The Crimson Dragon - Chapter 43: Tradition And Duty

Helaena wakes up to the strangest experience she has ever had while politics in the Vale continue to become murkier...

The Next Day

When Helaena had opened her eyes, she did not expect to awaken to the most terrible pain she had ever experienced in her life.

She immediately sat up, regretting the decision as the sharp, burning sensation in her lower stomach and back intensified. Embarrassment crept in when she also felt the pain emanate from her nether regions along with a sticky wetness beneath her.

What is happening to me? Helaena thought.

She turned her head and immediately reached over to shake her twin awake, tears beginning to form in the corners of her eyes. “Lily. Lilyanna.”

Lilyanna’s eyes opened almost immediately, startling awake with a choked gasp and gripping her right arm tightly, a pained grimace appearing on her face.

Seeing her sister’s reaction made Helaena feel even worse, and she feared that she had inadvertently put pressure on Lilyanna’s shoulder.

While her sister has been tight-lipped about her experience with Harren Hoare and Alys Rivers, refusing to tell Helaena more than the bare necessities, she knew enough to understand that Lilyanna’s right arm was a source of pain as the mark Alys had placed on it remained.

“What is it?” Lilyanna mumbled, still half-asleep. “Are you-”

She stopped when she saw Helaena’s expression, the tears gathering in her sister’s eyes, the way she held herself stiffly, and the faint tremble in her hands were enough to drive the last remnants of sleep from Lilyanna’s mind.

Lilyanna sat up and slowly placed her hands on Helaena’s shoulders. “Helaena? What’s wrong?”

“It hurts,” Helaena whispered.

Lilyanna sat up. “Where?”

“My stomach and between my legs.” Helaena swallowed, her voice becoming smaller. “I-I think something is wrong.”

Lilyanna stared at Helaena for a brief moment before throwing the blanket off their bodies, not caring when it landed on the floor. Through the small rays of sunlight that emerged from the windows, Lilyanna could see a dark stain spreading across Helaena’s nightgown and staining the bed, some of it reaching and seeping into Lilyanna’s own clothes.

I guess my suspicions were right. Lilyanna thought,

Helaena whimpered at the sight, her face paling as she stared at the blood. “Lilyanna, am I dying?”

“No,” Lilyanna’s answer came quickly, softening when Helaena flinched. “No, you are not dying. Nothing is wrong, this is perfectly natural.”

“Natural? But I ruined your bed.”

“Well, it’s actually Jeyne Arryn’s bed, so any apologies you have should be given to her,” Lilyanna said, attempting a smile.

A small, frightened sound escaped Helaena’s throat, and Lilyanna immediately regretted the joke.

Lilyanna’s smile faltered, and she reached for Helaena’s hands. “Listen to me, you are not dying, you are experiencing your period.”

Helaena’s nose scrunched in confusion. “Period?”

Lilyanna shook her head. “Sorry, I meant moonblood.”

“Septa Marlow said that a when a girl gets her first moonblood it would be a beautiful and wonderous moment, that I would feel as though the Mother and the Maiden were shining their love and blessings down upon me as I was assured into womanhood,” Helaena said, her face twisting as another wave of pain seized her. “This is not wonderous nor does it feel like a blessing!”

Lilyanna let out a snort, remembering that exact conversation, a daughter of one many lords who stayed with the Red Keep had gotten her moonblood while the King was holding court, bleeding through the back of her dress much to her and her parents’ embarrassment.

Helaena had asked about what it would feel like to get your blood after they watched how quickly the girl was escorted from the throne room. Alicent’s lips had pinched at the question but luckily for her, Marlow had answered the question for her, a grimace rested on the septa’s face the entire time, one that she only managed to hide from Helaena when she said this to them.

“Helaena,” Lilyanna began gently. “Septa Marlow was trying to make it sound less frightening. She didn’t want us to know that the changes that come with our maturing bodies is bullshit, I mean, Septa Marlow has had to endure cramps and mood swings for decades before menopause came for her, why else do you think she always looks as if she wishes to bite someone?”

Despite herself, Helaena let out a small, watery laugh, pressing her forehead against Lilyanna’s shoulder.

Lilyanna smiled as she wrapped her arms around Helaena, not caring about the menstrual blood that was staining more of her nightgown.

“Lily? What is menopause?” Helaena asked after a few moments.

Lilyanna sighed. “We should have had this talk a long time ago.”

The younger twin took her time explaining the intricacies of puberty, wanting Helaena to be as informed as possible rather than allowing anyone to fill her head with half-truths and pretty lies about the experience.

Helaena listened with a furrowed brow. “Will it always hurt this much?”

Lilyanna pursed her lips. “Hopefully not, some women have very painful cramps and others barely notice them, everyone is different.”

“What was your moonblood like, when you first got it?” Helaena asked.

