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Chapter Text

For all his many faults, doubts and problems, there was one thing Aegon Targaryen, first born child of King Viserys I and his second wife Alicent Hightower, was certain of. Whichever God had been in control of his birth had messed up their job, and everyone in close proximity to him was suffering as a result. His younger brother fit the role of heir almost as well as his half sister did (a fact Aegon only spoke of to Helaena, because she would only answer him in riddles and a smile that he knew meant she agreed with him), his sister was beautiful, but not cut out for the life of a princess, and him? Well, he was the opposite of what one would expect of a royal, much less a prince many considered the true heir to the throne. He avoided responsibility like the plague, spent his days either drinking and lamenting about the miserable state of his life to the whore he had rented for the night, or flying with his dragon Sunfyre until he grew tired of him, and had never once shown any interest in the world of politics. He was, in the most simple of terms, a disappointment to everyone around him. However, there was one person his very personhood offended most of all; His grandsire and the current Hand of the King: Otto Hightower.

Aegon was on his way out to the Dragon Pit for a short flight with Sunfyre when he overheard a conversation he never in his wildest dreams could have imagined the contents of. The door to the council chambers stood slightly ajar, revealing two people standing by the table, clearly in deep conversation. As Aegon crept closer, he was able to distinguish that the voices belonged to none other than his grandsire and mother, and that whatever they were discussing was not a simple political matter.

“The King is lonely, Alicent. As his lady wife, it is your duty to keep him company and satisfy whatever needs you can. You know this.”

A snort, a sound most unbecoming of his mother, was the response.

“If you are so concerned about the wellbeing of our King, then perhaps you should go keep him company yourself. After all, he much prefers your presence to mine.” Her voice was bitter, nearly crispy with how sharply she ended her sentences.

“Alicent.” Otto sighed, his disappointed tone not unlike the one he would use when speaking to Aegon. “You are his lady wife, not me. I am his friend, yes, but that is all.”

Alicent appeared to take her time pondering her response. By this point, Aegon had snuck as close to the door as he could, but moved away as he heard footsteps approaching. He walked as quickly as he could whilst remaining quiet away until he found an entrance into the secret passages hidden within the keep. Climbing in through the false wall, Aegon ran back towards the council room, just in time to hear the tail end of his mother’s reply.

“... he married the wrong Hightower.”

Oh and wasn’t that a thought. Aegon knew his grandsire’s, and by extension his mother’s, views on same-sex relationships were less than favourable, the Faith had made sure of that. Being half-Targaryen, he failed to see what the problem was (his dabbling in experimentation may also have quite a bit to do with it), but perhaps there was more to this for his family than he thought? 

“Alicent, don’t be preposterous. The Faith does not allow for such unions. That they allow the King’s family to interbreed is bad enough.”

“I don’t see how that’s stopping you from visiting him. Besides, I’ve yet to hear you deny that you want to be married to him, only that you are not allowed. Perhaps I have misunderstood your reason for marrying me to that man. After all, lust is a powerful motivator, is it not?”

Aegon leaned as close as he could to the gap in between the stones to see his grandsire’s expression. On the surface he appeared as calm as he normally was, but Aegon knew him well enough to spot the slight crease between his eyebrows, as well as how his hands were entwined the way they only were when he was upset. 

“You speak as if you did not spend your entire childhood, and if I am not mistaken a large portion of your adulthood too, doing more than lusting after the daughter of your lord husband. It was quite difficult to disperse the many rumours that circulated concerning the nature of your relationship with the Princess, I’ll have you know.” His grandsire’s tone was absolute, and even from where he was hidden from behind the wall, Aegon felt as though he had been laid bare, his darkest secrets spilled out from the mouth of a man who appeared almost all-knowing. “There are many men who lust after the King. I am sure you know of who I speak. But there is only one woman in the Realm who is known to love Princess Rhaenyra in the most sinful of ways, and that is you, Alicent.”

“Father-” Alicent cut herself off, and from the corner of his eye Aegon could see the movements of her hands coming together, ripping at her cuticles. Before she could do any damage, her hands were forced apart by her father, who instead of letting them go held on as he looked deep into his daughter’s eyes.

“I know, daughter mine. It is a cruel fate the Gods have bestowed upon us, even when we have done nothing to deserve their wrath. You have done your most important duty, bearing the Seven Kingdoms a true heir, and our blood shall be part of the Crown for many years to come. Whatever affections we feel for our loved ones must be put aside, for you know just as well as I that they will amount to nothing more than pain.”

Aegon pondered his words. The conversation continued, but he remained stuck on a single word his grandsire had used. “Loved ones.” Was it possible Otto Hightower was lusting after not one, but several members of his family? If so, who? The thought at first disgusted him, the images it brought to mind doing little to soothe his now fully invested brain. He returned his attention to the conversation, now completely invested in its content.

“I’m surprised that lord husband of hers is still around. I assumed her desire to marry Daemon would have won out by now.” The pure venom dripping from Otto’s voice as he spoke Daemon’s name sent Aegon’s brain working into overdrive. Could it be that… No. Not in Seven Hells. Otto Hightower, the pinnacle of Oldtown and the Faith of the Seven, could not possibly be lusting after brothers? And Targaryen brothers at that. 

Deciding he had heard enough, Aegon moved to return to his original plan of a flight when the idea struck him. Viserys was in need of company. Aegon needed answers. There was no way either his grandsire or mother would tell him anything, and Rhaenyra was still living at Dragonstone, with their only contactpoint being the letters he shared with Jacaerys, who would certainly be horrified if Aegon were to ask him about such matters. For all that he used to seem like a bastard, Jace had grown into a near carbon copy of his father, right down to the same apparent dislike of other people’s love lives. The most Aegon ever got out of him was that he and Baela hoped they would not become betrothed to each other, supposedly because Baela already had her eyes on someone else, and even then it was clear he disliked writing about it. 

This left him with only one option. He had never enjoyed spending time in his father’s company, but then again, they had never really had much to talk about either. Perhaps Aegon’s little eavesdrop excursion could provide a much needed bridge to mend that gap. Mind made up, he made his way down towards the room where Viserys housed his model of Old Valyria, his thoughts already filled to the brim with questions.

Viserys Targaryen, First of His Name, was not in the mood for petty questions. Rumours had reached him concerning a possible visit from the adult member of the family residing on Dragonstone, and seeing Daemon again after time apart always teared on him, having what he wanted within reach and yet completely unavailable. Otto he could deal with as he always had, with polite words that hid his desperate affection, and a contained friendship he was in control of, but Daemon had never been one for rules or giving him control. His proposal to marry Rhaenyra still stung, and Viserys suspected it always would, but knowing they would come from Dragonstone together would provide an extra punch. Daemon loved to hurt him, and Viserys loved him too much to stop him. It was the curse that had haunted them ever since their youth, and most likely would until the end of their days. 

