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Rhaenyra POV

Princess Rhaenyra stood at the window of her chambers; her gaze fixed on the lush gardens below. The King and Queen, now heavy with child, walked leisurely through the very gardens that had been painstakingly tended to by her late mother. These gardens were more than just a collection of plants and flowers; they were a gift from Queen Alyssane to the young Aemma Arryn when she first came to the capital to wed King Viserys. Queen Alyssane had known that her granddaughter, raised in the mountains of the Vale with its pretty landscapes and fresh air, would find the stifling heat of the capital unbearable. So, she had surrounded the entirety of Maegor's Holdfast with gardens, a sanctuary of beauty and tranquility amidst the oppressive heat.

Now, these gardens had been commandeered by the Queen, who often took tea with the ladies and entertained the court within their bounds. Rhaenyra watched as the Queen smiled and conversed, a hand resting gently on her swollen belly. The sight stirred a mixture of emotions within her—bitterness, resentment, and a deep, abiding sadness. She snorted softly, turning away from the window and retreating back into her chambers.

Her maids were bustling about, ensuring that all her important belongings were packed. Rhaenyra moved among them, checking on their progress. She would be leaving behind everything her father had ever given her, taking only the gifts from her Uncle Daemon and her mother. It had taken weeks, but she had managed to secure all of Queen Aemma's belongings—those brought from the Vale, the gifts from the Old King and the Good Queen, and everything she had acquired while married to the King. Her Aunt Amanda had been instrumental in this endeavor, ensuring that every piece of her mother’s personal effects was safe.

Her household had been meticulously packing everything and sending it aboard the Princess Alyssa, the ship that had once belonged to her grandmother and is now under her uncle's possession. Uncle Daemon had graciously allowed her to use it, unable to fetch her personally from the capital due to his banishment. It was a small comfort to know that, in a way, her family was still looking out for her.

Now, only a few of her personal belongings remained. She moved to her writing desk, where a few precious items lay waiting to be packed: a locket with her mother's hair, a small book of Valyrian short stories gifted by Daemon, and a journal she had kept since she was a child given to her by grandfather Baelon. Each item held a piece of her heart, memories of a time when her family had felt whole.

As she placed the last items into her traveling trunk, she felt a sense of resolve wash over her. She was leaving behind the palace that had been her home, the father who had once adored her, and the stepmother who had taken her mother’s place. But she was carrying with her the legacy of her true family—the love and strength of her mother, the daring spirit of her uncle, and the memories of a happier time.

With everything finally packed, Rhaenyra straightened up and took one last look around her chambers. The room that had been a sanctuary in her youth now felt like a prison. But she was ready to leave, ready to start anew. She would carry her mother’s legacy with her, and in doing so, she would honor her memory.

As she prepared to leave, a maid approached with a final bundle. Rhaenyra recognized it immediately—the last of her mother's gowns, carefully folded and wrapped. She took it in her hands, feeling the weight of the fabric and the memories it carried. But nestled within the gowns were the crowns of Queen Rhaena, Princess Saera, Princess Daella, Princess Viserra and Princess Gael. She would be damned if she let the whore get her hands on the Targaryen Crown Jewels. She was able to keep Aegon the Conqueror’s Crown in a Vault that will only open with Targaryen Blood, she doubts her father will be looking for it anytime soon as it was also the Crown worn by Maegor the Cruel. With a deep breath, she added it to her belongings.

It was time to go. She would fly on Syrax away from the life she had known, towards a future that was uncertain but her own to shape.

Rhaenyra let the servants hurry before her and walked slowly, taking in the familiar corridors where she had grown up. Every corner held a memory, every stone seemed to whisper her childhood back to her. She paused by the courtyard, remembering how she used to play there with Laena and Laenor before they had moved permanently to Driftmark. They had been a mischievous trio, often getting into trouble. Once, they had painted Baelon's prized falcon in a multitude of colors. Her grandfather had merely laughed and ruffled her hair, always brushing off their antics with a warm, indulgent smile.

She sighed deeply, her reverie interrupted as her father and his new wife appeared from a bend in the corridor. King Viserys’s face brightened when he saw her.

"Rhaenyra! Are you going flying today?”

Rhaenyra straightened, meeting his eyes with a calm but steely gaze. "Yes, Father. I am flying to Dragonstone, my household is probably sailing there as we speak.”