Lilyanna thought about the question, fighting the urge to wince when it inevitably brought back memories of her first mother. “It was… surprise and fairly irritating. I was older than you when I had gotten my per-moonblood, around ten and seven, and I had been out with my mo-mother at the market. For hours, I thought the pain I had been feeling was just an ordinary stomachache, until blood began to trickle down my legs and seep through my trousers. My mother had taken off her cloak, and I had to use it to hide myself while we returned home. Afterwards, we spent the rest of the day in bed together, eating sweets, watching movies, and complaining about how unfair it was that women had to endure it.”

Helaena watched as a bittersweet smile formed on Lilyanna’s lips, one that struggled to reach her eyes.

While Lilyanna had always been flippant and nonchalant when speaking of her first life, Helaena had noticed the recent change in her sister demeanor.

Helaena could still perfectly recall how horrifying her sister looked when she sought her out immediately after waking up next to the Gods’ Eye, unable to look away from Lilyanna’s injuries. She would curse the souls of those damnable Ironborn, Larys Strong, and Alys Rivers for the rest of her days for what they had put Lilyanna through, hating how such a traumatic experience had changed Lilyanna in such a short amount of time.

Helaena tried to move her thoughts elsewhere, knowing that Lilyanna would not appreciate her trying to talk about it, no matter how much Helaena wished that Lilyanna would allow her to share some of the burden she had been carrying alone.

But her mood did not improve as she was brought back to the moment by the feeling of more blood spilling from between her legs, followed by another sharp cramp that made her curl inward.

“Gods,” Helaena whimpered, pressing a hand against her stomach.

“I know,” Lilyanna murmured, rubbing slow circles against Helaena’s back, waiting until the worst of the pain had passed before speaking again. “The first few times can be especially unpleasant as your body is still adjusting.”

“I do not like it,” Helaena whined

Lilyanna smiled. “I didn't either.”

Helaena sniffled. “Does anyone?”

“Perhaps somewhere there is a woman who genuinely enjoys having her moonblood, but I have never met her.”

This earned Lilyanna another small laugh from Helaena, one that quickly died as Helaena buried her face deeper into the space between Lilyanna’s neck and shoulder, and beginning to pick at the skin around her thumbs.

“I suppose this means that I will soon be betrothed and wedded, now that I am woman,” Helaena whispered.

Now that she had gotten her moonblood, Helaena would no longer be seen as a child in their society, she would now be seen as old enough for the marriage bed, to walk the path that so many other noble and royal girls alike had traveled down.

Lilyanna's hand stilled against her sister’s back and her brow furrowed. “Helaena, you’re not a woman, and having the ability to become pregnant with a child certainly does not make you one.”

Helaena lifted her head slightly to look Lilyanna in the eyes. “Mother wed father at ten and five, that is not much older than either of us, and she gave birth to Aegon at ten and six.”

“And if our worthless King tries to make you do the same, I will cut off his cock and shove it up his wrinkled ass,” Lilyanna said without hesitation.

“Lily,” Helaena sighed, weakly hitting Lilyanna’s arm. “You cannot deny that many will see me as old enough to be betrothed at the very least. Our parents and the small council will now begin to earnest search for my future husband, if they have already started. We both knew that this would be an inevitability.”

Lilyanna stared at Helaena, her jaw clenching as she could not refute the last thing Helaena said.

They both knew that Helaena would be expected to marry, there was little possibility that Viserys would allow Helaena to spend the rest of her life as an unattached maiden.

Lilyanna looked away, still clenching her jaw. “We have never truly spoken about this before now.”

“No, we haven’t,” Helaena agreed, pulling away from her sister’s embrace and bringing her knees u to her chest. “I think… I think I would like to have children.”

She thought about the women in her life, about Alicent and the way she cared for her children despite the many frustrations they had caused her, about Rhaenyra who despite the comments made about her in her youth and her then inclinations towards motherhood, always seemed happiest whenever she was surrounded by her children and had proven to be an exemplary mother. About her Aunt Laena, who fiercely protected her children, especially her son in the face any criticism directed toward them, about Rhaenys whose eyes always sparkled when she spoke of her son and daughter, and even about Lilyanna, who had all but raised her and their brothers whenever their mother was too overwhelmed or Viserys was too distracted and distant to notice anything wrong.

It made her realize that having a family of her own would not be so daunting of an ordeal that some girls may fear it would be.

“You do realize that to have those children you would need to have sex with a man, multiple times in fact,” Lilyanna asked, knowing how the other girl felt about physical touch from others who were not her and in rare instances, other family members.

Helaena grimaced, she had seen enough livestock mating, heard enough gossiping couturiers and crude commentary from Aegon to know vaguely what sexual intercourse required and knew instinctively that it would not be something she would enjoy, but tolerate with a stiff lip.

In truth, Lilyanna also did not like to imagine Helaena having sex, not out of something as ridiculous as jealousy or possessiveness, but the thought of some stranger expecting Helaena to simply surrender herself to him made something protective and angry stir within her.

This feeling grew hotter as she remembered Helaena’s original fate, before Helaena would have married Aegon at thirteen and give birth to her twins, Jaehaerys and Jaehaera less than a year after the wedding. Neither Helaena nor Aegon’s opinions were taken into account, and they were forced together because the adults in their lives were busy fighting over the succession and used this marriage to curtail the other sides’ influence.

