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Chapter Text

King Viserys, the First of his Name, has not spoken to any of his family for nearly three years. 

Not since he divorced Aemma and signed the annulment contract that granted her and their only living child, Princess Rhaenyra, dominion over the island of Dragonstone and everything of Valyrian heritage; rejected Laena Velaryon as a possible second wife and chose Alicent Hightower after she was found unchaperoned in his rooms; and was disavowed by his younger siblings, Daemon and Alyssa, for being a coward and a traitor to his blood. 

The King had sent countless letters begging, threatening and bargaining and they had all been ignored - instead sending back a Maester's curt scroll informing him of the reception of said letters. Still, he continued to send invites whenever he could, hoping that his stubborn and petty kin would put aside their grievances and join him in merriment over the growth of their house. The feast he threw when Alicent was announced to be with child, two moons after their wedding; requests to join the Queen in her confinement as the labor neared; the week of celebrations when Aegon was born hale and healthy; the ball to celebrate Aegon's first name-day and now the hunt for his second name-day. 

They were all ignored too. 

Alicent had struggled too, especially over Rhaenyra's callous dismissal. It wasn't Alicent's fault that she was found exiting his rooms and the rumors spread like wildfire across King's Landing, essentially forcing them to wed to protect her honor and reputation - she had just been reading to him, fully clothed and maintaining a respectful distance! But alas, the gossip mill of the Red Keep stopped for no one, and Viserys was not about to let an innocent maiden suffer the consequences for it, certainly not the daughter of his dearest friend. 

Not that it mattered to Rhaenyra as she hardened her heart against them and refused to attend their wedding or any of the following events. She didn't even send a letter of congratulations when news of the pregnancy were sent out, nor did she come when Alicent was nearing her confinement, even though his young wife requested her presence so she could be comforted by her dearest old friend during the labor. He'd never thought Rhaenyra could be so cruel as to abandon her friend during such a time, and yet every letter Alicent sent, much like his own, came back unopened.

News from Dragonstone came mostly from the reports of other regions and gossip. Viserys learned of the ash harvest in Dragonstone and their profits by selling to the North and the Vale only when Lord Tyrell came to court to complain that since those regions were able to produce their own food now, they were buying less quantities from the Reach. He learned of the dragonglass trade when one of the stonemasons that worked with him on his Valyrian model commented that merchants from across the Narrow Sea were paying large sums for the metal to make jewelry and that it might make a nice addition to the model. He learned that the Targaryens of Dragonstone had opened a house of learning and a house of healing on the island to tend to those too poor and too common to deserve a Maester's attention and welcomed scholars and healers from all over the Known World when the Maesters from the Citadel complained that it was an affront to their institution. 

Viserys listened and nodded as a good king should but eventually had to remind the complainers that there was nothing he could do. The contract he signed ensured that the Crown had no direct authority over Dragonstone and its designs. Seven Hells, he didn't even have the authority to command his daughter to stop being childish and visit him! 

Aemma and Rhaenyra he could understand being angry with him, but Daemon had stopped coming too. Where once Viserys would call him back after every exile and his brother would come flying to reunite with him, now Daemon seemed completely unwilling to come near King's Landing. Not even the promise of a hunt in the Godswood - just the servants and the two sons of Baelon the Brave - was enough to convince him to return to his side. There were sighting of Caraxes in the Free Cities every so often, but his restless brother seemed to have settled on Dragonstone quite nicely with Aemma and Rhaenyra- though Viserys couldn't imagine why Aemma was putting up with him. He was sure that Daemon was turning his rooms into a brothel and was wreaking havoc on their ancestral keep, and that couldn't be a good influence to have around his daughter. 

Gods, his daughter. 

Aegon was a spirited lad who cried and laughed just as loudly; he was the son and heir he had prayed for and tried so hard to obtain with his beloved Aemma for over ten years; the court rejoiced at his birth and the secured succession... and yet Viserys had developed an emptiness in his chest that he hadn't had when Rhaenyra was born. Rhaenyra was born surrounded by Targaryens who welcomed her with warm smiles and a golden egg in her cradle that Daemon and Alyssa had conspired behind King Jaehaerys' back to obtain; she brightened the world with her arrival and charmed every person in the Red Keep, from nobles to the servants to knights. He couldn't help but feel that Aegon's birth felt more bittersweet than pure happiness like when Rhaenyra came into the world. Viserys was the only Targaryen to welcome him and the egg in his cradle had gone cold in less than a moon - he had written to Rhaenyra and Daemon and even Alyssa to come to King's Landing to pick an egg for the newest Targaryen babe and they had all ignored that request too, forcing Viserys to wonder into the Dragonpit for the first time since Balerion's death.

It was only when he stepped foot in the empty dragon pit that he truly realized how alone he was. 

All the grown dragons were in Dragonstone or Driftmark, leaving behind only a hatchery with a few eggs from Silverwing's last clutch. Half the dragonkeepers had left for Dragonstone, claiming that they had no reason to remain in King's Landing if there were no dragons to tend to and no riders to guide - only three remained to watch over the eggs. They had halted the previous orders of sheep and cattle that had been used to feed the dragons and spent most of their day working in shifts to clean out the caves now that they could do so without worrying about awakening a slumbering dragon. Viserys stood in the grand cave that had once hosted Balerion and saw nothing. No bones from meals, the chains hanging uselessly on the wall, not even a worn-out shape from where Balerion used to rest.

It was like the dragons had never existed.

Worse - they had all abandoned him. 

...

Court had been in session for over an hour and already Viserys was close to nodding off on the Iron Throne. 

He shifted to adjust his position and bit back a hiss when another wayward blade painfully dug into his side. It had almost become a habit, as if the swords were personally out to get him. Already he had lost three fingers to the infection that the Maesters could not seem to contain - there was no leech or foul-smelling concoction that could drain the pus and ease the pain - and by the way it was climbing just past his wrist, he feared it would not be long before his lower arm had to go too. 

The herald announced a new petitioner, Lord Balon Swann from the Stormlands, who was around Viserys' age and dressed formally but the dark bags under his eyes made him look older and more haggard. "Your Grace." He bowed and clasped his hands in front of him. "We have sent word of the worsening pirate situation, and no reply has reached us - both myself and Lord Baratheon sent ravens asking for aid to deal with this issue and we were ignored, so I saw no other choice but to come and ask for your assistance in person." 
"The Crown did indeed receive your messages, Lord Swann." Otto said from his place beside the throne. Viserys looked at him confused, for he hadn't been told about such a thing. "We reviewed your situation and didn't find any reason to extend aid." 
"They have pillaged entire over five villages and killed a hundred of our men, raped our women and took our maidens and young boys to sell into slavery in Essos." Lord Swann protested. "How long until they grow bolder and attack keeps instead? How long before they start killing noblemen and taking noble ladies captive?" He turned to the King, who watched with the shock of someone who hadn't expected to be addressed at all. "Your Grace, I beseech you as Protector of the Realm to aid the good people of the Stormlands, your loyal subjects." 

Viserys stared blankly at Lord Swann, his hands tightening on the armrests of the throne as he tried to think of what to say. Surely it can't be that bad if Otto saw no cause for concern. He trusted his friend's - and goodfather's - judgement. Pirates hadn't been a problem since his uncle Aemon dealt with the myrish fleet that besieged Tarth all those years ago, where he was killed by a well-aimed crossbow bolt - the Pale Prince's death led Baelon the Brave to mount Vhagar and burn them all in retaliation, killing hundreds of them and even flying to Myr to demand the officer's heads. Viserys shivered at the idea of such violence darkening the shores of his realm again, but he also despised the idea of angering the Free Cities and provoking them to escalate even more. 

The silence stretched for a long minute as Viserys considered all the terrible outcomes.

"We shall discuss this matter in the Small Council and send our verdict to Lord Baratheon and yourself, Lord Swann." Otto thankfully answered, putting an end to the painful silence. "You may go." 

