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Chapter Text

Luke knew he hadn't had much time left. Stage four leukemia was rarely beatable, but a measly two months was not what he had been prepared for, but there was little he could do about it now, as he was certain that he was dead, likely died in his sleep surrounded by his friends and family.

He grimaced when he remembered what his bitch of a grandmother had said when he received his diagnosis. I'm surprised it's not HIV, she'd quipped snidely. She'd never accepted his open and proud bisexuality, nor how his parents had wholeheartedly accepted him. 

He'd smiled sweetly at her and replied, Only the good die young, grandmother - evidently. 

His sister had sprayed a mouthful of water across the table, hitting their grandmother full in the face. 

That had been two days ago, and now Luke was dead, succumbed to cancer. 

You are not dead yet. 

Luke's eyes popped open, and his jaw followed soon after. One, he vividly recognised the room he was in - his subconscious was wack as shit, why was he in the Dragonstone throne room and how?! - and two, two women with startlingly glowing eyes were smiling at him.

One of the women - the one with swirling eyes of gold and orange flame - stepped forward. “Luke Vincent. A pleasure. My name is Shrykos.” 

Luke spluttered, making a sound akin to that of a dying cat. “Wha - but that's impossible!” 

Shrykos’ brow raised. “I assure you, it is not. I am the Goddess Shrykos, and this is my sister Tessarion. We have plucked your soul from your realm, and now we wish to place it in the body of Laenor Velaryon so you might ensure the Dance of Dragons does not occur. The gods are…displeased. Aegarax most of all.” 

Luke's jaw worked uselessly for several moments, mouth flapping opened and closed like some sort of demented fish, he was sure. “But - but Laenor Velaryon is a fictional character.” 

Tessarion sighed softly. “No, it isn't. But there is little time to explain before Laenor Velaryon's body begins to truly waste away. Our sister is prolonging his life as long as she can, but time wiles away. Perhaps you shall soon come to realize how real this is, Luke Vincent.” 

Luke flinched as Shrykos raised a hand and flicked his forehead and then he was being woken by the low, concerned rumble of an oddly familiar voice. 

“Please, son,” the deep voice murmured, and Luke was abruptly aware of the pain in his body, the hand wrapped around his own. 

He squinted his eyes open, grumbling and blinking to clear his blurry vision. “Laenor?!” He turned his head, brows furrowing at the wan man peering at him, relief etched across his face. 

Oddly enough, he knew that face. It was his father, Lord Corlys Velaryon and - oh, bloody buggering fuck. “Father?” He rasped, voice horrifically weak and raspy. 

“Thank the gods,” Corlys whispered, grasping Luke's - Laenor's?! - hand between his own and squeezing gently. “What in the gods name were you thinking, jumping in front of an arrow?” 

Luke, astonished and feeling very pained and very unmoored, was utterly grateful that he had Laenor's memories in his head - gods, he needed one moment to come to terms with what the fuck was going on - and knew what Corlys was talking about. He'd jumped between an enemy archer and Prince Daemon Targaryen. 

Luke - Laenor, his name was Laenor now, and he had to get used to it - smirked faintly. “Why shouldn't I? He wasn't wearing armor, father,” he mumbled, grimacing. 

Corlys sighed and grabbed a goblet of water from the table by Laenor's bed, helping him sit up to drink. He nearly guzzled the whole cup, beyond thirsty. “Yes, well, Daemon went to Pentos and all but abducted a healer to see to you in thanks for saving his life.” 

Laenor shifted, getting comfortable, and reached for his throat, wincing at the tenderness. Perhaps the gods had manipulated the circumstances so Laenor - the real Laenor - would be shot in the bloody throat, mimicking his grandfather Aemon's death, to plop Luke’s consciousness into Laenor's body? 

It seemed like something gods would do. 

“What's the verdict?” He asked Corlys, who sighed. 

“Well, the healer said that you're lucky to be alive, Laenor. The wound was not mortal, though it could have been. You lost a substantial amount of blood, but you will make a full recovery - and have quite the scar,” Corlys explained, looking deeply pained. 

Luke - Laenor! - nodded absently, rubbing at his chest. Why did it feel as though he had bad indigestion? Corlys noticed the movement and smirked faintly. “Seasmoke has been agitated beyond reason,” he told him.

Seasmoke? Oh - OH. The dragon, Laenor's dragon. Oh, gods, would he still recognise him as his bonded rider or reject him, humiliating him? Luke - LAENOR - swung his legs over the side of the bed, waving away Corlys’ help, and slowly stood. 

He squeezed his eyes shut as the world briefly spun, but opened them when he felt steady enough. Corlys looked unimpressed, grudgingly helping Laenor pull boots and a tunic on. He even helped him from his tent and onto the beach, smack in the middle of a war camp. 

Men were everywhere, all sooty and dirty, but all of them paused to greet him, some slapped his shoulders, commending him on saving Prince Daemon's life. He nodded and hoped he didn't look as out of his depth as he felt. 

Corlys led Laenor to where the dragons were. Seasmoke was….a lot larger than he'd anticipated, and looked like Daenerys’ three, but was a pale blue-gray with dark blue horns and spikes, but pale peach-pink frills and wings. 

Burning orange eyes slid open, and Laenor swallowed thickly as he stepped out of Corlys’ grasp and toward Seasmoke, mind whirling. “Be calm,” the High Valyrian tumbled fluently from his mouth, but he barely had time to process that because Seasmoke was pushing intently against his outstretched hand…purring? 

Relief, worry, and annoyance all mingled in his chest, and Laenor huffed a soft laugh. He could feel what Seasmoke was feeling, and he hadn't rejected him for not truly being his Laenor. “I'm sorry, boy. I didn't mean to worry you.” 

Seasmoke snorted hot air right into Laenor's face, making him roll his eyes. The dragon inched closer, sniffing at Laenor's chest and neck and loosing a low whine. It made Laenor’s chest feel tight, and he stroked Seasmoke’s cheek, murmuring nonsense reassurances. 

