𝐒𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐇𝐞𝐫 𝐍𝐚𝐦𝐞 - 𝐇𝐎𝐓𝐃

𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝘽𝙧𝙞𝙙𝙜𝙚 𝙩𝙤 𝘿𝙧𝙖𝙜𝙤𝙣𝙨𝙩𝙤𝙣𝙚.

Daemon is not surprised to see her.

"Where have you been?"

He does not notice the dragon she'd arrived on, too grief-stricken. "Helping her back onto her throne. Tyraxes will arrive soon, I've brought Seasmoke." He doesn't rejoice and praise her skill and thought like she expects him to. "Papa?"

"Your loyalties?"

"What about them?"

"Where do they fucking lie?"

Visenya isn't intimidated when he moves close to her so suddenly. "My loyalties lie with no one but myself and the Queen."

He lets out a sardonic chuckle, placing his hand on her shoulder. "Not that husband of yours? Married for five days and you've come running back." Her head is cast down in slight embarrassment. "You're not welcome here if you have knelt to that cunt."

"I kneel to no one but the Queen."

"I will know if you lie, and I will kill you."

She was sarcastic in her response. "Thank you. Is she well?"

"The babe is dead."

Her mouth falls open at the statement, the smirk from her previous comment had disappeared. "I'm so sorry, papa." He nods, accepting her embrace, clinging to her tight.

⚔

The ache in Rhaenyra's heart threatens to overcome her.

Standing at one daughter's funeral, unsure of the state of her elder.

As she stares into the flames that engulfed her baby, she wonders if this was punishment for all the bad she'd done, every rule broken, no matter how trivial. "I mean no harm, brothers."

All watch Erryk as he kneels before her, the younger princess lurking as a shadow in the background. "I swear to ward the Queen with all my strength and give my blood for hers. I shall take no wife, hold no lands, father no children. I shall guard her secrets, obey her command, ride at her side and defend her name and honor."

Visenya couldn't resist approaching him, softly taking the crown into her hands, turning to her sorrowful monarch who only cocks her head at the sudden appearance.

"My Queen." She addresses, placing the gold firmly on her head, a snug fit, before dropping onto one knee, not worrying to dirty her gown. 

"You're here."

She smiles a little. "I arrived not too long ago."

⚔

"Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen, First of Her Name. Queen of the Andals and the Rhoynar, and the First Men. Lady of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm." 

Visenya announces her mother's title to the room with a tiny, satisfied smile. "Your Grace."

"Wine, my Queen."

"Thank you, Rhaena. Come."

They gather around the newly lit table map, looking at their new Queen with expectance. "What is our standing?"

Daemon is fast. "We have thirty knights, a hundred crossbowmen and three hundred men at arms. Dragonstone is relatively easy to defend, but as an instrument of conquest, our army leaves a lot to be desired. We have sent word to my loyal men in the City Watch, I'll have some support there but I cannot speak to the numbers."

"We already have declarations from Celtigar and Staunton, Massey, Darklyn, Bar Emmon."

"My Lady Mother was an Arryn, the Vale will not turn cloak against their own kin."

"Riverrun was always a close friend to your father, your Grace. With Prince Daemon's acquiescence, I've already sent ravens to Lord Grover."

"Lord Grover is fickle and easily swayed. He will need to be convinced of the strength of our position and that we will support him should it come to war."

"I'm going to treat with him myself." Daemon pipes up. 

"What of Storm's End and Winterfell? There has never lived a Stark who forgot an oath, and with House Stark the North will follow."

Rhaenyra notices her daughter's uncomfortable shift. "Lord Borros Baratheon will need to be reminded of his father's promises. Stark shall be easily swayed, should the right person go."

"I'm not too sure of that, my Queen." Visenya objects.

The Queen stares her down, a more motherly stare, before turning to Rhaenys. "What news from Driftmark?"

"Lord Corlys sails for Dragonstone."

"To declare for his Queen."

The Velaryon continues. "The Velaryon fleet is in my husband's yoke, he decides where they sail."

"We shall pray for both you and your husband's support. Just as we prayed nightly for the Sea Snake's return to good health. There's no port on the Narrow Sea that would dare to make an enemy of the Velaryon fleet." Rhaenyra faces the table once more. "And our enemies?"

