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Alyssa IV 

1st Moon, 42AC

Alyssa smiled silently as she watched Jaehaerys finish the final line of his Valyrian script, his quill reaching the end of the parchment with an elegant flick. She watched as his brow furrowed and he observed his own work, before she could even praise him for its excellence. 

"Finished," Jaehaerys tentatively announced, setting down his quill as he turned to look at her. 

Alyssa moved from her position behind her youngest son to get a better look at his writing. Moving the parchment while the ink was still wet was ill-advised, so she would have to look closely for herself while it remained on the stand. 

She let her smile take on a tinge of pride as her eyes scanned the beautiful calligraphy. The grammar was perfect, the style eloquent, and not a single letter was missed. She already knew that she would not have to compare it to the original manuscript, but she did so anyway just to make her son feel that much better. 

The copy her son made of the page was flawless, well and truly flawless. Not a single detail was left out. Everything from the artistic stylings above certain letters to the spacing between the lines had been copied to perfection.

"Excellent work, Jaehaerys," Alyssa praised, full and from the heart. She turned to look at her prideful son, clearly proud and exuberant at another success under his belt. 

Jaehaerys straightened in his seat, measuring himself like the perfect little prince he was as his beautiful purple eyes glimmered with joy. "May I do another, Mother?" 

Alyssa's brows rose in light confusion, but it did not reach her eyes. She was caught somewhere between surprise and amusement. She could have sworn that Jaehaerys would want to run off and play, but evidently not. 

"Another? This is your second page already today, don't you want to practice with the sword as well?" Alyssa said, resisting the urge to pinch his adorable cheeks. 

Jaehaerys just shook his head, somehow looking both abashed and hopeful. "No, Mother. I'd rather stay here… with you."

Alyssa blinked a few times, her smile softening as she continued to stare at her son.

"You are a sweet boy, Jaehaerys," she whispered, her heart melting at the sight. 

As she reached for another page of the old Valyrian manuscript about the Second Spice War, she took a moment to appreciate her son. He sat proudly next to her, his shining, silver-gold hair catching wonderfully in the bright midday sun. He looked the very picture of a perfect prince, ripped straight out of the very books he was practicing with every day.

Alyssa trembled slightly as she replaced the page before him. Her hands still shook sometimes, and it seemed another bout was coming. 

"Mother, are you alright?" Jaehaerys asked as Alyssa clasped her hands together. 

'No,' Alyssa thought. She was not alright, even almost two years later, the death of Vaella still haunted her. She hardly recognized herself in the mirror any longer, her eyes were duller, her hair lost its shine, and she looked exhausted at all times. But the damage to her mind was even greater. 

Her daughter, her little girl, Vaella, died. Ripped away from her cruelly and unjustly. She was so overwhelmed with grief that she could hardly get herself out of bed, and certainly not out of her room. She remained like that for a time, until her son Viserys and the needs of Jaehaerys was able to pull her out of the deep, dark well she had fallen into. 

Before her mood could sour at the thought of her second son, Alyssa moved to answer her third. "I'm fine, Jaehaerys. Just a little tired, that's all," she said with a tight smile. She did not need Jaehaerys worrying about her, he had his own struggles and duties to accomplish. 

Jaehaerys nodded wearily, as if he did not quite believe her. But he moved his eyes back to the manuscript eventually, picking up his quill as he restarted his work once more. 

Alyssa watched him more than his work, her eyes blinking heavily, trying to prevent the tears from welling up once more. She could not help but see Vaella everywhere, the silver tuft of hair atop her head was the very same shade as Jaehaerys's hair, and her eyes were the same beautiful hue of light purple as her elder brother's.

She clasped her hands together again quietly, trying to stop them from shaking. Vaella's memory clung to her like wet clothes. Some days, the grief would hit her like a direct blow from Balerion, almighty and devastating. On good days, like today, it would be a quiet pain, like sore muscles after walking far too far. Sometimes she thought she might crumble once more under the weight and pain, the overwhelming feelings of loss and dread, but she never did. 

Because Jaehaerys helped her. 

He didn't understand, he couldn't possibly understand just what seeing him excel and live meant for her. But he helped nonetheless. His quiet but persistent presence. His affection for her had become her anchor. When she felt the agony and despair from Vaella's death claw into her, it was Jaehaerys who would cast it aside. 

He had done more for her in the last year than all of her other children combined. She knew it was cruel to think like that, and it was unfair, especially to Viserys. Her second son had been the one to initially pull her from the depths of despair after all. His excitement, innocence, and sheer joy had been enough to wake her up, but only Jaehaerys truly helped her now. 

Viserys had left her, running off to Essos with her most hated enemies to partake in Maegor's damned coronation. He left her here all alone, choosing to be with his uncle rather than his mother. She tried not to let it get to her, but it had. 

Her other children were no better. Alysanne, to her credit, was not as bad as her other siblings, but she was needy, quiet, and impossible for her to read. Her days spent with Alysanne felt wasted, somehow. In a way that Alyssa could not fully describe. 

Alysanne did not help her, but at least she did not make things worse like her other ungrateful and foolish children. Rhaena had been a quiet annoyance for her, first dismissing all of her old ladies in waiting that Alyssa had appointed, directly breaking the agreement that they had all come to after her idiotic decisions years ago. But worse than that was how she would ignore her at every turn, not even making eye contact in most circumstances. Still, she preferred that to her last child. 

Aegon had turned into a veritable nightmare ever since she had proposed a perfectly reasonable and necessary match between Jaehaerys and her granddaughter Rhaella. She could not for the life of her understand just why Aegon was so furious. 

The match may be a little early, but it was the only logical choice. Due to the foolish and short-sighted betrothals arranged by her husband, along with the tragic loss of Vaella, Jaehaerys was without a Targaryen to marry. As a prince of the blood, and a prodigy to boot, it was necessary that he marry a Targaryen, and Rhaella was the only logical choice. 

She had once thought that maybe Alysanne could be a replacement. Sure, she was currently betrothed to Maegor's detestable heir, but betrothals could change. But now she believed that idea was foolish. Not only was Alysanne not nearly good enough for her son, but she had already fallen into the clutches of her most hated enemies. 

Maegor and his family did not reside on Dragonstone year-round, but they spent more than enough time on their stolen island to have dug their claws into her daughter. Shiera and her detestable benefactor, Visenya, both exerted undue influence on her little girl. Any plans to subvert or change the betrothal would merely invite the wrath of her enemies and her misguided husband. 

With Alysanne not an option, that left Alyssa's grandchildren as the last possible option. Shiera and Maegor decided to stop having children after their last daughter Daenys was born, and Alyssa doubted she would get the chance to have another. 

She was already almost five and thirty years old. Attempting to birth another child at her age could easily end in disaster, whether it be the end of her own life or another lost child. Alyssa could not lose another, or she would certainly die from grief. 

That left her grandchildren as the only potential options, of which Rhaella was the perfect match. She was just six years younger than Jaehaerys, of impeccable Targaryen stock, and the daughter of the heir to the Seven Kingdoms. A marriage between her and Jaehaerys would not only provide both Jaehaerys and Rhaella with a worthy match but secure her family against the encroachment of Maegor's loathsome family. 

How her children and husband could not see how disadvantageous their position turned out to be through his actions shocked her to her core. Not only were they hopelessly indebted to Maegor's family, but they had also given up strategic marriages and even the island of Dragonstone itself. 

She had tried to get her husband to see reason through letters so far, but nothing had worked. It had only angered him, and in turn, angered her. So she had decided to take matters into her own hands. Aerea was currently Aegon's heir, but that was surely to change in the future. Rhaena would no doubt give him a son, and that son would be betrothed to Aerea as was tradition. 

But that left Rhaella without a match. Would she marry another younger brother of hers? Why waste her potential when Jaehaerys needed a secured match now? Both to boost the prestige and stability of their family, but also to ensure that their branch did not fully split and collapse. Jaehaerys was the only reasonable option. Any future sons that Aegon and Rhaena had could simply marry future daughters or cousins, born from Viserys's line. 

But her foolish and indignant son did not see it that way. Clouded by the same childish and shortsighted beliefs as his father, he outright rejected the match, refusing to even hear more of her reasoning. 

His hateful rage had sent her down her own spiral of wrath, luckily, Jaehaerys was there to ground her. Aegon had been openly disrespecting her ever since Rhaena had been caught with that Stokeworth girl but it had gone too far. He may be an adult now, but she was still his mother and the Queen of Westeros.

She would not let her son jeopardize the future of House Targaryen for his obtuse and shortsighted views. The next few marriages established within House Targaryen would be imperative for the future of the dynasty. It would decide whether or not King's Landing or Pentos would command the future, and she would not allow her family to falter. 

"Mother?" Her son's soft voice cut through her thoughts like a knife through flesh. 

