Notes: From here on out the terms "mandia" and "lēkia" will be frequently used for nuns and monks of Dragontemple respectively. For example, instead of saying "sister Mary"/"brother Jon" characters will say "mandia Mary"/"lēkia Jon". This distinction is made to distinguish Valyrian nuns and monks from holy sisters and brothers of the Faith of Seven.

***

'What's your favorite color?'

Diane stopped in her tracks, not sure if she heard it right. Then she slowly turned to Otto who apparently decided to start with random questions instead of a "good morning" that day.

'I'm sorry, what?'

'What's your favorite color?'

Diane blinked a few times in pure confusion and then said, 'Red and black? I mean... obviously.'

'Huh, I should have guessed,' Otto nodded to himself. 'But if you have to pick one, what will it be?'

Diane looked around just in case because the corridor was empty (as usual when they interacted), and Otto was acting weird. She wondered if she was missing something important.

'For what am I picking?'

'Just... in general,' Otto answered, shifting somewhat uncomfortably.

Diane raised an eyebrow and came closer to the man, 'In general, I prefer to keep my options open.'

Otto groaned, 'Just answer the damn question. They need to know by noon.'

'Who needs to know?'

The little panic in Otto's eyes when he realized he said more than he intended to was satisfying to watch even if he composed himself pretty fast. 'That's... not important.'

'You are being a terrible liar right now. You know that, right?'

Otto rolled his eyes, 'Diane, please...'

'Red,' she decided to take mercy on him. 'If I had to choose, sword to my throat, it would be red.'

'That's because it's the color of blood, isn't it?'

Diane smiled, 'You said that, not me. Will you tell me why you are asking?'

'No. Not now. But it's nothing nefarious,' Otto assured her. 'At least, not at the moment.'

'I will actually be impressed if you manage to weaponize the knowledge of my favorite color,' Diane smirked. 'What's your favorite?'

'I don't have a favorite.'

'Everyone has it. Come on, it's only fair. I told you mine,' Diane tugged at his sleeve with a smile. 'Is it green?'

Otto kept quiet for a few seconds but then gave up and said, 'It's violet, actually. But not the darker version. A light violet, more like...' he looked at Diane as if he only now realized something and had no idea what to do with this particular realization. 'More like your eyes are,' he finished quietly.

Diane looked at Otto and she knew he was not pretending. As a person who spent decades lying and pretending for a job, she knew the limits. There was a level of vulnerability, a level of intimacy that you could never convincingly fake no matter how hard you tried. Your body just would not let you so it was best to never put yourself in the situation when such an act was required to begin with. So Otto wasn't trying to fool her because he would never be able to pull this off so naturally which meant...

Which meant it was actually real.

'I- I apologize but I need to go,' Otto blurted out and rushed away before Diane had a chance to stop him. Not like she was going to. Not like she believed it was wise.

Diane exhaled slowly and turned on her heels so she would face the direction in which she had been going previously. She liked messing with Otto. Messing with Otto was fun and it served the purpose of keeping him distracted from trying to usurp Rhaenyra's throne. Was it way more exciting than she expected? Well, yes. Kissing Otto was definitely nicer than kissing Viserys. Otto was also objectively a better kisser but that was neither here nor there.

She just didn't- she didn't plan on-

'Oh Gods, I think I overdid it,' Diane muttered to herself before starting to walk down the corridor. After all, her father was waiting for her to join him.

***

'Are you alright?' Daemon asked as they were walking through the streets of King's Landing towards the harbor.

'Yes. Why?'

'You seem too quiet.'

'Well, I just... have a lot on my mind, that's all,' Diane smiled, hoping it looked reassuring. She was not going to talk about Otto with her father. That would be just plain cruel to Daemon. And besides, not like there was something to talk about, she just... needed time to process and digest the new information.

Daemon squinted his eyes, 'Are you sure?'

Before Diane could decide how best to get out of her father questioning her, the two children ran into them. They couldn't be older than twelve.

'Woah, what's going on?' Diane asked, grabbing the boy while Daemon grabbed the girl. 'Where's the fire?'

'Please, please, let us go!' the boy pleaded.

