𝓡𝓱𝓪𝓮𝓷𝔂𝓻𝓪 𝓣𝓪𝓻𝓰𝓪𝓻𝔂𝓮𝓷
The Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen wasn't as strong as she once was. With years of grief and burden weighing heavy on my shoulders, the fall of the dragon pits would surely lead to my ultimate demise.

Over the past twenty-four hours, I'd done the best I could to keep my grandchildren occupied in the absence of my daughter and brother but I hadn't at all expected a riot of such proportions would ensue.

I'd felt helpless in the face of this unfamiliar foe.

Daemon would know just what to do.

I thought, missing my King Consort, especially at this very moment.

The guidance of my advisors and knights had left me a paranoid mess of emotions, but she knew one thing for certain, Daemon would have mounted his dragon, rid the Realm of these traitors, and been done with it.

Perhaps Aemond would do something of the same if he were here.

But neither was; even worse, my eldest had gone with him.

Elaena had become quite the listening ear these past years, paying close attention in council meetings and only offering her opinion when sound and well-rounded, practically my acting hand in Lord Corly's absence from court.

It was well known within the keep that if the Queen rounded a corner her heir and Prince were never far behind, keeping a close-knit group since the early years of my reign.

"Ser Lorent," I clear my throat, feigning strength even in front of my most trusted Commander of the Queensguard.

"My Queen?"

"Send ravens to Driftmark and Winterfell... and quickly."

Ser Lorent means to move toward the door, the sound of his armor halting, "What do we tell them, your Grace?"

I consider my answer, wishing for the aid of dragons but unwilling to draw my children nearer to danger.

It would be hours until they'd arrive, but it would be too late by then.

"Tell them the truth. The realm will speak of it soon enough,"

With a curt nod, Ser Lorent is gone, opening the door wider to allow another in behind him.

"Mother?"

Joffrey was the spitting image of his older brothers. His broad shoulders were much like Jacaerys but his subtle curl reminded me much of Lucerys in his older age.

I suppose it was Ser Harwin Strong they were truly reflections of.

How could I have been so lucky to have been loved by such devoted men, and in the same breath have such luck where I've lost them all?

Meeting my son halfway I grasp his forearms, stopping him just shy from the balcony overlooking the destruction below.

"You should be with your nephews-"

"We see what's happening, Mother! All of us do. You expect we can't hear our people's and dragons' cries through the stone walls?"

As I'm unsure how to approach him I shake my head fervently, "No, of course not, I only wish to keep you safe!"

"And what of our dragons!? The dragon keepers?!" Joffrey insists, moving around me to get a closer look at the destruction himself.

With his hand at the hilt of his sword, my son looks about ready to fly into battle himself, and without his older siblings or grandsire here to talk him out of such a thing I worry he might.

"We've sent all the men we can spare but we need the men here to protect the Keep-"

"But you haven't sent dragon riders."

Taken aback by his obvious judgment I scoff, throwing my hands up.

"We've not dragon riders to send!" I argue, a mother's intuition telling me exactly where Joffrey's argument was headed.

"Send us! Aelyx and I are-!"

Twisting at my rings growing tight around my fingers I can't stand to fight with him any longer.

"Much too important to risk in an escapade so dangerous and I will hear NO MORE of it,"

A daunting silence fills the room and guilt slips in, the defeated expression my son wears a dagger through the heart.

"And what of Syrax? Seasmoke? You're going to let them die down there?!"

At the mention of my dragon, I shiver, the pain within my chest trailing up my throat.

With a heavy heart, I can't stand to stare my son in the eye, his unshed tears shimmering in the corners of his brother's brown gaze.

Truthfully I was petrified that if I stared for a moment longer I would see my second eldest staring back at me, with arrows stuck in his broad back.

"We've sent ravens to your siblings across the realm... they will come to our aid and in the meantime, we will send more men to the pits to fend off attackers."

Now, my son only offers his silence, his stare burning into the back of my head and a younger version of me would've given in.

The younger me had given in and lost three sons for it.

Through gritted teeth my words are cold, "You will stay, and look over your nephews as Elaena and Aemond would wish. We will remain together in the face of this danger,"

Joffrey takes a deep breath, my youngest's frustration bursting at the seams and I can't blame him for his urge to protect, it ran in his blood after all.