Alyssa blinked her exhaustion away, even thinking about her disturbed son exhausted her. She had been wrathful at first, but she was saving that energy now. Aenys would return eventually, and with his support, she could convince Aegon. 

"Yes, sweetling?" she asked, turning her eyes down toward her model little prince. 

"You look angry, did I err somewhere?" he asked frightfully, gesturing toward his half-completed page. 

"No no, darling. You are fine. Perfect as always," she said with a smile as she moved to brush one of his curly bangs away from his face.

Her son relaxed in his seat at her words. The tension that had built within him melted at her soft reassurances as his eyes moved back toward the parchment. "I am almost done, just a few more lines left," he said proudly, looking back toward her for his approval. 

Alyssa smiled again, this time fuller and without a hint of her previous anger. "You are such a clever boy," she praised, voice laced with pride. "But how about we end here for today?"

"But I am not done?" Jaehaerys asked, gesturing back toward the half-completed page. 

Alyssa smiled brightly, trailing her thin fingers through his adorable silver-gold curls. "You have done more than enough for today, sweetling. Now, why don't we go find some food and maybe go to the Dragonpit to visit Urrax?" 

Jaehaerys frowned instead, his eyes returning to the parchment. "But I wanted to finish this one too. So you'd be proud," he said before his hands snapped to his mouth, as if he had not meant to say the last line. 

Alyssa's broken heart melted at the words, her look softening as she leaned down and placed a kiss on his forehead. "Oh, Jaehaerys, I am proud," she whispered, drawing him into a warm hug. He was still small in her arms, thankfully not nearly as big as his elder brothers yet, she wanted to cherish her little boy just a little while longer. 

"I am always proud of you, my little dragon," she said with an ear-to-ear smile, practically feeling the joy and pride wafting off Jaehaerys like heat from a freshly cooked steak. But it was soon replaced by something else, his body stiffened, and his exuberance disappeared.

"...I am sorry, Mother," Jaehaerys mumbled into her dress, causing Alyssa to jerk back to look at her son. 

"What for, sweetling?" she pressed, her son had nothing to apologize for. She had no idea what this could possibly be. 

"Aegon is mad because of me, right?" Jaehaerys mumbled, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. 

Alyssa's softened heart quickly hardened with rage once more, her grip on her son's shoulders tightening fiercely. She could not let this stand. Aegon could be upset with her if he must, but to take it out on Jaehaerys? His own little brother? It was unacceptable. 

She drew her son close once again, pulling him into a tight embrace. "No no no," she whispered gently. "You have done nothing wrong, sweetling. Nothing at all."

Jaehaerys sniffed quietly, clearly trying to stifle his tears. "Then why is he mad at me?" Jaehaerys mumbled, clearly torn up about something. 

Alyssa's vision turned red from the overwhelming rage that surged through her. She may not be a Targaryen, but the blood of the dragon still flowed through her and she felt it roar to life at the indecency. 

She held her son tighter, as if she could protect him from all the woes and evils of the world with just her body, even ones from his family. Her face pressed against the top of his head, smushing his solver-gold curls flat as she cleared her throat. 

"He is not mad at you, sweetling. Not truly," she reassured him. She did not believe her own words, given just how vicious and troublesome her son had been over the last few moons, but she had to reassure her little Jaehaerys nonetheless.

"But he isn't even speaking with me. I went to go and ask him to play Cyvasse with me earlier and he told me to go away," Jaehaerys said through half-choked sobs.

Alyssa struggled for what to say. Should she defend her disrespectful and shortsighted son? Jaehaerys was wise beyond his years, but he was still not even eight name days old. He was too young to understand the political complexities of his brother's idiotic decisions. 

"Your brother is just in a bad mood. Rhaena is going to have another baby soon and he is worried about her, that's all," Alyssa lied through her teeth. She would explain it more when her precious little princeling was older, but for now, this would suffice. 

"Then… Aegon doesn't hate me?" he mumbled, still locked in her embrace. 

"No, he does not," she swore. She believed it, even if her idiotic son was acting like a fool and was unjustly angry toward her and her son. She had to believe that he did not hate her little Jaehaerys. If he did, then all was lost. 

"Aegon is just in a bad mood, it will pass. Do you trust me, my little hatchling?" she asked, leaning back a little to look at him in his little purple eyes. 

He did not speak, but Jaehaerys nodded quietly, wiping away the tears that had pooled in his eyes. Alyssa let her soft smile return, hoping it would help assuage her son's fears and doubts. 

Jaehaerys looked at her, his look a tad more confident and steady. "I think so."

"Good," Alyssa responded with a smile as she returned to her feet. She took Jaehaerys's hand in hers before looking down at her adorable little son. "How about we go and get that food I promised? And after that, we can go and play a few rounds of Cyvasse as well."

The look of joy that bounced onto Jaehaerys's face could have extinguished any hateful flame in even the blackest of hearts as his previously dour look vanished like smoke in the wind. 

"Really?" he asked, as excited as a seven-year-old boy could be. 

"Of course, my little hatchling. Now let's go before the day wastes away." Jaehaerys jumped out of the chair and followed her eagerly out the door. Alyssa had a lot to do and many errors to make up for, but all would be made well when her husband returned. He should be back any day now. He had already paused his campaign in the Reach, and his letters declared that he would be returning soon, and when he did, all would be made right. 

…​

Alyssa smiled widely as her husband finally returned from his campaign, riding through the upper gates of Dragonstone atop one of the handful of horses the castle employed. He sat proudly, even if she could see the same exhaustion that pulled at her affected him as well. Much like herself, her husband's hair had lost its shine, his eyes looked duller, and he felt… diminished somehow. 

The yard was prepared to greet their king. The island itself might now belong to Maegor's foreign kingdom, much to her displeasure. But it still contained many a loyal and leal subject to the crown of Aegon the Conqueror. Two dozen nobles and courtiers had prepared to greet her husband in the yard, chief among them were the members of her family. 

As Aenys removed himself from atop the horse, he moved to greet her first. Alyssa obliged, stepping closer to embrace her husband. 

"Welcome home, Husband," Alyssa said with a warm smile as her beloved husband brought her into a warm hug. 

The word 'home' tasted bitter on her tongue, but she ignored it for now, preferring to welcome the embrace of her husband, who had been gone for far too long.

"Thank you, my dear," he responded tiredly, exhaustion from his long flight and even longer campaign clear as day on his face. She could feel the tension in his bones. They had argued through letters since the start of his campaign, and she was certain he would confront her soon enough. But she would be ready, her arguments were sound and she knew in her heart she was correct in her assumptions.

Behind them, her family stood quietly, each waiting for their turn to speak with their father. 

Alyssa watched intently as he approached Aegon first, his son and heir, the same son and heir that he had banished from the campaign many moons before now. The scandal had rocked the court, even if it had diminished in size and scope greatly ever since the island was ripped away from her family. 

Aegon stepped forward with perfect poise, just as she and her husband had taught him years before. His expression no doubt betrayed his true feelings, anger and grudges seemed to be forgotten behind that wicked smile. She had to do a double-take when she saw an inkling of respect behind his eyes. 

"Father," he greeted, his voice steady and smooth as polished marble. "Welcome home. I am glad to see you again. May we all dine together tonight, as a family?" he asked, his voice smooth but still laced with the etiquette that had been thoroughly trained into him as a boy. 

Alyssa had to use all of her strength to not let her mouth hang agape as she stared at her son. He was not even half as respectful toward her in their few and far between interactions. She was lucky if she even got a greeting at all. Was he planning something? 

Alyssa's eyes narrowed as Aenys eagerly accepted, a gentle smile returning to his face as he greeted Rhaena next.

"Good day, my daughter. I hope this weather is treating you well enough," he said as he brought Rhaena into a light hug, careful of her bloated belly.

Her eldest daughter had grown thick with child once more. Not that it made communicating with her daughter any easier. She had hardly even spoken with Alyssa for the last moon. It was like she had returned to the meek and sheltered personality that she had taken on after she was caught with Samantha Stokeworth. 

"The snows may be cold, but Dragonstone remains as warm and steady as ever, Father," Rhaena returned with a smile, drawing her father into a short hug as Aenys moved on quickly. Whispering only a few more words to his daughter.

Viserys was still not present, choosing to remain in Pentos with his cousins and her hated foes instead of returning home. He had sent a letter explaining that he was going to remain in Essos even after the coronation to accompany them on a tour of the Kingdom, but that did not settle her angry heart. 

Viserys may not be in the yard with them, but Aenys had yet more children. 

Alyssa's heart swelled with pride as Jaehaerys stepped up to greet his father. He looked small next to Aenys, but he carried himself like a Targaryen prince should, proud and strong. With a wide smile, he greeted his father. 

"Father," Jaehaerys began, his voice soft but strong. "I hope your journey was quick and your battles decisive." 

