Rhaenyra taps her fingers against the table, considering the illuminated map. Around her, the room is relatively silent.
"Is there going to be a war?" Laena whispers. Her gaze darts back to the door. To where her newborn daughters are under the watchful eye of a nurse, far away at Storm's End. "No falsehoods. If this is going to happen, we all have the right to know."
"As we speak the Greens will know we are meeting," Corlys answers from his position by the windows. He watches the dragons circle the sky outside, like great vultures. Caraxes, Syrax, and Meleys, with the larger dragons Vermithor and Vhagar, along with the young recluse Seasmoke, landed somewhere else on the island.
"As we have learned of their meetings in Oldtown as of late. And the conspiracy in the capitol itself that allowed Otto to return," Leanna offers, stretching her hand out. "He has not made it easy for me to return as Hand."
"No, and I cannot imagine he will allow you to remain as Hand for much longer," Rhaenys sighs, stationed near Corlys. "He knows how deeply you are entrenched in Rhaenyra's counsel. He will not allow your influence over the Small Council any longer."
"Yes, I've thought of that."
"How can we stop him?" Orlys asks. "Without declaring an outright physical battle."
"It will come to that." The gathering turn to the speaker. Not one they expected, in any way.
Rhaella, under Daemon and Ser Orwell, has become a warrior. Honed finely, with a mind for battle stronger than any Leanna has ever seen. She spends hours studying the battle plans of ages gone by. Honing herself in the fashion of Aegon the Conqueror.
"Do you care to explain, Lady Rhaella?" Corlys presses, regarding the girl with a trained eye.
"Certainly," she offers, stepping from the shadows. Moving something like a soldier, somber in this meeting. Yet there is a light to her eyes. Burning bright. She lays the image before them with her words. "The Greens have long been gathering cause against us, and we against them. There have been deaths already. Deaths on our behalf, and yet we have not called war. We have been too gracious with them, and they know it. They gather troops quietly, and across the continent. Viserys's health will continue to decline, and with it the power of the Greens in King's Landing will continue to rise. Alicent and Otto will claim the Small Council, and replace our supporters one by one. Eventually, as tensions continue to grow, there must be a breaking point. More of us are going to die, and it will not be pretty."
"How can we avoid an outright civil war, then?" Rhaenyra presses her fingers to her temple, staring down at the table. "Why do they continue to press us so?"
"They're waiting for you to break, that's why," Daemon answers. "To grow angry enough to make a blow so intense that they must retaliate. To make it look like their hand has been forced and they had no choice. They will let this tension fester until it comes to a head."
"Why does Viserys not stop this? Can he not see that his wife is going to tear his family apart?" Orlys pushes out of his seat, pacing towards Corlys and Rhaenys. His features are troubled enough that his pale eyes are cast in shadow.
"What happens if they act?" It's the first time Aerys has spoken. He stands over the table, pressing his knuckles into the cool stone and looking down. The room goes still. Every mind considering the possibilities. Blood stained, and terrible.
"More than they already have?" Laena asks. She, undoubtedly, is remembering her brother. Killed at hands of the queen's sworn protector.
Leanna remembers Daemon's words. There will be a time to act, and she will know.
"The only question is when they will strike, and how hard," Daemon responds, exchanging a look with Leanna.
"They will not act egregiously until Viserys is on death's door," Rhaenyra answers reluctantly. Leanna can tell how wrong she wants to be.
"Do we know what ails him?" Orlys presses. "All we have heard is that he is ill."
"The throne is rejecting him." They look at Aerys. His jaw is squared. Tight and flickering with muscle. Finally, he looks up at Rhaenyra. "It's going to kill him."
"What then?" She dares to ask her husband, looking deep into his eyes.
"You know the lengths I will go to defend you," he answers. Rhaenyra and Aerys look up as Rhaella moves forward. The girl, still solemn, has her hand on her sword pommel.
"As will I," she offers. "I will give you my blade, and my dragon, if you will have it."
Leanna's hand forms a fist out of shock. Yet she keeps her composure, even as Rhaenyra's gaze flickers to her and Daemon.
"As a warrior?" She asks of Rhaella.
"As your sworn protector, and as a part of your Queensguard when the time comes."
"Is this what your family wishes of you?"
"I know my parents will support me, as will you, my sister."
"Very well," Rhaenyra lifts her chin. "I accept your blade. Long shall your bear it in my service, until death or duty sees you part."
The room is still resonating with the princess's confidence after the council disbands. The hour is dark by the time Aerys finds his mother and his wife. Leanna is holding Jacaerys's hands as he toddles through the dark halls, speaking to Rhaenyra and Laena in quiet tones. Behind them, a now-permanent shadow, is Rhaella.
Aerys pauses in front of the women, watching his young son walk slowly forward. Supported by Leanna, but his balance is still strong. Just Jacaerys, though, for the infant Lucerys is with his nurse and Laena has left her two daughters Baela and Rhaena in Storm's End. It was not a journey she was willing to make with such young children, especially during storm season.
"We cannot shy away from King's Landing forever," he presses the princess.
"If it helps, my return is soon," Leanna looks up at her son from her doting on the toddler. Aerys's face is a mix of emotions. Laid bare before Laena, making Leanna consider that she might not know the relationship of the two couples as well as she thought she had.
"There's no need for you to fight our battles for us, Mother."
"They were my battles first," she reminds him firmly, straightening with the child in her arms. "And you should start praying that they don't spill over into your sons' lives when they grow older."
"They already are," Rhaenyra sighs, reaching for Jacaerys. "With these cruel rumors."
"Which will be dealt with accordingly," Leanna bites, imagining the hell she will unleash upon King's Landing with her return.
"Dealt with carefully," Rhaenyra reminds her. "We must behave without any faults in these upcoming months. My image must go unblemished."
Leanna wants to retaliate. Instead, she dips her chin. Agreeing, quietly, to her princess's command. She must grow accustomed to this. Rhaenyra commanding, and Leanna following. It would not be so hard. Rhaenyra, unlike Viserys, could be reasoned with. It made her a more respectable leader. One that Leanna, truly, would lay down her life for.
Perhaps that was what Rhaella had been thinking when she swore herself to the princess. Leanna glances back at her daughter. Like a statue, and yet she accepts the grin from her mother with a subtle twitch of her mouth. This was just right for her, Leanna decided. It was something she needed, and Leanna would not be the one to pull her away. She had chosen her own fate.
And, true to her station, Rhaella starts when there is a commotion at the end of the hall. She draws her blade before she has seen the cause of it, stepping before Rhaenyra. However, she relaxes when she sees the culprit. Aerion, racing towards them with his hair wild.
"I did it," he pants, sliding to a stop before them. Leanna feels her nose twitch. She can smell it, as well of the rest of them. The burning stench of dragon. "I claimed her."
"Who?" She snaps, but it's useless. Aerion has begun to grin, especially as Aerys starts forward.
"Silverwing? Really? You managed it alone?"
"I did," his chest puffs out at the praise from his brother. "Come and see." He starts to turn for his mother, faltering when he sees her expression.
She has to stop herself. Drawing her composure and regarding Aerion more closely. He was alive, and entirely unharmed. His long golden hair is wild, and that is the extent of it.
"Very well, then," she forces a tight smile. "Let's go see your dragon."