'He is following us!' the girl exclaimed.

After taking another look at the children, it became obvious that they were twins. The girl was wearing a white dress that looked too much like a wedding gown for Diane's liking. Daemon noticed that too because he frowned.

'Who is following you?' Diane demanded.

'Our father. Please, please, let us go,' the girl pleaded.

'He will force her to marry that ugly old man!' the boy exclaimed, and his sister immediately shooshed him.

'Don't tell them that!'

'It's alright. It's alright, you can tell us,' Diane immediately assured. 'You are the bride?'

The girl nodded hesitantly.

'How old are you, sweetie?'

'I've just turned two and ten.'

Diane and Daemon simultaneously looked at each other.

'This wedding is not happening,' Diane declared to the wide-eyed children.

'Not if we can say anything about it. And we have a lot to say,' Daemon added, his hand tightening on the handle of Dark Sister and his eyes searching the street for anyone who could look like the father of those two.

'B-but you don't understand! The deal is made! We have to run!' the boy exclaimed.

'And where will you go?' Diane asked.

The twins looked at each other. 'We'll get the ship to Dragonstone,' the boy said.

'They are always looking for workers and we can work!' the girl added.

'And they don't follow the Faith so they won't force my sister to go back here,' the boy finished.

Diane let out a laugh despite herself. 'Then this is your lucky day. My name is Diane Targaryen and I'm Lady of Dragonstone.'

The twins stared at her with their mouths hanging open, probably only now noticing her white hair and light violet eyes.

'Really?' the girl asked.

Diane smiled, 'Really.'

Suddenly there was an angry exclamation, 'There you are!', but before anyone really managed to react, Daemon was holding his Dark Sister right at the man's throat.

'I would choose my words very carefully if I were you,' the prince warned, allowing the girl to get behind him and get out of the reach of her father. Diane did the same for the boy.

The man swallowed, obviously recognizing Daemon, 'I- I do apologize, Your Grace... but this is an issue with my children that I can handle-'

'Can you?' Daemon interrupted. 'Can you really?'

'I do not know what they have told you but I assure you everything is perfectly legal. I have a septon waiting and my daughter's husband-'

'Husband?! She is fucking two and ten!' Daemon made an angry step forward which meant that the man had to make a hurried step back or otherwise the sword would have most definitely cut his throat.

'She had her first blood, Your Grace. She is a woman grown-'

'One more word! One more word and I will make your wife a widow, do you understand me?'

The man swallowed, 'Yes, Your Grace.'

Don't get Daemon wrong, he knew that the girls were wed after their flowering all across Westeros and in his family as well, but he had his opinions on that matter and was not scared to voice them when he was confronted. Like right now. What man in their right mind would want to wed and bed an actual child?! Because this girl, that was hiding behind Diane right now, was a child and looked fucking accordingly!

Daemon knew that a lot of people did not share his beliefs on that matter but he just couldn't wrap his head around it. He remembered Diane at the age of two and ten. She was more independent than most of the girls that age, sure, but he would never even entertain the thought of marrying her off so young. How could he do that, knowing full well just what her husband would put her through on her wedding night? What a father would he be?

The man on the other end of Dark Sister didn't seem to have similar reservations. Which made Daemon want to make sure he did not have a head.

'No need to spill blood in the middle of a street, however satisfying it might be,' Diane said. 'The wedding is off. Now get lost.'

'You can't do that!' the man exclaimed.

Daemon pushed his sword forward, grazing the skin on his neck. It was nowhere near fatal but it stung like a bitch and would take a pretty long time to heal.

'My daughter is merciful. I am not. So you better get lost before I decide to paint this street with your blood,' the prince said.

The man realized that Daemon was not fucking kidding so he backed away and then ran off, deciding that his children were not worth the hassle. Daemon put his sword back into its holder, 'Well, that was fun.'

Then he turned around, surveyed the scene before him, and asked his daughter, 'Now that we have gained two children, what do we do with them?'

Diane raised an eyebrow.

'Don't look at me like that. You always collect people in random places, I figured you are an expert who has a plan.'