Her beloved husband chuckled lightly to himself, raising a gloved hand to his mouth. "My journey was quick, Quicksilver ensured that," he said, his voice gentler than it had been with Aegon but laced with pride as he took a knee before his son. 

"But perhaps I should have been quicker," he began as he looked Jaehaerys up and down. "Look at you! All big and strong, where did the time go?" Aenys asked with his typical jovial smile, as if he had not just been to war. 

"I used the time studying, Father. I have been training with the Kingsguard every day, and I have been reading a lot too!" Jaehaerys excitedly shared. 

"It gladdens me to hear that, son," Aenys said as he placed a hand on his shoulder. "You will have to show me all you learned later. As of now," he said, moving over to the last of his present children, Alysanne, who looked meek and scared compared to her elder siblings. 

"Good day, Alysanne. How are you?" Aenys greeted as he dropped to one knee in the snow before Alysanne. Her foolish daughter remained quiet, however, staring at her father with her big blue eyes. Alyssa wondered just what she was doing when, without a word, she lunged forward into his embrace, wrapping her arms around her father tightly. 

Alyssa thought she heard a 'Welcome home, Father' but given that her foolish daughter was mumbling it into Aenys's chest, it was impossible to tell for certain. 

Aenys reached down and picked up Alysanne, spinning her around once or twice before setting her back down again. Her previous wary expression all but disappeared as it was replaced by a wide, toothy smile. 

"I missed you, Father," she said softly, her smile sweet enough to satiate even the cruelest and most blackhearted demons. 

"I missed you, too, hatchling. Have you kept up with your studies as well?" Aenys asked with his head cocked just a little to the right.

Alysanne nodded cutely, her honey colored curls bouncing with the motion. "Yes, father, the tutor from Essos said I read well," she said abashedly, staring at her feet. 

Aenys chuckled softly, straightening on his knee to look at his daughter closer to eye level. He reached his gloved right hand out and helped settle her unruly golden curls. "That is wonderful, we should read a new book tonight, so you may show me all that you have learned," Aenys promised.

Alysanne looked momentarily frightened, but quickly hid it away, her cheeks flushing pink as her eyes returned from her father to her boots. Aenys must have noticed the same flicker of fear that she had, as he quickly moved to assuage it. 

"Only if you want to, Alysanne. There is no rush," he said quietly, his voice free of judgement or expectations.

Alysanne returned her big blue eyes to her father with his words. She still looked concerned, if not quite frightened, but nodded her head once more. "...Alright," she mumbled quietly. 

She noticed a look of concern appear briefly on Aenys's face, but it did not linger. He whispered something more in Alysanne's ear as he stood back to his full height.

With all the greetings over with, Aenys gathered them all together again. The six of them gathered in the middle of the snowy yard as Aenys prepared to speak. He still looked tired, but it was as if he had been renewed with energy by their presence. 

"I would like you all to rest. I will ask the cooks to prepare a hearty feast for my return tonight, and I want you all prepared," he swore, his old talents returning to the forefront as one of the nearby stewards rushed off to accomplish his request. 

He turned to Aegon specifically before their children scattered into the wind. "If you are not otherwise busy, I would like to speak with you now. In private," he said to Aegon with a stern look. Alyssa took the chance to focus on her two youngest children, who had since grown bored and begun talking in the yard.

"Do you have your dragon yet?" Jaehaerys asked bluntly, clearly bored with the proceedings. 

Alysanne's shoulder dropped a bit as her eyes returned to her boots. "No… I visited the eggs again, but none hatched," she mumbled, quiet enough for Alyssa to barely be able to hear. 

Jaehaerys blinked, clearly surprised at his sister's dour mood. "That is alright, let us go find something else to do," he declared unilaterally. 

"Like what?" Alysanne asked, her sadness momentarily forgotten as her shoulders relaxed. 

"How about noughts and crosses?" Jaehaerys asked as he kicked a pile of snow away from his boots.

"That game is for babes," Alysanne mumbled, earning a furrowed brow from Jaehaerys. 

"Only if you let it be," Jaehaerys replied with a cocksure grin. "We can even draw it in the snow. I'll let you go first," he promised as he began walking toward one of the farther edges of the upper yard. 

"Really?" Alysanne asked, as if she was shocked by something.

"Of course, now let's go before Mother makes us go back inside," he said with a not-so-subtle glance toward her. 

Alyssa sighed quietly as she watched Alysanne run off to follow her brother. She returned Jaehearys's look, deciding to let the two of them have some fun before they inevitably had to return to work. 

"Behave yourselves and you can play for a little while," Alyssa said with a small grin. Jaehaerys's face lit up instantly while Alysanne thanked her quietly. 

She would have followed them, watching them play their little game while Aenys continued speaking with their troublesome eldest children. But she was stopped dead in her tracks with a gentle but firm grip around her wrist.

"Alyssa," Aenys began, his voice infinitely more stern and serious than it had been with their children. She turned her head in response, looking at her husband in his beautiful violet eyes. 

"Yes?" she asked cautiously, even if she already knew what was coming. 

"I would like for you to wait for me in our chambers," he said evenly. "I will speak with Aegon first… and then you and I are going to talk. Honestly," he said, emphasizing the last word uncomfortably. 

Alyssa wanted to do nothing more than sigh deeply. She knew exactly how upset Aenys was, doubtlessly going to be with her, but she had been preparing for this day. So she resolutely returned her husband's stare instead. 

"As you wish," she responded with a light curtsey. 

Aenys stared at her for a moment longer, his eyes wary, before he departed himself. He moved swiftly into the castle, following Aegon to someplace private for a talk. 

Alyssa, meanwhile, finally allowed herself to sigh. She had hoped that going off to war would have wisened her husband up, but he had clearly not done so in his letters.

She had written dozens of letters to him over the course of the war, in which she described the happenings on the island. Shiera's and Visenya's attempt to steal Alysanne from her. Updates on the changes happening to their old home were happening right before her eyes. Then updates on Aegon after he returned from the frontline. To say his letters were not what she had hoped for would be a colossal understatement. 

He continued to side with his brother's family. For reasons she could just not bring herself to understand. How could Aenys not see that Maegor's family held all the cards? Their family was falling apart while Maegor was plucking pieces off of it freely. First Dragonstone, and now Viserys as well. 

She decided not to earn any more of his ire as she also moved back into the castle. Informing a guard to make sure that her children did not stay outside for more than an hour. She did not want Alysanne catching a cold.

The familiar walls of Dragonstone shouldhave provided a feeling of comfort to Alyssa. Given how she had called the island home for almost a decade at this point, it should have felt like a nice warm bed. But it was her home no longer, not after her husband gave it away. 

As she passed a group of the new guards on the island, she felt her blood begin to simmer in rage. Their armor was different, their stance more guarded, and most of them were not even from Dragonstone. 

Maegor had brought over two hundred new guards after Aenys gave away his birthright without a fight. Mostly picked straight from his new royal guards, they were ordered to protect Alyssa's family on the island, but they were not loyal to them. 

That was one of Alyssa's most hated new facts of life. Dragonstone was not her home any longer. The nobles here were mostly Pentoshi, apart from the few that remained close to her husband. The island was not under their command, and even the castle staff itself had shifted their loyalties.

She could not command the castle staff to do anything any longer, despite being the Queen of Westeros. She had to make requests of the staff, and nothing felt worse. Her home, the castle that she had spent years in raising her family, making memories with her husband, and learning from Aegon the Conqueror himself. It had been taken away from her.

She did not even feel safe in her own home any longer. It felt as if the whole castle was poised against her, lurking in the shadows, hoping to hear a whisper or secret to pass on to her most hated of enemies. Her husband was wise to choose private quarters to meet with her son and her. 

She couldn't trust people on the island implicitly any longer. Especially after the war started as well, and many of her ladies left unceremoniously. It would be bad enough to just be a guest in her old home, but now she was isolated, too. It had only made her isolation following Vaella's passing all the worse.

As she reached her and Aenys's quarters, she felt another dose of shame and anger rise within her. It irked her that it was no longer the lord and ladies' quarters that Aenys's father and mother used to occupy, but it was private at least. Less of a chance for one of the new staff to start sharing secrets they ought not to know. 

She entered the room quietly, removing her cloak along with her other winter wear as the heat from the castle left the room quite comfortable. She delicately placed her gloves onto one of the tables for the servants to collect and placed her coat neatly on the rack near the door. Meanwhile, she decided to settle in a little. 

She already knew that her coming 'talk' with her husband would look and feel more like a lecture. So she thought it would be better if she was both prepared and calm for it. The last thing she needed to do was make her case worse in his eyes. Even if she did not think it was possible. 

She placed herself neatly onto one of the comfortable sofas in the room, crossing her legs and relaxing her body as she sank into the soft velvet cushions. She breathed deeply as she let her eyes wander toward one of the windows, observing as the gentle snowfall continued, the delicate flakes melting upon contact with the warm stone of the windowsill. 