The King’s smile faltered, replaced by a look of shock. "To Dragonstone? Why now?”

She took a deep breath, steeling herself. "I passed my six-and-ten name day a week ago. I am now of age and will take my rightful seat.”

Viserys’s face reddened with embarrassment and regret. "Oh, Rhaenyra, I... I’m so sorry. I forgot. I've been so preoccupied with... everything. I promise, we'll have a feast in your honor and I will give you many gifts, just as before.”

"There is no need, Father," Rhaenyra replied, her voice steady but tinged with sadness. "Uncle Daemon has already gifted me many riches, and cousin Rhaenys has also sent me some. The gifts from the Lord Paramounts are already on the ship with my belongings, sailing to Dragonstone.”

Viserys looked stricken. "Rhaenyra, please, let me make it up to you.’

She shook her head slightly. "You do not need to, Father. It would be better if you took care of the family you always wanted. You now have a fertile wife, you will soon have your most coveted son and you have long displaced Daemon with Otto Hightower as your brother. You must be happy that you now have the ideal family you always wanted.”

Viserys's face turned ashen with her words, and he opened his mouth to respond, but Rhaenyra curtseyed deeply to him, cutting off whatever apology he was about to utter. "Goodbye, Father.”

She turned to walk away, feeling Alicent’s eyes on her. The Queen called after her, "Rhaenyra, wait! Let us talk.”

But Rhaenyra did not even glance back. She continued walking, her steps steady and determined. As she reached the end of the corridor, she heard a shout behind her.

"Oh, Seven help us, my King! Call the Maester!" Alicent's voice was filled with concern.

Rhaenyra rolled her eyes, no doubt the King has taken ill with the shock. She went out of Maegors Holdfast and rode the carriage waiting for her, her household, her Aunt Amanda and Ser Darklyn and Ser Lorent had already gone ahead to the ship, she will go to Driftmark first before going to Dragonstone. She needs to talk to Lord Corlys. She closed the door only for an armored arm to hold it open.

She looked up at Ser Harold, the older man had been her sworn shield since she was a babe but now he is commander of the Kingsguards.

“Princess, allow me to accompany you to the Dragonpit.” He said, her voice tinge with regret.

“You do not need to, Lord Commander, I know your main priority now is the King.” She said.

“The King is protected by my brothers and an army of knights. I may not be able to follow you to Dragonstone but I can still send you off from the Dragonpit.” He said almost begging.

She smiled at him in gratitude and nodded. “Let’s be quick about it, Ser.” The old man smiled at her and finally closed the carriage door.

Princess Rhaenyra smiled as Laena hooked her arm through hers, following Laenor through the darkened corridor away from the main thoroughfares of the castle.

“He is here?” she asked, curiosity lacing her voice.

Laena nodded, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “Laenor sparred with him in the training yard this afternoon. I had never seen him put on his back so fast.”

Laenor frowned at them and rolled his eyes at the memory.

Rhaenyra giggled with her cousins, an unmistakable warmth filling her chest. It had been so long since they had talked freely like this, the burdens of court and duty momentarily forgotten.

“Here,” Laena said, gesturing to the ornate white door in front of them. The door was a masterpiece, depicting the Merling King holding court, surrounded by a plethora of sea creatures. The intricate carvings were painted in vivid colors, each scale of the fish and each tentacle of the octopus rendered so realistically that they seemed to shimmer and move in the dim light. The artistry spoke volumes of the wealth and power of House Velaryon, even the doors of High Tide showcased the riches of this house.

“Your mother is inside as well?” Rhaenyra asked.

Laenor nodded. “Prince Daemon requested her presence.”

Rhaenyra sighed deeply, steeling herself for the encounter, and gestured for Laenor to open the door. As it swung open, the occupants turned to face them. Lord Corlys had a reproach ready on his lips, but he stopped himself when he saw her.

She had already changed her gown in Laena’s room, wearing an elegant dress that will not be out of place in the opulence of her surroundings. She carried only a satchel containing two gowns, planning to rely on her cousins' generosity in the coming days.

“Princess Rhaenyra,” Lord Corlys greeted, bowing deeply, followed by a shallow curtsy from Princess Rhaenys.

The Queen Who Never Was regarded her with a mixture of surprise and curiosity. “I did not expect you, Princess.” she said. “Did you arrive by ship? I did not hear a dragon.”