It didn’t matter to Viserys, Otto, or even Alicent that Helaena was the same age Aemma was when she bedded and had a child sired upon her. Helaena could have easily been forced down the same tragic path as her, forced to endure countless miscarriages, stillbirths, and infant deaths because she became pregnant too young. Lilyanna thought, her stomach twisting with rage.

Her sister was far more than her womb, and the thought of some man whether he was related to her or not, taking his liberties with her body and her fragile heart, not caring about either in their pursuit to impregnate her with trueborn heirs made Lilyanna’s blood boil.

“If Viserys tries to make you marry anyone you do not wish to, then I will take you as far away from him and his influence as I can,” Lilyanna said, her voice becoming dangerously quiet.

Helaena quietly stared at her sister for few moments before shaking her head, an amused smile overtaking her face.

At least I know she is still the same person I have always known her to be deep down. Helaena thought. “Where would we even go?”

“Anywhere, we have dragons, sister, the world is ours to explore if we wished. And it shouldn’t be too difficult to use them along with our various skills to secure money and lodging for ourselves,” Lilyanna shrugged.

“You make it sound so simple. What about our family? Do you expect them to just let us leave so easily? Or that father would not send them after us if we ran? Do you think that neither of us would miss them or Westeros?”

Lilyanna let out a loud and overdramatic groan. “Why must you make sense at moments such as these? Why can’t you just agree with my plans instead of picking them apart like an overeager vulture?”

“Because one of us must strive to not be an overconfident and arrogant fool,” Helaena said, rolling her eyes when Lilyanna playfully placed her hand on her chest, pretending that Helaena’s words had broken her heart.

Despite saying this, inwardly Helaena appreciated the lengths she knew Lilyanna would go for her if the situation demanded it. From the countless dreams she has of a future that no longer entirely existed, it meant more to her than anything that she would always have someone who would put her first and did not care about what she could do for her.

Lilyanna was the other half of her soul, the one person in all the world who seemed to understand her without explanation. Helaena could not imagine a life in which Lilyanna was not beside her, whether they were children hiding beneath tables to escape their lessons or grown women standing together against whatever troubles awaited them.

She reached out and took Lilyanna’s hand, intertwining their fingers, and pressing her forehead against Lilyanna’s shoulder.

“We can worry about your marriage later, right now, you should disregard whatever mother, and our septa say about your moonblood and womanhood in the coming hours and days. Its worthless drivel that will only seek to confuse you,” Lilyanna said.

Helaena sighed, she was not looking forward to Alicent’s reaction to her getting her moonblood, already imagining how awkward the conversation was going to be.

~X~

A Few Hours Later

There were only a few times in her life that Alicent felt as if her Gods were forsaking her, even if she would never admit such a sacrilege aloud, and this was one of them.

Of course, hours after her conversation with her husband about their daughter’s marriage prospects, Helaena would receive her moonblood for the first time, because that was just how spectacular her luck was.

Alicent froze when Talya had entered her and Viserys’ bedroom and whispered into her ear that Lilyanna’s mattress had to be changed and that a bath had been called for Helaena.

When Alicent had reached Lilyanna’s bedchamber, she fought the overwhelming need to peel the beds of her fingers off as Helaena lifted her head to look at. She and Lilyanna had been sitting in chairs by the fireplace, both dressed for the day as a few servants moved around the room, cleaning the mess that had been made.

She had tried to remember what her own mother had done when she had flowered, repeating what she could of Lily’s words while trying to ignore the memories of her father’s reaction.

Otto had stared at his thirteen-year-old daughter blankly for a moment before softly smiling at her, placing a hand on her shoulder and telling her how proud he was of her, the first time he had ever said that to her, and spoke of he was confident she would not disgrace him, her brothers, or their house now that she was a woman.

At the time, Alicent had been so desperate for her father's approval that she had ignored the strange feeling that had settled in the pit of her stomach at his words. And forcing herself to ignore the visible change she experienced in the way many boys and men looked at and spoke to her once word had spread.

Alicent was not surprised when she noticed Lilyanna rolling her eyes at her but could not find the strength to reprimand her in that moment, far more focused on the sight of one of her hand maidens folding strips of linen that Helaena would need to use to replace the ones she was already wearing beneath her small clothes, feeling ill.

Now the Queen walked ahead of her daughters as they headed toward the chamber that they and the rest of the royal family would be breaking their fast in, feeling as though she was now within a pit filled with vipers.

When their doors opened and their presence was announced, the trio noticed how the noise within the room quieted, and this would not have been that strange of an occurrence if not for the way several pairs of eyes immediately turned toward Helaena.

Alicent broke away from her daughters, walking to the head of the table and gently kissing Viserys’ check as she sat down on his left side.

The King acknowledged the kiss with a glance in his wife’s direction before turning to look at Helaena again, his eyes lingering on her for longer than usual.