She waited like that for an unknown period of time. There was a Pentoshi clock above their door, but she did not look at it, preferring to breathe deeply and enjoy the peace and quiet before it inevitably all fell apart. 

As if on cue, she heard the door open quietly as heavy footsteps entered the room. She turned to look at him and was saddened by what she saw. 

Contrary to his previously jovial and almost energetic look, he had when he was back in the courtyard. He looked spent. His shoulders sagged beneath his heavy cloak as he deposited it beside her own, and though he had removed most of his armor, it still looked as if he was being weighed down by it. 

He closed the door quietly, the old wood rattling lightly in the door frame as he too moved to make himself comfortable. Leaning against their bed as he removed his wet leather gloves, throwing them to the ground. 

Aenys finally lifted his eyes after a long, deep sigh. She saw none of their previous warmth behind them. 

"You will speak plainly," he commanded, his voice low and serious. "No half-truths, no hidden meanings, and absolutely no lies."

Alyssa nodded quietly, she had no intention of lying anyway. But if he wished for her to speak plainly, then that only made her life easier. His too she supposed, even if he did not feel that way. 

"Now then," Aenys began, his look hardening. "Why don't you tell me exactlywhy you decided, now of all times, to propose a controversial and unneeded betrothal to our already upset and troubled son?" he said, his words holding not an ounce of amusement or lightheartedness. 

Alyssa steadied herself, she could answer this easily. She met her husband's gaze with confidence and poise, already having her arguments prepared moons ago. 

"I proposed the match because it was necessary," she opened plainly. "Jaehaerys is our son, your son. Due to the loss of Vaella and your betrothal plans, he does not have a Targaryen to marry. It is imperative that we secure his future sooner rather than later," she said easily, confident in her answer. 

Aenys, meanwhile, only let out another sigh. "Why is it imperative to do so nowexactly? I want to hear your reasons," he said as his hands clenched into fists at his sides. 

"Because our family stands at a precipice, Aenys. With Aegon's family growing more by the day, it is imperative that our family be held together through marriage and strong bonds. Jaehaerys rides a dragon, is stunning all of his teachers with his every word, and has become the joy of the Kingsguard on the island. It is imperative that he remain close to Aegon. Even if he is too shortsighted to see why," she said, holding Aenys's stare confidently. 

Aenys's jaw tightened, his fingers flexing at his sides as he stared at her. He looked more tired now than furious, but she could almost feel his anger rising.

"How can you possibly not understand why Aegon would be upset about this? Was this not my aunt's reasoning exactlywhen she proposed that Maegor should be betrothed to Rhaena almost twenty years ago?" Aenys asked, seemingly befuddled, despite the false equivalency. 

"The situations are different, Husband. Rhaena was your sole child and the eldest daughter. By tradition, she was to marry her younger brother and rule with him. She was also almost one and ten years younger than Maegor. Rhaella is neither of those things. She is both a second daughter, not bound by tradition to marry her younger brother, and she is only six years younger than Jaehaerys, the very same age difference between Alysanne and her betrothed," Alyssa explained calmly, even if she felt her own anger begin to build at her husband's confusion. She knew he was smarter than this, he ought to be able to understand her reasoning just fine. 

"You are blinded by your own bias. You cannot even see how this appears to our son! He has not even been a father for two years! Yet you wanted to spring this on him without warning?" Aenys said, dragging his hands down his face as he broke their stare. 

"My bias?" Alyssa asked, insulted. 

"Yes! Your bias!" Aenys shouted in return, his voice heavy and angry. 

Alyssa didn't flinch, but her brow did furrow in anger. Her eyes sharpened, losing their dull boredom that had previously afflicted them as she rose in her seat slightly. 

"If you are going to claim that my bias has driven my correct actions a fortnight ago, then you could at least have the decency to admit your own biases," she snapped, her voice cracking like a whip against Aenys. 

He blinked, clearly not expecting her words. But he did not say anything, merely holding her stare as his hands fell to his sides once more. 

"You blame me for my biases when yours are no better. You have chosen Maegor's family over your own at every possible turn! You have left your own children out to dry while Maegor gets everything he could have ever wanted!" she accused, as Aenys's face flushed red with anger. 

"I am striving for peace! Like my father wanted me to do!" he said as he placed his head in his hands. " You are correct, Alyssa. Our family stands at a precipice. If we allow Maegor's family and our own to drift apart, then our family will inevitably feud, perhaps even, gods forbid, come to blows. Your actions have jeopardized all that I have worked so hard to achieve!" he said, his face now fully red with anger. 

Alyssa steadied herself, she had not been preparing for this conversation to delve into this subject, but she was prepared nonetheless. "And what exactly has your pursuit of peace netted us, Aenys?" she asked coldly. "Our family has never been more divided or weak." 

"Because of your actions!" Aenys said as if he were speaking to a child. 

"I could claim the very same of you," Alyssa said quietly. Letting this devolve into a screaming match would just be unproductive. 

"Then do so," Aenys snapped, causing Alyssa to cock her head lightly. 

"What?"

"Claim the very same of me, explain to me how it is my fault that our family is falling apart at the seams and not yours for feuding with my brother's family at every turn!" he demanded, his voice commanding, like his father's used to be. 

Alyssa sucked in a deep breath, she never could have imagined that she would ever get this chance. In the past, Aenys always blew off her concerns, laughed them away. Was he finally going to take her seriously? 

"You asked me earlier how it was possible for me to not see Aegon's reasons. But how can you not see mine? Ever since you flew to Essos, it is like you have done everything possible to weaken our family to the benefit of Maegor's," she began, her voice rising in emotion gradually. 

"You gave away Dragonstone! Without a word, without a fight. Just a vague promise that Maegor would agree to share the vital hatcheries on this island. We are guests in our own home, Aenys!" she said first, deciding that this would be the ideal place to start. 

"I gave the island back to my brother. My father was the one who named him the island's prince," Aenys explained through grit teeth. 

"Yet he took it away as well! This island is yours by right. For a hundred years, the island passed from father to eldest son. From Aenar the Exile all the way to your father, an unbroken line of succession and stability. Yet you gave it away! This island is Aegon's birthright, it was not yours to give!" 

"It was not my father's to take! What would have happened if I had kept the island? Hmm? Let it be a point of contention that would gradually drive our families closer and closer toward conflict?" Aenys queried, as if she did not have an answer to rebuke him. 

"Your family would have been stronger, more stable, and not at risk of losing access to the hatcheries that are the very source of your children's power!" she explained, a look of slight understanding appearing on Aenys's face. 

He looked deep in contemplation for a moment, as if her words were finally, finally getting through to him before he spoke once more. "I will concede thatpoint to you, Alyssa. I should have extracted greater guarantees from my brother. I will ask my brother if we may come to a more fair agreement on sharing both the island and its hatcheries when we convene in a few years time to finally decide on the matter of dragons," Aenys promised, and a weight had been lifted off Alysa's chest instantly, even if she had about a dozen odd more. 

"I will speak with Maegor, but you seem to forget that I did not receive zero compensation for this island. I secured a series of strategic betrothals in exchange for it as well," Aenys said, almost proud to have turned it back onto her. 

Her expression soured further as she prepared her retort. "Strategic? Is that what you want to call them?"

"Yes. They bind the future of our houses together for another generation. Ensuring that our bonds do not weaken with separation," Aenys explained, his confidence returning. 

"You traded the bonds between our house and Maegor's for the bonds within your own family!" Alyssa shouted, standing up from her seat. 

"How so?" Aenys questioned, his eyes narrowing into slits. 

"How can you not see it?" Alyssa started, her own face reddening in anger now. "First, you decide on these betrothals unilaterally, without your father's input or mine! Then you make foolish ones to boot!"

Aenys looked insulted at the implication, but Alyssa continued. "You gave Alysanne to them for nothing! She ought to marry one of her elder brothers, give them a secure future, not Maegor's ilk," Alyssa cried, tears brimming in the corner of her eyes. 

"Alysanne will secure our bond with Maegor's family, and as for her elder brothers. They can have other matches," Aenys reasoned, confident in his position. 

"Why? Why, Husband? Why throw away the unity of our family to win the support of his?" she asked wholeheartedly. She had to understand his reasons. Why would he choose Maegor's spawn over his own children? 

"His?" Aenys asked, insulted. "His family is our family! Alyssa! That was the whole point of these betrothals! The whole point of returning Dragonstone to him! To not let our families separate! To not let House Targaryen fall apart. We are DragonlordsAlyssa! The only threat we can possibly face would be infighting amongst ourselves!" 

Alyssa's face tightened, her eyes narrowing as her brow furrowed further. "In doing so, Husband. You have weakened our side of the family considerably."

