Robert’s Second Chance: Dance of Dragons Rewritten

Rhaenys

Get your pompous, treacherous, self-serving ass off of my family's throne, Rhaenys sneered as she was marched into the throne room side by side with her husband. Those terms applied to Aegon as well, but it was not the usurper who sat the throne. Otto Hightower was dressed richly, black mourning clothes trimmed with green, his Hand of the King pin polished and gleaming, and Rhaenys did not like the way he loomed over her in the throne. As if it were his rightful place. And by the base stood Dowager Queen Alicent Hightower, dressed in a formal gown embroidered with the Seven-Pointed Star. Undoubtedly a tribute to the burned sept.

You are nothing more than the second son of a vassal house, she thought as she sneered at Otto. That throne belongs to my family. The royal family. It is an insult for even your grandson to sit upon it, a kinslayer with watered-down Valyrian blood. 

"Where is your alleged King? We were told he was to receive us," Rhaenys demanded, falling silent only when Corlys gently touched her arm and gestured for her to hush.

"You are not being received, Princess," Otto said coldly. "You are surrendering to the Crown. The Crown I represent as Hand of the King. His Grace has authorized me to act in his stead, and he communicated his wishes to me before he left to return peace and order to the realm.

Meaning he's entered the fray himself on dragonback, she thought. Good. Mayhaps a lucky arrow will take him out of the sky.

Corlys's eyes flashed, and for one last moment, Rhaenys saw a glimpse of the proud and powerful Sea Snake she'd fallen in love with…alas, it was no more than a glimpse before Corlys sunk into a kneel, gesturing for her to do the same.

Had Rhaena not been in Green custody, Rhaenys would have sooner spat at Otto than knelt to him…but the cold hard truth was that they did have Rhaena. Her last living descendant. The only chance Rhaenys had to save her was to kneel. And so she swallowed what was left of her pride and bent the knee before Otto Hightower, her entire chest shaking as she did. Not with grief; with rage.

I should never have spared your life.

"We have honored…His Grace's terms of surrender," Corlys said, as if the words pained him. "What few ships remain to me have been given to House Manderly…"

"Where they will be divided four ways," Otto finished. "A fourth to House Manderly, a fourth to the Sistermen, a fourth to the Arbor, and the remaining fourth to be given to Oldtown as a way to help restore some of the damage inflicted by the outlaws Daemon and Rhaenyra Targaryen."

Though it boded ill for her that Oldtown had been burned (thus making Otto far less likely to show mercy), Rhaenys could not help her smug little smile at Daemon and Rhaenyra's act of vengeance. Now you know the pain of having your home defiled.

"Furthermore," Otto continued, "by royal decree, you are both to be stripped of your titles, and Driftmark shall not pass through your line, Corlys. His Grace shall decide the future of Driftmark in due course, and we have already begun to receive petitions."

And who's will prevail? There were a fair number of Velaryons who still remained, after all. Would one of Corlys's own cousins put his name forward? Build himself a new throne of driftwood to replace the one burned by The Cannibal?

"In exchange for your surrender, the men aboard your ships will be spared, as promised, as will Rhaena Targaryen and Alyn of Hull." If possible, Otto's eyes grew even steelier. "Traitors, such as yourselves, however, will not be tolerated in the Seven Kingdoms."

"We are no traitors," Rhaenys spoke, despite Corlys's attempts to shush her. "We honored the wishes of my cousin, King Viserys, and we fought for his named heir."

"Unapologetic traitors, at that," Otto finished coldly.

"You have rejected every offer of mercy made to you." Alicent added, speaking in the regal tone of a Queen. "Offers to fight for our side. Offers to remain neutral. Even after Driftmark was burned, we would have allowed you to sue for peace. Instead, you chose to fight for our enemy until it became physically impossible for you to fight any longer."

"Tell me, Lady Alicent," Rhaenys said, making some of the guards grumble complaints at the disrespect. "Would you lay down and surrender quietly after Oldtown was burned and your kin was slaughtered?" Smirking, she added, "Would you not take justice against those responsible?"

"Of course, I would," Alicent answered. "But I would not throw away innocent lives for the sake of continuing a war I knew I had no prayer of winning. And in your place, I would have urged Rhaenyra to surrender and sue for peace long before the conflict grew violent."

A statement you can only make because you are currently in a position of power.