When his sisters drew close, Aemond opened and closed his mouth, unable to find the right words to say and instead turned his attention back to his food, awkwardly stabbing at a piece of sausage.

Even Aegon did not make one of his usual japes, instead, he avoided looking at Helaena entirely as he kept his gaze on the table.

“So even in the Vale, gossip travels quickly,” Lilyanna said sardonically at the behavior, sitting down unceremoniously at the table.

Helaena’s cheeks pinked slightly as she sat down next to Lilyanna, dread filling her at the idea that most of the of the people currently residing within the castle now knew about her flowering.

She had never enjoyed being the center of attention as being watched made her uncomfortable, so knowing that everyone was talking about her and her body, made the princess feel self-conscious in a way she never had previously.

Rhaenyra cleared her throat, forcing a smile onto her face. “Lilyanna, I have received word from the men we harvest a sizable amount obsidian from Dragonstone.”

While she was interested in discussing the obtainment of the volcanic glass that her youngest sister had convinced her moons prior to invest in, she had decided to bring it up now mainly to draw attention away from Helaena.

She knows better than anyone else what is like to be Targaryen princess around Helaena and Lilyanna’s age and knows what it felt like for every moment of her life, no matter how private it should be to become political theater for the realm to fecklessly devour.

She could still remember how uncomfortable Viserys looked when the day she had first gotten her moonblood, suddenly forced to acknowledge that his little girl was becoming a woman, which had only made him fixated more on getting a son on her mother, at the time seeing no heir within a girl who would eventually be married off.

Helaena would already be forced to endure the court looking at her as royal breeding mare they can try to possess to claim dragonriding offspring for their houses, Rhaenyra did not think that she needed the rest of their family staring at her like some alien creature on top of that, especially for a change that was natural.

Lilyanna leaned forward in her seat, resting her elbows against the table and ignoring the sound her mother made at the unladylike action. “Were you told how much? The Scarlet Song will not need much to begin making jewelry, but I know that Daven will request a considerable amount of obsidian if we wish to make and sell glass.”

Rhaenyra's expression brightened slightly. “The men said that the deposits are larger than we initially believed, and according to the letter, there should be more than enough to satisfy the initial order.”

Well, Daven is defiantly going to be excited. Lilyanna thought, already imagining what the blond man’s reaction when she penned him a letter. “Once the first batches of jewelry are made, you will have to wear as much of it as possible to promote it.”

“You seem certain that I will be able to sway the realm into emptying their coin purses,” Rhaenyra said, a knowing smile tugging at her lips.

Lilyanna rolled her eyes at her sister’s blatant attempt at fishing for compliments. “You are the Princess of Dragonstone; you are currently one of the most recognizable women in Westeros and are incredibly beautiful. If you wear something, people will ask where it came from and want to emulate the look.”

Just like with figures like Marie Antoinette or Diana Spencer on Earth, Lilyanna was sure that the wealthy women of Westeros would be just as eager to imitate whatever the most fashionable woman of the time was wearing, especially if such items were unique accessories.

Before either sister could say anything else, Corlys cleared his throat from across the table with a gleam in his eyes. “I must ask, have either of you given thought to how you will transport your wears?”

When Rhaenys had first mentioned the meeting Lilyanna had with Rhaenyra that she and Laena witnessed while in Aegon’s Garden, Corlys’ first instinct was to scoff at the notion of turning Dragonstone’s obsidian into a profitable commodity. But that opinion had changed considerably after Rhaenys explained Lilyanna’s reasoning and he remembered what the girl had been able to accomplish with the royal bank.

Lilyanna narrowed her eyes as she looked at the Lord of Tides, already suspicious of the man’s intentions. “And you wish for my sister to use your ships, Lord Corlys.”

“I do; I possess the realm’s greatest fleet after all. With that, my connections, and experience, I would be able to ensure that the glass reaches every corner of the realm safely and efficiently far better than the Crown’s ships would be able to.”

Viserys frowned at the jibe taken at his house’s expense, an act that had been common for Corlys to take, but that had grown more commonplace and transparent since Viserys had refused to commit to another conflict in the Stepstones.

“For what price?” Lilyanna asked before Rhaenyra could say anything.

“Forty percent,” Corlys answered plainly.

Lilyanna scoffed, her eyebrows rising as she stared at Corlys in disbelief. “Forty percent? To try and take that large of the share of profits for a service that is not needed of you? I never took you for a thief, my lord.”

“I would not call myself a thief, princess,” Corlys took a drink from his goblet before continuing. “I what I offer is convenience and I’m sure that my good daughter understands this.”

Laena and Laenor shared a look, having both seen their father in this kind of setting enough times to know that he was not going to give up.

Rhaenys meanwhile, sighed, also recognizing the expression on her husband's face.

Rhaenyra smiled awkwardly, looking between her good father and sister. “Perhaps, we should wait until the glass has passed through the hands of artisans before discussions of it its transportation are finalized?”

Lilyanna huffed but said nothing else about the matter, silently eating her food while looking at Corlys critically.