Aenys blinked before staring her down once more. "Weakened us?" He almost laughed. "How so? The betrothals I made have secured Maegor's support against the faith. How could we possibly be weaker?" He laughed off her concerns, but she was no fool. 

"You have weakened your position markedly, as both the head of this family and as a king," Alyssa sneered. She had been waiting to actually get to say all of this for so long. Actually being able to was relieving. 

She did not give her husband a chance to question her any further. "First, we lose an extremely valuable daughter that could have been used to keep Viserys tied to our family, instead of him drifting toward Essos like he is now," she began, her anger righteous and her reasoning more than sound. 

"Then! You proclaim that you have won the support of your brother to win this war! But we did not need it! All you are doing is indebting your Kingdom to his!" she yelled, her voice growing more hoarse by the second. 

"I have seen the ledgers, Husband. The edicts, treaties, and documents as well," she started, watching with glee as her husband's face grew in shock. 

"I was trained from birth to help you rule as Queen. I know all about the deals cut with Maegor's Kingdom to fight this war that we could win on our own! Not only do we owe Maegor personally an incredible debt, but you have been borrowing from Pentoshi banks as well!" she accused. 

She had read the documents personally. Aegon had left quite a substantial sum of gold in the treasury, but war during winter was grossly expensive. Six moons ago, the gold all but ran out, and so Aenys and his new master of coin, Edwell Celtigar, had negotiated a series of loans with the Dragon Bank of Pentos to keep gold flowing into the treasury. This would be a debt they would be paying on for years. A trump card that Maegor could use whenever he wished. 

"Then we have relied on Pentoshi men and material as well! Buying grain from Essos to feed foreign soldiers to fight a war in our Kingdom. These are all debts that we owe to Maegor specifically. You speak of negotiations when he holds all the cards!" she shouted, but those were the last words she could speak. 

"Enough!" Aenys roared, silencing her in an instant. 

"I will hear no more of your drivel!" he began, moving back towards the door. "You are to cease with all of your delusions. I will deal with my brother and the debts I owe to him. It is no concern of yours," Aenys said, his anger still fuming. 

"You are to cease your feuding with Maegor's family, and I mean it this time, Alyssa. If I hear of you causing trouble with Shiera, Visenya, Maegor, or any of his children. I will banish you to Driftmark, never to leave the island again. Am. I. Clear?" 

His words stunned her into silence. Threatening to banish her? Away from her children? She bit her lower lip as she reluctantly nodded. 

"Good. Now prepare yourself for dinner. I do not want to hear another word of this, ever," Aenys said as he left the room once more, going gods knows where. 

Alyssa slumped into the sofa, defeated. She placed her head in her hands as tears began to prick at the corner of her eyes. She had thought that she might have been getting through to him. But could he still not see it? And now he was even threatening to banish her just to protect the peace he had sacrificed his family for. 

'No,' Alyssa thought. Sitting straighter in the chair. She had lost here, she would have to play nice with Maegor and his family. But she could still help her family. There was still hope. She may not be able to directly influence things, but her children could one day. 

Mending her relationship with her eldest children would take time. But her younger ones should be easier. When Viserys returned from Essos, she would engage with him more. If he could be made to stay with them in Westeros, their position would be strengthened greatly. 

Alysanne, too, could be molded. Shiera and Visenya wielded considerable influence on that front, too, but she was her mother. If she could be made to have a close relationship with her brothers, perhaps she could influence her husband one day. Keeping the wolves at bay while Aegon's children grew in strength. 

Then, of course, there was Jaehaerys, her golden little prince. She would have to redouble her efforts with him. Her prodigal son would shape the world one day, she could feel it. She just had to ensure that he shaped it in favor of her family. 

Alyssa stood from the sofa and made to leave the room. There was no time to waste with Jaehaerys. He could play with Alysanne later. Because now she had to ensure that he was ready as he could be for the life ahead of him.

Visenya X

1st Moon, 42AC

Visenya sat quietly in a place of honor along the long cabinet table, her fingers drumming softly against the polished wood as some minister droned on about something or other. She was attending one of the hundred-odd cabinet meetings that her son had called to plan for his coronation, and she was supposed to ensure it retained "Targaryen authenticity," whatever that meant. Her son commanded what that meant now, he and his children were the future of their house. 

She had not really been listening ever since she had taken her seat. She recognized the faces around her, but she had not seen them in a while. Especially with Aeron Velaryon back on Driftmark. She recognized the others, but she could not bring herself to care, she knew they were loyal to her son and competent enough, and that was all that mattered. 

Deciding to risk increasing her boredom even more, she tuned in for just a moment. "... and one of the Norvosi delegates is running short on funds, do we have room in the budget to offer some support?" one voice droned on, one she could not differentiate.

She blinked slowly, resisting the urge to sigh. The cabinet that Maegor had created to support him was competent and loyal, but Visenya still had little interest in it. Gone were the days when her son ruled essentially alone, seated at a narrow table with only her and a few trusted voices weighing in. Now, governance was spread across half a dozen ministers and an army of scribes, all executing his will with extreme competence and loyalty. It was efficient, yes. She would even call it impressive. But Visenya found it all utterly tiresome.

She had always had a knack for governance. Ever since she was little and her father had brought her into his solar to learn how to govern Dragonstone. To pass edicts, hear petitions, and adjudicate the woes of her subjects. Yet Pentos was not like Dragonstone, it was a whole new monster, crafted deliberately by her son and his allies to better suit her family's interest.

She technically retained a place in governance despite all of this. Maegor had seen fit to empower her with an official edict back in 38AC. The edict gave her the power to act with his will should she wish to, even if she had not really involved herself with the day-to-day governance of anywhere outside of Dragonstone for the last five years. 

Dragonstone was the one place she actually still exerted political influence on. Ever since her son expertly took back her family home from the weak-willed Aenys. The governance of the island had been handled primarily by a locally appointed steward, Shiera, or herself. She did little of the work herself, but there was something therapeutic in simply returning to what she'd always loved, even if it did not bring her the same satisfaction as before.

Her focus had shifted, ever since the fall of the Faceless Men at her and her son's hands, she had cared very little for governance. Outside of the occasional aid she provided to Shiera or the steward of Dragonstone, she had hardly even seen many magistrates or cabinet ministers in Pentos. Her focus had shifted entirely to what was infinitely more important to her, her grandchildren. 

They were the only thing in the world that still truly held her interest. Conquests, governance, and prestige, all of it had lost its luster when compared to her grandchildren. Everything from their tired whines about their magic training to their glee at hearing her stories ignited her heart more than anything else had since she was a naive little girl. 

Daeron, Baelon, Visenya, and Daenys were the light of her life now. In the same way that Maegor had once been, but even more somehow. They occupied her mind at all times, what they thought, what they wanted to do, what was best for them. She found herself thinking of them at all times. To a degree that shocked even her. 

Even Maegor had not occupied her mind as much. Despite her love for him, she had still busied herself with governance, plotting, scheming, and planning while raising him. She loved him deeply, but she also recognized that she had to prepare him for the world he was born into. That simply wasn't as much of a concern with her grandchildren. 

Sure, she still had plans for them. She helped Daeron along with the new work that his father had given to him. Managing some property out in the Golden Fields and learning how to balance ledgers and handle disputes. Along with magic training for all of her grandchildren and she even had plans for Daeron's bride-to-be. But her scheming had largely been replaced by a simple desire to watch her grandchildren grow. 

Their lives were already secure, Maegor had seen to that. They had a hefty inheritance, a safe home, dragons to their names, mostly secure betrothals, and prospects for the future. Which meant that for the first time since she was a child, she got to relax. It was alien at first, but now she did not want to let it go. 

"...and as for the festival afterwards," another of her son's unknown magisters began, "will there be enough beef and mutton to feed the crowds? The grain will last us until summer, but using up this much livestock may be detrimental to…" he said as Visenya tuned him out again. 

Abruptly, Visenya rose from her chair. 

She did not rise loudly, her fine wooden chair fitted with silk cushions made hardly a noise as it slid back from her, but the whole table silenced nonetheless. Every head turned, words halting mid-sentence. Her eyes passed over the gathering, cool and unreadable. No one questioned her.

Despite her lack of participation in governance. She still commanded immense respect within the halls of Pentos. All knew of her accomplishments and how she helped her son found the current government of Pentos. Perhaps it should have come as no surprise, then, that the whole table awaited her words. 

She did not speak, however. Instead, she merely turned her eyes toward Maegor. Who was seemingly just as bored and tired as she was, if for different reasons. She gave him a passing glance, her dull tired eyes meeting his as he let out a quiet sigh and nodded. 

It was all the permission she needed. Her past self would have balked at the idea of needing permission to do anything but she had long since ceded her role at the head of the table to Maegor. He was the head of their house now. She may be the eldest and most experienced Targaryen alive, but she let Maegor largely take over, so long as he did not lose his wits, of course. 