"Hypotheticals are useless," Otto interrupted, gesturing for Alicent to be silent. "The fact remains that you aided and abetted our enemies, despite numerous offers of peace, and only surrendered when there were no other options left to you. As such, Corlys Velaryon, in the name of His Grace, King Aegon, Second of his Name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm, I, Otto Hightower, Hand of the King, sentence you to die." After a long, sadistic moment, Otto added, "As a small mercy in exchange for your surrender, His Grace has ordered a swift death by beheading, and your remains will be prepared by the Silent Sisters and returned to Driftmark for a proper funeral service."

Death is no act of mercy, no matter how you pretty it up with false honor. Rhaenys sneered.

"And as for you, Rhaenys Targaryen," Otto continued. "As is the case by precedent, women are offered the mercy of joining the Faith of the Seven to serve…"

"I will not act as a servant to Gods that I do not worship," Rhaenys cut him off with as much dignity as she could muster whilst being forced to her knees. "The only mercy I ask of this court is the right to see my granddaughter Rhaena one last time. Then, I will accept death alongside my husband."

A request they had perhaps expected, because Otto and Alicent exchanged a glance, nodded, and then gestured to a guard, who promptly left the throne room.

"Lady Rhaena and Alyn of Hull will be brought to the throne room to witness the executions," Otto replied. "You may say your farewells then." Then, through a snarl that contorted his entire face, he added, "A mercy that was not granted to me before my son was murdered. Nor to any in Oldtown who watched their loved ones burn in dragonfire."

Blood of the dragon though she was, the look on Otto's face unnerved her, and for the smallest of moments, she was grateful that Aegon had given the order before he left. Had the decision been solely at Otto's discretion, she was not certain her death or Corlys's would be a painless beheading.

Aemond

The roaring of dragons echoed through the skies, making him snap to attention and grab Vhagar's reins, prepared to guide her into battle.

Those can't be our dragons; we're still more than half a day's march from Harrenhal. They wouldn't fly this far North to me unless…

But then came a glimmer of blinding sunlight reflecting off something metallic. Aemond knew that glimmer very well. He saw it every time he and his brother flew together.

Sunfyre. But why…

There was only one way to find out. He checked beneath him to make sure the Northerners had heard the dragon roars and were on their guard, then flew ahead to meet with Aegon and Sunfyre. As he drew closer, he saw the massive black figure of the Cannibal to Aegon's right, and the vivid cobalt Tessarion flying to his left, both a good bit behind, presumably circling protectively over their fighting men.

Surely they wouldn't have bypassed Harrenhal to meet with us further north…

Aegon was in range now, and he saw his brother gesture for him to land in a nearby clearing large enough for Vhagar so they could speak. Obeying, Aemond guided her towards the designated spot and hastened to dismount, running to his brother's side as he dismounted Sunfyre.

Their respective armies were still a good distance away, so Aemond did not stand on ceremony. Rather than kneeling and addressing his brother as 'Your Grace', Aemond embraced him tightly, pulling him in close to kiss his lips in greeting. A kiss Aegon fervently returned, wrapping his arms around Aemond's neck. Not an easy task in full armor, but he managed, clinging to him tightly, almost desperately, as he melted in his arms.

Something horrible's happened, he realized, gripping Aegon more tightly. This is not merely because he missed me. He's looking for comfort. For me to give him strength.

And Aemond would give it. Gladly. For Aegon bore the weight of the Seven Kingdoms on his shoulders. Aemond would slay any monster that made that task more difficult. Even if those monsters lived only in Aegon's mind, disguising themselves as worries and fears.

He slipped his tongue into Aegon's mouth, dominating the kiss and making Aegon whimper softly as he clung to him. He dared not strip off Aegon's armor now and make love to him, the way he longed to, so instead he slipped his hand beneath Aegon's helm and gripped his hair tightly, giving it a firm yank that turned Aegon's whimpers into moans.

"I should have had us meet further from the path," Aegon lamented. "So that I might have you to myself, out of sight of our armies."

Aemond chuckled, brushing his nose against Aegon's lovingly. "I'm hardly desirable at the moment, brother. I haven't bathed since I left the Red Keep."

"I'd have you anyway," he whispered back, but when Aemond met his gaze, he found no sparkle of mirth. The teasing mischief that he adored. In its place was grief and the flow of tears that his King had clearly been holding back for quite some time.