If it was just Rhaenyra footing the costs without the miners on Dragonstone and the artisans of Daven’s guild risking lesser payment, then Lilyanna would have more than likely rolled her eyes at Corlys’ brazenness and kept her opinion to herself, but she was not going to allow Corlys’ greed to jeopardize this and back down without a fight.

~X~

A small smile appeared on Daemon’s face when Rhaena managed to hit the center of the target.

A wide grin formed on the girl’s face as she turned around to face him, a few strands of silver hair escaping from the long braid it had been placed in, and Daemon felt something shift in his chest.

“Again,” Daemon said.

Rhaena’s grin widened and she turned back to the target, already nocking the next arrow with focused concentration.

“You’re dropped your elbow again,” Baela called out from where she stood a short distance away, lowering her own practice sword and turning away from the straw dummy she had been striking.

“I am not,” Rhaena said without turning around.

“Yes, you are,” Baela said impishly. “I can see it.”

Rhaena frowned as she turned her head to look at her twin. “No, I’m not,”

“Girls,” Daemon said before their bickering could continue. “Focus on your own assignments.”

They both stopped arguing and returned to their respective tasks, knowing from experience that a second request from their father was never phrased as politely as the first, but not before Rhaena stuck her tongue out at her sister and Baela rolled her eyes.

The prince ignored the looks that were thrown their way as he focused on his daughters’ movements. While he found that the Vale was a bit more accepting than other Kingdoms when it came to female warriors, they were still seen as outside of the norm.

I suppose I cannot expect a flock of sheep to be too advanced when compared to the bottom feeders around them. Daemon thought.

He still could not for the life of him understand why his brother was so adamant about destroying his body just to be seen by the unwashed masses of Westeros.

The Crownlands, the Riverlands, the Vale, none of this Kingdoms deserve the blood Viserys is willing to spill from his body just to be loved by them. No one would dare speak of the King’s weakness if Viserys were not so opposed to being feared and respected by his subjects.

But Daemon was well aware that his role was to be his brother’s sword, he would be the monster lurking behind the throne who would remind the realm that the blood of the dragon was not something to be trifled with.

The prince was taken out of his thoughts when Baela landed a clean combination, and while her footwork was still not quite where it needed to be, Daemon could acknowledge that her instincts compensated for this and Daemon gave her a small nod, which she accepted hungrily when she glanced at him.

After releasing her arrow and with the shot being slightly left of center, Rhaena went to retrieve the arrow, her eyes catching something beyond Daemon’s shoulder.

Daemon turned and saw about six men were crossing the training yard toward him, two of them he recognized well enough.

The first was Ser Gerold Royce, the Lord of Runestone now that his cousin and Daemon’s first wife, Rhea, had been dead for almost a decade. He had less hair than the last time Daemon saw him, his remaining strands now a mix of dark brown and grey, his armor was extended further outwards around his midsection, and he carried an arrogant and furious experience on his face as he met Daemon’s gaze. Beside him walked Ser Gunthor Royce, the Bronze Giant, an old man with piercing blue eyes who stood taller than everyone else in the yard, and like Gerold he was also wearing the ancient bronze armor of his forebears.

Daemon clasped his hands behind his back and waited, curious to see what kind of accusations the men of House Royce wished to lay at his feet.

“Prince Daemon,” Gerold said tersely, giving the royal a slight bow of his head and showing the minimum of deference that courtesy required.

“Ser Gerold, or should I call you Lord Gerold now?” Daemon replied pleasantly. “And Ser Gunthor as well, this is quite unexpected. Tell me, have you come to watch my daughters train?”

Neither man glanced at Baela or Rhaena, their attention remaining solely upon Daemon.

“No,” Gerold answered coldly. “We have not.”

Daemon’s smile remained. “How disappointing.”

Silence fell over the area, nobles, knights, and servants alike stopped what they were doing to watch the confrontation, and Daemon glanced around the yard, taking note of the number of people who had done so.

“Well,” he said lightly. “Was there something you needed of me, Ser? I can’t imagine what you, and the Bronze Giant, could possibly want with me.”

“We want nothing from you, my prince,” Gerold spat. “We were simply passing through the yard.”

A small laugh escaped Daemon’s lips. “Is that so? Well, if you have nothing-”

“We have quite a lot to say to you,” Gunthor growled, his deep voice carrying across the yard.

From what Daemon remembered, the older man had always been fearless and quick to anger, the only person in Runestone besides the lady of the castle who would never withhold his tongue when in Daemon’s presence.

“Then say it,” Daemon replied, the pleasantness in his voice unchanged. “I am a busy man, but I can spare a few minutes to listen to the opinions of the common people.”

Gerold stepped forward, using his height to tower over him, but Daemon did not so much as straighten his posture. He could see how Gerold gritted his teeth behind his cousin, and Daemon knew at this moment that this part of their interaction was not planned.

“The people of the Vale have not forgotten,” Gerold began. “The circumstances under which our cousin, Rhea came to die. Nor have they forgotten that her murderer walks freely among us, you have some nerve to walk through our lands and halls as if you are a welcomed guest.”