Lord Swann's face dropped, staring at the Hand and the King with a mix of disbelief and anger. "Let it be written that I have done my duty and informed the ruler of the problems his subjects face." He invoked to the court scribes and hurriedly bowed before storming out of the throne room.

Alicent stared blankly at the canopy of her bed as the Grand Maester patted her swollen stomach for his examination. 

She was in the last moon of her second pregnancy - and thought this one had been easier because she knew what to expect, it didn't make it any less unpleasant. Her breasts were sore, her ankles were swollen, foods she enjoyed suddenly sent her vomiting, she found herself crying over the smallest things and as her stomach grew it became harder to move around the Red Keep. Even walking to the castle Sept - not the Grand Sept in the city, her father had forbid her from going out once she was first found pregnant with Aegon, he didn't want any disgruntled smallfolk mob to attack her and risk losing the pregnancy - took twice as long as before and she required the help of her sworn shield to kneel at the altar and then get back up again. 

Grand Maester Mellos finished his examination and congratulated her for the pregnancy, reassuring her once again that she would have no trouble giving birth to another healthy babe. When he first told her that, almost two years ago, she had wondered if he had said the same thing to the former Queen too. As she had gotten nearer to the birth of her first child, she often found herself having nightmares of something going wrong during the labors and being cut open on the King's orders like Aemma Arryn almost had been. The Maester and his acolytes were to attend her labor along with her two ladies-in-waiting to provide moral support and pray to the Mother for her and the child's well-being - but the person she had wanted to be there the most was ignoring her. 

Alicent had sent endless letters to Rhaenyra apologizing, explaining what happened, pleading to any sense of love she might still have for her dearest friend to not abandon her now as she faced the childbed. Back when she was a maiden, she imagined herself marrying a handsome, gallant knight who would love her sweetly and her dearest friend holding her hand while she labored to bring the product of her wifely devotion to the world... but then she was caught in the King's bedchamber and hastily married to him in an embarrassingly underattended ceremony, forced to lie on her back while he rutted into her and whispered his former wife's name, then had to go through pregnancy and childbirth alone because Rhaenyra was being petty and refusing to answer to her. At least Aegon had the decency to come quickly - even though the pain was unlike anything she felt before and she was dreading having to go through it again so soon. 

Alicent had only been doing her duty, what was expected of her - something Rhaenyra would never understand, apparently. Rhaenyra remained unmarried and there were no news of a betrothal even though she had come of age the past autumn and thus had become the Lady Paramount of Dragonstone in her own right. Instead, there were news of Rhaenyra and Laena Velaryon flying on their dragons to Braavos and Pentos accompanied by the Princess Alyssa, who introduced them to the merchant princes and magisters of the cities, personal friends of hers. The two young ladies were said to be the perfect image of Valyrian beauty - charming yet dangerous, steel under silk - and used their charms to bolster the trade between the islands of Dragonstone and Driftmark and the Free Cities.

"I want to fly with you on dragonback, see the great wonders across the Narrow Sea and eat only cake." Rhaenyra had said to Alicent once, in what seemed like a different life altogether. But those were supposed to be the silly dreams of maidens that eventually gave way to the harsh reality of marriage and childbirth - and yet there was Rhaenyra, living out her dream without sparing a thought for her old friend. No, Rhaenyra had to be a glutton and delight in everything she wanted, accumulating riches, friends, land and connections and leaving nothing for the rest. Alicent had listened to her father complain endlessly about Dragonstone's growing power and wealth, their trading with other regions of Westeros and the heathen Free Cities, and the dragons that they had no access too - too much power for a spoiled, selfish girl to have, he had growled as he threw into the fire another message from an informant that could not find a way to sneak into the island. 

Aegon's egg had gone cold almost as soon as it was placed in his crib, turning to stone before his first name-day had come. Neither the King nor his Heir had dragons under their command - a worrying difference compared to the three tamed and many wild dragons that nested in Dragonstone, the three on Driftmark, and the Cannibal in Volantis. Alicent had tried to appeal to Rhaenyra again once the petrified egg was returned to the Dragonpit, writing that her son should have the opportunity to fly on dragonback just like she had promised to do with her once upon a time, that it was her son's right as a Targaryen, that Aegon didn't deserve to suffer from her coldness just because she was mad at the King and her. That letter also went unanswered and so Aegon still had no dragon. 

The babe kicked her ribs, bringing Alicent out of her musings and making her hiss. 

She'd make the mistake of complaining about the kicking when she was pregnant with Aegon, and Viserys' eyes got misty as he said that it was normal and that "Aemma would always feel such joy despite the pain, because it meant that the babe was alive". She never complained about the pregnancy out loud again. This is your duty, a necessary sacrifice, and you must bear it. Wasn't that what the beloved Queen Aemma had said to Rhaenyra before those last labors? That bearing children was their duty, and they must face it with a stiff lip? Aemma Arryn had failed in her duties as Queen: she bore no living male child, took everything she could when the King wisely cast her aside, and was now letting her daughter escape those same duties too.

She knew Viserys probably hadn't thought about the underlying meaning under his comment and yet the thoughtlessness grated at Alicent that much more. She was his current wife, the one that had borne him a healthy, male heir, and yet it seemed the Falcon Queen had taken up so much room in the King's heart that there was nothing left for Alicent. Still, she was not treated poorly - she was not beaten or yelled at or thrown around like some other unfortunate ladies that could never hide the bruises properly - and so Alicent brushed off Viserys' impulsive comments and went about her day.

With only three ladies-in-waiting and two knights - all of them related to her by some degree or from the Reach - it was a little easier to handle the Queen's duties, but at the end of the day Alicent was often too exhausted to call for Aegon's nursemaids to bring him to her. Maybe that is why it seemed that he had suddenly grown up so much overnight. They would be throwing a three-day hunt in the Kingswood to celebrate his second name-day, a grand celebration fit for the Heir to the Throne, and they had sent invitations to Dragonstone as well. 

Maybe this time she will come, Alicent thought as she tried to get comfortable enough to sleep, maybe she will come and she will have to answer to me.

On the island of Dragonstone, things changed a lot since Rhaenyra became its Lady.

It was difficult to adapt from suddenly having one lady-in-waiting to ten. 

Rhaenyra had been hesitant in accepting a lady from the Reach at first, a bitter taste in her mouth still making her gag whenever she thought of Alicent's betrayal, but Melissa Beesbury was Lord Lyman's granddaughter, and he was one of the few council members she genuinely trusted, so she accepted. It turned out the young lady was good with figures and a had a keen mind for budgeting that must have been a family trait. Rhaenyra also loved the honey that arrived with Lady Melissa, the best export of Honeyholt, so that was an added bonus. 

Other ladies had joined her entourage as well. Johanna Westerling, her sworn shield Ser Harrold's niece, who was just as honorable as her uncle; Sabitha Vypren from the Riverlands, who looked up to Visenya and Alyssa and took up sword fighting; Maris Baratheon, Laena's second cousin by her mother Rhaenys, with a quiet disposition that became a thunderstorm when she was angry; and Catelyn and Rosaline Strong, the daughters of the Master of Laws. They joined the other ladies from the Crownlands - Celaena Celtigar, Vera Sunglass, Gillian Bar Emmon, and the young Elinda Massey - and Wylla Manderly from the North. 

Rhaenyra wanted to be surrounded by people she could trust - not surrounded by snakes like in King's Landing. She wanted a household like Ñamar Alyssa's - eclectic in their origins and talents and willing to travel all the way from Volantis to King's Landing to help their mistress - and the love the common people had for Uncle Daemon - the kind of loyalty where two thirds of Goldcloaks followed him to Dragonstone without hesitation and the smallfolk of King's Landing cheered whenever he was out and about. It was her first lesson in governance, imparted by her mother, Lady Regent Aemma Arryn, shortly after their arrival on Dragonstone three years ago when she confessed her troubles over tea and lemon cakes. 