"I'm sorry," Aegon said, trying to wipe them away. "I haven't…a King can't weep in front of his people, and I've not had a moment alone since it's happened…"

Gently grabbing him by the wrist, Aemond pressed a soft kiss to each of Aegon's cheeks, just below each eye. "Tell me," he encouraged softly.

Aegon's shoulders slumped, head hanging, even when Aemond kissed his forehead. "It's Oldtown."

Little by little, Aegon recounted everything that happened since they'd parted. Oldtown. Jace's surrender and subsequent beheading. And now the involvement of the Iron Born.

News of Oldtown, of the horrors Aegon witnessed there in the form of burned corpses and charred buildings, stuck in Aemond's throat like a suffocating lump. That their own kin had fallen victim nearly had Aemond joining his brother in his tears. But he shook his head, forcing them back.

There will be time to mourn later. When we can all gather as a family and console each other. But now is not that time. We must ensure the realm is safe from further tragedy first.

"I assume you've marched our men further north because you have a plan?" Aemond said, voice cracking before he swallowed and tried again. "A plan to end this once and for all?"

Aegon nodded. "The Greyjoy's involvement complicates matters because we cannot predict where they will strike," he said. "But yes, I have a plan. Or rather, Borros does."

Robert

I suppose they need a few moments as brothers, Robert thought as he rode on horseback, watching Daeron and Tessarion fly towards where Aegon and Sunfyre had landed a few moments prior.

There was no risk in it. The Cannibal was more than sufficient to protect all of their forces AND the Northern forces that were rapidly approaching. Especially when Daemon and Rhaenyra were unlikely to attack them this far inland when they had thrown their lot in with the Greyjoys. And he knew the young King needed a moment alone with his brothers.

Gods know I had moments like that during the Rebellion, Robert remembered. Moments where strength and determination could only drive me so far. Moments where I needed to set the hammer down, if only for a moment, and mourn my losses. My mistakes. To sit and breathe whilst I bore the weight of thousands of lives resting on my shoulders.

But with Robert, it had not been his brothers who comforted him during those moments. He did not trust Stannis or Renly to see him at his weakest. His most vulnerable.

He shared those moments only with Ned.

Seven Hells, I miss him now, Robert thought as he rode up further to meet the Northern forces. He recognized all of the banners. The bear, the bullmoose, the flayed man, the silver fist, and more. He'd seen them all when they came to fight in the Rebellion to avenge their fallen Lord Paramount and his son.

And at the head of the pack was the Direwolf.

It's not Ned waiting for you beneath those banners, he reminded himself harshly. It's Cregan. A very different man from your old friend.

As predicted, Aegon returned a few minutes later, with Daeron and Aemond following shortly after. More than enough time for Aegon to resume his position as head of the army before Cregan Stark rode ahead on horseback with two of his vassal lords to come and meet with them.

Cregan waited only long enough for Aegon to dismount Sunfyre before he approached the young King and sunk into a kneel, his vassal lords following suit and addressing him as 'Your Grace'.

If Aegon felt any nerves, he didn't show it, politely gesturing for them to rise and greeting them, "Lord Stark, Lord Glover, Lord Dustin."

Thank the gods he got it right. His mother must have made him memorize the sigils.

"I'm afraid there's been a change of plans," Aegon continued, recounting the information of the burning of Oldtown and their taking of Harrenhal. Most Northern Houses still kept the Old Gods and thus were not as deeply gutted by the burning of the sept as the more southern Houses were, but they were angry nonetheless.

Stark honor is a thing of legend, Robert thought as he studied Cregan's judgmental eyes. Cregan didn't look like Ned, not truly, but Robert could see whispers of his descendant's features. And he could imagine the exact same expression on Ned's face if he'd been told what the Blacks had done. Daemon and Rhaenyra attacked non-combatants who were peacefully at prayer. Ned would want them sentenced to death for that alone.

As much as Robert tried to remind himself that Cregan was not Ned, it was difficult to keep his mind from making the comparisons. Wondering if Cregan would interpret the situation the same way his old friend had.  

"But even with the conquest of Harrenhal, the war is not yet won," Aegon continued. "And it may grow more complicated still. It seems my half-sister has recruited the Iron Born to her cause."

There was the fury that Robert was expecting.

"The Iron Born are no more honorable than pirates," he said with disgust. "This is no longer a mere matter of who sits the throne. Emboldened with the power of two adult dragons, Dalton Greyjoy is a threat to the entire western coast of the continent and beyond. If they are not stopped at once, countless innocents will be subject to their barbarism."