Rhaenyra met her gaze steadily. “I arrived on dragon back Princess, Laenor and Laena met me on the other side of the island. I thought it best not to announce my arrival so loudly. I needed a more... discreet entrance.”

Prince Daemon, who had been standing by the window, turned to face her with a smile. “Welcome to High Tide, niece.”

Rhaenyra inclined her head in acknowledgment, feeling a surge of relief at the familiar, if complex, dynamics of her family. She had come seeking refuge and found it in the embrace of those who understood her struggles.

“I trust your journey was uneventful?” Rhaenys inquired, her tone still laced with concern.

“Uneventful, indeed,” Rhaenyra replied. “And I thank you for your hospitality. I hope I am not imposing.”

“Not at all,” Corlys assured her. “You are always welcome here.”

Laena and Laenor settled on the sofa nearest the fire, their expressions a mix of curiosity and concern. Rhaenyra approached Lord Corlys' table, her eyes drawn to a tapestry depicting the Narrow Sea, with particular emphasis on the Stepstones.

"Are you planning for war?" she asked, glancing up at the older man. "Without the Crown's permission?”

Lord Corlys' face darkened. "I'm afraid the King does not fully realize the extent of the danger that the Triarchy poses to us, especially since he is so far removed and protected behind the walls of the Red Keep.”

Rhaenyra nodded, her face reddening at her father’s stupidity. "But still, Lord Corlys, going to war without the King's permission will be detrimental to you. You will be using your own men, your fleet, and your own gold. You will be deemed a warmonger. Even with the Crown's support, it would be hard.”

Her elders exchanged looks before gathering around the map as well. "It will," Lord Corlys admitted, "but if we do not do anything, it would cripple trade in the Seven Kingdoms. Already, Driftmark, Claw Isle, Stonedance, and Tarth have been affected.”

"No such reports had been sent to the Small Council, only you, Lord Corlys, had voiced any concerns at all." she said, her voice steady yet tinged with frustration. She knew all too well what goes in the Small Council Chamber, often feeling as though she were forever filling the cups of these old men, their conversations circling endlessly without resolution.

Lord Corlys, the Sea Snake, leaned forward, his face stern. "The Maester is a known supporter of the Hand." he said, a note of disdain in his voice. "I would not be surprised if many ravens had not even been deemed important to reach the King's eyes.”

Rhaenyra's mind raced as she considered the implications. "Is the Stepstones the only route for our trade?" she asked, hoping for some alternative solution.

Princess Rhaenys, her expression grave, answered. "We can still trade with Pentos and Braavos and from there travel by land. But even they are weary of the presence of pirates in the Stepstones. And it will be more dangerous and will add days or even weeks of travel time." She sighed.

"By ship, it is the only trade route. You have dragons," Rhaenyra said, her tone becoming more insistent. "Why don't you use dragons?”

Rhaenys snorted and sat down on one of the ornate chairs, her posture regal and commanding. "Dragons are not horses to carry bolts of fabric and casks of wine.”

Rhaenyra's gaze shifted to her uncle, Prince Daemon. "You did it, though. You carried many treasures for me across the Narrow Sea.”

Daemon nodded, a faint smile playing on his lips. "Because it is for you, Princess.”

"Our dragons will agree if we ask them of it." Rhaenyra insisted. "Why should you sacrifice men, ships, and gold when even the Crown deems it not important?”

Rhaenys looked at her with reproach. "As the Heir, you should know that soon enough it will not be just the Lords of the Narrow Sea who will be affected. This could affect the Stormlands, the Vale, the Westerlands, and the Reach.”

"Everyone knows of Lord Corlys' recommendation. The Hand loves to tell everyone of the humiliation you experience every time the King dismisses your concern.” she said and she can see anger in the Sea snake’s eyes. “I too had often voiced my opinions on the matter, only to be rebuked by both the King and the Hand, who told me I was simply too young to know these things. We did everything we could, everybody will know that." she said quietly, more to herself than anyone else.

"The smart thing to do is to fortify our territory," Rhaenys continued. "Again, we have dragons. Wooden boats burn when we turn our dragons on them.”

"And what about the rest of the Kingdoms?" Lord Corlys asked, his voice heavy with concern.

"I'm sure more powerful lords will be better prepared." Rhaenyra said, her voice firm. "We are just minor houses after all. Perhaps the King will listen to them better.”