She had nothing to gather as she turned on her heel and made for the heavy double doors. She cared nothing for this boring and tedious meeting. Her son could handle the preparations for his coronation, and she was going to see her grandchildren.

Four of Maegor's royal guards fell into line behind her as she departed from the opulent room. Clad in their black steel armor with flowing purple capes, they gave off a different impression compared to the Kingsguard that she had founded decades ago, but they were no less competent. 

In terms of a one-on-one fight, Aenys's Kingsguard were likely better warriors than anyone in Pentos's royal guard. They were picked from the very best knights in the realm, after all. But still, Pentos's royal guard provided something that not even the Kingsguard back in Westeros could provide. Complete, unquestionable loyalty. 

She had not founded the royal guard, but she had helped in their creation. Maegor's thought process for them had been deliberate and extreme. To become a member of the royal guard, one must first be a distinguished soldier with years of exemplary service. From there, they must pass a rigorous test of physical capabilities, crafted by Visenya. Then they would volunteer to undergo magical testing to confirm their loyalty, allowing either herself or Shiera into their minds to ensure that they had no thoughts of betrayal, they would consent to these searches regularly, once a year at the very least. 

It was invasive and deeply annoying for Visenya and Shiera to do this for the thousand-odd members of the royal guard, but they staggered the inspections throughout the year so as to not overwhelm themselves. It was also worth the effort, knowing they had a deeply loyal group of guards entirely devoted to their protection. It allowed her family to sleep soundly after facing assassination threats for years, and that was well worth it for Visenya. 

It would also get easier once there were more Targaryens capable of using glass candles. Daeron could technically do the job, but he was still a little too immature to entrust the mind of such a valuable person to him. Drugged criminals and infants for training? That was fine. But using a glass candle could be immensely dangerous, and they had no intention of ruining either Daeron or the mind of a loyal soldier. 

Visenya's eyes narrowed as the harsh midday sun peered through the many windows around her. Dozens of them lit the palace corridors in warm light, even in winter. Each window was framed with glass of the highest quality and flanked by bronze and silver trim. Even now, years later, the manse in Pentos still felt strange to her.

The wealth on display was staggering. Intricate statues, carved columns, beautiful paintings, and ornate tapestries filled nearly every corner of the estate. Even with the renovations Maegor had ordered to give the palace a more Targaryen appearance, it remained excessive in her eyes. The sheer grandeur would have made a Lannister blush.

She preferred simpler surroundings, like Dragonstone. Which still had finery, intricate carvings of dragons, gryphons, and wyverns. Beautiful tapestries strewn about. Plus many more statues, paintings, and other such decorations. But it was not so ostentatious.

That was how she had grown up, in the comparatively more modest Dragonstone. Her grandchildren spent plenty of time there too, and thankfully for her, most of them found the castle interesting and enjoyable for its history and legacy. But her family was now truly tied to this place. 

She had rarely left Dragonstone as a child, except for visits to Driftmark to see her Velaryon kin. Meanwhile, her grandchildren had already seen more than she ever had at their age. Traveling all throughout their father's domains as he bounced from one area to the next. 

She moved slowly through the wide corridors, taking in the light and luxury around her. It contrasted sharply with how Visenya felt as she felt the familiar feelings of exhaustion and sadness replace where boredom had once stood.

She could not pinpoint where exactly the feeling originated, whether it was the death of her sister more than thirty years ago or if it was the more recent death of her brothers. But it had been troubling her more frequently as of late. 

The realization had struck her only recently, when news arrived from Driftmark that Aethan had fallen ill. She was the last of her generation. Her parents were long gone, as was her grandfather. Her full-blooded siblings were gone too, ripped away from her suddenly and before she was ready. Then her half-brother, after them, was taken away from her by an Andal mob. Now, even her Velaryon cousins were disappearing one by one. First Corlys, and now Aethan too.

She was the last. She had none of her family left from that time. No friends that she could reminisce over old tales with. Nobody to laugh at past events or share her sorrows with. She was alone in that now, armed with nothing but her memories.

Naturally, it was her grandfather and parents who left first. Her grandfather had persisted longer than he ought to have, his health entering steep decline despite his best efforts to survive to fend off the Faceless Men in her youth. Her parents did not outlive him for very long. Her mother survived just long enough to see her married off to Aegon, and her father followed her shortly after. 

Then it was just her and her siblings. Aegon, Rhaenys, and Orys. They had had something good for a time. Even despite the problems in her marriage with Aegon, Rhaenys was there to smooth it all over. Until she wasn't.

Rhaenys had been the second to leave, ripped away from her suddenly like a candle snuffed out with a sharp breath. Even now that wound had not quite healed, she still remembered the day that Rhaenys did not return from her expedition. When she went with Aegon to discover what had happened, and found Meraxes's corpse outside of Hellholt. The feeling of immense loss, like some vital piece of her was ripped straight out without warning. 

That pain had never gone away, only dimmed. She had managed to largely drown out most of the pain with raising Maegor and the arrival of people like Shiera into her life. But even that did not last, because the world was not yet done taking people away from her. 

She outlasted Aegon as well. She had always expected that she would, and she had already decided that she did not want to see him again. But having the chance to change her mind ripped away from her so suddenly, hurt. She did not get to visit Aegon on his deathbed, attempting to reconcile despite their disagreements and feuds. One moment he was alive, and the next he was gone. 

She resolved not to make the same mistake with her other brother. She had met with him several times and kept in communication with him despite her moving to Pentos long-term. She had gotten to say goodbye to him, but that did not make the pain hurt any less when that damned letter arrived from his grandson. 

Had she been younger, she would have ridden out to avenge her brother and cousin, bring fire and death to those who had taken them away from her. But she was not in her youth any longer. She could still ride Vhagar, could still fly into battle if need be. But she had no desire to, especially once she learned that Aenys had already avenged them with Blackfyre. 

She had thought that might be the last loss she would have to suffer. But the world seemed insistent that it was not yet done. The letter had arrived just a fortnight before, Aethan was on his deathbed. Soon enough, she would truly be the last. 

She had never been overly close to her cousins. Sure, she was fond of them and felt a certain responsibility toward them after she had allowed her uncle to die under her watch. But she had always felt closer to her siblings. But even then, knowing that she was about to be truly alone hurt. 

"Grandmother! There you are!" the sharp voice of her eldest grandchild broke through the fog and smoke clouding her mind. 

'Ah yes,' Visenya thought as a smile crept onto her face. 

That was how she had been able to manage all of her loss and grief. She may be the last of her generation, but she was not the last of her kin. She had a perfect son to carry on her legacy and four wonderful grandchildren to dote on whenever she wished. They were the only thing that brought a genuine smile to her face anymore, and Daeron arrived just in time to boost his grandmother's mood. 

"Yes, I am," Visenya replied simply, coming to a stop as Daeron finished running up to her before stopping to place his hands on his knees and pant like a dog. 

Visenya ignored the poor etiquette this time. Her desire to dote on her grandson was stronger than her desire to see him be the perfect heir that he was meant to be. 

Though huffs and puffs, Daeron finally managed to articulate his words. "Grandmother! …Viserys, Baelon, and Visenya are all going flying now… can… can you take me with them?" 

"Yes," Visenya responded, not a moment's hesitation to be found in her as she stared down at the beaming smile of her eldest grandchild. 

…​

The wind in her hair had always been a comfort for Visenya. 

She had loved it as a girl, when she first took flight on Vhagar almost sixty years ago. She loved it as an adult, when she could bathe castles and armies in Vhagar's brilliant greenish bronze flames. Even in the present, she still loved it, despite her hair trading its silver shine for a ghostly pale white and her bones aching with every other movement she made. She felt free atop Vhagar, like she was doing what she was meant to do. A feeling that only increased with how often Daeron rode with her. 

The boy clung to her back with arms tight, but still gentle, around her stomach, laughing as Vhagar dropped steeply from the clouds.

"Woohoo!" he cried out, the joy in his voice piercing the clouds.

Visenya could only smile as the Narrow Sea beneath them drew nearer and nearer. Then, just as she had done for decades at this point. She gave a light tug onto Vhagar's reins and sent a silent mental command ordering her to pull up. 

Her brilliant, colossal bronze dragon listened gleefully, folding out her wings fully as a veritable storm's worth of wind was caught beneath them. With a graceful elegance befitting the second largest dragon alive, Vhagar sailed just over the sea beneath them, her claws just barely above sea level. 

Visenya's smile did not dissipate as Daeron began laughing gleefully. His mood had increased sharply ever since he and Maegor had visited the Vale. He did not know what they spoke of then, but ever since, Daeron had been spending much more time with her, much to her delight. 