After the council meetings were finished for the day, Viserys had moved on to working on his model, doing his best to find solace in his solitude. He knew he should perhaps be spending it with his children still in King’s Landing, but they reminded him of the horrid fate he had cursed upon both his wives, and so he could not bring himself to make the effort. They were better off not knowing him, he had reasoned to himself time and time again. Their mother certainly deserved better than having to deal with him on top of her children. Even so, he did his best to stay up to date on them, their hobbies and their general wellbeing. He may be an absent father, but he refused to be a cruel one.

So Valyria it was. He was seated on one of the two chairs located at the bottom of his model when he was surprisingly greeted with a knock on his door, and the presence of his oldest son, sober, and with a glint in his eye Viserys was not ashamed to admit he knew had all but disappeared in the last few years. However, him being there of his own accord also meant he must have wanted something. After all, who spends time with their absent father willingly? 

“Aegon. I did not expect to see you today, least of all here. Is everything alright?” 

“Father.” Aegon smiled then, a genuine smile that reminded Viserys of Rhaenyra, with how all-encompassing it was on his face. “I have come here because I need some answers I don’t think anyone else in this wretched Keep possesses.” He walked closer to Viserys, grabbing the other chair, and sat down next to him, eyes glancing over the model for a moment before returning to his father. 

“Oh? Are they related to the history of our family perhaps? I know your mother is rather inept at that knowledge.” He hoped it would be something simple, and he knew his son had recently taken up an interest in the legacy of their family.

Aegon shook his head. “No. If I wanted that, I’d just seek out Aemond. He rarely leaves the library these days.” Viserys swallowed thickly, feeling his body tense at the dismissive tone. A King he may be, but he had always been more of an observer than a leader. 

“What then?” 

“Well, I suppose I-” Aegon stopped himself, seemingly conflicted over whether or not he should continue. A few seconds later, he tried again, this time clearly having made a decision.

“I want to know why you married mother. I’ve been hearing a lot of rumours around the City lately, and I know you’re not exactly the most romantic and happy of matches.” He caught his lower lip between his teeth as he finished, and gave Viserys a sheepish look.

The King sighed. He should have expected that this question would come at some point or another, but he had convinced himself that his absence would make his children simply forget about him. His role as King unfortunately made that impossible. The realisation left a sour taste in his mouth, regret seeping in like a tidal wave crashing into him. His failure stung sharply, and never had he wished more that he had heeded Rhaenyra’s advice to become more involved in his other children’s lives before she left for Dragonstone. But as with all other tragedies, it was a failure of the past he could not remedy, at least not in its entirety.

Marrying Alicent Hightower had been an action Viserys had come to regret barely a year into his marriage. He had done his duty with her as her lord husband, as much as it had pained him, but when the news came that his seed had borne fruit, he felt none of the happiness he used to share with Aemma. Instead, only dread came to him, alongside a fear he thought he would only experience once Rhaenyra got married. Not even the fact that Aegon’s birth was a relatively easy one could soothe it, for he knew one child would not be enough to satisfy the courts. Even worse, he knew his lady wife would not dare do anything that could resemble displeasing him, which meant the duty fell to him to ensure she provided another spare. The more children they had, the less they saw of each other outside of common meetings and the occasional dinner. Viserys hated himself for making her so miserable.

“That story is a long one, I’m afraid. Far longer than you’d think it to be, and filled with mistakes that belong to me alone.” He allowed himself to look at Aegon, who nodded, raising his eyebrows to gesture that he continue. “It begins with the Council of 101, when I was named the heir. Your grandsire, my-” and here he appeared to hesitate, something Aegon took notice of. “My best friend became the Hand around this time, and became a very powerful man in a very short time. When Jaehaerys passed two years later, and I was crowned, I kept him as my own Hand. I am not a proactive leader, never have been, so having him by my side has been the blessing I needed to keep the Realm together.” 

Aegon was surprised at how easily his father shared this fact, especially considering he had to be aware of Otto’s plans to put him on the throne and usurp Rhaenyra. Why admit weakness in front of a threat? 

“So you and grandsire are very close then?” Viserys shook his head, then abruptly stopped. 

“Not in the ways you may think. Our friendship is not of the traditional kind.” 

Aegon had to force himself not to laugh at that statement. If only Viserys knew how right he was.

“So is that why you married mother? To cement your alliance with Otto?” It would hardly be the first time in history an arrangement of that sort had occurred. Aegon himself could think of three off the top of his head.

“I would be lying if I said it had no influence on my decision, because it was what swayed me in the end. But it is not the primary reason, no.” Viserys considered his next words carefully. “You must understand Aegon, as Targayens, we are expected to provide more than just the usual heir and spare. Our children become bargaining chips, a means for us to make alliances and ensure our power. The more Targaryens that live, the more dragons we will also have the ability to bond with. In this current age, there are far too few of us, and with Corlys Velaryon refusing to acknowledge he too possesses the right to claim a dragon, our numbers are reduced even further. The House of the Dragon is weak, and therefore the Realm is weak.” 

Aegon leaned back in his chair, shock evident on his face. Politics had never been his forte, but learning of children as a political currency horrified him, particularly as he realised he was one of those bargaining chips, and a mighty powerful one at that. 

“The council would never have let you live with only one heir, would they? Especially not considering Daemon would have been next in line after Rhaenyra.” 

“No. The original plan was for me to marry Laena Velaryon, yes, the same Laena Daemon ended up with, but she was but a child of ten and two, and I could not bring myself to risk the same happening to her as what happened to Aemma. The maesters believe her death came because she was too young when I bedded her, and for me to do such a thing again..  It would have been the gravest of sins.” 

To hear wisdom come from his father’s mouth was rare, but Aegon found he appreciated it. 

“Corlys of course took offence to my refusal, as did his lady wife, though she later came to tell me she was grateful I did not make her daughter a woman too early. But alas, that did not solve the issue of my need to remarry.”

“So what happened?”

“Rhaenyra did. My darling tala , blessed as she is, had made a dear friend of your mother. You nearly never saw one without the other back then.” 

Before his father continued, Aegon cut in. “Mother was Rhaenyra’s jorrāelagon ? (Lover) Is that why she hates her so much?”

Considering his upbringing, Viserys did not expect Aegon to be positively inclined towards such relationships. The fact that he was wrong pleased him. His eldest was indeed a Targaryen.

“If I were to say yes, I would not be right. As far as I am aware, they never confessed to one another, but your mother was viewed by the rest of us as her paramour much more than she was viewed as her friend.”

That explained the comment Aegon had overheard from Otto. It was difficult to imagine what that time would have been like, before they fell apart and he was born, but he freely admitted it was a nice thought to ponder. His mother deserved to be loved unconditionally like that.

“And because you love Rhaenyra, you wanted to make sure mother would stay? Is that it?”