Visenya speaks this time. "We have no friends among the Lannisters. Tyland has served the Hand too long to turn against him and Otto Hightower needs the Lannister fleet. Without them, we are not likely to find any allies West of the Golden Tooth, the Riverlands are essential."

"Pray forgive my bluntness, your Grace, but talk of men is moot. Your cause owns a power that has not been seen in this world since the days of Old Valyria. Dragons."

"The Greens have dragons as well."

"They have three adults, by my count. We have Syrax, Caraxes, Meleys, Tyraxes and I've brought Seasmoke with me. Jace and Luke have Vermax and Arrax, Baela has Moondancer."

Rhaenyra nearly huffs at her. "Visenya, none of our dragons have been to war."

"Mother, there are more. We can claim Vermithor and Silverwing and the three unclaimed dragons here. That's thirteen to their four."

"And what of your husband, Visenya Targaryen?"

Breath hitching in her throat, Visenya opens her mouth, very little speech exiting it. "He remains at King's Landing, after swearing fealty to his brother."

"I also have a score of eggs incubating in the Dragonmont." Daemon wraps an arm around his stepdaughter's shoulders, changing the subject. "We need a place to gather. A toehold large enough to house a sizable host. Harrenhal. We cut off the West, surrounding King's Landing with the dragons. And we could have every Green head mounted on spikes before the fucking moon turns."

Erryk rushes in, pace quick. "Your Grace, a ship has been sighted offshore. A lone galleon, flying a banner of a three-headed green dragon."

"Alert the watchtowers, sight the skies."

⚔

Along the walkway is Daemon, Visenya, and several knights of the Queensguard. The pair talk quietly.

"Should it come to war," She hums, urging him to continue. "would you kill him?"

"Who, papa?"

"Your husband."

The princess sucks in a deep breath as she takes notice of Otto Hightower further away. "I wouldn't be able to," She has a pained smile on her face as she pats his shoulder. "I'd rather you bear the burden, it is what you are for." 

"Killing him isn't necessarily a burden."

The Greens have finally reached them. "I come at the behest of the Dowager Queen Alicent, mother of King Aegon, Second of His Name, Lord and Protector of the Seven Kingdoms. I've been directed to deliver her message only to Princess Rhaenyra. Where is the Princess?"

Syrax releases a fleeting cry, announcing her presence as she circles them a number of times before landing, stones breaking off the walkway under her claws.

Rhaenyra dismounts, walking swiftly to stand by her husband and daughter. "Princess Rhaenyra."

"I'm Queen Rhaenyra now, and you all are traitors to the realm."

"King Aegon Targaryen, Second of His Name, in his wisdom and desire for peace, is offering terms. Acknowledge Aegon as King and swear obeisance before the Iron Throne. In exchange, His Grace will confirm your possession of Dragonstone. It will pass to your trueborn son, Jacaerys, upon your death. Lucerys will now be confirmed as the legitimate heir to Driftmark, and all the lands and holdings of House Velaryon. Prince Aemond is fully willing to reconcile with Visenya, and has agreed to reside in a place of her choosing."

Visenya takes in a breath, murmuring. "How generous."

"Your sons by Prince Daemon will also be given places of high honour at court: Aegon the younger as the King's squire, Viserys as his cupbearer. Finally, the King in his good grace, will pardon any knight or lord who conspired against his ascent."

Daemon's face remains unimpressed. "I would rather feed my sons to the dragons than have them carry shields and cups for your drunken, usurper cunt of a king. Your Prince Aemond is daft if he thinks Visenya is returning."

"Aegon Targaryen sits the Iron Throne. He wears the Conquerer's crown, wields the Conquerer's sword, has the Conquerer's name. He was anointed by a septon of the Faith before the eyes of thousands, including Princess Visenya's. Every symbol of legitimacy belongs to him. And then there is Stark, Tully, Baratheon, Houses that have also received and are, at present, considering generous terms from their king."

"Stark, Tully and Baratheon all swore to me when King Viserys named me his heir."