"As you wish, your grace."

Without another word of protest, Joffrey takes his leave closing my chamber doors behind him and I'm left alone for what feels like hours to watch the horror unfold for myself.

Lost amidst my darkening thoughts I almost miss the silhouette of the very dragon I'd searched the skies endlessly for, a twinge of hope sparking in the dark confines of my mind.

Vhagar spreads her wings gallantly, the formidable dragon picking up speed when her rider spots the trouble below.

Without the dragon pits to welcome them, I hope my brother steers away from danger, but he instead brings my daughter within the eye of the storm.

I'm helpless as I watch in paralyzing fear as they land just on the hill above the dragon pits and I curse myself for raising such a brave daughter.

Of course, she wouldn't watch from the balcony as our dragons were attacked, she would risk her very life for their own.

"No... no,"

I knock over just about anything in my stumbling toward my chamber doors.

"SER LORENT!" I shout, my voice erupting from my throat like flames.

As I reach for the handles my sworn sword is already barreling through the doors.

"Your grace! Prince Joffrey was seen leaving the keep on horseback, heading in the direction of the pits,"

No.

Not both of them.

"Ser Lorent you must send what men we have after him, he's gone after Elaena and Aemond, please!"

Closing the door behind him he shakes his head, disappointed, "I've already sent what men we have left, my Queen. They'll come for the Keep next if they succeed,"

I leave him before he can finish and hurry back to my balcony, where I watch in dread as the mob multiplies in size and makes its way through the narrow streets, straight toward the pits where my brother and children await.

Elaena had warned me of the tensions rising within the city but even after all these years, the Crown struggled immensely with the Hightowers emptying of the vaults.

Most of the funds were never recovered, but our people wouldn't blame their previous ruler, no... they'd blame the Queen who'd claimed to save them only to bring them more famine and destruction.

I was to keep the Realm united, but it seemed the only thing uniting them was their hatred for their Queen.

No longer, Rhaenyra The Cruel, but Rhaenyra the weak who held the Crown, the ultimate power but still could not fully protect those she held most dear.

I would lose them both tonight.

"Ser Lorent," Clearing the growing lump in my throat my fingers tremble as I make one of my final commands, "Prepare Prince Aelyx and Prince Jaehaeryn for departure."

"Your Grace?" He questions me without saying the words.

"Have them use the secret tunnels of the Keep. They're to take the first Velaryon ship you find to Dragonstone."

***

𝓐𝓮𝓰𝓸𝓷 𝓣𝓪𝓻𝓰𝓪𝓻𝔂𝓮𝓷
Dragonstone's reputation preceded itself. I'd assumed if my sister had fled the capital all those years ago she would've picked somewhere more... extraordinary.

Cole had said I reminded him of my mother and though I'm sure he'd meant it as a compliment I'd only taken it as a slight. The very one thing I can remember about my mother is that she was a sad woman, a controlling spirit trapped in her bird cage where she watched the dragons rule the skies.

"It's been done, your grace. The dragon pits have fallen,"

The feeble Lord Strong approaches but I'd grown accustomed to the sound of his impetulant scuffle.

Humming in satisfaction I tip my goblet to my lips, the bitterness a welcomed taste on my tongue, "Good. We can move along with our plans. How many dragons were lost?"

"We can't be sure, my King. But the losses we can be sure of are far more... impactful," He begins, stalking closer to the window I peered from.

I arch my eyebrow in question, waiting impatiently for Lord Larys to continue.

"The capital city mourns the loss of Prince Joffrey and Princess Elaena. The foolish boy fell to his death trying to save his mother's dragon, the girl on the other hand..."

"Died a terrible, wretched death, did she? It's what the bitch deserves," Downing the remaining contents of my cup with a chuckle I suddenly feel the urge to celebrate.

"Yes, your grace. She was crushed trying to save her dragon. They found her beneath the rubble,"

The utmost satisfaction surges through me and I stand straight up out of my seat, eager to hear every detail, "And my brother? What of my traitor brother?"

"As expected he went in after her. A suicide mission truly... my spies within the keep say his condition is dire,"

"Good. How soon can we sack the city?"