“I married her because I needed to protect my daughter, and because her happiness depended on Alicent. Marrying her was the only way I could ensure that they would both remain happy.”

Aegon wanted to pry even further, but it was clear his father was tired, and he had already given him much to think about. Before he felt comfortable leaving though, there was one matter he desired to have addressed.

“Speaking of happiness, mother keeps lamenting over the fact that you chose to marry Rhaenyra to Laenor over Daemon. Supposedly they were all over each other back in the day.”

If there had ever existed any doubt regarding whether or not Viserys Targaryen was indeed the blood of the dragon, it was sure to evaporate the second his eldest son finished his question. His eyes seemed to burn with fire, and when he spoke, it was with a clarity not heard in more than a decade, perhaps not since the last time he addressed this very matter.

“ Daor riña yno kessa mirre botagon se vējes hen issare ñuha lēkia's ābrazȳrys (No child of mine will ever suffer the fate of being my brother's wife).” The words appeared to rip themselves from his throat almost unwillingly, but his High Valyrian was the best Aegon had ever heard. Despite everything, he found himself proud of his heritage, of the fact that he was the offspring of such a man. 

“ Iksan vaoreznuni, kepa ( I’m sorry, father).” It had been years since he’d spoken Valyrian with anyone but Sunfyre, which meant his words were way less steady. Nevertheless, he received a smile from his father that Aegon knew he would cling to for as long as he possibly could. No one but Helaena looked at him with warmth these days, yet here was his father, seemingly proud of him for managing a simple phrase.

“ Aegon .” His father stood up then, placing his hand on Aegon’s shoulder. “ Emā daorun naejot sagon vaoreznuni syt ( You have nothing to be sorry for).”

“I know Daemon is a difficult matter for you. It was not proper of me to pry.”

“Stand up.” The command had him on his feet before his brain caught up to him, his instincts for once being of aid. “I know I have not been the most loving, or perhaps even present, father. But you never have to apologise to me for asking simple questions. Daemon is my burden to bear, and I pray he will never be Rhaenyra’s to handle. As much as he is your uncle by blood, he rarely does anything other than rattle me as best he can, or occasionally bother your grandsire if the opportunity presents itself.”

Aegon had to fight the urge to let his face drop open in shock. Grappling with what the words could imply, he let himself consider Otto’s earlier words in combination with his father’s, and came to a conclusion he both hoped and did not hope was incorrect: His father, uncle and grandsire were in the Realm’s most peculiar love triangle, where it seemed none believed their feelings were requited, and had been so for more years than he himself had been alive. If it wasn’t for the fact that they were all his relatives, and significantly older than himself, not to mention that they were two of the Realm’s most powerful politicians and the Rogue Prince, Aegon might have found the entire situation rather humorous. 

As it was, he had to prevent his newfound knowledge from showing on his face. Thankfully, his gratitude was more than willing to fill that role.

“Thank you for taking time to answer my questions, kepa . You are a busy man, I’m sure.”

“I-” Viserys could feel the tears building behind his eyes as he was pulled harshly into a memory from years ago, when he only had Rhaenyra, and Aemma was not so far gone that she despised pregnancy. 

“You are a busy man Viserys. Thank you for coming to see me,”

Aemma Targaryen was seven moons along in her fifth pregnancy, and as usual she seemed to glow with health and happiness whenever he saw her. 

“I’ll always make time for you. You know that.”

She eyed him, her expression telling him she was about to call him out on his half-lie. “Unless the other option is to speak with your Hand or have one of those thinly-veiled fights that I’m quite certain double as foreplay with your brother of course.”

“Aemma!” Had the accusation come from anyone but his lady wife, Viserys would have had them beheaded. As it was, he tried his best to deny the accusation, to which she merely sent him one of her looks, one that caused him to admit defeat after mere seconds. Their conversation had then turned to more pleasant matters, as they discussed names for the baby, and what sort of celebrations would be appropriate upon its birth. As he turned to leave, she stood up from her loveseat to give him a kiss. She winced as she changed position, and the sight made Viserys’ heart clench.

“I’m sorry Aemma. You deserve better than this.”

“I know. But then again, so do you.” It was a well worn conversation between them, and as usual, it marked the end of his visit. 

“I’ll be back as soon as I am able. Will you be alright?”

“Have a guard fetch me Rhaenyra and I will be.”

“Of course.”

And with a kiss on her forehead, he was gone.

“You’re my son Aegon, of course I’ll make time for you.” After a moment of hesitation, he moved closer, wrapping his arms around the teenager. “I will try to be more present in the future,” he vowed. “If that is something you should wish for.”

“ Kepa .” Aegon let himself be held, relaxing into his father’s embrace. Despite how little they had spoken in the years since his birth, he had never doubted that he was safe with his father. His faith had proved more than worth it. “I would like that very much.”

“Then I will be.” 

The words remained with Aegon for long after he had left his father’s chambers, and he could not help the smile that graced his face whenever he thought of them. As he headed towards his sister’s rooms, Aegon decided he had found his duty. His father’s may be the Realm, and his half-sister’s her role as heir, but as the first son, it was only proper he too had one. Familial peace. It appeared the true rifts in his House were caused by the most painful betrayal of them all, love, and just like the Gods give their hardest battles to their strongest soldiers, they give the most difficult of all tasks to a child yet to be faced with the illusion of love. Aegon Targaryen, Second of His Name, had work to do.

Helaena, brilliant as she was, only took one look at him before whisking him inside and giving him a glass of water. As he gulped the water down, Aegon was confronted with the rumble of his stomach, and he only had to spare her a glance before a plate of cheese and meat was placed on her table, alongside a pitcher filled with more water. He sank down onto the couch, blessing whatever Gods were listening for the softness of the fabric, and turned his attention towards his sister. 

“Sometimes I do wonder if it is foresight you are blessed with, rather than those stupid dreams.”

She laughed, freely. It was a sound Aegon hoped her future lord husband would appreciate one day the same way he did. His sister deserved nothing but the very best.

“You are just easy to read, brother. Even Aemond does not display his hunger cues so openly.”

“Well, Aemond’s a right twat, isn’t he?” He filled up his glass again, grateful that his grandsire had in a singular sprout of wisdom cut his supply to alcohol after the events on Driftmark. Who knew where he would be if he had not. 

“Be kind to him. Lucerys has only just gotten into his head that what happened on Driftmark was also partially his fault, and apparently Rhaena has been writing to him too now, asking him when he will come to visit them. He’s quite overwhelmed.”

Aegon raised his eyebrow, snorting. “He’s finally coming around then? Only took him three years, the brat.” Aemond Targaryen, second son of Viserys by Alicent, was known for his ability to hold grudges for a very long time, especially when they involved a certain future Heir of Driftmark. It had caused him and Aegon to drift apart more than their mother liked, Aegon sympathetic towards the Velaryons and their half-sister, and Aemond plotting another method of revenge every other week. Even now, with Aemond more at peace with his reality, they had yet to repair their fragmented friendship, with Helaena the only one capable of hosting them together without an argument or fight breaking out.