Diane rolled her eyes with a smile, 'I do, actually. We know the ship from Dragonstone is coming so I'll just arrange for them to have seats on its way back. And then Gerardys can figure out where to place them,' she then looked at the twins. 'Sounds good?'

They looked at each other and then nodded, small hopeful smiles appearing on their faces.

'What are your names?' Daemon inquired.

'I'm Daira with an "i",' the girl said.

'And I'm Dayra with a "y",' the boy followed.

'Wow, not confusing at all,' Daemon muttered.

'Oh, shut up, father,' Diane swatted him on the hand. 'You are the one to talk with thirty-four Aegons in our family tree.'

Daemon looked at his daughter with an expression that was somewhere in-between "what the fuck" and "that was so uncalled for" but then huffed, 'Alright, point taken.'

Diane smiled sweetly at him, knowing well that her father couldn't be mad at her when she smiled like that and then urged the children to start moving in the direction of the harbor. Daemon and she still had a guest to welcome.

***

'Let me say it's such a great honor to be able to attend to Princess Rhaenyra during the last months of her pregnancy and her birth,' the woman smiled, accepting Daemon's help to get from the ship. Her name was mandia Abigail but she insisted that he called her Abby. She was in her mid-thirties with light brown skin and black hair. She was wearing a dark red tunic that was embroidered with golden thread and had a wide hood that partly covered her hair. 'I greatly appreciate the trust you put in me, Your Grace.'

Daemon looked her over and then said, 'I do not wish to sound rude but aren't you- a bit young?' he asked. When he requested the most reliable and experienced midwife from Dragontemple, this woman wasn't precisely what he had expected.

'Oh, I see,' she smiled. 'You probably expected my teacher, mandia Haena. But unfortunately, Balerion took her soul a few months ago. Let the fourteen flames be always warm to her.'

'Let the fourteen flames be always warm to her,' Daemon repeated because he knew it was a tradition to say that when you were speaking about the dead to honor them (Diane might or might not have taught him that). And by how Abby's eyes warmed up, she appreciated him knowing this tradition.

'But don't you worry, Your Grace, I've spent my life at mandia Haena's side. I delivered my first child when I was only one and ten, all by myself,' the mandia smiled. Daemon figured that was pretty impressive. 'She passed to me all of her knowledge and all of her skills so there is no one as equipped as I am at Dragontemple to deal with pregnancies and birth.'

'Then who am I to question it?' Daemon nodded with a small smile and then looked at Diane who approached them. She had just put Daira and Dayra on the ship and made sure that one of the sailors would escort them right to Gerardys upon arrival. Dragonstone was a relatively safe place (if you did not count the possible unpredictability of dragons) but she didn't want these children to wander around unattended anyway, considering what they had been through. 'Do you know my daughter, Lady Diane Targaryen?' Daemon asked.

'A little. I saw her grow up by mandia Kaerinna's side and she was a rather... adventurous child.'

'I was a total nuisance but it made Kaerinna's days more interesting,' Diane smiled, slightly squeezing Abby's hand in a welcoming gesture. 'Mandia Abigail, is it?'

'Just Abby, please. Considering the work that I do, it's better to drop formalities right at the very beginning,' the mandia smiled.

'How is Kaerinna?' Diane inquired.

'Mostly well. Her sight has been failing her recently but she is a fighter. There is also a young man- I believe he has arrived very recently but he claims to be a glassmaker who knows how to do eyeglasses. When I was packing up, the High Priest was in the process of setting up a workshop for him. And if he is as good as he says he is, mandia Kaerinna is already in line for some eyeglasses to help with her problem.'

'Jerome is his name, I think,' Diane hummed. 'Considering how rare such glassmakers are, it would be such a blessing if this will turn out not to be a fraud.'

'Oh, my lady, from your lips to Tessarion's ears.'

***

Otto was drinking and Otto was drinking a lot. The sun had already sat so technically he was not "on duty" so he could get drunk but then again, he was the Hand of the King and the King didn't want to do his part most of the time, so he was somewhat always "on duty". He could drink, of course, but he was very mindful of never getting drunk in case some emergency needed his immediate attention.