A high-pitched whistle echoed, and he glanced up to see the legendary Blood Wyrm writhing his way through the sky, circling to land. Laenor's breath hitched as the dragon, significantly larger than Seasmoke, landed several feet away and Prince Daemon Targaryen dismounted swiftly. 

“Cousin,” the Rogue Prince called, expression stoic, but Laenor could see relief in his dark violet eyes. “Glad to see you're not dead.”

Laenor laughed, then grimaced and gingerly clutched his throat. “Thank you, cousin,” he said dryly. 

Daemon quirked a wry grin and extended a hand. Laenor grasped his forearm, Daemon grasping his, and nodded firmly.

It seemed Laenor had won the hard-won acceptance of the Rogue Prince himself. It was a heady thing. 

***

With the war for the Stepstones over and won decisively by Daemon, they didn't remain for long. With one last sweep across Bloodstone by Laenor and Daemon both - he flew a fucking dragon, he was absolutely squealing like a little kid on the inside - with Seasmoke and Caraxes, they were free to leave, Corlys’ ships ladden with the spoils of war. 

Seasmoke glided through the air above Corlys’ ship, wings beating leisurely. Laenor peered around with sheer awe on his face, able to do so as he was alone in the air, save for Seasmoke. Daemon had gone ahead, wishing to see his brother and niece. 

Laenor was anxious to see Rhaenys and Laena. He had always admired the Queen Who Never Was, and now she was his mother. It made him feel as giddy as a kid, knowing in a few short hours time he'd be on Driftmark, seeing her and his sister. 

It was odd, being Laenor Velaryon and not being Laenor Velaryon. He had memories of Laenor's up until now, but also a lifetime of memories from being Luke Vincent. He was trying to reconcile the conflicting memories, but it was hard. He'd only been in this life for a week, and he had time. 

Seasmoke loosed a roar, snapping Laenor from his thoughts. He blinked, staring, and began to smile as Driftmark came into view. His smile turned to a nearly unhinged jaw when a huge shadow he had thought to be a hill shifted and moved. 

It's not a hill, he realized, stupefied, that's Vhagar. 

The legendary beast of Queen Visenya spread scarred wings and lurched into the skies, a pale dot on her back. Laenor huffed an incredulous laugh as Vhagar released a welcoming roar, Seasmoke echoing her. He could feel his boy's happiness at seeing his friend and their home. 

Vhagar joined them in the air, Laena waving madly from her back. Laenor raised a gloved hand, reciprocating the gesture, and snorted when Laena urged Vhagar higher. 

“C'mon, boy,” he murmured, shifting and hunching in the saddle. Seasmoke roared and followed, swiftly outpacing Vhagar with ease. 

Laena shouted something incomprehensible, her words lost in the wind, and Laenor cackled in delight, urging Seasmoke to descend through their bond, the mist coloured dragon obeying immediately. 

Meleys raised her head and rumbled in greeting when Seasmoke landed several feet from her. She was larger than Seasmoke, but smaller than Vhagar. 

Laenor dismounted swiftly, running his hand along Seasmoke's neck. Vhagar landed thundrously, Laena laboriously climbing down the netting attached to her side. “Brother!” She called, hurrying over. She all but leapt upon him, arms wound around his neck tightly. “Never, and I mean never, do that again!” 

Laenor hugged her back. “I'm okay, Laena,” he told her gently, stroking her hair. Her grip tightened. 

“Laenor Velaryon!” 

Laenor's eyes widened, and Laena swiftly released him, grinning evilly. He slowly turned, plastering a smile to his face when he saw his mother, Rhaenys Targaryen Velaryon, storming towards him. 

“Mother!” He cried, opening his arms. “You look beautiful.” 

“Don't,” she ordered, jabbing a finger at him. Her violet gaze was drawn to his throat, eyes promptly filling with tears. “Oh, Laenor. You could have died.” 

“I didn't, mother,” he assured, grasping her elbows when she gripped his forearms. “I'm okay. Daemon found a healer who took care of me. I'm okay.” 

Rhaenys released his arms and hugged him, though like Laena she had to stand on her toes to do so. He hugged her tightly, spying his father approaching from the castle, having changed his clothes. 

Rhaenys finally let him go, thoroughly inspecting his throat, which had begun healing greatly. She rounded on Corlys, who froze. “No more taking my son off to war, Corlys, or you shall be sleeping on your ship!” She ordered firmly. 

Corlys’ blue-purple eyes widened. “Of course, my love,” he promptly agreed. 

Rhaenys nodded, satisfied, and linked her arm with Laenor's. “Now, tell me of everything that happened these past years, both of you.” 

Laenor smiled faintly. Yes, he could get used to having a family like this. 

***

Two days later, Laenor found himself bemoaning Daemon's stupidity. He'd taken Rhaenyra into Flea Bottom and abandoned her in a brothel, and now Laenor and Rhaenyra were to be married. Not that he had a problem with that, no, but he knew that Daemon and Rhaenyra truly did love one another and their descendants would bring about Daenerys, the heir that was promised. 

Rhaenys looked troubled about the pending betrothal, though Corlys was, well, jubilant about it all. He had ordered a feast to be prepared for the king and princess, rooms to be aired, and everything to be utterly perfect. 

“Mother is worried you won't be able to give Rhaenyra true born heirs,” Laena whispered to him as they watched father bark orders to servants. 

Laenor rolled his eyes. He had been seen by Rhaenys with Ser Joffrey several times, from what he gathered of his memories, but the dalliance with Ser Joffrey had ended during the war when his lover had been killed in battle; more godly meddling, he supposed. 

“I will be able to do my duty, sister,” he murmured quietly. Laena glanced at him, surprised. He shrugged. “The only reason you have seen me with only a man is not because I am interested in only men, dear sister, but because I must care for a person before I lay with them.” 