“I think the fact that Lucerys sent him a custom sapphire ball to replace his emerald one helped immensely. Shows he too has accepted his role in what happened.” If he did not know better, Aegon would have assumed that the young Velaryon was trying to seduce his brother into leaving it all behind him, but he refused to believe that Lucerys was capable of achieving such a feat, let alone through letters. It made the achievement all the more impressive.

“I ought to tell Jacaerys his brother has finally succeeded in his mission then. Gods know Aemond never will. At most, he will send a gift back, and ask that they never discuss it again.”

“I fear you may be right.”

As she spoke, her shoulders hunched over in a telltale sign that the spirit of dreams had overtaken her. Aegon could only watch as she mumbled, repeating the same phrase thrice before coming back to herself.

“The most beautiful tapestry is woven with green, black and golden thread.

From green and gold spins white and red, two souls swept up in a blue embrace.”

Having learnt his lesson in disturbing her following a Dream, Aegon merely reached for ink and scroll, and wrote down her newest prophecy. 

“My, my, that is quite the long one, Hel. Must be quite important then.”

She did not answer him, nor did he expect her to. It took a few minutes before she was fully back to being herself, and when he asked her if she remembered what she had said, she merely shook her head.

“Something is different. I can feel it. I have never felt so out of control before, not even after what happened with Dreamfyre.” Her voice trembled, and Aegon let himself share her fear as he responded. 

Her hands in his, he leaned forward to make sure her eyes were on him and him alone. “You are not alone, Helaena. I’m here if you want to speculate, and I’m sure our brother will be too. By the Seven, I’m sure even Jace and Luke will be too, if you let them.” He considered whether or not to tell her where he had been prior to visiting her, deciding it was better that she found out now rather than later. Letting go of her hands, he leaned back into the sofa, relaxed once more.

“I believe father could be of help too.” She stared at him, eyebrows raising in clear surprise, and Aegon clarified. “I visited him before I came here. Asked him about mother. He had a lot to say, most of it things I neither knew nor could have imagined. He asked me if I wanted him to be more involved, and I told him yes. I’m certain that pertains to you too, and Aemond.”

She appeared to ponder the thought for a moment. “Father becoming more involved would definitely benefit your cause to ensure the throne never falls to you. Perhaps we could even convince him to invite Rhaenyra and her family back here for some time. I know you miss Jace and Baela, I do as well.” 

“If by miss, you mean that you are in love with her and want him to officiate your wedding, I am inclined to agree. It does get lonely here when we are the only young people in the Keep who are not servants or guards.”

“Yes, and you need not jest, brother. I have long accepted my feelings for her, as you already know.”

“I do know. I simply find it far too sweet for my tastes.”

That earned him a chuckle. “I do believe you have yet to find a woman you did not consider too sweet for your tastes, Aegon. Makes me wonder if they are for your consumption after all.”

For all he wished he could deny it, Aegon had to agree. Women and him never seemed to match in the way society expected them to, as they always ended up as his friends rather than lovers. This fact was useful when he needed information, but mostly served as a thorn in his side, a reminder of yet another way he failed his mother (although, a voice now whispered in his ear, perhaps you have not disappointed her as much as you think). 

“Could we not discuss my appetites, Hel? We have more important matters to discuss after all.”

“What matters? Last I heard father has the council in hand for the first time in his reign, grandsire has been too distracted to attempt to manipulate you, and mother has been happier than usual. Short of you falling in love I cannot see what could be so important.”

Aegon laughed. “Oh, you will not believe this.” He launched into an explanation of the day’s events, the conversation he had overheard and the implications it bore, and how the talk with his father had all but confirmed it. A plan had begun to form in his mind, a solution that would guarantee he would never have to worry about the throne becoming his, but he would need all the help he could get if it was to work. Helaena was the natural first step. She was an expert in observation, the kind Aegon had yet to master, in the art of bodily communication. For this to work, he would need as much information as it was possible to gather without seeming suspicious, and that her skills could get him.

“So, to conclude, you believe that grandsire, father and uncle Daemon are all in love with one another, and believe they are alone in feeling the way they are, and that mother and sister are in a similar predicament?”

“Precisely.”

His response earned him a shrug and a soft smile. “And you want to get them all together, with the help of the rest of us I presume?”

“I knew I could trust you.”

“This could end with the realm set alight, you are aware of that, yes?”

“It could also solve a problem of grandsire’s own creation, and ensure peace for the next two generations at the very least. We owe our family to at least try to fix this. Targaryens are not the only ones who struggle with carnal desire for the same sex either, grandsire is proof of that. Think of the precedent this would set.”

“Aegon-” Helaena studied him, her hands twitching from where they were resting in her lap, as if they wished to grab something. “You will not back down from this, will you?” 

“Afraid not.”

A sigh. “Then yes, I will help you. On the condition that you write to Jace and get him to bring his family here. We cannot remedy this situation without all the players present, after all.”

“You are the best, Hel.”

“Save it, you will need all the flatter you can get if you plan to get Aemond in on this.”

“Shit. You are right as always.”

“Go write that letter to Jace. We will speak with him in the morning.”

“Who said I had to move to do that?”

Her eyes lit up at his tone, and her hands grabbed the nearest piece of empty scroll, leaning forward to hand it to him. Before she could move back however, the vacant look overtook her once more, and Aegon had the correct scroll in hand before she had even opened her mouth.

“Of golden threads two crowns are woven, one for the people and one for the blood. The two crowns united will be the only way for there to be concord.”

It took nearly all his might not to wrap Helaena in his arms as she collapsed back into herself, even more disoriented than she had been before. Instead, he did what he considered the next best thing, grabbing a blanket and covering her with it before lifting her up carefully and carrying her to bed. This day had been cruel to her, and Aegon hated how there was nothing he could do to help it. She was the peacemaker of their little family, the reason he stayed sane and, if he was honest, the reason he still had the courage to go behind their mother and grandsire’s backs and remain in contact with Jace. She deserved the best of them all, yet she was the one burdened with carrying their father’s gift of dreaming. 

The Gods were all cruel indeed. 

“Aegon?”

“Yes, Hel?”

“What- Why am I in bed?”

He sighed as he went to her closet, pulling out the nightgown he knew she always slept in when she needed rest desperately. 

“You had another dream. Or, well, it sounded more like a prophecy to me.” She took the gown from him and smiled softly, eyes shining with gratitude Aegon knew he did not deserve.

“Will you stay a little longer?”

“As long as you need me to. I just need to bring the scroll and ink in here so I can write to Jace too.”