Well, not today.

Today he was getting WASTED and nobody could stop him. Because he lost. Not in the political games, these were very far from over, but on a more personal level. He was so busy not letting Diane outsmart him in court that he completely missed how she got into his head and camped there.

He liked her. He knew he liked her. That was alright, a man was allowed to like a beautiful and smart young woman. But he didn't just like her, did he? If he just liked her, he wouldn't spend loads of money just to please her, he wouldn't go out of his way to surprise her and he definitely wouldn't support Daemon's proposal and then argue with Beesbury on his behalf.

He was screwed. He was so, so screwed.

That was her plan, wasn't it? Or what if it wasn't? If it wasn't, that was worse. It meant that this current situation was happening not because Diane was a genius in manipulation but because he fucking trapped himself. Or maybe it was both. It could be both, right? It would make him feel slightly better.

Otto always took pride in his ability to keep a rational mind and always put logic over feelings. It got him so far in life. From a second son to the Hand of not one but two Kings! Three, if he played his cards right. He was doing so fucking good.

And then Diane happened. Like the most delicious doom this world had ever known. And Otto could push her away. That was something he could do, he was pretty sure of it. He could reject her advances and was pretty sure that she would respect that. It wouldn't stop her from harassing him in any other possible way except sexually but he could end whatever was going on between them. He definitely should have done that as soon as he had realized what had been going on and not encouraged it. But he just... he wanted to.

On his third bottle of something that could be whiskey but had stopped tasting like anything half an hour ago Otto decided that if he so happened to be doomed, he might as well enjoy it. Diane was messing with him - he did not expect her to catch feelings like he did, he wasn't a fool - but she was also giving a lot in return for his compliance. If he played his cards right, he could have her. For a limited time and on her terms but he could.

And why would he turn such an opportunity down?

***

'Alright, out with it,' Diane said, putting down her hairbrush and turning on the chair to face Athelstan who was in the process of putting away her day clothes. Mike was already snoring quietly on his makeshift bed on one of Diane's bedside tables.

'O-out with what?' the boy asked, looking like a deer at the archer's aim.

'With whatever it is you have on your mind,' Diane prompted. 'You think I didn't notice?'

'Well, I was trying not to be suspicious.'

'To notice everything is literally my job, dove. Now come on, spit it out, I don't bite.'

'How can you tell if you... like someone?' Athelstan asked, his eyes not meeting Diane's.

'In what way, dove? Liking someone and wanting to be friends and liking someone and wanting to take their clothes off are two somewhat different things,' Diane smiled.

Athelstan's blush gave her the answer before the boy even opened his mouth. 'Um... the second one.'

'Isn't it kind of... self-explanatory?'

'I thought so too but well- I don't know- there is this one guy-' Athelstan said, fiddling with the clothes.

'You leave my dress be and come sit here,' Diane fully turned in her chair and gestured to the closest corner of the bed. The boy did what he was asked to. 'Alright, dove, tell me more,' she smiled, and if she seemed excited, fuck yes, she was.

The corners of Athelstan's lips tugged into a smile. He loved how aggressively supportive Diane was sometimes. It was like... talking to an older sister he never had.

'So he is one of the golden cloaks... and please don't ask who,' the boy added as soon as Diane opened her mouth. 'I don't really know if this thing between us is going to become... you know, a thing. And I don't want to tell yet.'

'And I can respect that. However...' Diane's face turned thoughtful for a second. 'He isn't married, is he? I won't judge, I promise. I'll give you a side eye at worst and insist you deserve better. And before you say anything, yes, I know, it's hypocritical of me but I expect you to do better than me.'

Athelstan let out a laugh, 'No, he is not married or anything like that. He is really nice... most of the golden cloaks are nice to me because they are afraid of you but he- he is like genuinely nice. And we have been running into each other a lot lately.'

'Running into each other like- on accident or like "of course, it's an accident but it was definitely planned beforehand"?' Diane asked because she used the second option on Otto plenty of times. And it did wonders... which she wasn't going to think about at the moment because it was complicated.