"It is not a bad thing to want, sweet girl, but you cannot expect such loyalty to grow out of nothing." 
"How do you mean?" 
"Half of Alyssa's household were given to her as slaves and she liberated them and showed them kindness and priviledges; Daemon took hedge knights without purpose and gave them training and a cloak to serve under. You are a Princess and soon to be the Lady of Dragonstone, so every person in Westeros owes you deference and respect. The kind of loyalty that Daemon and Alyssa command must be earned, not demanded." 
Rhaenyra frowned as she started to think about her mother said. In the Red Keep, nobles had all but thrown themselves at her feet to gain her favor and Rhaenyra had dismissed them and instead spent most of her time with Alicent, who she thought to be honest and her actual friend. That had turned out to be a lie. "Like Jaehaerys and Alysanne? With the roads and the public fountains?" 
Aemma smiled at her daughter and nodded. "Exactly like that, though we may have to think of different boons to offer those you wish to be loyal to you. Giving coin away heedlessly to buy loyalty will not be sustainable in the long run, so we must think about what each person or group wants." 

And they did. 

They took in the daughters of less wealthy houses that could not afford a large dowry for them and promised to find them a worthy match and supply the dowry themselves; they also sent out ravens to known "misfit" ladies, like Sabitha Vypren, and offered space to practice those skills that had been deemed "unladylike" and tutoring in those skills as well as managing a keep; Lyman Beesbury had asked that they take his granddaughter because the Hand was being very insistent about finding more ladies for his Queen daughter's pitiful household and Lord Strong could see the writing on the wall and feared his daughters would be next to be demanded.  

Prosperity, freedom, sanctuary. 

Those were also the words that some of Daemon's envoys repeated around King's Landing in order to populate the growing port city that was becoming the center of Dragonstone's exports. A city needs more than a harbor master and fishermen - it needs barmaids, bakers, seamstresses, and yes, brothels too. Daemon's former mistress had refused to run another brothel and follow him to Dragonstone, so he turned to a previous favorite and promised steady coin and good conditions for whatever girls wanted to get out of King's Landing. Alyssa, who was familiar with trade by virtue of living in close proximity with Saera Targaryen, insisted on improving the safety and hygiene of any brothel to be established as well as ensuring that the women working there received their fair share of the coin and were protected from any clients that wanted to take more than they had been allowed to. 

Aemma had written to the matrons of the orphanages she still sent coin to and asked that they gather the older children - those old enough to sit still and learn a trade - and send them to Dragonstone, where they would be taken care of and taught a craft free of charge. The matrons, always overworked and underfunded with the number of orphans on the streets of King's Landing, sent them with pleasure and a warning to be on their best behavior. Master craftsfolk had started to arrive and settle on Dragonstone as the island began to grow, and they were willing to have an additional set of helping hands and teach someone the trade. 

Rhaenyra spent most of those three years learning and, to her delight, travelling. She learned business, budgeting, foreign diplomacy, trade laws, farm laws, and negotiating from Maester Gerardys and other tutors that had come from Volantis at the request of Alyssa's husband, some of the best in Essos. For her fifth-and-ten nameday, Alyssa had come from Volantis and told her and Laena to pack their best outfits and follow on dragonback, where she took them to Braavos. 

That first flight over the Titan of Braavos, watching the city of canals from above had been nothing short of spectacular, and the welcoming parties they were invited to didn't disappoint either. She had grown used to seeing men and women from different places in Dragonstone, but not the level of extravagance and finery that the Sealord of Braavos received them with. Rhaenyra talked with keyholders from the Iron Bank about possible investments, gushed over the deep purple color achieved by a snail natural to Braavos and if it would be possible to import them, saw famed Braavosi courtesans and waterdancers on the narrow streets, and charmed the merchants with talk of all the goods that they were producing in Dragonstone, showing off the dragonglass sewn into her dresses and used to make her jewelry. 

Laena loved the chance to see the world too - though her thankfully dismissed betrothal with the Sealord's son did make things slightly awkward. It became less awkward when the son of the Sealord vomited on a courtesan's silk shoes and was challenged to a duel by no less than four waterdancers, one of them a woman.

"Ah, Braavos. Never change." Alyssa had sighed with nostalgia as she witnessed the debacle. She repeated something similar when they left Braavos and made a stop in Pentos along the way, where they were wined and dined by the Prince of Pentos and fawned over by the merchant nobility and received so many yards of regal silks that Syrax actually complained when it was time to carry everything back to Dragonstone. It wasn't that Syrax couldn't carry the weight, she just found it tedious and demanded an extra cow when they returned to their island. 

Now, at the age of six-and-ten and having very recently become the ruling Lady of Dragonstone, Rhaenyra was happy. 

Aemma Arryn was healthy and took over the healing and learning houses that they had established now that she wasn't regent, and she and Rhaenyra made it a point to fly together at least once a week. Daemon had been named Lord Commander of the Dragonwatch - a play on his previous title - and oversaw the safety of the growing city and the other villages as they received more and more trade, imparting justice with a firm but not unfair hand. Her ladies-in-waiting were all different and capable and thriving in Dragonstone castle, allowed to grow without the bonds of septas to dictate what a proper lady should or shouldn't do and an education that most noble men would never have. The pile of letters of marriage proposals sat in an untouched pile and she was under no pressure to even read them, assured by her mother that she didn't have to marry anyone she didn't want to and could do whatever she wanted.

Maybe that's why she was surprised when their family breakfast was interrupted by a raven just arrived from Storm's End, bearing the sigil of House Baratheon and not addressed to Maris. It was addressed to Rhaenyra, the Lady Paramount of Dragonstone and the Narrow Sea.

Her eyes burgeoned at the words penned by Lord Boremund, his initial hesitation but final resolution. 

"What is it, sweetness?" Aemma asked, worried about Rhaenyra's wide eyes. "Did something happen to Lady Elena?" Elena Carron, Maris' mother, was pregnant again in her attempt to give her husband a son and Aemma worried for the woman who was in the same position she had once been in. 
"No. Triarchy ships have been tormenting villages in the Stormlands and their request for aid to King Viserys was denied." Rhaenyra explained and Daemon scoffed and rolled his eyes at Viserys' pathetic pacifism. "They've been trying to hold them off on their own but yesterday they attacked again and..." she swallowed hard as she tried to say such an awful thing out loud, "... they took Lord Swann's niece of five-and-ten, Lady Johanna. Most likely to be sold to a pillow house in Lys." Aemma gasped and covered her mouth with her hand. "The King has not answered to written nor in person requests for aid and Lord Boremund is asking for our help." 
Daemon's face went stone cold and serious. "If they are already bold enough to kidnap a noblewoman, then they will only get worse. It's already bad enough that Viserys didn't at least send ships to defend their coasts, it sends a message that Westeros is unguarded and ripe for the taking."
"Rhaenys will have probably gotten a message like this. Boremund is her uncle, not to mention her own father died fighting off the Triarchy." Aemma added.

Rhaenyra nodded decisively. "Call the banners."

Chapter Text

The Small Council - the Red Keep, King's Landing

The day after that awkward session of petitions, the King and his Small Council met, and it wasn't long before the topic of the Triarchy was brought up. 

Tyland Lannister, Master of Ships since Corlys Velaryon resigned and took his fleet, riches, and marriageable daughter back to Driftmark after the King chose to marry another, spoke first. "If the Triarchy has indeed reformed, and with the backing of the Three Whores, then it would be wise to at least send support to those coastal settlements that are at risk." 
"I will not start a war with the Free Cities." King Viserys stated firmly. He was not going to be remembered as the king that disrupted the peace his grandfather had worked all his life to keep. "What if they attack a merchant vessel by mistake and the Three Daughters decide to retaliate?" 
"Your grace, we would not be attacking; we would be defending our coasts from pirates that are harming our subjects." Ser Steffon Darklyn, the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard after the relocation of Ser Harrold, argued. 
Viserys sighed. "Perhaps a diplomatic solution can be explored?" 
"Pirates are not exactly known for their negotiation skills... or their hospitality." Lord Strong reminded them. "Whoever we send, we might as well be sending them to their deaths." 
"I think it would be wise to seek assistance from the Princess Alyssa, your grace." Lord Beesbury proposed, remembering the tales that have circulated for decades about the wild princess burning down pirate fleets. "She has been known to frequently deal with pirates in Essos - she may have some useful insight as to how we can proceed." 
Otto Hightower scoffed. "And have the Crown beg on their knees for the help of a violent woman with no diplomatic training?" 

