Henley laughs as her hair brunette flies in every direction as Syrax soars through the sky, her arms wrapped tightly around her best friend Rhaenyra Targaryen's waist.

Henley's absolute favorite thing as of late has been riding dragon back with Rhaenyra.

Syrax lands strongly and lets out a roar at the two men with long sticks trying to calm her.

"Dohaeras, Syrax!" One of them barks at her in High Valyrian, a language Henley was very well versed in, having studied it ever since she could get her hands on books and practiced a bit with Rhaenyra and another Targaryen member. She speaks it as well as any Targaryen or elder.

Henley did not like his tone.

"Umbas." The other says softer. "Rybas!"

Rhaenyra and Henley jump down and Syrax begins to pur as Rhaenyra and Henley rub down her neck, both staring at the gorgeous creature in awe. It amazes everyone in the Kingdom that someone other than her owner can even touch Syrax, let alone someone without the dragon blood. But Henley has always been drawn to the Targaryen's dragons as they are to her, thus earning the gossips of Dragon Whisperer. Henley cares for the dragons as much if not more than anyone else in the Kingdom.

"Sȳz hāedar." Henley praises Syrax, telling her good girl in the Valyrian language.

"Welcome back, Princess. Lady Hightower." Sir Harrold Westerling greets the two girls as Rhaenyra pulls her glove off with her mouth. "I trust your ride was pleasant."

"Try not to look too relieved, ser." Rhaenyra retorts with a chuckle. Henley smiles.

"I am relieved." Sir Harrold counters. "Every time that golden beast brings you back unspoiled, it saves my head from a spike."

Henley giggles to herself as they head over to her twin sister, Alicent, who is stepping off a carriage.

"Syrax is growing quickly." She comments to Rhaenyra. "Sister." She nods with a smile.

Henley returns the gesture. "As is her rider." She adds. Although Rhaenyra was two years younger than the twins, she did her best to keep up.

"She'll soon be as large as Caraxes." Alicent continues, causing Henley to let out a puff of air.

"No way." Henley knew Caraxes was one of the largest dragon's. Although Caraxes was slimmer, the Blood Wyrm made up for it in intelligence.

"She's finally big enough to saddle two." Rhaenyra says.

"You ever gonna take a turn." Henley pokes for fun, knowing her sister would rather be run over by the horses.

"I believe I'm quite content as a spectator, thank you." Alicent muses, moving back into the carriage.

Rhaenyra and Henley turn their attention back to the men still shouting at Syrax as she finally turns to go into her keep before getting in themselves and they ride back to the castle.

The three girls link arms as they stroll in, the castle bustling with busy chatter as usual. They make their way to Queen Aemma's room, Rhaenyra's mother, to let her know of Rhaenyra's return and check on her well being since she is with child.

"You know I don't like you to go flying while I'm in this condition." Aemma says the moment they enter the room, midwives going about their business. "Especially now that you have a partner in crime." She aims her motherly look towards the mischievous brunette.

"You don't like me to go flying while you're in any condition." Rhaenyra fires back. "And don't worry, Henley is perfectly safe."

"I swear to it." Henley raises a hand as she dips her head. "Your Grace."

"Your Grace." Alicent echo's with a small smile.

"Well thank you, Henley."  Aemma can't help but be a little amused. "Good morrow, Alicent." She greets.

"Did you sleep?" Rhaenyra asks her.

"I slept."

"How long?" Rhaenyra questions as she goes to sit by Aemma's side, Henley following to stand behind her as Alicent stays at the doorway. It's clear Henley is far more comfortable than Alicent.

"I don't need mothering, Rhaenyra." Aemma reminds her daughter. Henley gazes at the Queen, thinking how beautiful she looks, even exhausted in pregnancy Henley can't help but smile thinking Rhaenyra will look just like her someday. Elegantly radiant, but sharp.

"Well, here you are, surrounded by attendants, all focused on the babe. Someone has to attend to you." She fires back.

"You will lie in this bed soon enough, Rhaenyra." Aemma says, causing Henley's lips to curl down. Even the thought or the mere whisper of having children scares her and she knows her best friend feels like same.

Henley has always vowed to herself she would never bare children unless it was out of love and she felt she was in a safe environment and position to do so. The latter was not as of an big issue at the moment, but the former was damn near impossible. Almost no one marries for love, but rather out of arrangement and convenience. Convenience would be nice tied to true affection, but sadly that was not the case nor the reality for most.

"This discomfort is how we serve the realm." Aemma continues, snapping Henley from her daunting thoughts, prompting her to discreetly curl her up nose.

"I'd rather serve as a knight and ride to battle and glory." Rhaenyra deadpans, earning a laugh from her mother and a soft chuckle from Alicent.

"We have royal wombs, you and I." Aemma prides. Well, when one puts it like that... childbirth doesn't seem as ghastly Henley thinks to herself. "The childbed is our battlefield. We must learn to face it with a stiff lip. Now take a bath. Both of you girls. You stink of dragon." Aemma declares. Rhaenyra and Henley chuckle as Aemma smiles.

♔♔♔

Rhaenyra and Henley hurry into the King's council meeting after changing. Already late enough, something Henley hated being, there was no time for bathing.

Lord Corlys, Rhaenyra's uncle, and her father King Viserys, are going back and fourth when his attention zero's in on the girls.

"Rhaenyra, you're late."

Otto grabs his daughter by the arm, making her gasp slightly. He looks at her warningly to not let it happen again, clearly signaling his embarrassment of her.

"King's cupbearer's must not be late." The King continues as Otto releases Henley's arm and she swallows dryly. "Leaves people wanting for cups." He trails off into a whisper.