Perhaps if you'd gotten your ass moving sooner…But Robert swallowed his retort. The Northerners were proud creatures, after all.

"And worst of all, we have no idea where they might try to strike first."

Aegon nodded gravely. "And this is why we must move immediately. Contain the disease before it spreads."

Robert gestured for Jason Lannister and Elmo Tully to join him, then signaled for a few servants to bring forth a map of the region and to set up a few tables to rest it upon.

"I do not believe Lannisport will be their first target," Jason said. "Not with the limited resources they have. Though I have, of course, sent word to my wife and castellan to prepare."

"Furthermore," Robert added, "we have sent ravens to our allies at the Arbor who, now that the Velaryons have been dealt with, have the largest fleet in the Seven Kingdoms." Robert trailed his finger from the Arbor to Lannisport. "It will take them time to sail that far, but the Redwynes will travel north to reinforce the Lannister fleet. In doing this, we can keep them from venturing further south."

"Nor do we believe they will attack North of the Neck," Elmo added. "Not when it is their ultimate goal to take King's Landing. Positioning their allies too far North will make it harder for them to take the capital."

Cregan nodded grimly. "But we cannot discount the possibility that they will make small raids to Northern villages. To help fortify themselves with wealth and additional ships before venturing south for further assaults."

He knows the Iron Born well, Robert silently praised.

Together, they poured over the map (using a few pins to serve as makeshift markers) and came to agreements on how best to divide up their armies to defend the coast from Lannisport to Seagard, the areas where the Iron Born were most likely to strike. Fortunately, they did not lack for fighting men or scorpions. With the addition of twenty-thousand Northern soldiers, they now had a host of over a hundred thousand.

And I've set myself up for the perfect opportunity to…

"Lord Stark," Robert said. "When we progress down the River Road, you and five thousand of your men will splinter off here," he pointed to the road leading to Raventree Hall, "and join House Blackwood in guarding the towns and villages near the coast of Ironman's Bay. It is the closest to Pyke, and the Blackwoods are a wealthy House. It's more like than not they will be in danger."

Not at all the logical choice. One that he would not make under any other circumstances. It would make far more sense to assign the task to Elmo Tully or one of his vassals, who knew the region better, but fortunately, Robert had come up with an alternative assignment for Elmo and a plausible explanation for Cregan.

"Of all the towns in this region, it is Raventree Hall that had the most bountiful harvest this autumn," Robert said. "We have already paid them their gold, and they have agreed to provide one third of the food we promised to send North. The other two thirds will be coming from the Reach. It will be easier for you, as Lord Paramount of the North, to direct the food wagons from there."

A flimsy excuse, but fortunately, Cregan didn't question it. The North did not have enough food to last the winter, and Cregan was not going to push back against plans that specifically involved food transportation. He nodded in agreement with Robert's plan and began gathering the men he would take with him to Raventree, assigning Lords Dustin, Glover, and Bolton to lead the remaining fifteen-thousand Northerners.

I've done all I can for now, Robert reasoned. Black Aly is at Raventree Hall, and with what I know about her, she will more like than not want to be involved in the defense of the region against the Iron Born. This is the best shot I have for Cregan to meet and fall in love with her.

"As for the rest of us…"

Robert gave his assignments one by one, ensuring the whole of the target zone would have sufficient coverage by both soldier and dragon, including patrol routes for all four Green dragons (with Aegon's authorization, of course). But when he reached Aethan, prepared to assign a patrol route to him and the Cannibal…

"Lord Borros," Aethan interrupted him. "I am not a learned man, and I certainly understand little of military strategy, but I believe The Cannibal's skills might be better utilized in a different manner."

Technically, it was bad form of him to question Robert (and by extension, Aegon) publicly, but to Robert's surprise, Aegon encouraged him to elaborate.

"The Cannibal is a master hunter, your grace," Aethan explained. "That was how he and I managed to find and ambush Silverwing. And that's not to say our other dragons aren't hunters, but not to the same extent, and not against other dragons."

Aegon understood immediately. "You wish to hunt Caraxes and Syrax."

Aethan nodded. "Their last known location was Pyke, and there has not been a rainfall since. I believe if I flew the Cannibal to Pyke, we could serve the dual purpose of burning any remaining Iron Born ships and tracking the scents of one or both enemy dragons."