Viserys nodded, agreeing with Otto. He loved his sister, but she has never been one to mind her words or respect authority - he still remembers how she used to speak with lords who sought to court her during her visits and the way she didn't hesitate to draw her blades at the slightest insult. The fact that no city had ever demanded reparations from House Targaryen for a death caused by Alyssa was a miracle, honestly. No, sending Alyssa would only result in a catastrophe, or worse: a massacre. 

"No - I love my sister, but sending her would only result in burning any possible diplomatic relationship with the Three Daughters." King Viserys resolved with finality. "Send a raven to Lord Baratheon and Lord Swann that they are free to defend their coasts from raids, but the Crown will not be sending any troops, as this would be considered an act of war by the Free Cities." 
The Hand of the King and the Grand Maester nodded sagely. "Wise decision, your grace." Otto said in approval.
That was enough for the King to completely forget about the Triarchy and perk up. "Now, onto more pleasant matters. How go the final preparations for my son's hunt?" 

While the Hand informed the Council of the plans for the three-day hunt in the Kingswood, Lord Strong and Lord Beesbury exchanged a concerned look. 

Lyonel Strong was loyal to the King and loathed even having to think such things, but it was getting hard to ignore the stagnancy of the Realm under the rule of King Viserys ... and Otto Hightower. His son Harwin reported that Gwayne Hightower, put by his father in the ranks of the City Watch for no other reason than being the Hand's son - and the Queen's brother, the cunt (Harwin's words, not Lyonel's) would claim whenever he received less than he thought he deserved - was a terrible fighter and an even worse watchman, forever looking down at the smallfollk who came to them to report a crime. Houses Blackwood and Bracken in the Riverlands were still fighting and no letter from the King could get them to settle their long-lasting feud, but the King refused to send men to stop the bloodshed so "he would not be seen as a tyrant". He was actually frightened that Lord Beesbury had died when he saw the amount of gold the Queen had requested to donate to the Sept and he stopped blinking for several seconds. 

Internally, he was very glad his daughters were in Dragonstone and not in the Red Keep. He missed them terribly, but seeing the three ladies-in-waiting to the Queen running ragged attempting to carry out all the duties of a full entourage made him sigh in relief. Their letters spoke of long days too, but they weren't spent planning one of the King's many feasts and trying to get more ladies-in-waiting to come to their aid. They shared lessons with Princess Rhaenyra on commerce law and diplomacy and economy, even learning High Valyrian that was used in the Free Cities; Catelyn had taken an interest in the Learning House that Que- Lady Aemma had established and wrote about the many foreign inventors that shared their works on Dragonstone and getting to learn from them, and Rosaline had become fast friends with Sabitha Vypren and had asked to try fighting with a sword too (that nearly stopped Lyonel's heart), having already taken a liking to archery and practicing with other ladies that were trained by a master.

His girls were happy and thriving, so he was happy for them even though he was sad that he didn't get to see them every day. Maybe he should ask them to come visit him- 

Suddenly the thought of the Queen demanding that they become ladies-in-waiting to her and the Hand pulling some underhanded maneuver to make them stay in the Red Keep daughter occurred to him and clouded his mind, making him shiver despite the warm spring weather. 

Maybe he should go visit them on Dragonstone - maybe Lord Beesbury would like to come as well and visit his granddaughter.

...

The news of Lady Johanna Swann being taken by the Triarchy and sold to a pillowhouse in Lys had shaken the court, but not enough to spur the King into action. 

The heavily pregnant Queen called for prayer for the young lady that was suffering in the hands of foreign savages and to end of the bloodshed at the Stormlands, but that did little to ease the fear and anxiety that had spread through the court. The smallfolk died every day and to lose a few to pirates was a sad but not exactly tragic reality of coastal settlements - but for a noble lady to be taken and forced to become a whore? It scared them. 

And yet, the Hand insisted that they could not even send a ship to Lys to attempt to ransom the young lady back to her house.

"And become the laughingstock of the Known World? To have to pay pirates and whoremongers whatever price they ask would be a complete humiliation." Otto Hightower stated with a scoff. "The loss of Lady Swann is a tragedy, no one is disputing that - but we cannot throw away the reputation of the realm on a single lady." 
"Our reputation is already in the gutter." Ser Darklyn intervened, clearly trying to contain his temper. "By our inaction, these pirates were essentially given free leave to ravage our shores and plunder our towns. They will only grow bolder from here. How long until they feel confident enough to attack bigger towns or, Seven forbid, King's Landing?" 
King Viserys sighed, rubbing his face tiredly. He had received another unopened letter from Dragonstone and his mood was already sour - he did not want to hear all this talk. "Mayhaps we can send men and supplies to the Stormlands, to assist those that have been affected by these attacks." He suggested, looking for the approval of the members of the Council. 
The Grand Maester nodded. "That is very generous, your grace - truly, the mark of a caring leader." 
"Still, your grace, it would not be remiss to send some ships to guard the Stormlands and prevent further attacks." Tyland suggested. "If these pirates do grow bolder, it may discourage traders from coming to Westeros and our incomes would be affected." 
Lord Beesbury agreed with the Lannister. "It's true, my king. Being idle will only end in losses for the entire realm." 

Viserys looks around his council, his gaze shifting between each member as he considered their advice and for a second, Lord Lyonel dared to hope that the King would choose to do something and order them to send ships to defend the Stormlands. 

That ended quickly when the Hand of the King opened his mouth again. "Your grace, I'm afraid I must inform of a troubling rumor from Dragonstone. It would appear that Lord Baratheon has sent a letter requesting aid to Princess Rhaenys and I fear that the use of dragons will quickly escalate the level of violence." 

Lyonel Strong sighed and finished his cup of wine, readying himself for another long meeting.

Chamber of the Painted Table - Dragonstone

Lady Paramount of Dragonstone and the Narrow Sea, Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen, stood at the end of the table her ancestors had used to plan their conquest of Westeros and looked around at the gathered lords and ladies. 

The houses of the Narrow Sea were quick to answer her summons to discuss the news they had received from the Stormlands, a grim weight settling over all of them. Princess Rhaenys and her son Laenor attended as the representatives of Driftmark, having arrived on their dragons and received a similar call for aid from the Baratheons, who were close kin to Rhaenys by her mother, Jocelyn Baratheon. The ladies-in-waiting to Princess Rhaenyra and those that still accompanied her mother, the former Queen now Lady Aemma, were present in the room as well, at the insistence of the Targaryen women and despite the protests of some of the men. 

"War does not care for the gender of those it kills, ser." Rhaenyra had silenced the man. "All women, noble and common alike, know that when the enemy comes, a quick death is the best outcome and that not even our dead bodies are safe from becoming spoils of war. The Triarchy have already taken a Lady to be sold at auction in Lys. Every action or inaction decided in this room will affect them one way or the other - they deserve to know what actions are being taken and voice their opinions just as much as you do. Any other man who has a problem with that can argue with my lady Syrax." 

There were no further arguments after that. 