“Lady Jeyne seemed to welcome me and my house quite warmly,” Daemon said, his smile growing at how enraged Gunthor became. “And while I acknowledge your grief, has it not grown tiresome to accuse me of a crime could not have possibly committed? I was in the Stepstones when my dear wife fell from her horse, I was neither close enough to have killed her nor did I possess the motive.”

“Did not possess motive?” Gunthor asked incredulously, clenching his fists. “This that what you call presenting yourself to our liege lady and demanding the lands and income of House Royce in the aftermath of your wife’s death? Not only did you ignore the summons sent for you to attend Rhea’s funeral, but you married another woman less than three moons after her death. Now you stand here with the children of your scandalous union with unrepentant zeal.”

“Gunthor,” Gerold said warningly, but the older Royce ignored him, stepping closer to the Rogue Prince.

“It seems that you lack my late wife’s ability to control your lessors, Gerold,” Daemon said, glancing at the other man unflinchingly.

Gunthor growled, his hand instinctively drifting toward the sword at his hip before Gerold stepped between them. “You have been afforded the hospitality of our lady, do not mistake that for affection. Nor should you think that your fancy title and dragon will-”

“Enough, cousin,” Gerold said, placing his hand on the other man’s chest and pushing him back slightly.

Daemon gently placed his hand on Dark Sister, more than prepared to unsheathe his blade if the Broze Giant managed to run past his lordly cousin.

Baela and Rhaena gravitated toward each other when the first Royces first arrived and were now staring at the scene before them worriedly.

They had never seen someone approach their father in such a malicious and wrathful manner, used to people deferring to Daemon and seeking to gain his favor. It was only since coming to Westeros that they were now seeing differently Daemon was treated by those around him and how he treated them in return.

Daemon smirked at the two men, still entertained by the spectacle.

“We have nothing to proof to him,” Gerold said to Gunthor before glancing at the twins. “Blood tells, in the end.”

For the first time since the confrontation began, the smile on Daemon’s face disappeared. His hand remained resting upon the pommel of Dark Sister, but the casual amusement that had colored his expression was gone as he coldly stared at Gerold.

“What did you just say?”

Gerold stared at the prince for a moment before shaking his head. “I was not speaking to you, my prince, I am simply trying to calm my cousin.”

“Did you think that I did not notice the way that you looked toward my daughters?” Daemon asked, his voice becoming dangerously quiet.

Gerold’s expression hardened. “I-”

“We have all heard of your latest progeny, Your Grace,” Gunthor said, unable to hide the vicious grin that appeared on his face as she stared at Daemon. “My cousin was simply taking note of the resemblance between you and your newborn son. With the way you have carried yourself throughout your life, it is almost fitting the course of action the Gods have taken in your son’s conception.”

Daemon could hear his blood roaring in his ears, Gunthor’s words reminding him of why he detested these lands so deeply.

Baela gritted her teeth, while Gunthor’s words sounded innocuous enough, they all knew that the man was mocking Aethan and his appearance, saying that it was curse bestowed upon the newborn for being unfortunate enough to be Daemon Targaryen’s son.

Rhaena reached out to grab Baela’s hand, squeezing it tightly. The older twin did not know if Rhaena was doing this because she was seeking comfort from her or because she was attempting to keep Baela from rushing forward.

Daemon took a step forward, gripping the end of his sword tighter, his knuckles whitening as every instinct in his body screamed at him to draw Dark Sister and make Gunthor Royce regret ever opening his mouth.

“What is going on here?” Every turned and watched a man with long brown hair, blue eyes, a closely trimmed beard, and a long face, dressed blue and white armor approach them, looking at the group with trepidation. “I would hope that no one would dare attempt to draw blood in the halls of another so flippantly.”

“It is a simple misunderstanding. Ser Joffrey,” Gerold said, and he and the other members of his house bowed to the man.

Daemon assumed this was Joffrey Arryn, the current Knight of the Gate given his name and the amount of deference being shown to him. He had never met the other man before now, having only interacted with the head of House Arryn in the past.

“Lord Gerold,” Joffrey said, his voice carrying a quiet authority. “Ser Gunthor.”

Despite neither Royce responding immediately, Joffrey's gaze soon shifted toward Daemon, bowing to him. “My prince.”

“Ser Joffrey,” Daemon said plainly, which only served to further incense the Royces.

“I was not aware that you and your daughters would be training in this yard this morning,” Joffrey said, the implication clear enough for everyone to understand. “Had I been informed, I would have ensured that the yard remained free of unnecessary distractions.”

“We were simply passing through,” Gerold repeated what he had said to Daemon, but his words were no more convincing the second time.

“Of course,” Joffrey said pleasantly. "And now that you have taken in the yard, perhaps you would do me the honor of accompanying me to speak with my lady cousin. I believe she wished to discuss the matter of the Moutain Clans and there more sporadic movements with members of your house before the week was out.”