“Vhagar and I can bring goods from Essos.” Laena chipped from her seat. “She would be cranky at first but she would not even feel them on her back.”

Rhaneys narrowed her eyes at her daughter aware that she would is looking forward to go on adventures most of all.

The room fell silent, each person lost in their own thoughts. They were soon sent to their beds, she knows that even as she left the room Lord Corlys and Princess Rhaenys will be talking about her suggestions until late into the night.

Rhaenyra looked on as the last of the ships that carried the Lords of the Narrow Sea departed, their sails whipping in the winds. After her conversation with the Velaryons, she flew to the Vale to speak with her cousin, Lady Jeyne Arryn, about the threats the Triarchy posed. The Maiden of the Vale understood her concerns and had confided to her that she had already given instructions for Gulltown to be properly fortified. Rhaenyra released a sigh of relief at that. Why is it that women can see the danger of things before the men do, yet are still treated as lesser? She wondered bitterly.

She was in the Vale when the raven arrived, announcing the birth of the King's firstborn son, Aegon Targaryen. There was no mention of her disinheritance, but the implications were clear. She had cried on her Aunt Elys' lap, feeling the cruelty and callousness of her father's actions since her mother's death. Aunt Elys promised to send one of her daughters to Dragonstone, so Rhaenyra would not be without family again. Lady Anya Waynwood, a comely girl with brown hair and amber eyes, was chosen. She was only two years younger than Rhaenyra and had many questions about Syrax. If Rhaenyra hadn't had other destinations, she would have loved to take Anya atop Syrax, but her cousin would have to be content with sailing to Dragonstone on a boat.

Rhaenyra then flew to White Harbor, where she was feasted by Lord Desmond Manderly. The hospitality of the Manderlys was as warm as their hearths, and the halls of White Harbor buzzed with activity and preparation. Lord Desmond, a large man with a booming voice, greeted her with a bear-like embrace, and the feast that followed was grand, with tables laden with the bounty of the North.

During the feast, Lord Desmond leaned in to speak with her, his voice low and serious. "The Triarchy's influence spreads like a plague, Princess. The North stands with you, but we must be vigilant. Our trade routes through the Bite are not as directly threatened, but the instability could spread. We are fortifying our defenses and increasing patrols.

Rhaenyra nodded, grateful for the support. "Thank you, my lord. The loyalty of the North is a great comfort in these troubled times.”

Lord Desmond even sent his second son, Torrhen, to Dragonstone to serve in her household. Likewise, her Aunt Amanda asked her second son, Corwyn Cobray, to accompany Anya to Dragonstone and be a part of her household as well. These gestures of loyalty and support bolstered Rhaenyra's spirits as she fortified her position

Her Uncle Daemon had recalled the Gold Cloaks loyal to him, inviting them to Dragonstone to augment the island's security. They changed their cloaks from gold to red, shifting their allegiance from the city to the Princess of Dragonstone. With this, she now had a thousand men in the barracks, a formidable force for the defense of her stronghold.

The Lords of the Narrow Sea were pleased after Rhaenyra took her seat. For too many years Dragnostone had been neglected, the last Prince who resided in her ancestral Keep was still her Uncle Aemon.

 For the past two weeks, they had been discussing the security of each seat, ways to communicate during an attack, and her plans to patrol the Gullet and the Narrow Sea atop dragonback. The Velaryons had devised an effective system where dragons would fly their goods from Essos to a waiting ship at Claw Isle or Driftmark, and then the ships would deliver the goods to their final destination. This innovative approach was already yielding results.

Daemon had already burned fifteen pirate ships, asserting their dominance over the waters. They might not hold the Stepstones, but the Narrow Sea was still their territory. No ships that were not their own were allowed to sail it now. Despite warnings, one stubborn ship from the capital attempted to sail through. Pirates seized the ship, taking many valuable prisoners, including one of the daughters of Lord Swann. This incident served as a stark reminder of the dangers that still lurked and the need for constant vigilance.

With the pirates unable to sail through their territory she was hoping they will set their eyes on more fertile ground. After all Old Town is just a few weeks away from the Stepstones. If they are more bold, perhaps they can even set their sights on the golds in Lannisport.

Viserys POV

King Viserys Targaryen smiled as the lords and courtiers bowed to him, their finery glinting in the morning sun. He stood tall, escorting his wife, Queen Alicent, to the ornate carriage awaiting them. Today was a special day: Aegon's second name day, and they were setting out for a grand hunt in celebration.