For a moment, the King fell silent, drumming his fingers along the table by the map's edge. "Two against one is dangerous, even for the Cannibal. An error I myself nearly made."

Speaking up for the first time, Aemond shook his head. "I do not believe Syrax would join the fray against the Cannibal, your grace," he said. "When Vhagar and I fought Vermithor, Rhaenyra chose to flee rather than fight."

"Hmm," Aegon agreed. "Nonetheless, it is too great a risk alone."

Turning to Daeron, he said, "Tessarion is our fastest and nimblest dragon. She will be able to keep pace with the Cannibal. And although she is smaller than Syrax, she is faster and fiercer than Rhaenyra's overfed housecat of a beast." Pausing, he fixed Daeron with a stern glare. "If Syrax flees, do not pursue. Stay and help the Cannibal eliminate Caraxes instead. Rhaenyra is little threat without Daemon. Her dragon is weak, and the Iron Born will not respect her enough to follow her command without him as her enforcer. He is the primary target."

Daeron nodded, respectfully addressing his brother as 'your grace', but Robert could tell the boy hoped that Rhaenyra would fight rather than flee. Daemon was indeed the more valuable target militarily, but Rhaenyra had refused multiple offers of peace and had joined her husband in burning Oldtown.

"Death by a thousand cuts," Robert reminded them. "The Iron Born do not have unlimited resources. Even if you fail to find Caraxes and Syrax on your hunts, it would serve us well to destroy as many of the Kraken's vessels as possible."

"And if you do not find a workable trail to follow within one day," Aegon added, "then both of you are to return to your assigned patrol routes. We want to leave as little territory unguarded as possible."

Daeron and Aethan accepted the dismissal and left the group to remount their dragons and fly for Pyke as quickly as possible to catch any scent trail that might remain before the wind blew it asunder. After one last check with their men, Aegon and Aemond went to mount their own dragons, leaving Robert behind to give his final instructions before ordering their soldiers to move out.

With luck, I may see combat myself, he thought with an amused chuckle as he picked up his war hammer. Borros's body was young and strong, and with it, Robert could swing his hammer nearly as well as he could during the height of the Rebellion (he had spent some of his spare time practicing). And in many ways, it was like he was fighting in the Rebellion again. Fighting to stop the evil Targaryen line from extinguishing more of what was good and right with the world.

I've fought with my mind enough. Now it's time to make a pulpy mess of some skulls.

Alicent

Gods be good, what is she doing here?

Quickly and discreetly as she could, Alicent strode to the edge of the throne room as Helaena entered, following as the guards led in a fettered Rhaena and Alyn of Hull. She had explicitly ordered Helaena be kept far away from the throne room until she said otherwise. Her daughter was not even dressed for court. Rather than wearing a gown or her consort's circlet, Helaena was dressed in a set of black riding clothes trimmed with sky blue, a color that the young Queen wore quite often these days. Nonetheless, Helaena entered and strode forward to take her usual space in the gallery. The space reserved for the Queen.

Alicent managed to intercept her before she got too far into the throne room and thus became too prominent.

"Sweet girl, I told you to remain in your chambers," Alicent whispered, too soft for anyone but Helaena to hear. "You mustn't be here today. I'll have a guard escort you back to…"

But to Alicent's surprise, Helaena gently pulled her arm out of Alicent's grip and shook her head. "No, mother. I will remain here."

Alicent paled at the thought. Behind her, Corlys and Rhaenys stood in chains. The executioner had already brought out the two wooden blocks and was merely waiting for Rhaena to be brought forth to say goodbye to her grandparents. The two traitors were to be executed before the eyes of the court, and allowing sweet, innocent Helaena to witness such barbarism was not an option.

Do you not remember the state you were in after Ser Vaemond was killed whilst you watched? Helaena had needed hours to soothe herself, and even then, she had nightmares for days to come. Alicent would not allow such a thing to happen again, especially now, when Rhaena had already begun to cry when she realized what was about to happen to her grandparents.

You are far too delicate to witness such a thing.

"Daughter, this is no place for…"

"Mother," Helaena said a bit more sternly. For a moment, her lower lip trembled, pretty eyes shining with fear, but Helaena drew a deep breath, straightening her spine and squaring her shoulders. "It is my duty to be here."