"We were visiting Mother." Rhaenyra explains their tardiness, not that that would've made any difference to Otto, and kisses her father on the cheek.

"On dragon back?" He sniffs his daughter, taking notice. Henley's eyes widen a bit. She hopes her father hadn't smelt her as well or she would be getting the 'that's not very appealing as a Lady' speech.

"Hey, Your Grace," Lyman Beesbury intercepts. "At Prince Daemon's urging, the crown has invested significant capital in the re-training and re-equipping of his City Watch." Henley perks up as she and Rhaenyra grab the wine.

It's been a while since she's seen the older uncle of Rhaenyra, or better known as the King's younger brother. She loves when he comes to visit and she gets to hear all his wild stories, but she also enjoys the fact that he seems to be the only other person besides Rhaenyra who is even interested in her life at all. Daemon, oddly enough, has always been rather fond, and even kind, to the Hightower... Perhaps being he understands what it's like to be the imperfect, overshadowed sibling or the fact that he finds her intriguing, only he knows.

"I thought you might urge your brother to fill his seat on the council and provide assessment of his progress as commander of the Watch." Lyman continues. Henley shakes her head to herself as she pours her fathers cup, knowing Daemon hates the stuffy politics and would rather be out fighting. "Do you think Daemon is distracted by his present tasks? And that his thoughts and energies are occupied?"

Henley turns to King Viserys as if she's the one that asked the question, forgetting to move on to another cup for a moment.

"Well, one would hope so, considering the associated costs." Another member pipes in rather rudely.

"Then let us all consider your gold well-invested, Lord Beesbury." King Viserys smiles.

"I would urge this Triarchy much latitude in the Stepstones, Your Grace." Lord Corlys speaks up again. "If those shipping lanes should fall, it will beggar our ports."

"The crown has heard your report, Lord Corlys, and takes it under advisement." Otto steps in, Lord Corlys' head snapping to him before shifting his gaze to the King. The King says nothing causing him to sigh and solemnly turn away. Henley frowns, feeling sorry that his request was not taken seriously or to account. Would it kill her father to "allow" the King to listen to someone for five fucking seconds on a matter than doesn't only benefit his self interest? Just a thought.

"Shall we discuss the Heir's Tournament, Your Grace?" Otto shifts the subject.

"I would be delighted." King Viserys says in between chews. "Will the maesters' name day prediction hold, Mellos?" He asks.

Henley's mind wonders once again. The Tournament. She actually found them rather enjoyable, the facing-off part filling her quite a rush. But she wasn't very found of the courting nor all the men having to beat their chests. She understands being prideful and winning, but some go grossly too far to the point where it's not strong confidence or even sexy arrogance, but just plain cockiness. And yes, there is a difference, in her mind at least.

The courting part she always found to be annoying because she would always get a looker or five, so would Rhaenyra, and her sister would not. Which Alicent would then take out on Henley, saying it's just because she's the easier grab or something of the sorts. And their father would make sure only suitors of any importance looked in their direction, otherwise it wasn't in his interest. His interest. Meaning Alicent and Henley did not get much of a say in the matter, but that did not stop Henley. Tournaments like this though tended to be more on the fun side, so he did not take as much serious action.

Rhaenyra gently nudges Henley for help with refilling pitchers, brining her back to the Tournament conversation.

"You must understand that these things are estimations, my King, but we have all been poring over the moon charts, and we feel that our forecast is as accurate as it can be." Mellos answers with a heavily attempt of a reassuring tone.

"The cost of the tournament is not negligible." Lyman puts in his two sense as the girls continue to make their rounds, Lord Corlys putting his hand over his cup as Rhaenyra goes to pour, causing her to draw back and give Henley a hesitant look before moving on. Henley offers him a soft smile as she passes by. "Perhaps we might delay until the child is in hand?" Lyman offers, doubts of the child being the long-wished son King Viserys has always dreamed off seeping through.

"Ugh, most of the lords and knights are certainly on their way to King's Landing already. To turn them back now-"

The King loudly interrupts. "The tourney will take the better part of a week. Before the games are over, my son will be born, and the whole realm will celebrate."

Henley wishes for nothing more than a healthy baby and a smooth birth for Queen Aemma, knowing the pressure of having a boy must be a large one to carry, especially with how persistent the King, and even her father, have been. But her mind clouds with worry and doubt, as much as she hates it, due to the immense amount of pressure, number of- there's no good way of putting it- miscarriages, and the discomfort the Queen has been in.

Henley's days of thinking surely there's a man out there that doesn't care to have a first born daughter were sorely short lived as she grew up all too quickly learning the harsh reality of the world she has to live in.

Grand Maester Mellos speaks once again. "We have no way of predicting the sex of the child." Henley doesn't know if that's a good thing or bad. How long until the woman is thrown to the side if there was a way? Or worse. Henley shakes herself out of going down that road as she refills her fathers cup.

"Of course, no maester's capable of rendering an opinion free of conditions, are they now?" King Viserys acknowledges. "There's a boy in the Queen's belly. I know it." His words of certain, Henley notices, cause Rhaenyra to frown. Henley knows all her concerns for the baby and the Queen are even worse in Rhaenyra's head.

"And my heir will soon put all this damnable hand-wringing to rest himself." He spares a glance towards Rhaenyra as Henley offers her comforting squeeze of her hand.

Soon it will be put to rest indeed...

♔♔♔

Author's Note: Hello lovely readers <3

Sorry, I know that chapter was heavy and probably a bore, but you got to get a good look into Henley's head and mindset for sure! This is probably one of the longest chapters I've written wow!

Hope y'all enjoyed, so excited for the next chapter ;)