As the carriage doors closed behind them, Viserys's thoughts wandered. It had been two years since he had last seen his daughter, Rhaenyra. When she moved to Dragonstone, he had sent trunks upon trunks of gifts, hoping to ease her transition and remind her of his love. The Maester sent letters acknowledging the receipt of the gifts, assuring him they had been kept for the princess, but nothing more. In the first year, he wrote to her almost daily, pouring his heart into each letter. Yet, only the Maester responded, with curt notes of receipt.

Viserys missed Rhaenyra deeply. He missed her laughter that once echoed through the halls of the Red Keep, her mischievous smile that could brighten even the darkest day. He saw her everywhere in the Keep—in the way the light filtered through the stained glass in the alcoves where she used to play. He remembered the time she had hidden in the kitchens, covered in flour from head to toe, claiming she was a ghost come to haunt the cooks. Or when she had convinced the stable boys to let her ride the most temperamental horse in the stables, her victorious grin almost as wide as the horse’s stride.

Viserys regretted neglecting her. He had been too caught up with his new bride and the burdens of ruling to notice how isolated and neglected Rhaenyra felt. Her resemblance to his beloved Aemma pained him deeply; every time he looked at her, he was reminded of his late wife, and that sorrow often turned into avoidance. Rhaenyra had interpreted his distance as a lack of love, and it had created a rift between them.

The only time she had sent anything was for Aegon's first name day, a beautifully crafted marble dragon figurine. This year, she sent another dragon figure, equally exquisite. But there was no letter, no congratulations. The silence stung more than he cared to admit.

He had sent her an invitation for the hunt, longing for a glimpse of her, to hear her voice. He desperately wanted to repair their relationship, but the tumultuous seas, riddled with pirates, prevented even a simple visit to Dragonstone.

There were reports of ships being captured, but nothing serious enough to justify complete isolation. Even Lord Corlys Velaryon had stopped pestering him about the Stepstones, yet they could not afford to be lax with security.

As the carriage trundled along, Viserys sighed, looking out at the rolling landscape. "I miss her." he said quietly to Alicent, who reached out and squeezed his hand gently.

"She misses you too, my love." Alicent replied, her eyes soft with understanding. "She will return when it is safe.”

Viserys nodded, though the words brought little comfort. The empty halls of the Red Keep felt colder without Rhaenyra’s presence. He clung to the hope that one day the letters would come from her, filled with stories and laughter, bridging the gap that now lay between them.

The hunt commenced with the usual fanfare, but Viserys's heart was not in it. As he watched Aegon play under the watchful eyes of his nursemaids, he could not help but think of Rhaenyra. The dragon figurines she sent were a reminder of her love, yet the absence of her words was a constant ache. He prayed for the day when the seas would be safe again, and his beloved daughter could return home.

King Viserys Targaryen was enjoying the company of Lord Hobert and Lord Redwyne, their laughter filling the air as they discussed the upcoming hunt.

"And then the boar turned and chased the hunter instead!" Lord Redwyne exclaimed, finishing his tale with a flourish.

Viserys laughed heartily, but his mirth was interrupted by one of his pages, who approached with a message in hand. "A message for you, Your Grace.”

"Thank you," Viserys said absently, taking the missive and opening it. He glanced at the contents but returned his attention to Lord Redwyne’s story, laughing along with the other lords. After the laughter died down, Viserys looked back at the message, his eyes widening as he read it carefully.

Lord Hobert noticed the change in Viserys's expression. "Is everything alright, Your Grace?’

Viserys swallowed hard. "Excuse me, my lords. I must attend to something.”

Leaving the two lords behind, he scanned the crowd looking for Otto but he found the greying hair of  Lord Bartimos instead. Approaching him quickly, he asked, "Lord Bartimos, were you aware that Rhaenyra had given birth?”

Lord Bartimos's face lit up, his purple eyes sparkling. "Yes, Your Grace. I was there during the birth and the wedding. The boy is healthy, with the classic Valyrian looks and strong lungs. I travelled directly from Dragonstone going here.”

Viserys's heart pounded. "Who did my daughter marry?" he demanded, barely able to get the words out. He was aware that the other Lords were listening to them, Lord Bartimos was not exactly whispering.