And it is my duty to protect you. "Helaena…"

"I cannot live my life as a timid mouse, mother," Helaena interrupted. "I am Aegon's Queen. And if the future brings what I hope it will bring, his reign will not always be one of sunshine and fairytales, even if we do manage to win the war. If Aegon intends to lead the realm into progressive prosperity, he needs me to be a Queen to him like Alysanne once was to Jaehaerys. I cannot do that if I hide from the darker side of the world in which we live."

She was right. Of course she was right. But Alicent blocked her way nonetheless. For although she had birthed three strong sons (sons who were presently away at war, fighting for their country's safety and stability), in Helaena, she saw traces of the girl she herself once was. A young girl untainted by the cruelty of court and politics. Innocent and pure. A purity Alicent desperately needed to preserve, as she wished her own had been preserved.

But…But perhaps the illusion was already shattered when my poor sweet daughter was forced to watch as an assassin nearly killed my grandchildren.

"Mother," Helaena said. "I do not wish to use my authority as Queen to command you, but I shall if you leave me no option."

The decision was out of Alicent's hands. There was nothing she could do as Helaena side-stepped her and took her place in the gallery, near the base of the Iron Throne, where she would have an unobstructed view of what was to come to pass. 

'Twas no easy thing to witness. Still bound hand and foot in chains, Rhaena rushed to her grandparents, tears streaming down her face as she sobbed. Both Corlys and Rhaenys joined her in her tears, embracing her as best they could while wearing their own chains, taking turns kissing her on the forehead lovingly.

Alyn of Hull waited sheepishly off to the side, unsure if he was permitted to step forward as well, until Corlys gestured him in closer and embraced him, whispering something into his ear that Alicent could not hear.

Otto allowed the farewells to continue for a moment longer, then motioned to the guards to pull Rhaena and Alyn back into the gallery near the exit, so that they may be removed from the throne room quickly once the act was over.

Alicent could not fault Rhaena as her tears turned to screams when the executioner drew his blade and gave the signal for Corlys and Rhaenys to be brought to their knees, their necks presented on the wooden blocks. But as sorry as she felt for Rhaena, her eyes were only for her own daughter. Helaena trembled ever so slightly as she watched, a single tear rolling down her cheek, but she did not look away, even as the executioner loomed over Corlys and raised his weapon.

Then, after each was given the chance to speak their final words, it was done. Swift and clean, first Corlys, then Rhaenys seconds after, a bitter end to the story of the Queen Who Never Was.

Such a waste, Alicent thought, a tear streaming down her cheek, looking away while the bodies were removed from the throne room so the Silent Sisters could see to them. Such a horrible waste. There was no reason this needed to happen. No reason any of this needed to happen. Driftmark. The Vale. Oldtown. All the loved ones we lost. And now gods only know what my sons will face with their armies. Not one drop of blood needed to be spilled. Damn you, Rhaenyra. Had you only bent the knee…

But to Alicent's amazement, Helaena seemed to be faring far better than she feared. Her sweet daughter was crying, a handkerchief pressed to her face, but she had endured brilliantly, even if she did flinch away when Alicent went to touch her arm.

"There was no other way," Helaena whispered softly, and Alicent was unsure if her daughter was speaking to her or to herself. "There needs to be a balance between gentleness and ruthlessness. King Maegor turned the entire realm against him for being without mercy, but King Aenys was crushed beneath the realm's heel for being too timid. If Aegon's reign, our reign, is to endure long term, a firm stance against treason was necessary." She hiccupped. "Aegon will need to sentence more to death in the future."

Alicent tried to give her an encouraging smile. "There is no need to fear your husband becoming Aenys or Maegor," she assured her. "Aenys never would have flown Sunfyre into battle to protect Oldtown. Maegor never would have offered so many opportunities for peace."

Nor will he become his father, Alicent thought proudly. He is stronger than Viserys ever was.

After one more breath to calm herself, Helaena looked to Alicent with tear-filled eyes.

"I think I will go to the cliffs and visit Dreamfyre," she decided. "Perhaps fly a lap around the city. The fresh air may do me well."  

Of all the sacrifices, all the things that we have lost so that your brother may rule and our family may endure, I prayed your innocence would not be one of them, Alicent lamented as her daughter walked away, Kingsguard by her side.

But perhaps if Helaena was right and she emerged as a stronger Queen for it, perhaps her growing thicker skin might not be the worst possible outcome.