Laena looked understanding, nodding thoughtfully. If he were back in modern times, he merely would have told her he was a demisexual bisexual, but as they were in such a time when those terms didn't exist, well, he'd make do. 

He knew the rumors that surrounded himself, and he knew he would squash them quite easily soon enough. Laena shifted closer, intrigued. “So you have not cared for any women enough to sleep with them? Only ser Joffrey?” 

Laenor nodded slightly, rolling his eyes when Corlys fretted over the seating arrangements. Rhaenys watched with amusement, arms crossed. “Mhm,” he hummed, slinging his arm around Laena's shoulder. “I care for Rhaenyra as our cousin, but I'm sure she and I will grow closer once we are wed.” 

Laena smiled, looking relieved. “I'm glad you won't be miserable, brother.” She leaned up and kissed his cheek before leaving, remarking that she was going to fly with Vhagar to escape their father's tyranny. 

Laenor truly was coming to adore her. 

***

Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen, the heir to the Iron Throne, was…devastatingly beautiful, Laenor thought dumbly as he and his family greeted the king and Princess in the courtyard. She held herself like the princess she was, the Queen she would one day be, and was garbed in a lavish dress and positively draped in jewels. 

Laenor approached her while their parents spoke, smiling and taking her hand. “Princess, it is good to see you,” he murmured, bowing to kiss her knuckles. 

She smiled. “Cousin, you look well. I heard of the wound you took saving my uncle's life, I thank you.” 

“No thanks are necessary, princess,” he told her, turning and tucking her hand in his elbow. 

Corlys was smiling widely at them both when they approached, Rhaenys looked slightly puzzled, and Viserys’ smile was faint but pleased. “Your grace,” Laenor greeted, internally wanting to punch the man in the face, and bowed deeply. 

“Laenor,” Viserys greeted, voice warm. “I must thank you for saving my reckless brother's life.” 

“Prince Daemon is an admirable man, your grace,” Laenor replied blandly, smiling falsely. “He earned my loyalty, there is no need for thanks. I would do the same for any of my kin.” 

Laena muffled a laugh with a cough.

Viserys' smile became fixed. “Yes, well…shall we go inside?” 

“Of course, Viserys,” Rhaenys immediately said, shooting Laenor a puzzled, though faintly amused look, over Viserys' shoulder when he turned to face her. 

Rhaenyra's hand tightened on his arm, and he glanced down at her, smirking at the amusement in her eyes. “I believe this shall be the start of a wonderful union, cousin,” she murmured. 

“Indeed it shall, cousin,” he replied.

***

By the grace of the gods, Viserys did not linger long in Driftmark even if Rhaenyra insisted she wished to stay longer. Syrax had followed her from the capitol and now nested with Seasmoke, Vhagar, and Meleys on the dunes, pleased to spend her days sunning herself, so Rhaenyra had a way to return to the capital swiftly. 

Currently, Laenor and Rhaenyra were strolling along the beach arm-in-arm. “I heard rumors,” his cousin began, a hesitant note in her voice. “That you do not enjoy the company of women.” 

Laenor glanced at her. “Untrue, cousin. For me to lay with someone, man or woman, I must trust them implicitly and care deeply for them.” 

“Oh,” Rhaenyra breathed, relief making her shoulders slump. 

Laenor paused and faced her, taking her bejeweled hands in his own. “I would never jeopardize your position, Rhaenyra. I will do my duty and give you truborn children, be your loyal prince-consort, your confidant, I swear it by the Fourteen of Old Valyria.” 

Rhaenyra's smile was glowing. She squeezed his hands. “Thank you, cousin.” 

“Mayhap one day we may even love each other,” he japed, smiling when Rhaenyra laughed and linked their arms more closely, leaning her head against his arm. “It does not bother me, though, if you love another.” 

Rhaenyra's smile vanished, and she sighed loudly. “Truthfully, I know not what true love feels like. I have fancied others before, of course I have, but…love? I don't think I would know how it feels, to tell the sad truth.” 

Laenor's heart ached for her. He kissed her brow. “One day, you shall. I promise you.”

***

Laenor and Rhaenyra’s wedding would occur in the capitol, and so House Velaryon gathered their things and mounted their dragons, save Corlys, who sailed to Kings Landing in time for the start of a week's long celebration for the Princess of Dragonstone and her soon-to-be Prince Consort. 

Laena, Rhaenys, Rhaenyra, and he raced to the capital. Vhagar, due to her sheer size and age, was the slower of the three dragons, but tried her best to win the race. Meleys was as swift as an arrow, shooting through the skies with a loud roar, but Seasmoke shared his rider's determination and managed to come out ahead, but then Syrax was there, out-pacing all of them, Rhaenyra cackling from her back. 

They landed in the Dragonpit, though Laena did not. Vhagar was far too large for the pit, and Laena would have to land her outside the city. 

Seasmoke chuffed as Laenor dismounted, nuzzling his side as he passed him. Rhaenyra was beaming brightly, Syrax preening as her rider lavished her with cooed praise in High Valyrian.

Rhaenys watched in amusement, removing her riding gloves. “You are an exceptional flier, Rhaenyra,” she complimented, making Rhaenyra flush lightly. 

“Thank you, cousin,” Rhaenyra murmured softly.

Laenor offered his arm, and Rhaenyra happily took it. Rhaenys eyed them closely, a small smile on her face; Laenor had explained to her how his sexuality worked, and naught but relief had exuded from the Queen Who Never Was, and she had been much more relaxed and open about the match between Laenor and Rhaenyra.

Sers Erryk and Arryk awaited them with a carriage outside the landing pit. They both bowed deeply to the three of them, and Laenor ensured to thank them as he assisted his mother and betrothed into the carriage before him. 

“What are the political waters like, cousin?” Rhaenys asked Rhaenyra once they were on their way to the Keep. 