Lord Bartimos looked puzzled for a moment, then replied nonchalantly, "Why, of course, the only person who has been there for the princess since she took over Dragonstone—Prince Daemon.”

Viserys felt the world tilt beneath him.

Lord Bartimos continued. “They married in the Valyrian tradition first followed by the Wedding in the Sept and then another one in front of the heart tree. Lord Stark was the one who married them in the way of the Old Gods. Why Lady Jeyne said it was the first time she witness somebody getting married three times! It was the same for me!”

He saw the lords and ladies around him whispering and staring. Forcing a smile, he said loudly, "I am very happy to finally be a grandsire." Turning away, he made his way back to his tent, feeling numb.

As he entered the tent, Otto Hightower, his Hand, approached him, concern etched on his face. "Your Grace, is everything alright?”

Viserys shook his head. "Did you know about this? About Rhaenyra and Daemon?’

Otto frowned reading the message. "I had suspicions on the Prince’s intentions, but nothing concrete. This is grave news indeed. Your brother is using Princess Rhaenyra to get closer to the Iron Throne. Everything we have done to prevent this will be for naught if we let it continue. Your Grace, you must name Aegon as your heir instead. Everyone is here; it is the perfect moment.”

Viserys felt the weight of Otto's words pressing down on him. "I neglected her, Otto. I was so caught up with ruling and my new marriage that I didn't notice how isolated she felt. She looks so much like Aemma... it hurt to look at her. I avoided her, and she took it as a lack of love. She took to the only person who showed her affections.”

Otto's expression softened for a moment. "Your Grace, I understand. But now we must think of the realm. Your brother's ambition knows no bounds. We must act decisively.”

He shook his head. “No, no… I will go to Dragonstone, to talk to her… talk to them both… I— Rhaenyra is my Heir and I had long derelict on my duty to her as father… I must—”

HE can see the frustration on Otto’s face but before he can answer shouts were heard from outside the tent. He looked back to see a runner staggering towards them, looking as if he were about to keel over. The man was filthy, his clothes torn, and he appeared as though he had been in a brawl with a Kingsguard. On his surcoat, Viserys could see the blazon of a burgundy grape cluster on blue.

Otto stepped forward, his face red with anger. "What is the meaning of this?" he demanded.

The runner, gasping for breath, managed to speak. "The Arbor... the Arbor has fallen to the Triarchy. Sunhouse, the Three Towers, and Blackcrown were also under attack!"

Viserys felt the blood drain from his face. The room seemed to spin around him as the weight of the news sank in. This time, he truly collapsed, falling to his knees as the enormity of the situation overwhelmed him.

"Your Grace!" Otto exclaimed, rushing to his side. Alicent and several other lords also moved quickly to help him. "Get the Maester, quickly!”

Viserys waved them off weakly, struggling to find his voice. "The Arbor... under attack..." he murmured, his mind racing with the implications. "How could this happen?”

The runner continued, his voice strained. "According to the message from Old Town, the Triarchy launched a surprise attack. Our forces were unprepared... they've taken the Arbor. They will need reinforcements, Your Grace, or we risk losing more.”

Viserys's heart pounded. He could see the concern and fear in the eyes of those around him. Otto's words about the need for decisive action echoed in his mind. He had to act quickly, but the betrayal by Daemon and the news of the Arbor's fall were almost too much to bear.

"Otto," Viserys said, his voice trembling, "send word to the lords of the Reach and the Stormlands. We need their support immediately. We will go back to the Keep, summon the Small Council immediately. We must discuss our next steps.”

Otto nodded, his face grim. "At once, Your Grace.”

As the lords and courtiers sprang into action, Viserys struggled to his feet with Alicent's help. He looked at her, seeing the worry in her eyes. "How can this be? I was told the threat was not serious.” He whispered.

Viserys had not seen a camp being packed up so quickly. They were back in the carriage even before everything was sorted out. He asked for Lord Bartimos to join the Council as he was the Lord from the Narrow Sea present. The three-hour ride back to the capital frayed his nerves, the only sounds being the whimpers of Aegon and Alicent's occasional grimaces. Her pregnancy was already too advanced; she should have been left in the Keep.