"We need more time, my King."

Criston Cole enters without warning having been eavesdropping on our conversation and my face twists into an unwelcoming expression.

"Time?! This is the opportune moment! The city turns on them, their dragons are lost-"

"It wouldn't be wise to forget our enemies in Winterfell and Driftmark. They outnumber us in men and dragons. They cling together in times of crisis, we know this in their pattern, my King. In mere hours Prince Lucerys will return to the city to mourn his brother and sister,"

Growing rather bored with his lengthy explanation I pinch the bridge of my nose between my eyes, a steady migraine already pulsing through my right eye.

Biting back my groan in pain I clench both my fists at my side.

"You must rest, you push yourself too far,"

Her soft voice rings through my ears and I shrug, glancing over my shoulder at the faded ghost of her, my darling love, who of course hadn't aged a day.

I couldn't be certain of why I'd started seeing my darling Tessa again but I'd had an inkling it had to do with my heavy dependence on milk of the poppy in the years following Rooks Rest.

I of course never told the maester of such a thing. They would try to eradicate the "problem" just as my brother had taken her from me, no, I would keep any piece of her I had left.

"I must regain my strength to take back my crown," I grumble quietly, earning a shared look of confusion from Ser Criston and Lord Larys.

"Your Grace?" Cole however had started to take notice of my unsettling discussions with no one, his stare narrowing in my direction. Thankfully I'm saved by Lord Larys who clears his throat to speak.

"We must remind ourselves that if separated they remain vulnerable, and if we hesitate too long the Black Queen among others will notice when some ravens go unanswered,"

It was only a matter of time that all element of surprise was lost.

But we could not fight them, not with our numbers of Oldtown and Harrenhal alone, we needed more.

"You're both right. We're left with not much of a choice,"

One of the last useful things my grandfather had done for our cause was emptying the Crown's funds to invest in our army.

We'd used whatever was left to survive these last years. Some of that coin of course was spent on voyages in constant chase of my brother, other amounts to double the guard at Dragonstone to keep up appearances.

As far as the people of Dragonstone knew, one of their Lord or Ladies inhabited this castle.

"Send word to our banners, and to the Triarchy, it's time they fulfill their promise to their rightful King."

I struggle to stand from my seat but apply the pressure to my better leg easing myself toward the door.

"My King?" Cole looks as if he may stop me but I shove past him, "That was a command, Lord Hand. Move aside,"

In the meantime, I'd had more pressing matters to deal with.

"They only worry about you, Aegon."  Tessa drawls over my shoulder, her fingers dancing around my collar but I can't feel her touch, the longing that comes instead is a familiar emptiness.

"They only worry for their own necks." I scoff, gritting my teeth as I descended the stairs to the cells.

"Criston Cole dedicated his life to protecting you in your years on the run,"

She wasn't wrong, in fact, she seldom was.

"Mayhaps, but not out of love or loyalty to his King, but to my mother the Queen."

During the first few years of my absence, I'd felt guilty for leaving my Mother to the Blacks but it was obvious she and Helaena would only slow us down and bring us imminent death.

"He was like a father to you Aegon, he raised you-"

"IT WAS I WHO RAISED MYSELF WHILE MY FATHER WASTED AWAY IN HIS BEDCHAMBER!" I shout, my booming voice echoing down the corridor and regret it instantly, turning to find the hall behind me empty and Tessa gone like a puff of smoke.

Shoving my guilty thoughts to the back of my mind I remind myself she isn't real.

She lives in your mind and in your mind alone you fool.

In an attempt to shake myself out of my trance, I keep moving forward closing the cell door shut behind me.

"Your grace? What are you- is there something I could assist you with?" The young soldier asks, straightening up though his armor is a size or two too large for the poor lad.

"No. The King can help himself, thanks. I wish to see one of the prisoners. Do well to make sure I'm not followed or overheard."

I don't wait for his reply, shoving past him to continue through the foul stench that would surely sink into the fabric of my clothes.

Finally stopping at the very last cell in the hall my lips lift into a smirk at the pathetic sight before me.