Everything from asking for tips on his sword usage, to more magic lessons, and even some stories about her childhood. Daeron had been nearly inseparable from her for the last few moons, and it was truly something that Visenya was thankful for. 

Then, just as quickly as she had descended, two more dragons followed in short succession, piercing through the clouds and careening toward the Narrow Sea below them. Visenya craned her stiff neck to see two dragons, bronze and red, speed toward the water. 

Daeron gazed up as well, staring up at Vermithor and Caraxes as they followed Vhagar's lead, forming up just at her sides as they had been taught to do. Visenya strained her eyes to find her other grandchildren who were flying with her on the day. 

To her left was Caraxes, a fierce little beast with her second-oldest grandchild, Baelon, on his back. The blood-red dragon was huge and lean for his age. Already more than large enough to carry Baelon on his back at just over four years old. 

Baelon had been positively overjoyed when her son finally allowed him to begin flying. He had to undergo weeks' worth of intensive training beforehand, of course, but he took it all in with an ear-to-ear smile, just like everything in his life. 

His ever-present joy only increased further now that he could ride his "Bloodwyrm," as he called it. His laughter increased in volume, and she swore she could even hear it over the ripping winter winds as they made a pass over the city. 

Then, her eyes drifted rightward, finding her first granddaughter flying atop her bronze beast, Vermithor. The small bronze dragon was very large for his age, looking like Vhagar in miniature, just without the green that gave Vhagar that perfect look. 

Perhaps it was only natural that her granddaughter, Visenya, rode another bronze dragon. In many ways, her granddaughter looked like a vision of her past flying next to her. Young, proud, excitable, confident, and most importantly, happy. She had been just as quick to the saddle as she had been at her age. 

That was mostly where the comparisons ended, however. While she had taken an interest in combat and magic in her youth. Her granddaughter was much more interested in the ladylike pursuits of her mother, even if she had been forced to take up a certain degree of martial and magical training. This did not come as a shock to Visenya, given just how young her namesake was, but it was still a tad disappointing. Regardless, she was more than happy to indulge her namesake in whatever she wished to do. 

Despite her apparent disinterest in most martial pursuits, she did like practicing with the rapier her father had gifted her on her eighth name day. That and her magical training that began in earnest last year had been the highlight of many of Visenya's days over the last few moons. 

Finally, the four of them craned their necks up once more, spotting a silvery light flashing in the harsh sun above them. Then, just as quickly as they had descended before, a third dragon swooped down to join them. 

Silverwing swept through the skies with grace, her pale wings gleaming in the sun like a freshly minted silver coin. She was a beautiful dragon, smaller than Vermithor but larger than Caraxes, but more elegant and precise than either. 

Visenya's eyes narrowed slightly, watching as the young Viserys expertly brought his she-dragon into formation. The boy rode well, and he carried himself with a quiet confidence that had earned him no small amount of respect among the Pentoshi court. And yet, Visenya could not help the scrutiny that crept into her thoughts whenever she looked at him.

The child of her nephew and that irritating Velaryon woman, Viserys, had been brought with Maegor to attend his coronation. He was Daeron's closest companion and had grown friendly with Baelon, too. It was good to see the children so close. But she still found herself dissecting him at every turn.

There was a softness in him. Not weakness, Maegor had ensured that much, but a gentleness, a cautiousness, that grated on her instincts. He measured his words too carefully. He reminded her of his father.

Even now, her nephew was struggling to hold his court together and wage a war that he started. While he was bogged down in the Reach, he was also locked in a public feud with his heir. The man had grown a spine far too late, and Visenya feared what effect this might have on Viserys.

Still, she could admit that it was not all bad. Viserys was competent enough to compete with her grandchildren in many aspects and had a certain level of charm. He spoke well and had already captured the hearts of Pentoshi nobles and commoners alike. 

He was still betrothed to her granddaughter, however. That alone made him a subject of her scrutiny, no matter how competent he may appear. She had entrusted whipping the boy into shape to her son's hands, but she had still decided to keep a watchful eye on the boy, lest her son miss something important. 

Even still, Daeron trusted him. The two of them were thick as thieves, and now that Baelon had joined them, the three of them were the joy of the court and city alike. She would continue watching him closely, but she did not feel terrible about giving her namesake to him, that alone had to count for something. 

Visenya smiled lightly to herself as she noticed just how quiet Daeron had gotten behind her. He had mellowed in his deep desire for a dragon since his trip to the Vale with his father, but he was still only two and ten name days old. He could not mask his jealousy too well. Especially now that Baelon and Visenya were flying regularly. 

She could feel the tension in his silence. His arms around her middle had shifted, just slightly, losing some of their strength. His gaze, no doubt, was fixed on the smaller dragons flanking them. The three dragons made quite a striking sight, bronze, silver, and blood-red. Visenya could hardly blame him for his envy. But it still brought a sigh out of her. 

Not saying a word, she gave a mental command to Vhagar for her wonderful dragon to climb. Suddenly, and without warning, Vhagar gave a fierce snap of her wings, shooting upwards like a loosed arrow as she left the three smaller dragons in her wake. 

Daeron's grip around her stomach tightened as the two of them leaned back into the saddle. Daeron made some sort of surprised squawk, but it was quickly swallowed by the fierce sounds of Vhagar's mighty wings as she soared toward the clouds. 

Daeron was jealous of not having a dragon yet. He saw his siblings and cousin get to ride their dragons whenever and wherever they wanted. Jealous that they had beautiful and interesting dragons to talk about all day, every day. But he had something much more. He would have Vhagar. 

Her wonderful, gorgeous, colossal bronze and green she-dragon was the only thing in her life that could rival the love and devotion she felt toward her family. It was a different sort of love, but one no less strong.

She had ridden Vhagar since she was just two and ten years old. She had been the first to take Vhagar into the skies, even if she was not the first to claim her. She had gotten to watch as Vhagar grew from the size of a small ship to no less than three-quarters of the size of the Black Dread himself. 

But Vhagar would one day be Daeron's too. Visenya would not outlive her she-dragon, and that meant that it was another legacy that she could pass on. One that her grandson Daeron would inherit. 

He had grown more open to the idea since he and his father visited the Vale. But Visenya decided it was time to show him just why Vhagar was the greatest dragon alive.

Visenya didn't say much as Vhagar surged skyward, her massive wings beating the air with a force that sent ripples through the air. Her muscles sprang beneath her steel-hard scales as she climbed nearer and nearer toward the fluffy winter clouds. Instead, she let the moment speak for itself, showing Daeron exactly what it meant to ride her wonderful Vhagar. 

The three smaller dragons quickly ascended after them, trying to keep up with the powerful and quick Vhagar. But it was not an option for her. With a sudden sharp tilt, Vhagar dove sharply, tucking her wings toward her body as they plummeted toward the Narrow Sea. The smaller dragons below scrambled into similar dives in a vain attempt to keep up, but none could match the raw speed and grace of Vhagar in full flight.

Visenya could almost feel the thrill of being on the back of a living mountain, replacing the jealousy that Daeron had been feeling before. She tugged lightly on Vhagar's reins while giving her a mental command, and the dragon responded instantly. Unfolding her wings as they banked hard, gracefully sailing through the sky at an unmatched speed. The sea below glittered like a polished sapphire as Vhagar breathed a sweeping arc of fire, the brilliant greenish-bronze flames turning the ocean's surface to steam.

Just as the dragons made to catch up with them, Visenya ordered Vhagar to pick up her pace. She would regret flying Vhagar like this tomorrow, but for now, she wanted to show off to her grandson. 

In mere moments, the three dragons that had been trailing behind them were bathed in shadow as Vhagar blotted out the sun above them. Each beat of Vhagar's wings was worth a hundred from Vermithor, Silverwing, or Caraxes and Vhagar could beat her wings just as fast. 

Gracefully, her dragon swooped around the others, soaring just above the Narrow Sea as her claws dipped lightly into the water. Vhagar let out a satisfied rumble as Visenya pointed her back toward Pentos.

"That was incredible! Grandmother, can we do that again?" Daeron shouted, his gloom nowhere to be found, as he panted and smiled as wide as he could. 

"Perhaps tomorrow, Daeron," Visenya promised. Truthfully, she had probably overdone it. She was already sore often, and she would feel getting thrown around in the saddle for the next day or two, but it was all worth it to see the smile on her grandson's face. 

Visenya leaned forward slightly, resting a gloved hand against Vhagar's warm, scaled back as they began their descent. Her dragon rumbled contentedly beneath her, as steady and loyal as she had ever been. She had lost much in her life and gained just as much, but one constant that had been there through it all had been her wonderful Vhagar. 

Her companion since childhood and ever-present in her life since her second and tenth name day, she was the last tether to her past. Her past was filled with victories and defeats, regrets and triumphs, love and loss. The last living piece of a world that was behind her now. 