Otto steps forward. "Stale oaths will not put you on the Iron Throne, Princess. The succession changed the day your father sired a son. I only regret that he and you were the last to see the truth of it."

Knights on his side attach their hands to the hilts of their swords as Visenya approaches him, ripping the pin representing a Hand off of his uniform. "You are no more Hand than Aegon is King, you fucking traitor."

The older man only looks down into her eyes with what seemed to be sadness. "Grand Maester." A folded sheet was passed. "Queen Alicent has not forgotten the love your mother and her once had for each other." She passes the page to her mother.

"No blood need to be spilled so the realm can carry on in peace."

"There will be no peace under Aegon's reign, I promise you that." 

Pursing his lips at Visenya's words, Otto speaks just loud enough for her and her parents to hear. "Your husband begs for you to return to him, both him and Queen Alicent eagerly await your answer."

Daemon pulls her back, protectively. "She can have her answer now, stuffed in her father's mouth along with his withered cock. Let's end this mummer's farce." With his drawn blade, all knights follow suit. "Ser Erryk, bring me Lord Hightower so I may take the pleasure myself."

Syrax gains their attention with a roar. "No." The Queen says. Her husband obeys with hesitance and annoyance. "King's Landing will have my answer on the morrow."

Rhaenyra turns to leave, walking through her guards as the Prince followed after. "Is he alright?" Otto raises a brow at her sudden sentiment, although her voice is stern. "Is Aemond alright?"

"Visenya." Daemon calls, almost as a warning, urging her to come after him.

"He is a little less than fine, Princess."

She takes the cryptic answer, quickly turning to return home.

⚔

"It's not easy thing for a man to be a dragonslayer, but dragons can kill dragons. And have. The simple truth is this: we have more dragons than Aegon."

"Viserys spoke often of the Valyrian histories, I know them well. When dragons flew to war everything burned. I do not wish to rule over a kingdom of ash and bone."

"Are you considering the Hightowers' terms, Your Grace?"

"As Queen, what is my duty to the realm, Lord Bartimos? Ensuring peace and unity, or that I sit the Iron Throne no matter the cost?"

Daemon sighs. "That's your father talking."

"My father's dead. And he chose me as his successor to defend the realm, not cast it headlong into war."

"The enemy have declared war. What are you going to do about it?"

The silent hostility makes Visenya anxious, she speaks uncertain as an ache runs through her head and down her back. "Perhaps I can write to Aemond, or see him. He'll help in sorting this whole situation." 

"Don't be fucking daft."

Rhaenyra's face is stoic, a calmer rage present in her voice. "Clear the room."

⚔

Jacaerys and Lucerys stare at their sister in worry, just hours after their mother's demands to have the room of the painted table cleared.

"I'm calling mother-"

"Don't."

Visenya is hunched over, fingernails a pale shade from gripping the sofa fabric, a sickly sheen coating her skin as her throat bobs in uncomfort to battle the upcoming vomit. The door swings open. "What is going on in here?"

She winces. "I thought I told you not to tell."

Daemon shakes his head, joining her side as she falls foward onto the rug, her hands catching her as her knees join too. She now resides on all fours, like a sick dog. The heat radiating from the fireplace hadn't done much for the gloss across her face, her hair sticking down to whatever moisture it could find on her skin. "Breathe."

Trying to do as she is advised, shaky heaves leaving her mouth, Visenya could no longer control herself. A stream of vomit leaves her, instantly launching into the fireplace. The Prince Consort watches almost in horror as he witnesses the contents of her stomach burning, just about noticing her falling back against the sofa, unable to stand up to sit down properly. "Wine, now, Luke!"

Lucerys hands him the wine, leaning into his equally worried brother's side as they watch Daemon press the cup to her lips. "Drink."

"Papa." She murmured, lips parting just enough for the deep red liquid to slip through, washing over the foul tastes in her throat.

"You need tea."

"No. No." Visenya rasps, head lulling from side to side as she grasps at his collar. "I need. Sleep."

Her body limp with exhaustion, and he releases a sigh, facing the young princes. "I'll take her to her quarters. You must not utter a word of this to your mother, not until I say so."