Rhaenyra grimaced faintly. “Alicent and Otto are desperate for Aegon to be named heir over me.” 

Laenor pursed his lips. “They will not get what they want, I assure you, cousin.” 

Rhaenyra smiled faintly, gratitude shining in her lilac eyes. “I truly believe that they think you are unable to give me true born heirs, which is why they advocated for this match so fervently.” 

Rhaenys’ eyes gleamed. “They wish to make a mockery of you and House Velaryon.” 

Rhaenyra nodded grimly. “Yes. Otto may have lost his position as Hand, but it has made Alicent all the more cold and bitter towards me.” 

Rhaenys’ eyes narrowed thoughtfully. “You shall have to work hard to gather the loyalty of the lords and ladies. Gather a household of daughters of the great lords, get them good matches, even greater dowries, and that shall go a long way in getting you good support.” 

“Laena could be your chief lady-in-waiting. I know father wants an advantageous match for her,” Laenor explained, peering out the window of the carriage to see they were approaching Aegon's High Hill. “I shall also gather a few squires.” 

Rhaenys slanted a look at him. “A good idea. But be careful. The Hightowers shall surely spin you gathering squires as you collecting…lovers.”

Laenor grimaced, deeply disgusted. “I prefer men, thank you, not little boys,” he replied, shuddering. 

“Alicent won't care, Laenor,” Rhaenyra told him, lips pursed. “She and her…sycophants shall use any kind of rumor to destabilize our strength.” 

Laenor tilted his head. “Mayhap we should do the same. Do any of your half-siblings have dragons?” Rhaenyra's eyes widened slightly, and she shook her head. “Speak to his grace about only those in the direct line of succession being able to claim or have a dragon egg in their cradle. Explain mother, Laena, and I having dragons as grandfather Aemon's being heir for so long.”

Rhaenyra and Rhaenys both looked immensely impressed. “A good idea,” Rhaenys agreed, smiling proudly at Laenor. “Without dragons, those who support a son over a female shan't have the upper hand in the future.” 

Rhaenyra smiled deviously as the carriage came to a halt outside the Red Keep. She reached for Laenor's hand, squeezing firmly. “I do believe this shall be a wonderful union, cousin,” she reiterated. 

Laenor kissed her knuckles, smirking. “As do I, princess.” 

****

Laenor made sure to dress impeccably for the feast to occur that evening. He had requested for a brand new doublet to be made, a fine thing of sea green silk and cloth-of-gold and silver stitching. His breeches were black and tucked into knee-high boots with gleaming silver buckles. He had commissioned a three headed dragon pin that perched on his right collar, opposite the Velaryon seahorse pin his father had given him as a boy. 

He would honor his mother and soon-to-be bride's house this night. 

Laenor had a servant braid the hair at his temples and tie it back, showing the silver hoops in his ears, as well as the scar that peeked from the collar of his doublet. 

Rhaenys and Corlys both smiled when they saw him and Laena; she wore a gown of sea-green threaded with silver and a bodice encrusted with clear and light blue sea glass. 

Mother wore a gown of black with the Velaryon and Targaryen colors woven throughout. Father had chosen silver accented with sea green. Together all four of them cut an impressive sight as they entered the Throne room, announced by the herald, and trailed after by their Uncle Vaemond and his sons. 

Laenor had not been impressed when Vaemond bullied his way into their party. Corlys allowed him far too much leeway.

“Corlys Velaryon, Lord of the Tides, Master of Driftmark and Princess Rhaenys, his Lady wife, and their children, Ser Laenor Velaryon, the future King-Consort, and Lady Laena Velaryon!” 

Laenor's lips curled into a smirk when those gathered erupted into applause. His violet-blue eyes scanned the crowd, noting that House Hightower, sans Otto, all wore deep, dark green. 

Fury ignited in his belly. 

They paused before the high table, Viserys smiling pleasantly. Laenor met Rhaenyra's gaze and winked, making her grin at him. She wore a gown of resplendent white silk, her pale hair twisted into braids like Queen Visenya had favored. 

Laenor bowed deeply to the king and Rhaenyra, his betrothed rounding the table to greet him. She curtseyed perfectly before him, and extended her thoroughly bejeweled hand. He clasped it, pressing a lingering kiss to her knuckles. 

“My betrothed,” he murmured, winking again. 

Rhaenyra bit her lip to stifle a laugh. “Ser Laenor,” she murmured softly. 

Laenor and his family joined Viserys and Rhaenyra at the high table. He held her seat out for her, and gently pushed it in once she had sat. He seated himself beside her, noting the pleased look Viserys slanted at them. 

“Welcome,” Viserys called, voice echoing in the sudden silence. He beamed at the crowd, the utter fool. Could he not sense the tension? The loathing sent his way by the Hightowers? “And thank you for joining us to celebrate the union of my daughter and heir, Rhaenyra Targaryen, the Princess of Dragonstone, and Ser Laenor Velaryon, Heir to Driftmark-” 

The doors opened loudly, and Laenor turned to see Daemon sauntering into the throne room, a smirk on his face. He glanced at Rhaenyra, who watched her uncle coldly as he swaggered towards them. 

He subtly reached for her hand beneath the table, lacing their fingers together. She squeezed his hand, hard, and looked at him gratefully, smiling softly despite the sadness in her eyes. 

Daemon bowed sardonically before them. “Congratulations, Princess. Ser Laenor.” 

“Thank you, Prince Daemon,” Laenor replied, raising a pale brow. His cousin's lip quirked, amusement and respect shining from his dark violet eyes.

A chair was brought to the table, and Daemon sat. Viserys straightened and began his speech anew, but Laenor had eyes only for the entrance to the throne room, and he sneered when she appeared, Alicent Hightower, the Queen-Consort, wearing emerald green with a cold expression. 

Laenor tightened his grasp on Rhaenyra's hand. “Do not stand,” he murmured to her. She looked at him, eyes wide. “This is an insult against us, Rhaenyra. Do not let her win.” 