Daemon

I almost regret separating from Rhaenyra. She should be here to savor our victory, Daemon thought, smiling cruelly as a pair of Iron Born warriors dragged Lord Farman's eldest son into the courtyard.

A man grown, the young lord was well past twenty and had a wife of his own. Had. Past tense. One of the Iron Born had ripped her away from him, planning to make her his salt wife, now that she was about to become a widow. A fate to be shared by every other woman of Faircastle…or the whole of Fair Isle, Daemon supposed. He had allowed the entire island to be raided.

There was little choice but to take the island. The Greyjoy fleet was not large enough to achieve what they needed to achieve, and taking Fair Isle's ships and wealth was an excellent place to start. Dalton had sent only ten ships to join Daemon in his conquest of the island, but with Caraxes as a siege weapon, ten ships was more than sufficient.

To their credit, the Farmans fought bravely. Faircastle had no scorpions, but they fired endless volleys of arrows until Daemon burned the last of their archers, threatening to burn the castle and everyone within it if the Farmans did not open the gates and allow the Iron Born entry. They had no choice but to comply…a decision they surely regretted when Daemon led the Iron Born inside and began putting their men to the sword.

"Fuck you!" the young lord snarled fiercely at Daemon as he raised Dark Sister. "Fuck you! Fuck the Whore of Dragonstone, and fuck the bastards she calls her heirs! King Aegon will have your heads on a spike for this!"

"Perhaps," Daemon said coolly. "But not before I have yours mounted outside of Faircastle."

He did not give the young man a chance to reply before he swung Dark Sister, separating his victim's head from his body.

"That's the last of the men, my Prince," one of the Iron Born said to Daemon, smiling ferally. "All that remains in the castle are the servants. House Farman is no more."

"A fate to be shared by all Houses who bend the knee to the usurper," Daemon declared proudly. "Retrieve their gold from their vaults, as well as anything of value from within the castle. We shall be needing it to further fund our war efforts. We'll rest here for the night, and then tomorrow, we meet back with the Red Kraken and make our plans to take Lannisport."

Lannisport would be a much harder challenge. Perhaps one that would cost Daemon his life. Even the Conqueror and his sisters did not face the challenge of taking Casterly Rock (for which they were grateful). But they had no choice. For with the Lannister fleet and the Lannister gold, their chances of winning the war would rise significantly. They could even afford to hire a sellsword army from across the Narrow Sea.

Though mayhaps it would be best if Rhaenyra and I faced that challenge together, he reasoned. With both Syrax and Caraxes working in tandem, they stood a far better chance of bringing the Lannisters to their knees.

"Tell the men to join me in the great hall," Daemon declared, wiping the blood from Dark Sister before sheathing her. "This castle will be empty after tomorrow. No reason not to spend the evening feasting on their finest meats and drinking their rarest wines." 

A few of the Iron Born cheered heartily, storming forth into the great hall while Daemon took a moment to breathe, resting his hand against the castle's stone walls just to assure himself that it was all real.

The Greens have not beaten us, he thought. All the things they've stolen from us, all the loved ones that they've killed, they have not beaten the House of the Dragon. We will rise from the ashes, as we always have. And their suffering shall become a thing of legend. Such legend that no one would dare challenge us again.

Jace had yet to join them, leaving Daemon to assume he had died at Harrenhal. Daemon was sad to think it, but in the greater scheme of the Targaryen Dynasty, it was no real tragedy; he had hardly any Valyrian blood. Rhaenyra would be heartbroken, of course, but she was young enough still to bear more children. If Daemon could get her with child quickly, they could ensure the Targaryen line would not end with them. Two children would be sufficient, a boy and a girl to continue the Targaryen line.

But for tonight, I shall savor this victory. The first of many to come.

Little did Daemon know that his victory was a double-edged sword. For whilst he was mounting the heads of Aegon's loyalists on spikes, counting his freshly-stolen gold, and diving deep into his cups, the elation of his triumph lulled him into confidence. The belief, for the first time since they began the war, that they well and truly might win. Caraxes shared his dark satisfaction, roaring an exalted cry to the clouds above them and beating his mighty wings whilst the blood of the Farman's congealed in the courtyard, the flesh of their corpses filling the dragon's belly.

Neither Daemon nor Caraxes had any inkling that the Cannibal had, at last, managed to catch their scents on the breeze. Nor did they know that the massive black beast had heard Caraxes' roar and was honing in on Fair Isle. Just waiting for the cover of nightfall…