"You'd think a dragon would be smarter than to fly into their own trap... but I suppose your grandmother was none the wiser,"

The fearsome Baela Targaryen whips her head around to stare daggers at me with flames in her violet eyes and I chuckle darkly, my blood pumping in my ears.

"You and your dragon would've perished if your little brother hadn't come to rescue you," she grumbles, the sight of her behind bars and at my mercy a satisfying sight to say the least.

"If only you'd been of some help at Rooks Rest all those years ago, hm? If you'd succeeded you might've saved a few hundred lives," I sigh, bored with her.

"Instead, you carry the reminder down the side of your face. My sister will find me and finish you off, there's still hope yet," Lady Baela turns her back to me, confident with a smirk like her father's and it makes my blood boil.

For years they thought me scum on their feet.

Not a person but a mere threat to all of their happiness meant to be exterminated like a rodent.

Chuckling under my breath I cock my head to the side, my gaze wandering up and down her curves. If I so much as snapped my fingers she would be kept prisoner in my chambers, shackled to the bedposts.

"You're bound for disappointment, I'm afraid. You have but only one sister alive and she's no fearsome dragon rider," I laugh, mocking her.

Suddenly the Lady of Winterfell becomes intrigued, turning on her heel to glare at me and her chest rises with a sharp breath. 

Listening closely I hope to hear her heart shatter for myself but instead, she shouts, her voice a broken roar, "You lie!" 

"I have no reason to lie to you Lady Baela, the dragon pits have collapsed." I scoff, leaning my weight back against the brick wall, "If anything you should be grateful your dragon was spared such an awful death,"

Her fists tremble at her sides and though she remains silent her pieces crumble around her for all to see. She could tighten her grip on hope all she'd like but it would only prolong the inevitable.

"I however can't say the same for the rest of your kin. I've been told most of their dragons have been lost," 

The girl looks dumbfounded, her knees shaking threatening to go out at any moment and I wait for it to come but it never does, she only stares through me coldly.

"Aemond, h-he would never let that happen-"

Closing the distance between us I grip the rusted metal bars but Baela doesn't move away from me, narrowing her eyes.

"HE'S NO GOD! HE BLEEDS JUST THE SAME AS YOU OR I AND HE WILL DIE  IN FLAMES JUST THE SAME AS YOUR BASTARD SISTER,"

One moment I'm shouting at the girl and the next a wet glob of spit is blinding me in my right eye and my face twists up in disgust.

The ball of rage winds up in my stomach and I charge toward her grabbing a handful of her tattered tunic to yank her already damaged body against the bars like a ragdoll. 

"You worthless BITCH! I will TAKE your new husband's head just as I took your firsts and plant it on a spike-"

"Your Grace!"

I don't have to look away from the subject of my rage to know it's Cole who calls out to me from down the hallway.

"I'm occupied at the moment, my Lord Hand," I grunt, not bothering to glance over my shoulder at him.

Cole sighs and walks over to me, his face somber and grim.

Dropping the prisoner with a thud I take a few steps to meet him out of her earshot.

"We have more pressing matters, my King. A ship with Targaryen banners arrived at the port," He whispers, glancing over my shoulder at the bitch in her cell worried she might hear.

My Lord Commander shifts between both of his feet uncomfortably, almost crackling with energy like a young squire and it's unsettling.

"Cole?"

"I believe you'd like to see for yourself," He grins something malicious and I can't help but mirror him, the turmoil of all these years bubbling up in my chest and climbing up my throat.

Could it be?

Without another word spoken between the both of us, I follow him down the weaving corridors.

I hardly notice the knight rattling off my titles or why he might be doing such a thing until my pointed gaze zeros in on the figures surrounded by a garrison of guards.

Unable to help myself I let out a calloused laugh, throwing my head back and the room goes still around me.

"Dear brother. We'd all hoped you dead,"

"After you, sweet sister. After all, you are the elder," I grin back at her but she doesn't falter her facade in front of the two boys she brings with her to her death.

"I'm pleased to know you remember that much,"

Ever the proud, cunt, my eldest sister lifts her pointed chin at me, her fear shimmering in the corners of her iris', "You may hold us as your prisoners but it won't be long until someone come's for us," 

"If they search the seven hells mayhaps," 

***