Rhaenyra's throat bobbed as she swallowed, turning back to watch Alicent. Laenor glanced at his parents, both of whom looked furious. He met Laena's gaze, brow twitching. She nodded and turned to whisper to their parents. 

Laenor tightened his grasp on Rhaenyra's hand as Alicent came closer, her Hightower kin hastily standing to show respect, as did the other lords, though many did not look pleased doing so, Laenor noted. 

Viserys glanced at them, looking helpless. Laenor met his gaze coldly before looking away, ensuring he looked icy and bored. 

Daemon remained seated too, hand gripping the dagger at his hip. If he were to bear steel, it would answer Alicent's bold declaration of war against Rhaenyra and Laenor's union. 

Laenor fingered the dagger at his side, glancing at his parents. Rhaenys could have been carved from stone where she sat, her violet eyes boring into Alicent as she coldly kissed the King's cheek. Corlys stared at Laenor, eyes darting to the hand on his dagger. 

Laenor unsheathed the steel and stood, disentangling his hand from Rhaenyra's. He slammed the dagger point first into the table and turned to glare at Alicent, whose face was a horrid pale, gray-green.

“Your grace,” he said coldly, then sat. 

Viserys looked utterly baffled and unmoored, clearing his throat several times before he rallied and continued his speech into the stunned silence of the room, hastily ordering the musicians to start playing.

Laenor stood and took Rhaenyra's hand, leading her to the dance floor. He met his father's proud gaze, smirking, then Daemon's, which was full of surprise and respect. 

Rhaenyra stared at him. “Why did you do that?” 

“I won't let anyone disrespect you, Rhaenyra, queen-consort or not,” he whispered, stepping back. 

Rhaenyra's expression was one of utter gratitude as they began their dance, one that mimicked dragons in flight. 

***

Daemon was pleasantly surprised by his cousin Laenor. Not only had the young man taken an arrow in the throat for him, he had quite boldly answered the Hightower girls insult with bared steel, beating Daemon to the punch.

While he deeply regretted abandoning Rhaenyra in the brothel and cursed his brother - and himself - for ruining any chance of a marriage between him and Rhaenyra, he mused that perhaps Laenor would make a good prince-consort for Rhaenyra. 

He did wonder how Laenor would go about giving her true born children. Was Laenor like him, taking pleasure in men and women both? Or was he only interested in men? He sincerely hoped Laenor was able to perform his duty - as much as the thought of anyone touching Rhaenyra rankled - and not shame Rhaenyra.

When their dance finished, the first of many courses was served. Daemon idly picked at his fresh lobster, watching as Rhaenyra and Laenor murmured to one another, laughing and looking quite happy. 

Daemon resisted the urge to do something, well, Daemon-like. 

The Hightower girl looked icy and pale where she sat, and he felt no sympathy. The dagger Laenor had stabbed deep into the table was still there, a glaring warning for any who tried to disrespect Rhaenyra. 

Daemon felt eyes on him and glanced up, lips curling into amused smirk when he met Laena Velaryons appreciative, heavy gaze. He winked, smirk widening when she flushed and smirked right back at him.

Rhaenys met his gaze and raised her brows pointedly. He smirked at her, raising his cup of wine, and she huffed and looked away, though he noted her amusement. 

After supper, more dancing commenced. Rhaenyra and Laenor orbited one another, dancing elegantly together. Daemon stood and strode onto the floor, Laena joining him. “You're almost as pretty as your brother,” he told her, making her laugh. 

“I hear that a lot,” she replied, holding out her hand. He clasped it and twirled her, making her smile widen. “I saw you watching them, concerned. Don't be. My brother would never harm Rhaenyra.” 

Daemon eyed the young woman. “He could if he does not perform his duty,” he replied, moving himself and Laena about the floor. 

“My brother told me that the rumors about him are unfounded.” Laena braced her hand against his shoulders as he lifted and twirled her. “He will give her true born heirs. I believe he is already quite infatuated with the Princess, even if she may never love him the same.” 

Daemon swallowed thickly and glanced at Laenor and Rhaenyra, who were laughing as she struggled to twirl him under her arm, so different was their height. “Rhaenyra has a great capacity for love.” 

Laena eyed him knowingly. “She does. Do you, my prince?” 

Daemon smirked at her, though he knew it fell flat. “Mayhap,” he told her, sighing as the song came to an end. 

Laena squeezed his hand, nodding towards Rhaenyra. “Clear the air with her, Prince Daemon. She needs all the family and support she can get.” 

Daemon jerked his head in a single nod, turning to approach Rhaenyra. Laenor caught his gaze and nodded, bowing and kissing Rhaenyra's hand as yet another jaunty tune started up. 

He grasped her waist and hand and met her gaze. She glared. “You have a lot of nerve-” 

“I did not abandon you out of cruelty, dear niece,” he interrupted abruptly, ignoring the glare coming from the high table. Viserys was watching them like a hawk. “But because I realized I could not dishonor you in a whorehouse.” 

Rhaenyra's lips were pressed together so hard they had all but vanished. “Otto Hightower had us followed. He reported us to father.” 

Daemon sneered. “Is that why Ser Lyonel is now Hand?” Rhaenyra nodded, gasping as he picked her up and twirled her. “Laenor is a good man. Loyal and honorable.” 

Rhaenyra smirked faintly. “He saved your life,” she said, biting her lip. 

Daemon heaved a sigh. “I'm well aware, niece,” he muttered, turning to see Laenor spinning Laena around the floor, both of them laughing loudly. “I hope he makes you happy.” 

Rhaenyra stared at him. “He will, but he is not you.”

With that, chaos ensued. 

***

Blood stained the hem of Rhaenyra's gown and her betrothed sported a huge bruise on his face as they hastily said their vows before family only. A pool of blood lay several feet away, that of Vaemond Velaryon's son Daeron, the young man brutally and cruelly murdered by Rhaenyra's former sworn shield, Criston Cole, who was languishing in a Black cell less one hand, courtesy of Laenor.  