Careful to close the door to the bedroom behind him, Aegon walked back to the living area and picked up the necessary supplies. As he was about to return to the bedroom, a thought struck him, and he instead opened the door leading out to the hall. He addressed Ser Erryk, Helaena’s sworn shield following a suggestion in one of Jace’s letters, and who was now keeping watch carefully, asking him to alert his mother that Helaena was unwell, but that no Maester was needed and that she simply needed rest. Initially reluctant to leave his post, the guard thankfully changed his tune once he understood the reasoning behind the request. When Alicent acted the part of the overbearing mother, there was not a single member in the Kingsguard who desired to keep watch over her children, and this reassurance from Aegon would give him the chance to disregard that concern, if only for a night. As soon as he had verified that Ser Erryk was gone, he carefully strutted over to his own chambers, returning wearing his own nightclothes and with a blanket in his hands. Chances were high he would spend the night in his sister’s chambers, after all. With his preparations complete, he finally returned to the bedroom, where Helaena, now dressed in the nightgown, was checking on her bugs. 

“You were gone for much longer than your chosen task would suggest, Aegon. What did you do?”

Aegon shrugged. “I told your shield to inform mother of your condition. Not to worry, I explicitly told him to tell her you simply needed rest, and that I had given my word that I would look after you.”

Finished with her bug inspection, his sister took his hand and squeezed it once. It had become her way of giving people hugs, and Aegon smiled as he squeezed back. “Thank you.”

“No problem, Hel. Now, I best get to writing that damned letter, if I shall have any hope of finishing it and still get a decent night’s sleep.”

“I will leave you to it then. Given your state of dress and the blanket, I’m guessing you will sleep on the couch again?”

“I can’t exactly leave you alone after such a day. Besides, that couch of yours is twice as comfortable as my bed anyhow.”

“Good night Aegon.”

After putting out all the candles in the room, save the one he would need for his letter-writing, Aegon settled in on the chair next to his sister’s bed and began drafting the letter to his dearest nephew. Despite knowing what he needed to say, it took time before the correct words found themselves on the page, and he felt ready to settle in for the night.  A short trip through his sister’s secret passage had brought him to the kitchens, where his trusted carrier awaited, as she was instructed to every other night, in exchange for his desserts twice a week. Aegon would not consider the bargain fair, but the girl had told him his use of her meant she could worry less about marriage, a struggle he could empathise with. He handed her the letter with a smirk, which she returned, before heading for the Dragonpit. Knowing his letter was in safe hands, Aegon had returned to his sister’s chambers, shoulders feeling lighter than they had in months. Before falling asleep, he sent a quick prayer to whatever Gods would listen hoping that his sister would be merciful once she discovered his corruption of her dutiful son. 

Jacaerys Velaryon, most commonly referred to as Jace, was to most people the very picture of what a dutiful son looked like. He never complained about having to attend lessons, practised his High Valyrian and sword fighting with equal fervour, and most importantly, never disobeyed his parents to such an extent that punishment was appropriate.

Jacaerys Velaryon was also a deceptor, created accidentally by his favourite uncle. 

Though the fault mostly lay with himself, it would not be entirely truthful of him to accept all the blame for the situation he now found himself in. After all, it was Aegon who had initiated the letter exchange, a mere four moons after the disastrous funeral at Driftmark. Fifteen letters were sent before Jace had built up the courage to respond. Though his letters were stilted and overly formal at first, he and Aegon soon found a common tongue to speak in. He had intended to tell his parents what he was doing when he began the correspondence, but with the two of them still in mourning over their lost friends, he felt it would be received well of him to be in contact with the person his mother feared would one day usurp her throne and cast the Realm into war. Not that Aegon even wanted the throne to begin with. Jace had received more than a few letters documenting the fear and uncertainty he felt about the whole debacle, and it was clear Aegon desperately wanted to be relieved of his concerns. It was when he received those letters that Jace wished the most that they still lived in King’s Landing, so that he could simply wrap his arms around Aegon and tell him everything would be ok, he would never have to assume the role of Heir and later King of the Seven Kingdoms. As it was, they exchanged letters as often as four times a week, though most times they restricted themselves to two, and instead made them longer.

Therefore, it came as no surprise to Jace when one of the keepers of the Dragonmount alerted him that a letter had arrived for him after he returned from his daily flight with Vermax. The scroll, closed with the sigil of House Hightower (which he knew Aegon hated, but it was the most elegant solution they had found to ensure it was not mistaken for official correspondence) was even thicker than usual, and Jace smiled as he hid the letter inside his riding leathers. Whatever had happened in King’s Landing between four days ago and now, it promised to be an entertaining read.

Jace forced himself to wait until after dinner before immersing himself in the letter. It had only been two days since Luke had smuggled his own letter out to Aemond, and Jace knew he was nervous about the other prince’s response. The gift had taken almost a full six moons to complete, with Rhaena supplying most of the materials, and Luke researching endlessly about the necessary dimensions of the ball. When he had shown it to him, it had been with a look of pride that warmed his heart deeply, and Jace had even shed a tear or two once he had left to get the package sent. Luke had grown so much in the years since the incident, and Jace only hoped that Aemond too saw it. 

Putting thoughts concerning the conflict aside, he unrolled the scroll, only to discover the thick scroll he had originally pinned it as was in fact three separate scrolls wrapped around each other. The shortest scroll was surprisingly addressed not to him, but rather his brother, with an opening line that made him let out a laugh in surprise. 

“Dear Lucerys,

Aemond, the twat he is, will never accept your apology himself, so I have taken it upon myself to do so in his stead. Any chance I get to mock my brother is a good one, as I’m sure your brother has told you, and this will be a most satisfactory way for me to humiliate him.

The gift you sent him was …”

Jace forced himself to stop reading, instead electing to wrap the scroll back up and hide it under his clothing. Once ready, he went across the hall to knock on his brother’s door. It opened after almost a minute, Lucerys’ state when he opened explaining why. 

“By all the Gods, Luke, do you not own a robe?”

Dressed in what appeared to be a hastily wrapped sheet, Luke had levelled his brother with a glare. “Unlike you, brother, I am not afraid of being improper in my own home, much less my own room.”

Jace resisted the urge to sigh. He had a letter to deliver, but more importantly, his own letter awaiting him back at his chamber’s, and squalling with Lucerys would only push his chance to read it further back. 

“Anyway, I just came here because I have something for you.” After a quick curtsey look to ensure they were alone, he reached down the inside of the doublet, and pulled out the scroll. Luke took it and began to read, brows furrowing as he did so. 

“Why would Aeg-”

“Shh. Read it in your room, and use that passageway I hate if you have questions, alright?”

Luke nodded, and went to close the door, pausing only to tell his brother to rest well.

“Good night Jace. You better go to sleep before the guards check the halls this time.”

“Night Luke. And I’ll try.”

