal coffers have been saved a great deal of gold, once the heads have been removed from the rot of corrupt officers that were leeching it from us. No matter what your Hand tells you, the smallfolk adore me. They see my face more than any other noble, Viserys. They see me getting punishing thieves and rapers, they see me walk amongst them, talk with them, laugh with them,"

He looked up at her, still stunned. "Well, you've certainly done a - a good job,"

Her triumphant mood was soured. "No need to sound so surprised," Daena said. "The way you look at me sometimes, Viserys, it's as though I am a mad, rampaging beast. I am capable of rational thought,"

"I know that," He said, the weariness in his tone angering her more. "Though Daena, you must mind what people say of you. I understand that your punishments work, but creating such a spectacle..."

"The smallfolk love a spectacle," She shrugged. "And so do I," She smiled without any humour. "Though if you think me Visenya born again, I will be happy to prove you wrong and just might reinstate dear Grandmother's women's courts. I've found I have a taste for seeing justice done,"

Viserys' expression turned to one of dread. "No," He said. "Absolutely not. I refuse to allow it! I know your kind of justice, Daena, and it is not seemly for the Queen,"

"Would you rather I sit the Small Council again?" She raised an eyebrow.

Her brother was nothing if not a pushover.

*

Mina was anxious, but what did she have to lose? She had heard of the Queen's women's courts from one of her customers, some nobleman scoffing at the idea. Mina had to admit that it was strange, that Queen Daena - the same woman who beheaded criminals in Fishmonger's Square with her very own sword - would take up the same pursuits as her revered grandmother. But then people heard of the kind of justice that the new Queen was bringing. The kind of justice that Mina wanted, needed. Though would she be willing to give it to a woman like her?

The small sept was full, and not for a sermon. Only women sat on the benches, lowborn women. And, at the front, holding court, was the Queen. 

Daena Targaryen looked out of place in a sept, somehow; as out of place as Mina felt, though far from uncomfortable; amused, if anything. Valyrian features were familiar to the people of King's Landing - hers especially - though up close now, looked otherworldly. Her long, straight hair shone like silver, and though her gown was more subdued that usual for a royal appearing in public, the black material fit her like a glove. The city was used to seeing Queen Daena in a long cloak and men's leathers made to fit a female form; somehow, she looked even more formidable in a dress.

Her two Kingsguard knights waited outside. Dark Sister was at her waist. The Blood Wyrm lurked in the Dragonpit mere streets away.

"Ah, a newcomer!" The Queen noticed her right away, which Mina had not expected. 

"Your - Your Grace," She attempted a clumsy curtsey.

"Come, sit," The woman waved an imperious hand, unconcerned. 

She was young, up close, no more than twenty-two years old. Younger than Mina. That did not put her at ease at all. Mina sat, unsure of what to say.

"I assume you are here for whoever gave you that split lip?" The Queen said, a gleam in her eye. "What is your name?"

"Mina, Your Grace,"

"And what do you do, Mina?"

"I am a whore," She said, ignoring the few snickers from the other women. "Your Grace," She would not dare lie to the Queen, and forced herself to hold her chin up, though inside she wanted to melt into the floor.

Queen Daena did not laugh. "What were you before?"

No one had asked her that in a long time. "My mother, she - she was a seamstress. I was learning from her. But then she died, and father married again, and they - they threw me to the streets. I tried to find work, Your Grace, truly I did, but no one would hire a street urchin. Except - " She broke off.

"Except the brothels," The Queen did not bat an eye at her story. "How old were you?"

"Thirteen, Your Grace," That was twelve years ago, now.

"Thirteen," The woman considered that, silent for a moment. "And, Mina, who do you want punished?"

"A customer," 

"Oh?" She smiled, raising an eyebrow. "Anyone I would know?"

Curious, that she said that. The brothel Mina worked was one of the more high-end ones in the city, and as such the whores wore nicer dresses and were far more clean than the girls who worked in Flea Bottom or the docks. Their customers were merchants, knights, lords, rather than sailors and working men. Most noble ladies, however, would lump all whores into the same worthless category; the Queen had noted her dress, and known at once to ask of her highborn clients. How would she know?

"Not for me," Mina added. "For my friend, Elyse. She was killed, five days ago. She was only seven-and-ten. I know the man who did it. Ser Harrold Wagstaff. He wrapped his hands around her neck and choked the life from her, though he's a knight, and she was a whore, so no one seems to mind. I ran after him, calling him a murderer, and he struck me around the face in the street," She touched her fingers to her bruised lip. "They banned him from the brothel, but that is one of many in King's Landing,"

The Queen was not kind. She was not sympathetic. But the look in her eye comforted Mina where either of those things may not have. She knew then that the woman would see it done.

"I know Ser Harrold," Queen Daena said. "He dislikes me. If I were not who I am, I believe he would have liked to wrap his hands around my own throat long ago. You have witnesses to the murder? I care little either way, but my brother would put up a fuss if I executed a knight without at least trying to find evidence," 

Her brother, the King. She spoke of him so casually. 

Mina swallowed. "Half the girls in the brothel will tell you," She said. "He was rough with them many a time. Three of us saw the deed, having come running at Elyse's screams, and more saw him leave the room, her corpse in his wake. The owner will back me up,"

The Queen smiled. "Perfect. I will take great delight in having him dragged beneath the castle. A public trial, Mina? In the square? He will be found guilty, and I will have his head,"

For the first time since she saw Elyse's choked corpse, Mina smiled. "Thank you, Your Grace,"

*

I am doing my best to build up Daena's reputation to come close to the menacing aura that Daemon had. It is harder to do with a woman in this setting, but I hope I'm getting there whilst still being somewhat realistic. This is why I'm including several POVs that aren't her, to build that impression further. Obviously she gets away with vastly more than any other highborn woman, because the only man she is beholden to is Viserys, who is her brother and as I say, a pushover. There are consequences, however; her reputation is of a bloodthirsty, cruel woman, almost worse than Daemon's because she acts so against how women are supposed to. Anyway, hope you enjoyed, please let me know what you think, I've loved reading your comments so far!