The castle hall of Dragonstone lay shrouded in a dim pall cast by mingled volcanic ash and sea-salt air.
Within the hall, the carvings upon the stone walls depicted Aegon the Conqueror and his sisters.
Rhaenyra stood before the hearth, firelight leaping through her silver-gold hair. "I said no."
Daemon sat at the end of the long table, turning an empty wine cup in his hand.
"How long will you persist in this stubbornness?"
He brought the cup down hard upon the table.
"The King has lost all patience with you. He is preparing to name another heir."
"If you do nothing, Rhaenyra, you will lose your place as heir forever."
Rhaenyra turned, anger in her voice. "So you would send my sons to the Wall?"
"Send Jacaerys, Lucerys, and Joffrey to that frozen wasteland to die?"
"Have them don the black and never again set foot in the south?"
Daemon rose and came round the table toward her. "This is the only way to resolve these matters."
"Rhaenyra, open your eyes and look at what stands before you. Your father wavers. Alicent whispers in his ear day and night, and now she carries twins."
"Seven save us, my brother at his age can still put a child in the Queen, and all the nobles of King's Landing call it an auspicious sign."
He seized Rhaenyra by the shoulders.
"So long as those three boys remain at your side, so long as you insist they are your lawful sons, the lords will never accept you."
"I will speak plain—they mock you now. They ask what right a woman who has stained her own blood has to rule the Seven Kingdoms."
Rhaenyra shook off his hands and staggered back, catching herself upon the mantel to keep her feet. She lifted her gaze to Daemon, her voice trembling.
"From the beginning… you drew near to me and wed me for this alone, did you not?"
"So that your blood might sit the Iron Throne? So that you and my sons—Aegon the Younger and Viserys—might stand as rightful heirs?"
"My other three sons are but obstacles to you? Stones to be cast aside?"
Daemon stood silent for a long while before he spoke.
"You believe I have done all this for the Iron Throne?"
"I will not deny the thought once crossed my mind…"
"But I have never wished harm upon Jacaerys and the others."
"What I do now, I do for you, Rhaenyra."
He gripped her shoulders and looked straight into her eyes. "When you were yet a maiden, I had already resolved that you would be my wife."
"It was my brother—your father, Viserys—that self-righteous fool, who brought all this to pass."
"Had he agreed to let me wed you then, none of these troubles would stand before us today."
"And now you would take the future from my sons!" Rhaenyra cried out.
Daemon gave a low snort. "And what do you think will follow when another is named heir?"
"You will lose your claim. The lords who support you will turn neutral, and you will be left to the mercy of others."
"Those three boys—and our sons as well—will have to live with care beneath the rule of the greens."
"No," Rhaenyra trembled all over. "We have dragons—more than they do… they would not dare provoke us."
"Dragons?" Daemon let out a cold laugh. "Dragons are like chairs—they let us sit, and make others kneel."
"But if you yield now, you are kneeling before the greens yourself."
"And once you yield, men's hearts will scatter. The greens will have lawful claim and right on their side."
"And you will have nothing. The lords of the blacks will no longer stand with you."
Rhaenyra said angrily, "If I speak with Alicent, she may remember our old affection—"
"Alicent will soon be the mother of six children!" Daemon cut in. "Do you believe your former friendship outweighs her own offspring?"
"Then I will go to war with them!"
"Fool!" Daemon roared. "Rely on dragons alone? Without drawing the lords to your side, how would you rule?"
"You have been heir for so many years—how can you still be so childish?"
Rhaenyra looked at Daemon as he shouted at her, and tears welled up.
After a long while, Daemon reached out helplessly and wiped them away. Perhaps Rhaenyra had never truly grown—though heir to the realm, she had always remained upon Dragonstone, unwilling to go to King's Landing and face—
At that moment, the doors of the hall were suddenly thrown open.
A gust of sea wind rushed in, snuffing out the nearest row of candles. A tall figure stood in the doorway.
Corlys Velaryon stepped slowly into the hall.
Though the old man had suffered a blow two years past, at seventy he still stood straight as a mast. He cast a glance at the two of them.
"It seems I have come at an ill hour."
Daemon swiftly mastered his expression. "Lord Corlys, what wind has blown you from High Tide?"
Rhaenyra forced herself to compose her voice. "My lord, pray be seated."
Corlys took his seat, his gaze falling upon the map of the Seven Kingdoms wrought in black stone upon the table. "I hear you bore another child not long ago?"
"Named Viserys? Congratulations. House Targaryen has need of more blood."
Whether it was meant as praise or mockery could not be told; a trace of disdain lingered upon Corlys's face.
He did not care for Daemon. A portion of the blacks' present plight lay at that prince's door.
It had been he who, without counsel, contrived his son Laenor's feigned death, leaving Corlys—ignorant of the truth—so stricken with grief that he took to his bed, and with no one to restrain his single-minded brother Vaemond.
Only with great effort had he since restored order to a house sundered by whispers of bastardy, gathering the kin once more beneath the seahorse banner.
Rhaenyra replied, "You have my thanks for your blessing, my lord."
Corlys turned to Daemon, his gaze turning sharp. "Two years past, it was you who arranged my son Laenor's false death."
"You had him cast aside his house and his duty, to flee like a coward to Pentos and dally with his lovers."
"And now, Laenor cannot rise from the dead."
The more he spoke, the colder his smile grew, suppressed anger plain upon his face.
The hall fell into utter silence.
Daemon looked at Corlys without speaking. Should the blacks lose House Velaryon's support now, they would lose their footing entirely.
Corlys kept his eyes upon Daemon and went on. "By your schemes, House Velaryon was driven into a crisis of succession and split in two."
"Because of you, I lay abed, battling the gout while persuading my enraged kin to continue their support of Rhaenyra."
He rose, bracing both hands upon the table. "And now you would decide my grandsons' fate as well?"
"Send them to the Wall and leave me without heirs?"
At these words, Daemon understood that Corlys had not abandoned the three boys.
Rhaenyra began, "Lord Corlys, Daemon he—"
"I am speaking to him," Corlys said without turning his head. "Not to you, Rhaenyra."
Daemon met the old man's gaze. "I am attempting to preserve Rhaenyra's claim."
"By foolish means," Corlys said coldly. "Send them to the Wall? Let the realm see that Rhaenyra all but admits they are bastards?"
"Better she declare outright that she renounces her claim."
Hope flared anew in Rhaenyra's eyes; it seemed Lord Corlys must have some other course in mind.
Daemon ground his teeth. "Then what counsel do you offer?"
Corlys resumed his seat, drew a silver flask from within his cloak, and took a long draught before speaking slowly.
"Jacaerys, Lucerys, and Joffrey—they shall in truth belong to House Velaryon henceforth."
Rhaenyra and Daemon both stood stunned.
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