Gerold accepted the retreat with a stiff lip while Gunthor looked at Daemon one final time with fury in his eyes, still grasping the end of his sword.

Joffrey waited until the Royces had departed the yard before he turned back to Daemon. “I apologize, my prince, that should not have happened.”

“Well, it did, although I should not be surprised. You Valemen have always been rather thoughtless in your behaviors,” Daemon said coldly.

Joffrey’s expression remained neutral. “If that is what you believe then I will not fault you for such an opinion. But I hope that you will not find yourself encountering more of my people’s… thoughtlessness during your stay here.”

Joffrey bowed once more before following the path the Royces had taken across the yard and disappeared through the castle doors.

Daemon waited a few seconds before turning to face his daughters; Baela's jaw was still set, her practice sword gripped at her side, and she was staring at entrance that the Royces had passed through angerly while Rhaena had released her twin's hand and was looking at Daemon directly, allowing him to see the sadness and embarrassment in her eyes, which only served to anger Daemon further.

In his mind, his daughters should not be made to feel inferior to men who were descendants of fair-haired mongrels who only migrated to these lands because they knew they would have been overtaken by the expanding Valyrian Freehold if they stayed in their mediocre homeland

“We’re not finished here, pick up your weapons,” Daemon said.

“But father-” Baela tried to speak but stifled herself when Daemon’s eyes narrowed.

“Pick them up and return to your exercises, the words of ants should hold no sway to dragons. Let them talk of your brother as senselessly as they wish, it only reveals the envy they hold within their hearts towards beings they can never in their wildest dreams compare to.”

But you reacted to their words just now! You said in Rosby that we cannot allow anyone to speak of us as they like! Baela thought, her eyes flashing bitterly. “Yes, Father.”

She immediately retrieved her practice sword and returned to the straw dummy, her movements noticeably sharper than they had been before.

Rhaena hesitated, she had retrieved her bow, but she remained standing where she was, her fingers nervously running over the string.

“Rhaena, you heard me,” Daemon said.

She nodded and slowly walked back toward the target and Daemon watched as she retrieved her arrows before returning to her position.

“Again,” he said.

Rhaena nocked an arrow and drew the string back just as her arms began to tremble.

“Breathe,” Daemon said, his hand still gripping Dark Sister.

It seems these insects truly do need to be reminded that I am not my brother, insults towards me and my own will not be tolerated. Daemon thought as Gunthor’s words repeated themselves in his head.

He knew from the moment that he laid eyes on his son that Aethan would be subjected to othering due to his draconic traits, and it boiled his blood to know that his sweet boy would invite the mockery of lesser men for his appearance.

When Laena had come to her after having spoken to the Queen about Baela attacking Abrey Byrch after hearing the insult the girl had made about Aethan, telling him of the advice that Alicent gave her regarding raising children who were so similarly ostracized, Daemon wanted to vomit from the intense sensation of disgust that had washed over him.

The thought of his child and Lilyanna Targaryen sharing anything in common beyond superficialities, infuriated Daemon. This was not just because he did not like Lilyanna and found her to be a smug little shit and because being pitied by Alicent Hightower of all people made him want to scream, but because he knew that the gauntlet Aethan would be worse than the one Lilyanna experienced every day because Aethan’s affliction could not be hidden and ignored like hers could.

Daemon could not bring himself to finish the thought, only able to relax somewhat as he reassured himself that he would make sure that his son knew his place firmly above the masses.

Aethan would know that there was nothing wrong with him, he would know that the scales covering his body, the ridges along his spine, the wings on his back, and his tail were not a curse, but proof of the purity of their blood.

He would be loved, and anyone foolish enough to try and convince to Aethan otherwise would eventually have to answer to his father.

~X~

Hours Later

Eldric fought the urge to scowl as his older cousin and the members of House Grafton laughed at the jape that was made about his father.

Isembard Arryn, or the Gilded Falcon as he was more often called due to his wealth and the gold falcon that made up his coat of arms, was the head of House Arryn of Gulltown, and a man who often hid his more dangerous and reaching nature behind his gold and affability.

Eldric had never particularly liked his father, but neither did he enjoy hearing Arnold being mocked, especially by a man as pompous as his Isembard.

“Come now, Eldric,” Isembard said, clapping a hand against the shoulder of the young man beside him with enough force to make him sway slightly after seeing the blank look on Eldric’s face. “Surely even you can see the humor in it. Your father always did have ambitions larger than his sense.”

The others laughed again and Eldric forced himself to smile. He knew better than to defend his father too strongly, doing so would only invite more questions, and questions were dangerous when one had something to hide.

His father, once a proud man with a proud name now sat in the sky cells of the Eyrie, having been placed there by his own cousin for the crime of rising against her and her rule, wanting to take what he believed was rightfully his. The rumors that had filtered down from the mountain since then were not kind ones, speaking of a man who had stopped eating properly, who spoke to people who were not there, and who would break down in tears at random intervals.

Eldric did not know how much of it was true as he had not been permitted to see his father since the imprisonment began, and the letters sent from his supporters who had been placed in the Eyrie were carefully worded in case the correspondence were intercepted.