Returning to his room, Jace finally pulled out the letter that was addressed to him, taking a moment to brush his fingers against the scroll where Aegon had written his name. It comforted him, somehow, made him feel connected to the other boy despite the distance between them. He then turned to actually reading it, soaking in every word.

“Dear Jacaerys,

First of all, I hope Lucerys appreciates my apology. I spent more time on it than I should have, because despite all his foolishness I do love my brother and know when he needs help with things. And don’t you dare laugh at me, you know just as well as I that you are even worse when it comes to Lucerys.” 

(He was. Jace still spared it a snort.)

“Anyway, the Keep has become quite a bit more interesting since I wrote to you last. I suspect Helaena will write to Baela in the morrow and tell her about it herself, but since this is a discovery I made, I wanted to make sure you were the first to be told. Firstly, I took your advice on Sunfyre’s saddle..

[...]

Finally, I had some very intriguing conversations today, and they are not with who you think. Well, to be more precise, I overheard one conversation intentionally, and was a participant in another. I know you hate discussing the love lives of our family, but listen to this: I heard mother and grandsire talking, and supposedly, people thought your mother and mine were lovers back in the day? Can you imagine? And not only that, mother is far from being over her, rather the opposite, and grandsire did not even scold her for it. I was on my way to Sunfyre when I heard them, but there was no way I would be able to fly after that. So you know what I did? I visited my father. Yes, father. Before you let your mind run wild, it was not a random decision. Father is the only other adult in this godsforsaken castle who both has insight into and would be willing to share what was actually going on with the two of them. It’s fascinating, really. They had everyone but themselves convinced they were lovers, and according to father it was one of the reasons he married mother, to protect their happiness. Yes, I know, stupid. In what world would that marriage have gone over well with any lord’s daughter? I certainly hope your mother does not make such a stupid decision, though I suppose the fact that she is still married, and from what I know happily so, to your father, prevents her from doing so. (I apologise again for three years ago. I know you know Aemond was angry and in far too much pain to be anything resembling sane, but I hated seeing you suffer like that, especially since Ser Strong did react so strongly.)”

Jace knew he regretted it. He might not know the full truth of why it stung, but he knew enough to still feel sorry for it, and that was part of why Jace found himself willing to write to him. It drew a sad smile to his face that Aegon remembered that day as well as he did, and he took a moment to let the familiar emotions pass through him before he continued.

“Speaking of, mother still complains about him. Can you believe it? I know Ser Laenor appears to be the perfect lord husband and everything, but with the way she’s lamenting, even that joke of a Lannister lord would seem better. She’s not calling you bastards at all anymore, not that she did that all that much to begin with, but she has said she hopes you’re growing to look more like Rhaenyra than him. I thought that was just her being upset about her own marriage being one of duty alone, but considering what I’ve heard today, I’m wondering if it’s a different kind of jealousy she’s exhibiting. 

Mother is lonely, you know. She never talks about it, but I can tell that she misses having company that is out of choice rather than obligation. I feel sorry for her. Honestly, we’re all lonely. Aemond spends more time with books than people because the only people he has here he either hates or barely tolerates, Helaena has to cope with me barging in nearly every day and not leaving her alone, and I’m just doing everything I can to avoid grandsire so that this disastrous plot of his fails way before it had even had a chance to begin with. I don’t want the throne, I don’t want to be on the council, I just want to live my life and not be judged for it. If everything goes the way it should, you will be King one day. I won’t lie and say that thought does not please me, because it does. You are the most honourable of us all, and I hope that whoever your lady wife ends up being is equally respectable. It’s truly a wonder anyone doubted your parentage, your father is much the same, from what the stories tell me.

[...]

I’ve written the last of this on a separate page for a reason. I know you’re hiding these letters from my sister, but sooner or later she will find out and I need that time to be now. You haven’t visited us in years and I know father is desperate to see all of you again, and King’s Landing also deserves to see the side of the family that will rule one day. I know Rhaenyra will take some convincing, which is why the last of this is written to her. I’ve done my best to ensure the information in it is accurate, and I hope she understands the point it makes about mother, but for all of that to happen I need you to be honest with her. The Red Keep is not what it was before you left, for better and for worse, and truthfully it will either be that you come to me or I fly in on Sunfyre one of these days. Which I would not recommend, I have no interest in risking my life more than I already have. 

Your mother and mine both deserve happiness, and truthfully I fear for what will happen to the rest of us if we remain separated any longer as well. So please, Jacaerys. Tell her. If not for me then for her. 

Yours,

Aegon

Jace read the following page. It was a summary of events he had mostly heard of, but some of the more political recollections were unfamiliar to him. Aegon was clearly making an effort to appeal to his sister as much as he could, his tone much more formal and the sharp statements he tended to make absent. This was not a letter written by Aegon, part time schemer and Jace’s best friend, rather it was written by Aegon Targaren, first born son of the King. The thought made him frown. Was Aegon making the effort because he believed Jace would doubt his sincerity?

The thought troubled him even as he put the letter away and prepared for sleep. It was true that he was hesitant to share their contact with his mother, but on the other hand, Jace’s duty dictated that he did what was best for his family regardless of how much it would trouble him personally.

He weighed the options against one another once. Twice. Three times. What was the right course of action? Would taking a risk pay off this time? It had with Luke, who was to say it would not work once more? But what of their safety? 

Almost three hours passed before he arrived at his answer. The more he considered it, the more obvious it had felt, and he had even felt the urge to laugh at himself for not seeing it sooner. It came down to a single question; What mattered more, happiness or safety? There could only be one answer. As he fell asleep, hoping to get some rest before the coming day that he knew would be demanding if things went his way, he sent a small prayer out to whoever would listen, asking that what he was about to do would not end with bloodshed.

They were dragonriders. Safety had never been of their concern.

The morning following Jace’s retrieval of the letter marked the turning point in the tide for House Targaryen. It saw the beginning of broken bonds beginning to be mended, the first step towards unity, and most importantly, the first time five people desperately in love would get the chance to consider the possibility of their love becoming reality. How ironic it was, that their fires were kept warm not by the passion of the elders, but rather by the naivety and kindness of those younger, who only desired to see their parents happy.

Aegon had originally planned to speak with his brother about his plans the following day. Said plans were thwarted by none other than his grandsire, who demanded he study the beginning of King Jaehaerys' rule in an effort to understand the most important qualities of a good ruler. Despite knowing that knowledge would not be of much usage to him if he had his way, Aegon nonetheless complied. It would give him a good excuse to properly process the events of the previous day, and the potential ramifications of his actions. If Jace listened, he would soon be faced with his sister and her family again, and given the tensions between the adults of their families, the reunion would only be a smooth one between those already in contact with each other, which meant he would have to bear the ensuing awkwardness for at least a moon or even longer. His plans to play matchmaker would have to be subtle, and subtle meant working slowly. Hiding a parchment underneath his notes, Aegon began to write down ideas, trying his best to keep the smirk off his face as he did so.