Lord Bartimos had fallen asleep within the first hour and was now snoring lightly on Viserys's left. The King wished he could be as nonchalant as the Lord. When they reached the Keep, Viserys knew the news had already spread. The streets were unusually deserted, with people choosing to stay inside their houses. The Gold Cloaks were in a flurry of activity, their numbers diminished with a thousand men having gone to Dragonstone two years ago. He knew Otto had appointed his son, Gwayne, as the new Commander, but Gwayne did not have the authority that Daemon had commanded.

Viserys clenched his jaw, remembering how Daemon had taken advantage of Rhaenyra. He couldn't even focus on the problem at hand because his mind was with his daughter. He didn’t have time to change out of his dusty robes before he was rushed to the Small Council Room. Anger simmered within him as he took his seat at the head of the table.

"How could the Arbor have fallen when the Council assured me the Triarchy was not a threat aside from capturing some ships?" he demanded, his voice echoing in the chamber.

All at once, every council member looked at the Hand, Otto Hightower, who reddened under their gazes.

"Your Grace," Otto began, his voice steady but strained, "we had intelligence suggesting that the Triarchy was focusing on consolidating their power in the Stepstones. We did not anticipate a direct attack on the Arbor.’

Viserys's eyes blazed. "Not anticipate? I relied on your counsel, Otto. You assured me we were secured!” he shouted in frustration.

Lord Bartimos snorted, and Viserys looked at him in anger. The man did not have a seat in the Council, so he was just standing on the side.

"Forgive me, Your Grace, but the Triarchy not being a threat is laughable to me. My house has been on high alert for the past two years. I personally lost five ships to them. Lord Swann's daughter was taken a year ago; we heard she was sold to a pillow house in Lys. Prince Daemon and Princess Rhaenyra have had to patrol the Narrow Sea personally to ensure the pirates cannot ambush us. The Princess had to patrol even when her stomach was already eight months big. We only rely on the dragons to continue trade with Essos. The dragons have been reduced to mere carts, majestic creatures made to ferry rugs and herbs just so that our Houses can survive!" he said incredulously.

The more Lord Bartimos talk the more angry he felt. He sat down heavily on an ornate chair

Viserys felt a wave of confusion and frustration. "How could I never have known about this?" he demanded.

The Lord of Claw Isle shrugged his shoulders. "We sent ravens, Your Grace, almost daily the first year. We thought you never cared, so we had to fortify ourselves. When the Princess gave birth, every lord of the Narrow Sea was present because it was time for our monthly meeting to ensure that we are not lax in our security.”

Viserys turned to Otto, his face a mask of fury. "Is this true, Otto? Were ravens sent daily, and I was never informed?”

Otto reddened further but maintained his composure. "Your Grace, the Maesters has been known to exaggerate threats to gain favor. I acted in the best interest of the realm, focusing on more immediate concerns here in the capital.”

Viserys clenched his fists, his anger barely contained. "More immediate concerns? My daughter patrolling the seas, heavily pregnant, to fend off pirates is not an immediate concern? You have failed me, Otto. You have failed the realm!”

Lord Bartimos interjected again, his voice rising. "Prince Daemon and Princess Rhaenyra have been the only reason the Narrow Sea has not completely fallen to the Triarchy. While we were left to fend for ourselves, they have risked their lives repeatedly. If not for them, we would have been overrun long ago.”

Viserys felt a wave of guilt crash over him. He had been too caught up with his new bride and pomp of the capital that he had neglected Rhaenyra. He had been so focused on maintaining order in the capital that he had not seen the peril his daughter faced.

 Otto, sensing the growing tide against him, attempted to regain control. "Your Grace, if we act now, we can still remedy this situation. Reinforcements must be sent to the Reach, and we must strengthen our naval defenses. Let us not dwell on past mistakes but move forward with a united front.”

Viserys sighed deeply, nodding as he gathered his resolve. "We will do what needs to be done," he began, his voice firm. "But I cannot keep you as Hand anymore, Otto. You have failed me greatly.”

Otto Hightower's eyes widened in shock. "Your Grace, I—’

Viserys silenced him by banging his open palm on the table. "Enough! Hand me the pin.”

Reluctantly, Otto removed the Hand's pin from his chest and placed it on the table. Viserys took it and turned to Lord Lyonel Strong. The man was obviously surprised, but he stepped forward and accepted the pin with a bow.”

"Thank you for your trust, Your Grace," Lyonel said.

Viserys's expression was stern. "Serve me better than the previous Hand, whose arrogance has caused us much grief.”