"My uncle has written to me requesting aid. The King cannot begrudge House Baratheon for seeking assistance from their blood, nor can he reproach me for wanting to help my family." Princess Rhaenys said as she pointed to the coast of the Stormlands on the lit-up map. "I will be patrolling the coast from Weeping Town to Eastwood and Laenor will aid the defense of Tarth." 
Rhaenyra nodded, then turned to her uncle. "What do we know about the Triarchy and their leaders?" 
"The Three Whores are backing them, and they are being led by a prince called Crabhas Dhagar, the Crabfeeder." Daemon informs the gathered nobility. "I have spread out a bigger number of Dragonguards among our coastal villages, and I'll send whatever men we can spare to aid the Stormlands as well. I have also sent a raven to Alyssa for any additional knowledge she may have from her friends in Tyrosh. We should be hearing from her soon enough." 
Aemma threw a raven scroll on the table for the others to read. "The Martells have heard of the attack on the Stormlands too and are setting up defenses on their coasts as well. They report that there's been an increased number of pirate encampments being set up in the Stepstones Islands." She sets a bright red figure on the painted table that represent those islands. 
"That's likely their homeport." Laenor Velaryon commented, putting to use all the lessons from his father in preparation to become Lord of the Tides. "Pirates usually gather in a specific port to make recruitment and passing information among captains easier, and more often than not some sort of council or court is established. They decide where to target, what to take and who to kill, they also often set bounties on specific ships if they are after a lucrative target." 
Daemon scoffed. "That's true - several years ago, a pirate council in Essos put a bounty on the Cannibal." 
"How come we've never heard of this pirate council?" Lord Massey asked concerned.
"Because Alyssa burned their entire fleet to a crisp while they were still on their ships. There wasn't a pirate council after that." 

One could argue about the Targaryens' propensity for violence, but none could deny that they were effective when they set their minds to it. (Most of them, anyway.)

"Why don't we just torch the Stepstones? If there is nothing there but pirates and we seek to rid ourselves of pirates, wouldn't it make sense to simply burn them and their ships now?" Laena suggested. Murmurs of agreement rumbled around the room, both from the ladies and the lords. 
"We could, but then the Triarchy would just gather more ships and another ambitious captain, and the cycle would start again until they either run out of coin... or a lucky crossbow ends another dragonrider's life." Daemon said, sneaking a glance at Rhaenys, who tensed up - her father, Aemon Targaryen, had perished fighting pirates over twenty years ago, and his death changed everything for their family. Their unity, their family peace - the line of succession.

Aemma Arryn had lost most of her immediate family to an attack from the Mountain Clans five years after Aemon's death, leaving behind distant cousins and a three-year-old niece that now reigned as Defender of the Vale. They had never asked the Crown for aid when dealing with the Mountain Clans, they simply dealt with it and endured, as it was their problem. Would King Jaehaerys have sent aid in the form of dragonriders if her kin had asked for assistance? The only adult dragonriders at that point besides the monarchs were Prince Baelon, the Crown Prince after his brother's death; a bitter Rhaenys with two young children to look after; and Daemon, just married to Rhea Royce and thus hating everything connected to the Vale. Would he have been willing to risk another death in the family? Or would he have done like Viserys and stayed out of it, believing it wasn't his problem to deal with and left them to their devices? 

Maybe I should send a letter to Jeyne, once this is over, Aemma resolved, just to let her know she can always count on our help. 

Rhaenyra continued to listen at the concerns of the lords and ladies, then to the advice from Daemon, feeling a little overwhelmed with how many things depended on her and how little she knew about these matters. War and army management and coastal defenses had not been considered important for a princess' education - the focus had been more on learning to manage a household and charities and plan balls. Now she found herself trying to keep herself afloat while never having learnt how to swim. She didn't want her bannermen to see her as a spoiled princess who knew nothing of their realities, nor did she want to seem like an inexperienced leader who didn't understand the harsh cost of war while she waited for the men to defend her. They may have owed her obedience by virtue of being their liege lady, but she wanted them to follow her because they wanted to do so too - like the Goldcloaks did with Daemon.

All her life, she'd looked up to the Conqueror Queen Visenya - the first rider of Vhagar, the first wielder of Dark Sister, the Valyrian Warrior - and now Rhaenyra couldn't help but feel like a lizard pretending to be a dragon. 

"Laena," she turned to her cousin, "I want you to go back to Driftmark and patrol the mouth of the bay on Vhagar. You and Lord Corlys should keep an eye out for suspicious ships and if you could intercept Alyssa when she arrives and inform her of recent developments, that would be appreciated." 
Rhaenys looked surprised at how quickly Rhaenyra had sent Laena to the front line, but Laena smiled in a predatory way and nodded. "Am I allowed to burn any suspicious ships?"
"If they fire arrows at you, rain dragonfire on them. We depend on our imports and exports, and while I don't want word spreading in Essos that we are blood-thirsty warmongers who burn whoever they please, I will not allow any merchant prince to think they can intrude on dragon waters and get out unscathed." Rhaenyra stated, earning her some nods from the lords. "Princess Rhaenys, cousin Laenor, you may have all the fighting men the Lord Commander can spare, but I would ask that you escort their ship to the Stormlands yourself - I would not want to send them directly into the carnage, especially when none have experienced battle at sea."   
Laenor bowed like a knight would. "Of course, my liege. I will follow the ships on Seasmoke and see that they reach the Stormlands safely." 
"I will gather the men and have them ready to leave by daybreak." Daemon nodded and, surprisingly, sought Aemma next. "Cousin, do you know if any of the healers in the Healing House have experience in field medicine? It would be useful to be able to treat wounds with more than just prayers and mud." 
"I shall go after this meeting and ask," Aemma agreed, all eyes gathering on her, "- and I will make sure your men are sent off with plenty of medicine and ashwool either way. We all know that the cold can kill you faster than arrows sometimes." 

Ashwool was a new and exciting development in the island. Their sheep grazed on hills and pastures filled with volcanic ash, and adding ash to the carding of the wool had not only turned the wool a lovely shade of grey but also made the material warmer to the touch and able to retain heat more easily. The inland settlements on the island had turned almost exclusively to the raising of sheep and the spinning and weaving of the wool into yarn and fabric, experimenting with new patterns and dyes available from the rising trade with the East.

Rhaenyra then turned to her ladies-in-waiting, who had been watching the discussions and strategies with interest, and addressed those that didn't hail from her vassal houses. "I am very thankful for the trust you and your families have put in me when you agreed to become my ladies-in-waiting, and I realize the prospect of war can be daunting, especially one that is not strictly your own. If any of you wish to return to your family's keeps, I will not begrudge you for it, and I will see you all safe back to your homes, with an agreement to take you back once the fighting is over if you still wish to serve me. Either way, I promise that no harm will come to you so long as I have the power to stop it." 
Johanna Westerling, who had been standing near her uncle, stood up straighter. "It is as you said before, Princess, pirates spare no one. We in the West are used to the attacks of the Ironborn and even noble ladies cannot be shielded from them. I believe it is much better to learn how to manage a keep under siege now than wait until I am a married woman with children trying to keep a House together while under attack." 
Wylla Manderly nodded in agreement. "I will write to my grandsire and inform him of the situation. We may not be able to spare much in the way of supplies, but our men are skilled sailors as well as fighters." 
"My own house cannot send supplies, but I am willing to help train any women who want to learn to defend themselves, your highness." Sabitha Vypren offered, her hand going to the sword hanging from her belt, the scabbard hidden by the pleats of her gown. The Riverlander had taken one look at a recent portrait of Alyssa and decided to imitate the fashion of wearing a sword with gowns too. "Even if they can't save their life, at least grant them the dignity of taking someone down with them." 

The other ladies piped up too - even if their own houses were too far away or could not get supplies to Dragonstone, but they were willing to do everything they could to help here. The Strong sisters were offering to send letters to their brother Harwin, now Commander of the City Watch with Daemon's relocation, telling him to gather any information that was going around King's Landing about the Stepstones and pirate attacks. Melissa Beesbury argued for making provisionary budgets in case the combat ran longer than expected and started to become a drain on their resources. The ladies from the Crownlands, standing by the head of their respective houses, also stepped forward with plans that could be implemented to support the cause with the skills they had been taught: making spare clothes for the men to stave off the cold of night, cutting bandages, knitting socks, even helping distribute food and aid among the villages. 