He spent the night in Helaena’s chambers once more, the two of them discussing his ideas and finding new ones, with his sister particularly helpful regarding their mother and sister. They plotted far into the night, and when he finally slept, the first strips of sunlight could be seen through the curtains.

Across Blackwater Bay and then some, Jace was woken up by the insistent knocking of his brother. The characteristic three-two rhythm of the fist hitting the door forced him to get up and open it, completely aware that he must have looked exhausted.

Lucerys confirmed as much as he entered. “You look like shit. How much, or rather, should I say little, did you sleep?”

Not in the mood for a disagreement, Jace acquiesced. “Five hours, I think. No, wait, closer to four, considering that I woke up at some point and took time to fall back asleep. Aegon’s letter troubled me, you see.”

“I can tell.” His tone was mocking.

“Oh, you can? I figure I should ask then, how was his letter to you?

“It was enlightening. He seems to take great pleasure in calling Aemond a bastard, but otherwise his apology was heartfelt. Supposedly the emerald ball Aemond used to wear has been sitting at his desk since he got my letter, so that’s nice.”

Jace nodded. “Needless to say, his letter to me was a bit more, shall we call it distressing?” He sighed, turning towards the windows that let him view the vast ocean beyond their island. “He asked me to show the letter to mother and explain that we’ve been in contact for a long time, because he needs me to convince her to have us return to King’s Landing.”

“And you’re going to do it.” It wasn’t a question, merely a statement, accompanied by a nod. “What do you need me to do?”

“Back me up, if necessary. Aegon, he- uhm, he implied that there might be more to the relationship between our mothers than we may have thought, but that further elaboration would have to be done in person.”

“Playing matchmaker, is he? I’m in. Mother deserves the same happiness our fathers have. Did he say whether or not to have Daemon, Baela and Rhaena join us?”

“He did say the whole family should come, and that includes them. Harwin too, if father has any say. His letter to Rhaenyra was quite precise in its demands, if you are to call it that.”

“Well then, lead the way. It seems we have a mother to convince.”

Where one set of brothers were in agreement, the other was caught in the middle of quite the argument.

“Aemond-”

“No. Absolutely not. What were you thinking? Were you even thinking at all?”

“Do you really think I would call my sister here on a whim?”

“I don’t know what to think of you anymore, Aegon. It’s not as though we talk much.”

Ouch. That stung. Aegon brushed it off as best he could whilst he prepared to justify his actions. “I overheard mother and grandsire having a most enlightening argument, if you must know. If there has been any truth to the many times you have uttered that I would be a terrible king, you better listen to me. Me and Hel are trying to salvage the disaster that is our parents’ relationships, and make sure I firmly remain in my place of succession as it currently stands. The only way we can even begin that process is if Rhaenyra and her brood are here. And don’t think I’m stupid enough not to know that you do want to see Lucerys again, if only to test his fighting capabilities.”

“My, my, brother, are you trying to become the next Master of Whispers?” Aemond fixed his glare on him for all of ten seconds before their sister finally stepped in. 

“You two, stop it. Aemond, I know you are hesitant, but so was I. And yet here I am, supporting Aegon. Don’t you think that means something?”

Aegon had to stifle a laugh as his brother’s defences quickly crumbled to pieces before their eyes. He may fancy himself the most proper sibling, but in truth it was their sister who held the final word in all their arguments.

“I’m sorry, Helaena. You’re right. But whatever it is you’re planning-” and here he turned to point his finger at Aegon. “You better keep me informed. I won’t have you tear our family apart just because your schemes could not hold up.”

An eye roll and a sigh accompanied Aegon’s response. “Why do you think I called you here? I am many things, Aemond, but I am no fool. I know my weaknesses, and so does Hel.” He raised his eyebrows in a sign of challenge then. “Which is why you’re going to help us.”

“May the Seven or whoever is listening be with us then. We all know luck never is.”

Convincing their mother was one thing. Convincing the crown princess was quite another.

Jace and Luke had hoped to catch her alone, shortly after breakfast. Normally both Laenor and Daemon would be taking Seasmoke and Caraxes for a flight then, and be away for at least two hours, but as their luck would have it, Laenor stayed behind, instead helping his lady wife sort out correspondence from Driftmark. Their father, for all that they loved him, had a tendency to support his lady wife’s opinions to a fault, and could be even more rooted in his opinions than her at times.

Nevertheless, they decided to make an attempt. If they failed, they could always try again the next morning. They approached the semi-open door to their mother’s chambers to see her sitting by her desk, their father standing behind her reading something over her shoulder.

“Mother, father.”

Two heads turned in surprise at seeing their sons at the door.

“Jace, Luke. Are you not supposed to be in your lessons at this time?” It was their mother who spoke.

“We persuaded our tutor to take the day off. His daughter just had a baby, so it was easy enough to push him towards paying her a visit.” 

Their mother sighed, then waved her hand. “Come in, then. Clearly you disturbed us for a reason.”

Entering into the room, Luke looked to Jace with his eyes asking him a clear question. Should we still try? Jace nodded, making the movement as small as possible. It still failed to go undetected by their father.

“What is it?” His tone was open, welcoming.

“Well, uhm,” Jace hesitated, unsure of how to proceed. “Something’s come up that is beyond what we can, or I suppose, should handle.” He tried to emulate the polite speech they had learned from their tutors, the words feeling foreign in his mouth. “We, well rather it was me first and Lucerys became a part of it later on, we-”

Lucerys however, had never been one for subtlety, and Jace to resist the urge to slap himself as he was interrupted. “We’ve been exchanging correspondence with our aunt and uncles in King’s Landing for about two and a half years now. Baela and Rhaena are in on it too.” 

“Luke, really? I thought we agreed that I would lead this conversation.”

“And take forever to arrive at the point? They are our parents, Jace, not some hypothetical figure in court we’re supposed to convince.”

Laenor watched the exchange with a furrowed brow, an expression his lady wife soon shared.

“Boys. What exactly do you mean by correspondence?” Rhaenyra’s tone was harder than they were used to.

“Well, a few different things? Mostly letters, but gifts too. Luke sent Aemond a sapphire ball for his eye not even a week ago.”

He got an elbow in his side for that revelation. It was not enough to make him regret it.

“Jacaerys, what exactly is it you have been sharing between each other? Secrets? Taunts? I won’t have you acting like the small children you were years ago.”

Both boys shook their heads. “No, mother. Nothing like that. Unless you count Aemond’s first letter to me.” Luke had the decency to look down as he spoke, which Jace took as a sign to take the lead once more.

“It was Aegon who started it. He wrote to me several times a few moons after the incident at Driftmark, apologising for the behaviour of his family. I eventually built up the courage to respond, and, well, we’ve built a friendship since then. He keeps me updated on how things are in King’s Landing, insults his brother quite a bit if he can, and laments about how we are so far away and thus how their existence is so lonely. It’s been nice, mother. He’s a good person. I know Baela has gotten a lot out of her conversations with Helaena too.”

