When the blood of the dragon meets the soul of the dragon, the continent begins to burn.
The Baratheons are steadfast, strong, and formidable. Leanna Baratheon is no different. She is the storm, and no one, Targaryen or other, will bring her down.
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The birth of Aegon Targaryen to the Queen Consort Alicent sends the Small Council into chaos. At least, every member except Leanna and Viserys himself. She sits calmly through their disbelief at Viserys's reluctance to revoke Rhaenyra's position as his heir. Refusing to acknowledge their distress. Accepting their complaints with a silent smirk.
"There is no point keeping that girl as your heir when you have a perfectly healthy son!" Otto protests. All of the men around the table are standing, voices raised and outraged. Leanna rolls the sphere before her lazily.
"That 'girl' is your future queen, Otto. You will name her with respect." He turns to her, ready to snap back in retaliation. Leanna isn't finished. "And we will not be quick to forget that it was your bribery that married the king and Alicent. Just to put your blood on the throne, is that it?"
"We all know your opinion is against ours, Lady Leanna," Grand Maester Runciter chides.
"That, and I think it is foolish for all of you, grown men and lords with influence, to argue over the sworn blood right of a princess when my husband is fighting a war you refuse to acknowledge." Otto scoffs. Leanna, sharply, stands. The lord shrinks before her, for she is as tall as he and just as angry.
She is a force, more so now than in her youth. Still young, and yet her years in Court have hardened her into a true politician. One with a fiery tongue, and one that even these lords would not be quick to butt heads with. Otto was just about the only one that would press her to any extent. As of late, their arguments were becoming positively explosive.
"I would not expect you to understand, Otto. You have not faced war. You are not even skilled with a blade. How would you know what it means to ride into a battle? As we speak, there are forces attacking our shores. The land that all of you swore to protect. The casualties have been grave, unless you forget the amount of ships nearly all of us have lost in the Narrow Sea these past years. Is that a loss you are willing to overlook because it does not touch Oldtown?" She tilts her head, knuckles pressed into the table.
"Daemon and Corlys seem to be managing just fine with two dragons," Otto retorts. "Allowing Daemon to play at war keeps him from Court, and I think we can all agree that is for the best."
Leanna turns to Viserys. The king is watching her with a guarded expression, though he seems to already know her mind. Her head is shaking as she smirks.
"Perhaps, my Lord, Otto would benefit from an excursion to the Stepstones. Don't you think your Advisor should know something of battle strategy?"
"Leanna," he starts to warn. She tilts her head, smirk fading.
"Unless you fear that such an...important...figure would not be able to stomach the bitter truth of how this land is defended. Perhaps he is too weak. Alas, that must be it," shaking her head, she sinks back into her seat. "Pity, that all of us would trust someone so unwilling to dirty his shoes for the betterment of his king."