“The sky cells do funny things to a man,” One of the Grafton men said. “I've heard he talks to the birds now, think they are his subjects.”

“I suppose his feathery lords will be able to keep him great company, perhaps they will even crown him high lord of the sky cells!” Isembard said, and that set them off again.

Eldric took a drink from his goblet and let his gaze drift across the room.

Jeyne was sitting at the end of the throne room, speaking to several lords who an sought an audience with her, her attention seemingly divided between each petition as she listened to them in turn.

Eldric watched her for a moment, studying the expression upon his cousin's face. Jeyne looked every bit the Lady of the Vale, calm, composed, and utterly certain of herself.

They were qualities Eldric admired even if he resented her for the shame that she had bestowed upon his family.

As her father’s only living child at the time of his death, the laws of succession and survival both suggested she had been entirely within her rights to arrest Arnold and imprison him, most would even argue that she would have been correct in killing Arnold for his treason.

I suppose I should be grateful that Jeyne possesses the weak heart of a woman, most others would have put father’s head on a spike in her position. Eldric thought.

But he knew that the Lady of the Eyrie had colored him with the same brush that she did her father and was looking elsewhere for who she believed to be a suitable heir.

She wants Joffrey to succeed her and thinks that the Vale will follow such a foolish idea. Either she should rule father mentally incompetent and skip over him to make me her heir or crawl out from Jessamyn Redfort’s skirts and find suitable man to sire an heir for her.

The young boy had quickly caught sight of his mother, seeing Fiyona standing with a sharp smile on her face as she interacted with a group of women.

He could see from where he stood, he knew that his mother was looking around for someone, immediately figuring out who when she glanced at the Crown Princess.

Fiyona had told him last night that she had approached Queen Alicent, hoping to convince her that a marriage between himself and Helaena Targaryen would be beneficial to both their families.

It was an action that Eldric inwardly disagreed with as he had wished for a simpler and more innocuous approach similar to what he had done when he purposely ran into Helaena when the royal family arrived at the Gates of the Moon yesterday.

The thought of that moment brought a frown to his face as he remembered how Helaena’s sister, Lilyanna had humiliated him and ruined his chance to make a good impression.

He was now sure that with Lilyanna’s reaction and his mother’s obvious playing of their hand that the chances of securing a match with Targaryen would greatly lessen.

He had no particular interest in Helaena herself, but Eldric knew that a marriage to the King’s daughter would give him and his cause legitimacy. If Helaena became his wife, his branch of House Arryn just like Jeyne’s would be tied directly to the royal family, and Eldric would become something more than merely the son of a disgraced knight, he would be the husband of a Targaryen princess, and more importantly, it would make it considerably more difficult for Jeyne to overlook him as a successor.

No one would dare say that he did not deserve to be Warden of the Vale when his wife and possibly their children rode and commanded dragons. In his mind, it was unlikely that whoever sat the Iron Throne by such a point would affirm any will Jeyne left that called for Joffrey to be her heir in the face of a unified Vale under his preview.

Rhaenyra and her husband were the only members of the royal family who had decided to come to court this day, the others claiming to settling in after such a long journey on the road.

The princess’s presence further strengthened Eldric’s belief that a strong marriage was necessary for him as he watched how the lords and ladies of the Vale flocked to her.

Eldric barely noticed that Isembard and his sycophants were laughing again, thinking of ways that he could again try to ingratiate himself to the King’s second daughter, knowing that he would have competition give the rumors about the girl finally flowering.

I could try and present myself to the King, he will be the one who ultimately decides who the princess will marry, but I cannot just speak to a man at the top of the hierarchy without cause with my diminished status. Eldric thought.

He did not wish to be seen as presumptuous, as the shadow of his father and be labeled as another Arryn attempting to reach above his station. But he knew that at this moment, Fiyona, his maternal Templeton family, and his father’s supporters with houses Tollett, Coldwater, Dutton, and the lords of the Three Sisters were plotting behind his back, which hastened his desire to wed Helaena.

Fiyona was many things, but subtle was not one of them, he knew that he was not only told things but the adults around him because of his young age, but Eldric could tell that plans were being made around his father.

He hoped that his mother was not planning on retrieving Arnold from the sky cells while Jeyne, her household, and most of the Vale inhabited the Gates of the Moon, believing that such a reckless plan would backfire and potentially destroy whatever chance he still had of succeeding his cousin.

My mother, just like my father, is an overly greedy person, she wishes for everything that she believes belongs to her and should be hers without much consideration for the risk she is putting us in. We will be the first ones Jeyne turns her gaze to once she returns to the Eyrie and finds father missing.

Eldric had no intention of becoming another Arnold Arryn and hoped that Fiyona would continue to be smart enough to implicate him in his actions.

Eldric took another drink from his goblet, his expression remaining pleasant as Isembard continued speaking beside him, half-heartedly listening as he thought of what he needed to do so that Helaena Targaryen would be placed within his hands.