Alicent had tried to defend Criston, but had merely been laughed at causically by Laenor himself, who had promptly removed Criston's offending hand. Father had ordered him stripped of his white cloak, his page removed from the White Book, and for him to be thrown in the cells.

Then the septon had been brought out, and Rhaenyra and Laenor were now wed. 

Despite his cut lip, Laenor kissed her when the Septon told him to. It was gentle, chaste, but warm and pleasant. Nothing like Daemon had kissed her, but then again they weren't in a brothel, but before the king, queen-consort, and their family.

Even Daemon had remained, blood splattered across his studded leather doublet, to witness the marriage. 

Rhaenyra was embraced warmly by Corlys, Rhaenys, and Laena, all three welcoming her to their family even if she was not to take the name Velaryon. Shortly after the well wishes, Rhaenyra and Laenor excused themselves to her chambers. 

Rhaenyra stared at Laenor. “I'm not a maiden,” she revealed, biting her lip hard. “I think that is why Cole went mad this eve.” 

Laenor hugged her, kissing her brow. “It matters not, Princess. There are ways to fool the masses and the king. Do you wish to sleep?” 

Rhaenyra stepped back and shook her head. “We must consummate the marriage.” 

Laenor smirked at her faintly. “As you wish, princess.” 

Rhaenyra's heart leapt into her throat as Laenor gently clasped her face in his hands and tilted her head up. She inhaled sharply as his lips captured hers and he truly kissed her, making her eyes fall shut. 

Laenor was, well, he was an excellent kisser. His lips were firm but soft, brushing over hers and making her heart race in her chest. One of his hands slid to cup the back of her neck when his tongue darted out to touch her bottom lip, making her gasp. 

He took full advantage, sliding his tongue into her mouth and positively devouring her. Rhaenyra pulled back, breathing heavily. Her hands immediately went to the silver buckles on his doublet, hastily undoing them. 

Laenor reached behind her and unlaced her blood stained gown, yanking at the bodice to loosen it. they fumbled at one another, yanking at each other's clothes until they were both naked. 

Laenor was…very pretty, though quite toned from war and dragon riding. The scar on his throat was a mess of red scar tissue, and Rhaenyra gave into the urge to press her lips against it, making him groan low in his throat. 

“On the bed,” he all but ordered, and Rhaenyra gladly obeyed. 

Leaning back against her pillows, Rhaenyra observed him. His shoulders were broad and muscular, waist trim, stomach flat and defined. His…manhood was impressive, and very much interested in the proceedings.

Something within her relaxed at the evident proof that Laenor could give her children. 

He crawled atop her with the grace of a predator, kissing her thoroughly once more. His lips detached from hers, and he began trailing his mouth down her throat and across her chest, taking a nipple into his mouth and sucking. She gasped, hands flying to his head; Cole had not done that to her. It had been rather rushed and fumbled, truthfully, and entirely uncomfortable.

Laenor took his time, lavishing both of her breasts with his mouth. He then kissed his way down her stomach, pausing at her hip to nip at the thin skin there, making her hiss lowly. He smirked up at her and grasped her legs above her knees, gently pushing her thighs open. 

What was he -? 

Rhaenyra nearly flew off the bed when Laenor lay on his front and put his mouth on her, tongue flicking at her as though he was a man dying of thirst and her sex an oasis. She grasped handfuls of the bedsheets, crying out against her will, when he wrapped his lips around her clit and sucked, fingers prodding gently at her entrance. 

Rhaenyra trembled as he slipped one, then two, fingers inside her and hooked them, thrusting slowly as he swirled his tongue around and around and - 

Laenor’s eyes were dark with lust and pride as Rhaenyra splintered apart, back arching as her release barrelled through her. Her mouth opened in a silent scream, eyes screwed shut. 

“Laenor,” she gasped, thighs clamping around his head when it became too much. 

He crawled up her body, bracing himself on his elbow beside her head. She stared at him, trembling legs wrapping around his waist and yanking him closer. He laughed breathlessly and reached to grasp himself, pressing against her. 

Rhaenyra inhaled sharply as he slid inside her, filling her. She dug her fingers into his ribs, teeth digging into her bottom lip. “Move,” she rasped, tilting her hips.

Laenor exhaled in relief and did just that, his fingers digging into her hip for leverage as he withdrew from her wet heat, then thrust back inside with a low groan of pleasure. 

Rhaenyra gasped, throwing her head back. “Laenor, cousin, please-!”

Laenor growled very much like a dragon and began to thrust without abandon, kissing her with little to no finesse until they were merely panting into one another's mouths as he thrust into her, the only sounds in the room their heavy breathing and the slap of skin against skin. 

He shifted, angling his hips, and Rhaenyra shouted in surprised pleasure, fingernails dragging down Laenor's back. His back arched at the pleasure-pain, and he felt his release coming alarmingly fast. He sat back on his haunches and rubbed his thumb over Rhaenyra's clit, watching her face as he thrust and rubbed. 

When she peaked around him, Laenor groaned so low it was more of a growl, spilling deep within her as his own release slammed into him with all the subtlety of a lance to the chest. 

He thrust one last time, hissing at the sensitivity, then gingerly pulled his softening cock from Rhaenyra. He lay beside her, smiling when she rolled over and sprawled across his chest. 

“I'm scared of childbirth,” she whispered, sounding ashamed. 

He wrapped an arm around her and kissed her forehead. “I will be with you every step of the way, Nyra,” He murmured softly, rubbing her arm. “I promise.” 

Rhaenyra looked up at him, her braids very disheveled, and smiled softly. She kissed him. “Thank you, husband,” she said, resting her head back on his shoulder.

They soon fell asleep, exhausted from the nights near disastrous end, tangled together and hopeful for the future. 