Rhaenyra stood up, then, walking over to her children.

“Why was I not informed of this? Or your father? Surely such important information was not withheld from us deliberately?”

Jace’s gaze joined his brother’s on the floor. “I’m sorry, mother. We were worried you would make us stop if you knew. Daemon’s attitude towards them is far from the best, and we know you value his counsel. Both Baela and Rhaena worry about it, it is a conversation we have often.”

Laenor snorted. “My brother in law does have a flair for both the dramatics and the extremes, I agree with you there. But that does not explain why you thought it was a good idea to continue this risky endeavour. What would you have done if you were caught?”

“I admit, we did not dare consider it.” There was no point in lying when one was laid bare, after all. 

“Boys.” Their mother’s tone was soft, gentle. “I assume you told us now for a reason, yes? We can revisit the issue of your lie later, and rest assured, we shall, but for now, I think it wise that you tell us what really brought you here.”

Jace took out the scroll, the one Aegon had written specifically to his mother. “In his last letter, Aegon included this. I’ve read through it already myself. He asked that we return to King’s Landing as soon as we are able. All of us. I do not understand the full extent of why, but he was rather clear that it is necessary for both them and us.”

Rhaenyra took the scroll and placed it on her desk. “I’m sure he has his reasons, but this is not a decision children are capable of making. I can understand your desire to see them again and remedy the ills of your pasts in person, but that is hardly enough reason for us to go through the issue of relocating to King’s Landing. Especially not considering the reason we are here in the first place.”

“Mother, please.” Luke had put on his pleading face, puppy eyes as strong as he could make them. “Just consider it, at least. That is all we ask.”

“And take what he has to say seriously. Whatever you think he is like, it’s wrong. He’s very different, and that letter reflects that.”

“I think-” Laenor cut in. “Your mother and I have much to discuss. Thank you for being honest with us. But do not fault us for whatever decision we come to. It is as your mother said, a decision with many factors to consider.”

“Yes, father.” They shuffled out of the room then, presumably to look after their dragons, leaving their parents behind. Rhaenyra sat down again, reading the scroll with her husband copying her over her shoulder. Jace had been right about one thing at least. The Aegon who had written this letter was not the same Aegon they had seen at Driftmark, or King’s Landing before then. It made them both smile, despite the somewhat grim matters he was writing about. 

Once they had both read the letter, they quickly agreed to leave their discussion for after they had finished drafting a response to a different request, one made by Corlys. The next hour was spent discussing his proposal to have Lucerys move to Driftmark, with them eventually agreeing to compromise, requesting that he delay the proposition by another two years, and that he in return would be hosting both Luke and Rhaena when the time came. Once they were done, they knew the impending discussion could be delayed no longer.

“I must admit, he does present a rather worrying situation.” They had relocated to the adjacent sitting area, still taking up the same positions they always had, with Rhaenyra in one armchair and Laenor in the one opposite hers.

“I hate to admit it, but I agree. For my brother to have noticed so clearly, it must be even tenser than what he describes.” 

“You worry for him.” He leaned forward slightly, adjusting his position. 

“Yes. It is no secret that there are those who would rather see him on the throne than me once father passes.” She let her gaze drop, studying her nails intensely. “Including his mother.”

“You do not know that. I know what she did at our wedding was unfair, but that is hardly evidence of her committing such a betrayal.”

“What reasons do I have not to, Laenor? Answer me that.” 

Her lord husband had the decency to pause at her harsh tone, eyes shining with empathy. “I know that losing her still plagues you. But you made a choice, and so did she. You acted irresponsibly and lost something precious in response. It’s a pattern you have.”

“Laenor-”

“Though I must say, in one instance, it did work in my favour, so I cannot exactly complain.”

“Laenor!”

“What?” His tone was almost mocking with how lighthearted it was.

“Can you not? I am trying to make a decision that will affect our lives drastically no matter the direction we take. This is no time for jests or jokes.”

He rolled his eyes. “You know me, my dear lady wife. I can never let any opportunity to laugh at your expense escape me. Nevertheless, I shall respect your wishes.”

“Thank you.” She appeared to study his face for a moment, assessing the legitimacy of his response. Seemingly satisfied with what she found, she leaned back into her seat and began fickling with her hands. “I am not confident in either option. Leaving Dragonstone would make us more vulnerable to those vultures that reside within the Keep, but on the other hand, my duty to the Realm dictates that I should be more involved in the council’s business than I currently am. Aegon’s letter is also proof that there are allies to be found that we previously were unaware of, and I would be a fool to ignore that.”

“It would also allow us to test the Daemon theory.” At her raised brows, he threw his hands up in defiance. “What? I know you are just as curious as I am about that relationship. And your father certainly needs company.” He seemed to ponder a thought for a moment, before smirking slightly. “Perhaps I ought to make him jealous. I know Daemon well enough to know how to make him flustered.”

“And risk your head on a pike? I’d rather not.” Rhaenyra sighed, appearing just as lost as he felt. “Would it truly be so bad? I miss my father, and it is well past time I acted as the Heir of the Realm, do you not agree?”

Laenor smiled at his lady wife. “You may not notice it yourself, but there is not a member of this household, whether servant or family, who doubts that you are the Heir. Whether we elect to remain here or go back to King’s Landing, that opinion will not change. It is only a matter of what we think will be best for all of us long term.”

“You want us to leave.”

“I was not sure before, but yes, I do. You deserve a chance at reconciling with Alicent, and our children deserve to nurture those bonds they have mended. It may be risky, but we base our lives on risks. No dragonrider has ever considered their safety before the chance of growing prosperity or happiness, after all.”

Rhaenyra took her time pondering his words. She found herself smiling at the reminder that her lord husband was well suited to the role the court would demand of him when the time came, strong and fiercely loyal to her and their children. As much as she despised being convinced, she knew when to admit she was beaten. Finally, after a long moment, she acquiesced. “You’re right. Dragonstone may be my seat but King’s Landing is our home.”

They stood, and embraced, Laenor giving her a gentle kiss on her cheek before he let go. “You go inform the boys. I shall discuss the development with Daemon once he returns.”

“Good luck with that. You better hope his fire is mostly burnt out today, otherwise I fear what may happen to you when he finds out he has been playing the fool for the better part of two years.”

The House of the Dragon was about to become one once more. What lay ahead was a mystery to all save one, yet she too had not quite understood the many changes fate had planned. As the Heirs prepared to reunite, threads that had long hung alone were about to begin the motifs of their tapestries, weaving together in harmony despite the people remaining unaware. A long journey lay ahead, but the groundwork was done, a foundation that none could rock.

King’s Landing was not prepared for what was to come.