'Well, um- I don't know. He is around a lot as it is but it feels like way more lately. And some of his excuses of why he needs to talk to me are kind of- ridiculous? And he is not freaked out by Mike! Or at least he does his best not to be.'

'That's definitely a point in his favor,' Diane smiled. She knew Mike was a scary and unusual creature for Westeros but she noticed that the "right" people were, even if nervous around him, tolerant of his presence overall. 'Do you enjoy talking to him?'

'Very much,' the boy said, blushing a little. 'He is very funny and he listens to me.'

'Then I don't understand what's the problem, dove.'

'I didn't- I never really had friends so I don't- I'm not sure if I enjoy his company as a friend or if I want to be- well, more than a friend. It's just- I don't know-' the boy shrugged, and the poor thing looked truly helpless. 'How do you know if you like someone the right way?'

'Oh, dove, I'm not sure if I'm the right person to ask,' Diane said with a small smile.

'Why?'

'Look, from what I understand, my relationship with sex is somewhat... unusual.'

Athelstan frowned, 'In what way?'

'Don't get me wrong, I like sex. If done right, it's a very rewarding experience. But for me, it holds the same value as- I don't know, riding a dragon... well, no, scratch that. I'll pick riding Silverwing over sex any day so that's a bad example,' Diane muttered, making the boy laugh. 'Let's say like reading a history book. I can do that because I like history or I can go fuck someone. I like the process and who the partner is... well, it's not irrelevant, but- me being attracted to them is not precisely a requirement. I shouldn't be disgusted by them but otherwise, I can make it work.'

'So it is kind of... transactional for you?' Athelstan asked.

'That's a big word, dove,' Diane teased, making the boy immediately blush.

'I've been reading some of your books,' he confessed. 'Did I use it right?'

'Yeah, I think you can say that. It's not always like that, there are some people... very few who were exceptions for me. Who I wanted to devour . To rip their clothes off and get familiar with every inch of their body. To never let them leave my bed. Sex with whom felt like the best thing in existence-' Diane shook her head as if trying to force herself out of her memories. 'It doesn't happen to me a lot but I think that's what sexual attraction is supposed to feel like.'

Athelstan nodded, kept quiet for a while, processing all the new information, and then said, 'I think I kind of- want to take his clothes off. You know- for research purposes.'

Diane laughed at that, 'Then you should go for it.'

'He- he actually invited me to meet him in one of the inner yards tonight. I didn't know if I should go but now I think I want to give it a try. He never said anything about- well, more than talking but who knows,' the boy said with a shy smile, looking at his hands.

'Then I should give you this,' Diane got up, went to her drawer, and after a few seconds of searching pulled out a small knife out of there. Athelstan's eyes widened. 'For self-defense,' Diane passed it to the boy who very sheepishly took it.

'I don't think he will hurt me-'

'I don't want to think that either. A good man will stop the second you tell him "no" but it's better safe than sorry. So keep it close or at least within reach, alright?' Diane asked. Not all men were a danger but it was always too many of them and, considering Westeros was nowhere near as accepting of queer people as Dragonstone was... let's say, she had all the rights to be worried. 'I want you to be as safe as you possibly can be, dove. And if you'll have to use it- well, just come find me and I'll help you take care of it... of the body or of the witness.'

Athelstan smiled a little, put a knife on the bed, and then suddenly got up and hugged Diane. 'Thank you,' he muttered into her shoulder. 'Thank you for being someone I can talk to about such things.'

Diane smiled and hugged him back, 'Of course, dove. You can talk to me about anything. I promise to be patient and understanding.'

Later that night Athelstan collected all of his courage, hid a knife in his clothes as Diane had taught him, and went to one of the inner yards. It was already dark outside but the Red Keep was never really dark because of the candles and torches all around the castle. It was mostly for safety purposes but it also made navigating the corridors much easier.

The man was already sitting on one of the benches when Athelstan walked in but he got up as soon as he noticed him.

'I'm so glad you came,' Gwayne smiled, fiddling with a bottle of wine in his hands a little bit nervously. 'I was afraid you would stand me up.'

'I won't lie, it was on my mind,' Athelstan smiled shyly. 'But I decided to be brave tonight.'