***

Nine moons later 

Laenor knew he had fucked the timeline two moons after he and Rhaenyra's wedding when he woke to find her heaving over the privy, fear and excitement in her lilac eyes. 

Pregnancy was confirmed that day, and a feast was ordered by the King, who was positively overjoyed by the news that he was to become a grandfather. 

Rhaenyra had grown even more anxious now a babe grew in her belly, so Laenor asked Rhaenys to gather an army of successful midwives, all women who had given birth themselves, who sat with Rhaenyra and discussed what they called a birth plan. 

Now, Laenor was stuck outside his wife's chambers as she gave birth to their child. Every time she yelled or screamed, Laenor fought the urge to burst inside and sit by Rhaenyra's side. 

Father was with him, while mother, Laena, and Rhaenyra's army of ladies-in-waiting were inside the rooms with her. They had not been idle these past months, gathering ladies for Rhaenyra, and young second or third sons to be Laenor's squires and page boys. 

Corlys clasped Laenor's shoulder. “Rhaenyra shall prevail, my son,” he tried to reassure. “She is strong.” 

Laenor nodded, trying to relax. He glanced at Daemon, whose expression was also worried as he glared at the doors to Rhaenyra's rooms.

Daemon and Laena had courted for barely three moons before they married in secret, something Rhaenys had huffed about for days, though Corlys had been pleased his daughter had a good match, especially someone whom he knew he could trust. 

Corlys, Laenor, and Daemon had fought in a war together. Laenor had saved Daemon's life, and they had grown closer as they resided in the Red Keep together, all of them remaining close-knit even as Alicent tried, and failed, to discredit them. 

The high-pitched, unhappy wailing of a babe brought Laenor out of his stupor. He straightened as the door opened, a midwife wearing a bloody apron smiling tiredly at them. “My princes, my lord, Princess Rhaenyra has given birth to healthy twins, a son and daughter.” 

Laenor nearly stumbled, if not for Corlys' hand on his shoulder. “And Rhaenyra? She is well?” 

“Yes, my prince. She wishes to see you,” the midwife murmured, stepping back so Laenor could enter. 

Laenor all but sprinted to Rhaenyra’s side, sitting by her hip. She held two wrapped bundles, a bright, teary smile on her face. “Meet your children, Laenor,” she whispered. 

He leaned closer, blinking the blurriness from his eyes, and smiled at the babes in Rhaenyra's arms. She held one out, their son she told him, and he gingerly took him into his arms, marveling over him. “He's perfect,” he said, realizing that his eyes were blurry from crying. Tears streaked freely down his cheeks. “What's his name?” 

“Jacaerys,” Rhaenyra said, smiling just as tearfully as him. “I'm not sure what her name-” 

“Aemma,” Laenor interrupted gently, smiling at Rhaenyra's wide-eyed look. “For your mother the Queen and my grandfather Aemon.” 

Rhaenys made a strangled noise, and he glanced at her in amusement, laughing softly at her damp eyes. “Oh, hush, you,” she mumbled, stepping forward. Her dark hair was pulled back into a thick braid, but wisps had fallen out. 

Rhaenyra brushed her hand over Laenor's arm. “Thank you,” she whispered. 

Laenor kissed her, ignoring Laena's cooing behind them. “Thank you, Rhaenyra.” 

“Can we come in so I might meet my grandchildren?” Corlys called, sounding huffy. “His Grace is here, too.” 

Laenor snorted, raising a brow at Rhaenyra, who nodded in amusement. “Yes, you may!” 

Corlys, Viserys, and Daemon barged in, all three wearing expressions of relief as they beheld Rhaenyra who, though sweaty, pale, and tired was healthy and hale. 

“Twins,” the king gasped, looking utterly delighted. He peered at Jacaerys, violet eyes wet with tears. “What are their names?” 

“Our son and heir, Jacaerys Targaryen,” Laenor announced, standing so he could hand his son to the king, who gladly accepted him into his arms. 

“And our daughter, Aemma Velaryon,” Rhaenyra announced, smiling when Corlys promptly snatched her into his arms gently. He cooed at little Aemma, whose eyes were identical to Corlys and Laenor's. 

“Oh,” Viserys gasped, looking touched. “Your mother would be so proud of you, my dear.” 

Rhaenys eyed Viserys haughtily, hands extended, and he begrudgingly handed Jacaerys to her. Rhaenyra shook her head, snorting softly, and laced her fingers with Laenor's. “We shall hardly see our own children,” she remarked quietly as Viserys, Corlys, Rhaenys, Daemon, and Laena squabbled over whose turn it was to hold the babes. 

Daemon and Laena won, Aemma and Jacaerys held by them respectively. “Hello, little dragon,” Daemon cooed to Aemma, stroking her cheek. “You're the image of your mother and grandmother.” 

Jacaerys opened his tiny mouth and wailed, little fists waving furiously. Rhaenyra sat up, shifting with a grimace. “They need to be fed,” she announced, taking Jacaerys into her arms. Aemma began wailing, and Rhaenyra looked lost.

“I can fetch a wetnurse,” Viserys offered. 

“No,” Rhaenyra said sternly. “I shall feed my children myself.” 

Laenor helped Rhaenyra situate herself so two plump pillows lay under her arms. Jacaerys and Aemma were laid upon them, bracketed by Rhaenyra's arms. Viserys, Corlys, and Daemon bid them goodbye and swiftly exited as Laenor unbuttoned Rhaenyra's nightgown, bearing her breasts. 

With Laenor and a midwife's help, Aemma and Jacaerys latched on swiftly and began feeding greedily. Rhaenyra winced, gently patting the twins' backs. 

“Does it hurt?” Laena asked, preparing fresh sheets for the bed. 

“Merely uncomfortable,” Rhaenyra said, completely unashamed to be bare before her good-mother, sister, and husband. 