Lyonel nodded. "Of course, Your Grace. I will do my utmost.”

“Why were the messages not relayed to the King?” Lord Beesbury asked suddenly. “Or at least to the Small Council?”

Everyone looked at the Grand Maester who paled. "Your Grace, I assure you, I handed all ravens directly to the Hand. I do not know why the messages were not relayed.”

Viserys's face darkened with anger. "The time when my messages are intercepted will cease. From now on, all messages will come to me directly. I am the King, and I do not want anyone acting on my behalf without my permission!”

Otto glared at Mellos, but said nothing further.

"Ser Otto, being a knowledgeable man, is the best person to send to the Reach to manage the situation there.” Lord Strong suggested.

Otto looked horrified, but Viserys nodded. "It is the least he can do after this blunder.”

Lord Tyland Lannister spoke up. "We will need dragonriders for this mission.”

Lord Bartimos was quick to respond. "The Princess has just given birth, Lady Laena is on a trade mission in Yi Ti, and Ser Laenor is in Qohor. Only Princess Rhaenys and Prince Daemon are currently patrolling the seas. The Stepstones are still teeming with pirates. If we leave the Narrow Sea, the Triarchy will take advantage of it, and in trying to save the Reach, we will leave the Crownlands and the capital vulnerable.”

Lord Beesbury then suggested, "Lord Tyland should write to Lord Jason and request the Lannister fleet to assist with the situation in the Reach.”

Tyland looked ready to protest but bowed his head instead. "I will write to my brother immediately.”

Viserys felt a small measure of relief seeing the council take action. "We must act swiftly and decisively. The safety of the realm depends on it."

Lyonel Strong, now Hand of the King, began to outline the next steps. "We will need to coordinate our efforts closely. Lord Bartimos, continue to manage the defenses in the Narrow Sea. Lord Tyland, ensure that the Lannister fleet is mobilized as quickly as possible. Ser Otto, you will travel to the Reach and oversee the fortifications and defenses there. We must present a united front against the Triarchy.”

Rhaenyra POV

Rhaenyra looked over at her husband who was gently patting Egg's back, trying to burp him. He was singing a Valyrian lullaby, his deep voice resonating softly through the room. She smiled in contentment. Daemon was, unsurprisingly, a hands-on father. Even in meetings, he often had Egg in his arms. He always said he had waited too long for his son and wouldn’t miss a moment of his life for some boring meeting.

She wanted to hate her father for keeping Daemon from experiencing fatherhood sooner, for continuing to deny him his freedom. But perhaps it was fate that made Daemon wait for her. She hated that he was alone for so long though.

Tightening the tie of her velvet robe, she picked up one of the letters from her tray. This one was from Lord Bartimos. She opened it and, after reading, laughed almost hysterically. Daemon turned to her, a very awake Egg on his shoulder.

"I'm sorry, love, did I startle you?" she said, standing up and kissing her son on the cheek.

Daemon raised an eyebrow. "Good news in that letter?”

She nodded. "The whispers we've been spreading with your contacts in Myr, Lys, and Tyrosh have paid off.” She said mischievously. For years now, they’ve been telling tales of the lush and fertile lands of the Reach and the mountains of gold in the West.

With Lord Corlys's fleet patrolling the Narrow Sea and their dragons' constant presence, the Triarchy has been stocked in the Stepstones for years now. They attacked Dorne and then the Stormlands from time to time but have not done anything major. It seems they have now moved on to the Reach.

Daemon laughed heartily at the news that Otto Hightower was removed from his position and has been basically banished back to the Reach.

“Has your father written to you?" he asked

She nodded, picking up another raven and removing the royal seal. "Oh look, he's congratulating us on the birth of our son. He was disappointed that we married in secret and is looking forward to seeing us again once the problem with the Triarchy is over.”

Daemon snorted. “Your father thinks this will be resolved in just a week.”

“He’s always been frustratingly... optimistic.” She said.

“I think the word you’re looking for is delusional.” Daemon said as Egg let out a loud burp, he sat down and let Egg cuddle on his chest.

“Should we help them?” she asked.

Daemon did not even looked up at him too busy bumping Egg’s nose with his forefinger. “I’m a new father, I’m on vacation.” He said drily.

She chuckled. Let them feel what the Lords of the Narrow Sea had been feeling during the past two years. It was time Westeros is reminded that they benefit from the protection of the dragons.