Yet Vhagar would be so much more. One day, Daeron would ride Vhagar. He would know her fire, her strength, her freedom. He would carry forward the legacy not just of Targaryen blood, but of Visenya herself.

And to Visenya, that was everything. 

…​

"Grandmother! Isn't this exciting?" her namesake whispered from across the dais, snapping Visenya out of her dull stare toward the entrance of the throne room. 

She turned her head with a smile as she ignored the seemingly unending mass of people to lock eyes with her adorable granddaughter. Her namesake was dressed strikingly similar to her mother, just without the Qoherys colors of yellow. She was dressed in a beautiful black and red dress with dragons dancing throughout. Her hair was braided in a similar style to Visenya's, albeit with bronze thread instead of the white that she was using. 

"It is, little hatchling, are you ready to be a princess?" Visenya teased, earning a nonplussed reaction from her granddaughter. 

"I already am!" she pouted, causing Visenya to smile just a little wider. 

"Indeed, you are," Visenya responded while looking back toward the closed doors.

She thought this whole charade was quite amusing in some ways. Her grandchildren were already princes and princesses by law, and her son was already the monarch of all the regions he ruled. Even still, Visenya understood the reasoning for this performance, but she would not deny that she held little interest in it. She had attended three coronations in her life before this one, and this one was easily the most ostentatious. 

A cavernous hall filled with endless riches and pretentious people, everything that Visenya despised. If she had it her way, she would just crown her son as she had done for her husband four and forty years ago at the mouth of the Blackwater. Short, sweet, and without question, the Targaryen way. But that was not how her son wanted to do it, and so here she was. 

Hundreds of delegates had been called to attend this grand coronation. He was uniting several officially independent realms and territories into a single state after all, along with cementing his family as the new royal dynasty of a region that had not had a king for millennia. She understood the need to make it a spectacle, even if she disliked it greatly. 

Pentoshi magisters, Braavosi merchant princes, Lorathi lords, Norvosi legionnaires, and even some foreign delegates from the Three Whores and Dothraki were all in attendance, along with an army of royal guard and prestigious veterans from Maegor's campaigns. All of them were here to see her son crowned as King of Pentos. 

She greatly disliked the whole display, especially appearing in public before all the nobles and wealthy magistrates of the cities, but she sat proudly nonetheless. This would be a day that would be remembered for the rest of history, after all. Maegor already had half a dozen painters and master weavers ready to immortalize this event for all time itself. 

She risked a glance around the hall, more interested in whether she would recognize anyone rather than genuinely interested in who might be present. The only notable face she saw was that of Aeron Velaryon, freshly returned from the funeral of his father, which had delayed this whole procession until nearly the end of the first moon. Maegor wanted the date of his crowning to be special and had agreed to delay for Aeron's sake, but he had still cut it too close for comfort. 

Also too close for comfort were the dozen odd religious figures among the crowds, apparent from their distinctive outfits. The Lord of Light, the handful of local religious cults that called Pentos home, the small chapter of Faith of the Seven that still resided in the city, and the hundreds of strange faiths that Braavos hosted all had representatives present. 

Visenya mistrusted all of them, partly because she had directly destroyed the temple of most of the delegates present during her night raid on Braavos, trying to find the temple that housed the faceless cowards. But also because she had no interest in repeating the same mistake they made with Westeros. 

Luckily, her son shared her sentiment. He saw the merits in a single, unified religion, but the dangers too. Their ancestors could make do without, and Visenya thought it a good idea to emulate them. Let the people squabble over religious differences so long as it prevented a situation like the one her nephew was dealing with back in Westeros. 

A flicker of movement caught her eye, and she looked again at her granddaughter. Her namesake was nearly bouncing in her seat as she excitedly whispered with her little sister. Her bronze-threaded braid caught the light and shimmered like the sun itself.

This coronation was as much for her grandchildren as it was for Maegor. After this ceremony, their futures would be secure, a future that Visenya could have only dreamed of in her youth. 

More than once, when she was still a girl like her namesake, she had dreamt of what it might have been like if her ancestors, her granduncle Aelyx and Baelon, and her great-grandfather Aerys, had not been felled by the Faceless Men. If they had indeed followed Aelyx's dream and flown east to re-establish the Valyrian Empire, which was their birthright. 

The three of them could have surely conquered Essos, just as Maegor had managed to do. Without the stench of Aegon's previous conflicts, Volantis would have eagerly submitted to her family, ready to play its destined role as the central figure of a Valyria reborn. 

Yet that was not the destiny that Visenya would get to grow up in. She was not raised in gilded palaces behind the Black Walls, her father did not rule an empire stretching from the Shivering Sea to Slaver's Bay and from the Stepstones to the Bone Mountains. She had been born as nothing more than a lady, but that was not the case for her grandchildren. 

Through fire, blood, and gold, Maegor had established for his family an empire in Northwestern Essos, one that carried the legacy and future of House Targaryen in its destiny. Visenya could already tell that one day Maegor's empire would stretch across the continent, restoring the legacy her ancestors had played a part in building. From her line, a new Valyria would be born.

Then, just as Visenya was about to interject into her namesake's conversation with her mother and sister, the whole throne room was called to attention with the blaring of trumpets and the loud shout of a herald.

"All kneel for His Grace, King Maegor of House Targaryen, First of his Name, King of Pentos, Lord of Dragonstone, Sealord of Braavos, Lord of Lorath and Norvos, Scourge of the Dothraki, Slayer of the Faceless Men, and Protector of His People!" The herald cried. 

Visenya remained seated as she watched the enormous wooden doors, carved intricately with dragons and fire opened to reveal her son and his honor guard. She managed to hold back a scoff at the titles. That was one of the few meetings that she had actually participated in and needless to say, they were still a work in progress. 

Luckily, after this whole performance was over with, Pentos would have all the time they could ever want to decide on her son's titles. 'King' and 'Lord of Dragonstone' were the only titles that mattered to Visenya anyway. 

Visenya smiled to herself as her son approached them slowly, flanked by a small army of royal guards carrying Targaryen banners. Her son would finally be a king, the purpose he was born for. 

She had only conceived Maegor for the purpose of replacing Aenys, given it had appeared that he was going to die. Once that situation played out differently, his destiny was left hanging precariously in the air. 

Yet despite his destiny being ripped away from him, Maegor crafted his own. With blood, sweat, effort, and gold, he had carved for himself and his family a safe, secure, and loyal Kingdom out of the ashes of Old Valyria. Reclaiming the birthright that House Targaryen had ignored for generations. 

'Lord of Dragonstone' was just as important to Visenya. Her family home, the legacy that was passed down to them from Aenar the Exile, would remain in her family. Even if they had to share it with Aenys's family occasionally, that title meant more to her than even the title of King. 

One day, she knew that her son would take more titles. Perhaps even the title 'Emperor of Valyria', like Aurion had after the Doom. Make something of that title instead of letting it remain an obscure footnote in the history of an insignificant man. But this coronation, and more importantly, the unification of Maegor's kingdom, signaled something new. 

Her grandchildren had a future, a safe future in a Kingdom singularly loyal to their father. There were no high septons, faith militant, faceless assassins, nor rebel lords to threaten them here. She could rest easy knowing her grandchildren would be safe and happy for the rest of their lives. More than anything else, that brought a smile to her face. 

She continued smiling as Maegor finally reached the dais, ascending the steps toward his dragon throne. Modeled closely after the one on Dragonstone, albeit with a bit more finery and crafted out of steel rather than the fused black stone of Old Valyrian, she prepared herself. 

Standing from her seat, she lifted Maegor's crown with her hand and approached her son gently. She had done this once before with her brother and husband Aegon, but this was to be different. She was not going to crown her son, even though they both wanted it deep down. 

This event was to be known for all of history, traced by all of their descendants as the source of their inheritance and Kingdom, and so, she would not crown her son. Instead, she presented the black and red pillow that rested on to Maegor as he gently moved his hands to grab it. 

Slowly and carefully, he lifted the crown that would define their dynasty, fashioned from Valyrian steel and adorned with rubies and black pearls. A band of wings curled through the metalwork, forged by the great smiths of Dragonstone with the riches from all the lands under his domain. A symbol not just of power, but of the unity of his new Kingdom.

After placing it lightly on his brow, he moved quietly to his seat, the rest of the room holding their breaths as he placed himself on the dragon throne. Then, with a signal first given to her and the rest of the dragon riders and then to everyone else, cheers erupted. 

Along with the cheers rose the roars of the dragons outside. Vhagar, Terrax, Vermithor, Silverwing, Caraxes, and Meleys all roared in unison, shaking the very foundations of the city as all cheered for their new king. 

Throughout it all, Visenya smiled. She had done it. Years of hard work, sleepless nights, loss, pain, suffering, it was all worth it. Her family would rule this kingdom forevermore. Safe, secure, happy