Aemma watched with pride as Rhaenyra's face went from surprised to hopeful, and how even the men who had protested against their involvement had shut up and let the girls speak. Rhaenyra had been so worried about having the loyalty of the men that she hadn't seen how she already had the loyalty of the ladies, earned by giving them room to grow and a place where they would be listened to. It reminded Aemma of those last women's courts during Alysanne's later years, the old Queen listening to the noble and smallfolk women alike, even if she wasn't able to fight so much now that she was old and hardened from so many losses - but the work she had done abolishing the rite of first night and trying to get women in to the Citadel was still remembered. 

Rhaenyra finally turns to Daemon. "Uncle, there is no one I trust more to defend our family and our bannermen than you, and I want you to do whatever you think best to rid the Narrow Sea of pirates. Until the last ship is burned down and the last pirate dead, I hereby name Prince Daemon Targaryen, Master of War and Protector of the Narrow Sea." The Lady of Dragonstone orders solemnly, her last sentence echoing in the hall so that every lord, lady and servant heard clearly. 

Daemon, not used to being so publicly praised and called upon nobly, is dumbfounded for a second - just a second - before he lifts his sword and presents it to Rhaenyra with a bow. "I, Prince Daemon Targaryen, son of Baelon and rider of Caraxes, do hereby swear to uphold the office given to me by Princess Rhaenyra, Lady Paramount of Dragonstone and the Narrow Sea. Her will shall be done." He rose and nodded at his niece, not with his usual predatory smirk or haughty grin but something other that was both proud and ready to take down a foe. He turned to the gathered nobility next. "I swear to you as well, my lords and ladies, that I will rain Fire and Blood on those who would try to pillage our coasts, kill our sons and take our daughters. The dragons will defend their own." 

The lords and ladies don't cheer exactly, but they make their approval evident with thundering claps and a few scattered calls for war and bloodshed. 

...

It all boiled over a week later, when two things happened simultaneously. 

Alyssa Targaryen arrived on Dragonstone atop her dragon, a hardened yet alive Johanna Swann clinging to her back. 

Two Velaryon ships returning from Volantis were ambushed on the Stepstones and ransacked by pirates, the burned skeletons of the ships left to drift back to Driftmark, where Lord Corlys was said to have sworn vengeance on the Triarchy.

At the Chamber of the Painted Table, the Lady Paramount of Dragonstone and the Narrow Sea set all talks of defense to the side for now and instead asked the lords to gather their best fighting men and prepare for war. Prince Daemon Targaryen, with a hand on Dark Sister and fire in his eyes, immediately began talking of the supplies that would be needed to rid the Stepstones of pirates - men, weapons, camp gear, food and medicine for soldiers - and the lay-out of the islands. 

"They dared to attack Velaryon ships - my bannerman's ships - and slaughtered sailors from my lands. I will not stand idle while they attack my people and threaten our livelihood." Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen declared to her vassals, almost snarling like a dragon about to breathe fire on her enemies. Her hair was braided in the style of Queen Visenya, a sword now hung from her belt, and she was dressed in a black ashwool riding habit. "Let the King celebrate his son and ignore the problems of the realm - I shall not let pirates plunder our ships and pillage our villages. I promised you that I would rain Fire and Blood on any who dared, and that is exactly what we are going to do." 

Swords were raised and war cries rung through the hall, joining the roars of the dragons outside. 

House Targaryen of Dragonstone was going to war.

Chapter Text

Aemma called for one of the female healers at the Healing House and sent everyone else away from the entire floor where Johanna's room was. 

"The last thing this poor girl needs is to have men and gawkers hovering around her." Aemma Arryn stated fiercely when Daemon tried to stay, insisting he wanted to know about the number of enemies they were dealing with and any other information she could have. "And I promise you if there were any scorpions on those ships, they were not her priority at the moment, and you will not give her grief about it." 

Johanna Swann had not let go of Alyssa, clutching her riding coat like a lifeline as the wild princess led them through the corridors of Dragonstone, her arms shielding her face and torso, as Aemma walked in front of them, blocking the view from anyone else as they entered a spare room and closed the door behind them. The healer would arrive soon, and in the meantime Aemma was going to do as mothers do and provide comfort. 

"You've been very brave, sweet girl." Aemma said softly to the young lady as Alyssa sat them down on the bed. The lady regent knelt on the ground, not wanting to make the girl uncomfortable by having someone else look down on her. "I am so sorry that they harmed you and I cannot imagine how awful it must have been, but you are here with us now and we are going to see you well again, may we do that?" Even though she wanted to comfort her, Aemma didn't make an effort to touch her, not wanting to overwhelm her.

Lady Johanna Swann was a Stormlands beauty, five-and-ten with a willowy frame, shiny black hair and light blue eyes, and Aemma had no doubts that once recovered she would turn the eyes of many, but right now the young lady's skin was pale from being locked inside a pillow house and she had dark bruises under her eyes from crying, not to mention the bright red marks on her wrists and around her neck, where she must have been cuffed. 

Johanna looked to Alyssa first and, at the princess' nod, slowly let go of the black riding coat, hunching in on herself like she was attempting to make herself smaller. "I- Thank you for your hospitality, your grace." She said with a hoarse voice, as if she hadn't spoken for a long time - or as if she had screamed for too long. Neither Aemma nor Alyssa corrected the misused title - three years after the annulment, it was still a common enough occurrence with visitors, especially those not too fond of the new Queen.
"There is no need to thank me, young lady - it is our pleasure to host someone so strong." Aemma extended her hands towards her but left it up to Johanna if she wanted to take them. Johanna stared at them as if they might grow claws and scratch her for a few seconds, but eventually took them, letting the former queen gently caress them. "I asked for a woman healer to come here so she may see that you are not injured anywhere. If you want to be alone with her, we will leave and wait outside while she examines you or either Alyssa or myself or both of us can stay with you. It is up to you - all we want is to make sure you are well." 

Johanna Swann stares blankly at Lady Aemma, almost like she doesn't believe her, then at Princess Alyssa, who smiles warmly and nods. "We will not do anything without your approval. We shall only do what you want." Alyssa reassures her. 

For a minute or two, Johanna rubs her arms and looks at her lap, the Targaryen women not prompting her to say anything, only continuing their tender touches to provide comfort to the young lady. 

Finally, there is a knock on the door and Johanna jumps from fright, only calming down when the knight on the other side announces that the healer is here.

"Could you stay, my lady?" She looked to Aemma - soft, maternal Aemma whose nether regions had been examined by most Maesters than she cared to count and knew what it was like to feel your skin crawl as another examined you. 
"Of course, sweet girl." Aemma agreed and sat down next to her before turning to Alyssa. "Cousin, could you let the healer through and tell Daemon and Rhaenyra that I will be staying with Lady Johanna, please? Inform them that the lady is our guest and that she will talk if she is ready and provide them with all the information you have about the state of Lys and their navy." 
Alyssa did a mock bow. "Of course, my Queen." Aemma glared at her out of the corner of her eye - unlike the visitors, Alyssa did know better - but couldn't help but soften when Alyssa leaned down to talk to Johanna with a soft smile. "I shall remain here on Dragonstone for the next few days, if you wish to talk or walk or do anything, feel free to ask for me." 

Alyssa opened the door for the healer and allowed her to come into the room before leaving, closing the door behind her. 

The shuffle of armor outside reassured them that no one would be coming in uninvited. 

...

Rhaenyra all but jumped into her aunt's arms when she entered the solar, the impact forcing Alyssa to take a few stumbling steps back for balance.

"Oof! Look how strong you've grown!" Alyssa grunted as she barely managed to lift her niece off the ground and immediately set her back on her feet. The wild princess stood back to fully take in her niece and grinned. "You look well. Power suits you - you look like a Lady of the Valyrian Freehold, beautiful and dangerous." Rhaenyra was used to being called beautiful - she was not The Realm's Delight for no reason - but being praised for her power was still new and it made her blush at her aunt's compliments.
"And what about me?" Daemon asked teasingly as he approached them, sauntering with a hand on Dark Sister's hilt. 
"You look like something a dragon chewed up." Alyssa shot back with mirth but hugged her brother anyway, Daemon knocking their temples together as they embraced. "It's good to see you well, too. And busy, from what I've seen - I don't remember seeing so many armed men on ships since we took control of Dragonstone." She said with curiosity clear in her tone.
"Haven't you heard, haedar? We're going to war." The Rogue Prince replied with a grin full of teeth. "And speaking of war - you are to be shot on sight if you are ever seen in Lys again, however did you manage to get Johanna Swann out of the pillowhouses?" 

Alyssa grinned back, like a dragon who'd just eaten a full meal. "I have some very useful and very helpful friends." 

Tyrosh - the night before

"Fuck off, Maegyr. You and your wife and that dragon can all fuck off." Varian spit in his friend's face as Marcus Maegyr dragged him out of a low-life tavern in Tyrosh, the mercenary staggering along until the Volantene pushed him into an alleyway, where he thankfully allowed Varian to slide against the wall and sit on the ground. In the few moons since he had last seen him, Varian had dyed his hair a toxic pink and it almost matched his friend's rosy cheeks from the copious amount of liquor he had consumed.

"That was rude, you did not even hear my offer." Marcus said as he squatted next to his friend. "What do you say about joining me on a short trip to Lys?" 
Varian snorted and started cackling loudly, hitting the ground with his palms as if he had just heard the most hilarious joke of his life. "Lys? YOU? Will I have to see you dance again?" 
"No, you prick." Marcus rolled his eyes and dangled a coin purse in front of Varian's eyes. "You are going to be the distraction this time." 
"NoOoO," Varian cried in an awful staccato as he tried to drag himself away. "I am not dancing either! You cannot afford my services!" 
"No one is going to dance! You just need to buy a few hours with a few virgins." 

Suddenly, Varian is scrambling to his feet and leaning on the wall for stability.

"Why didn't you start with that? Of course I will go, my friend!" He reached to embrace Marcus, but lost his balance, ending up hanging off Marcus' shoulders and groaning into his ear. "I never pictured your wife would be the kind to allow you to step foot in a brothel, especially after that grand wedding you had and those sappy vows you made." 
"Oh, I am not going to be in Lys either, I just came here to recruit you." Marcus said with a slap to his back that straightened up Varian and began walking them out of the alley and closer to the ports. "Someone else will go with you to make sure that you pick the right maidens... and you do not touch them." 
Varian groaned again. "I don't even get to deflower a maiden? Pfft, just let me go back to tavern." He attempts to disentangle himself from Marcus and walk away but he barely makes it a step in the other direction before Marcus is pulling him back. 
"You just have to give the mongers their coin, and while you talk with them, Tael is going to give the message to the right maiden and then you can use our coin to enjoy yourself back here."

The sellsword perked up at hearing more people were going to be involved in this new endeavor, especially one of the servants that belonged to Princess Alyssa's famous household and who Varian had the pleasure of meeting during their "rescue mission" three years ago. "What are we doing, exactly?" Varian asked as he allowed Marcus to direct him somewhere. "This sounds like one of the darilaros' schemes. Are we rescuing a fair maiden in distress like in a poem?" 
"Right you are, my friend. I'll tell you more as soon as we reach our lodging."

Through the haziness of the alcohol, Varian tried to recall if there had been any dragon sightings on Tyrosh and came up empty. You'd think seeing a giant flying lizard would be monumental enough to remember even when piss drunk, but at the moment, he could not remember how many glasses of pear brandy he'd had or how many summers he had seen. 

Later, once he was sober, he would tell them that there had been whispers about pirates recruiting sellswords for an attack on Westeros now that it was common knowledge that the King had no dragons and had the backbone of a rag doll. More than one acquaintance had been persuaded to join the ships backed with coin from Lys and Myr, entire companies suddenly picked up and boarded said ships with the promise of a cut of the plundered goods. There was even one rumor of a merchant prince willing to give his wife and daughter to any man that managed to kill a dragonrider.

He would sober up quite quickly, because before Varian could get his bearings, he was suddenly face-to-face with the bright green eyes of the Cannibal, hidden in the waves of a secluded harbor with its head poking out of the water, and Princess Alyssa Targaryen waiting for them with a sword in one hand and a lamp in the other. 

"This time, I am torching all of Lys." Alyssa promised before mounting her dragon and pulling her husband and Varian behind her on the saddle. 

The dragon glided along the waters, its pitch-black scales serving as camouflage as it wove between sleeping ships, leading them away from the city and further outsea. He was starting to wonder if the dragon was going to ferry them to wherever the married couple were staying when Varian suddenly felt and heard the dragon's wings spreading out. The sellsword realized that he was about to fly on dragonback and suddenly felt like he was going to lose the liquor, dinner, lunch, and probably yesterday's breakfast. 

He could barely open his mouth to scream before Marcus was shoving his hand over his mouth as the dragon rose up and out of the water with an order from the Princess. 

Varian passed out the second an actual cloud hit his face.

The camp in the Kingswood was bustling with activity as more and more noble guests started to arrive for the hunt in honor of Prince Aegon's second name day. 

Lords got ready to join the hunt - especially the Hand, who heard word that the White Hart, the King of the Forest himself, had been spotted; a great omen for his grandson, the future king - while the ladies gathered around the Queen in her tent, gossiping about such and such's marriage and the fate of poor Johanna Swann. Away from the King and Queen, there were also those who also commented on the glaring absence of any other Targaryens in the festivities yet again - a trend since the King announced his annulment of the marriage to Queen Aemma Arryn and his new bride, Alicent Hightower.

King Viserys Targaryen was sitting at the head of the feast table, watching his son and heir be regaled with cheers and praises from his maternal family, when a sharp cry they hadn't heard in years rang through the air, bringing everyone present to complete silence. 

A dragon was approaching. 

King Viserys stood up so abruptly that his chair fell back and hit the carpeted floor with a thump and he nearly crashed into Ser Erryk, who had been attempting to help him up. "Finally! See Otto - I told you they would come around! Come, everyone! Let us greet my family!" 

The Hand's protests fell on deaf ears as the nobility hurried to scatter out of the main tent, eager to see which Targaryen dragon they would finally see after three years of a dragonless King and prince. He looked back to find his daughter and saw that it was only Ser Criston Cole who had any consideration for the heavily pregnant Queen, who couldn't rise as quickly as the others, and gave her his arm so she could get up from her chair and waddle outside. Otto, reassured that the Queen was safe, quickly walked outside to be at the King's side, where he belonged. 

The King and his Council were in front of the welcoming party that gathered outside the main tent, looking at the approaching creature. It was a single dragon, with yellow scales that almost glowed in the sun, which could only mean it was one dragon: Syrax, the Golden Lady. The mount of Princess Rhaenyra. The same princess who had left with her mother to her new seat and had not spoken nor written to her father since he announced he would marry her lady-in-waiting. 

"Oh, it's my precious girl!" King Viserys nearly jumped from joy when he realized it was his beloved daughter who was approaching. "Where's Aegon? Bring him to me, he must meet his sister!"
Otto Hightower's eyes widened at the prospect of that spoiled girl meeting his grandson and hurting him out of jealousy or some unjustified revenge for her mother's weakness came to him and he nearly ran to the King's side. "Your grace, perhaps it would be best to first see what the Princess wants-" 
"Nonsense, Otto! What else could she want other than to see her family after so long?" The nursemaid that held Aegon had just arrived and caught the tension between the King and the Hand but couldn't say anything as the King took his son from her arms and propped him on his hip with a grunt. "Look, Aegon! Your sister has come to visit!"
The little prince wasn't really interested in a sister so much as the dragon that was coming closer and closer. "Dagon!" He yelled, waving around his little toy made in the image of Balerion. 
"Yes, it's a dragon. It is Syrax, and she belongs to your sister Rhaenyra." Viserys explained, leading Aegon to say something that sounded like "Renya" in an attempt to imitate him. "No, no. Rhae-ny-ra. No matter, you will get better as you get to know her. You know, she is the youngest dragonrider since the Doom of Valyria, having mounted the dragon she hatched in her crib barely a day after she was born." 

Despite the King's jovial mood, the nobles that heard Viserys reminisce about the young Princess Rhaenyra, whose dragon egg indeed hatched in her cradle, couldn't help but compare the son to his older sister. Prince Aegon's egg had gone stone cold, leaving the dragonkeepers to take it back to the very empty Dragonpit. The Hand had proposed another egg be placed in Aegon's crib, but the King ignored it and waved him off. "My egg didn't hatch in my crib either, and I claimed Balerion at five-and-ten! Maybe his mount is out there, waiting to be claimed."

It seemed Viserys had forgotten that all the riderless dragons were in Dragonstone, and that according to the incredulous contract he signed, only the ruling Lady of Dragonstone could grant his children permission to attempt to claim one - and Otto knew that the spoiled princess would sooner burn them all the second they tried to step foot on that island before ever letting her half-siblings near a dragon. 

Finally, the yellow dragon landed in a free space, making the dirt and grass rise up from the powerful winds generated by its wings - it hit the gathered nobles in the face and messed up the careful hairstyles of the ladies that got closer. But all that was forgotten when the beast roared, scaring the horses and making the humans step back in awe and fear, and its rider jumped down from the saddle, landing on the ground and coming to pet the dragon's snout. Most would not be able to notice, but those that had seen the dragon up close before could clearly see that it had grown exponentially since it left King's Landing with its mistress - and the dragon was not happy with what it was seeing... or smelling.

"I know this stinks, Syrax." Rhaenyra Targaryen soothed her dragon, barely hiding her discontent at being there either. "We shan't be here for long." 

...

Viserys' eyes grew misty as he beheld his daughter for the first time in three years. 

Rhaenyra had grown taller, nearly matching his own height, and the last remnants of baby fat were disappearing from her cheeks; her silver-gold hair was long and in intricate Valyrian braids that arched across her head like a crown and met in a single braid down her back; she wore a tailored riding coat made of black wool with a grey undertone and to his surprise there was a fine sword hanging from her hip - slightly shorter and thinner than a usual knight's blade, but the hilt was made from a black metal and made to look like dragon wings. But perhaps what hurt him the most was the fact that she looked so much like his beloved Aemma, save for the amethyst eyes - and right now, those eyes did not hold a single drop of affection towards him. 

Whatever she was here for, it was not to see him.

"Your grace." Rhaenyra curtsied perfectly, bowing her head. "I apologize for interrupting your festivities, but I bear urgent news from the Stepstones and the Narrow Sea." She explained, standing straight and solid with her hands clasped behind her back and ignoring the squirming toddler in the King's arms. "Three days ago, the Triarchy captured and ransacked two ships belonging to House Velaryon, killing its loyal crew and stealing the profits from our trade with Essos. As the Lady Paramount of Dragonstone and the Narrow Sea, it is my responsibility to look after my vassals and see that justice is delivered for the loss of life," no one dared to speak as Princess Rhaenyra eloquently described the situation, only stopping to take a folded document from the inside pocket of her coat and presenting it, "- and as such, my kin and I will be flying to the Stepstones to rid it of pirates." 
King Viserys, who had been in something of a trance as his daughter spoke of war, suddenly blinked awake when Rhaenyra said she would be flying to the islands herself. "What?" He passed Aegon to Alicent without look, almost making the Queen fall down from the sudden weight. It was only because Ser Criston stabilized her that she didn't drop the heir to the throne. "No! I forbid it! You will do no such thing!" He flailed, his volume rising and his face turning red.
"I am not asking for your permission, your grace." The Princess said coldly and calmly, looking at him like one might look at a stubborn child. "I am merely informing you and your council so that there are no wild conspiracies or misunderstandings about our course of action." She looked around at the faces of the nobles, who ranged from shock to interest to disgust and a few in awe. "Again, I apologize for interrupting your hunt, but time is of the essence, and I thought it best that you hear this from me and not from a raven scroll. Now, is there anything else you or your council would like to know?" 

Viserys tried to search for his warm, cheeky daughter in this cold, unyielding woman that stood in front of him and found nothing. Hair like Queen Visenya and a sword by her side - gods, Aemma must have finally caved in and allowed Alyssa to teach her swordfighting - and a face of quiet disappointment that reminded him too much of King Jaehaerys in his later years, worn and weary with the reality of no longer expecting good outcomes. His own daughter, his darling little girl, looked at him with the same eyes that Queen Alysanne had when she looked at Daemon: like a problem that needed to be dealt with. 

"Rhaenyra." It was Alicent that took a step closer, sensing that her husband might go into another embarrassing rage again. "Would you like to join the ladies and I while the Small Council discusses the issue you brought up?" She said kindly, shifting Aegon on her hip. 
"Thank you for the generous offer, your grace, but unless I am made a participant of such a discussion, then I shall take my leave. Us dragons are stretched thin enough as it is and I am needed back at Dragonstone." Rhaenyra didn't make an effort to be genuinely warm with Alicent either, smiling without teeth. She turned back to the King, whose chest was almost comically expanding and contracting as the Hand tried to soothe his anger. It would hilarious if it wasn't so pathetic. "Well, your grace? Will there be a meeting or shall I take my leave?" 

King Viserys sighed tiredly and shook off Otto's hand from his arm. "My Small Council and I will meet with you to discuss this... issue." He said, rubbing his temple as if he had headache. "I tire of all this talk of pirates." 
"The people of the Stormlands also tire of living under the threat of being killed or taken by pirates, your grace. I will not allow attacks on my people to go on long enough for them to grow tired of them." Rhaenyra said back dryly, toeing the line between sarcasm and open disrespect. "Which reminds me," she turns to all the gathered nobles for the first time, "I am sure it will be a relief to many that Johanna Swann and other maidens taken with her were safely recovered from Lys and are now recovering in Dragonstone. It was through the joint effort of Princess Alyssa Targaryen and her allies that Westerosi women were ripped from the claws of foreign fleshmongers and will be returned to their families as soon as the coasts are safe again." 

Several ladies breathed elated at the news of young girls being away from such horrid conditions, and even if most could not help but start to gossip and question the purity of the women that were rescued from Lys, the general feeling was one of relief. At least now they had the reassurance that if another noble lady - them, their daughters, sisters, cousins, or granddaughters even - someone would be able to do something. Someone who wasn't the King, who had spent the better part of the last twenty years in gallivanting around Essos, who had dared to disobey the King time and again and prevented him from taking the life of Aemma Arryn in the childbed. 

It was glaringly obvious to all that King Viserys Targaryen, despite being the King and by all means the patriarch of House Targaryen, did not have control of his family. Prince Daemon was famous for openly taunting his brother, Princess Rhaenys refused his summons after the sting of the Council of 101, Princess Alyssa had made it clear even before his coronation that he had no authority over her, and now Princess Rhaenyra, his own daughter, had clearly no intention of following his lead either. What's even worse: everyone else in the family but him and his young son had dragons. Dragons they were now taking to war and the King could realistically do nothing to stop.

Viserys struggled to make sense of all the information he had received and was still as a statue for a whole minute before regaining use of his legs, walking towards the King's tent and ordering the attendees of the event to drink and be merry and prepare for the hunt while they deal with a "small but urgent problem." He would talk his daughter out of this ridiculous idea of going after the Triarchy - this has Daemon written all over it, of course he was going to be a bad influence on my girl, I must find a way to remove him from Dragonstone - and they would all celebrate his awaited son as a family. Armed with newfound determination, he marched on to the main tent, barely hearing Rhaenyra approach her dragon. 

"Find something to eat but don't go far." Rhaenyra said as her forehead met her dragon's scales. "Remind them what dragons are capable of."