Rhaenys smiled, dumping dirtied sheets into a basket. “It will be, for a time. But feeding your children yourself is very rewarding. It shall also help you bond with your children quicker.” 

Laenor stood and kissed Rhaenyra's forehead. “I shall go to the Dragonpit and collect eggs for them, my love.” 

Per Laenor's suggestion, Rhaenyra had spoken to Viserys about whom should be allowed to claim dragons. He had dithered on the response for several days, but after speaking with Rhaenys he had agreed that his children by Alicent should not have eggs nor the chance to claim dragons unless they or their children married any of Rhaenyra and Laenor’s children. 

Laenor and Rhaenyra had agreed that their children would first be offered as spouses to Laena and Daemon's future children before her own siblings or nieces and nephews. 

Rhaenyra's smile was fond and loving. He kissed her. “Thank you, my love.” 

Laenor exited the room and laughed when Corlys clapped him on the shoulder, looking proud and smug. “Well done, son,” 

“Rhaenyra did more work than I,” Laenor said dryly. 

Daemon snorted. “Indeed she did.” 

Corlys huffed. “Can I not be proud of my son and grandchildren?” 

“Well, I am off to the Dragonpit to collect eggs for my children,” Laenor told his father, smiling. 

“I shall join you,” Daemon offered. 

Laenor nodded and fell into step with him.

“Congratulations, cousin,” Daemon murmured. “Jacaerys and Aemma are beautiful children.”

Laenor smiled happily. “Thank you, cousin. Mayhap you and Laena shall have your own spon enough?” 

Daemon smirked. “Laena is three moons pregnant.” 

Laenor stopped walking abruptly, mouth agape. “What?! Daemon!” 

Daemon threw his head back and laughed loudly.

***

Alicent sipped her cup of wine and stared at nothing in particular, her handmaiden Talya’s words rattling loudly through her mind. 

‘The princess gave birth to healthy twins, your grace. A son she named Jacaerys, and a daughter she named Aemma.’

Aemma. For her mother and Ser Laenor's grandfather, no doubt. But to Alicent it was an insult. She was the King's wife and Queen but now he would be doubly reminded of his late wife because of Rhaenyra naming her daughter for her mother. 

Jacaerys, she knew, was a traditional Velaryon name. A compromise, naming her son and heir such when he was to be a Targaryen and heir to the heir. 

The false heir to a false heir. Her Aegon should be king according to the laws of gods and men, but Viserys spat upon tradition and named his selfish, extravagant daughter heir and married her to a known sword-swallower and deviant. 

Likely the twins were bastards, Ser Laenor unable to do his duty. It would not surprise Alicent if Rhaenyra sought another to father her babes. She had dishonored Ser Criston and gotten him killed, had shamed herself and House Targaryen by fornicating with her uncle in a brothel. 

Alicent would see the babes for herself and observe their coloring and looks then determine whom had fathered them. All children of the Seven knew that deviants such as Ser Laenor could not father children. 

She had sent Talya with a message for the Princess, to have the babes brought to her so she might inspect them. 

The doors to her chambers opened, and Alicent turned. “Rhaenyra,” she murmured, not at all surprised. “What are you doing here? You should be abed after your labors.” 

Rhaenyra's eyes were like chips of lilac ice. “Yes, I should,” she said coldly. She cradled a babe in her arms, the other cradled in Ser Laenor's; behind them stood Princess Rhaenys, whose expression was like stone. 

“Our son and daughter, Queen-Consort,” Ser Laenor said disrespectfully. “Prince Jacaerys Targaryen, the heir's heir, and Princess Aemma Velaryon.” 

Alicent stepped closer, peering at the boy in Rhaenyra's arms. Vindication flooded her. The boys’ hair was wispy and dark atop his head, nose not as aquiline as Ser Laenor's, and nothing like Rhaenyra's. The girl, however, looked exactly like Rhaenyra.

“Hm,” she hummed, gently stroking the dark hair atop the boys hair. “Odd, for a child with two blonde parents to have dark hair, is it not?” She smiled blandly at Rhaenyra and Laenor, both who looked irritatingly serene. 

“Mayhap you should have a maester check that your eyesight is not failing you, Queen-Consort,” Laenor suggested dryly, “As my mother, Princess Rhaenys, has black hair, inherited from her mother the Dower Princess Jocelyn. And the late Queen, Aemma, was an Arryn whose father had dark hair, also.” 

Alicent pursed her lips and smiled tightly. “Indeed. Congratulations to you both.” 

Later, when Alicent deigned to descent to the court for the announcement of the birth of the Princess Rhaenyra's children, cold stares and whispers of the Queen-Consort's cruelty echoed. 

‘Forced Princess Rhaenyra to take her newly born children to her,’ one lady murmured, which made Alicent's hands clench into fists.

‘Insinuated that Prince Jacaerys is not true born when he looks the image of Ser Laenor and Princess Rhaenys,’ one lord muttered, looking at Alicent very judgementally. 

‘Forcing a new mother to separate from her newly born babes? Preposterous. I congratulate Princess Rhaenyra the strength to go herself, and likely in so much pain, the poor thing - to have a step-mother like that, how does she cope?’ 

Alicent stood amongst the courtiers as Viserys proudly announced the birth of Prince Jacaerys Targaryen, and his twin sister, the Princess Aemma Velaryon; both babes and the mother were healthy and hale and resting well, he announced. 

She ground her teeth as the court applauded loudly and gladly for Princess Rhaenyra and her children. The heir and her heirs. 

By right the throne is my sons, and yet they congratulate an unfaithful, selfish little girl? They shall rue the day, I vow it, Alicent thought, plastering on a false smile as she clapped.

***

Rhaenyra introduced her children to her half-siblings two sennights after she gave birth. On Laenor and Rhaenys’ advice, she had become closer with Aegon, Helaena, and little Aemond. She hadn't wanted to, but her husband had bluntly told her not to be sullen and take her angers out on innocent children, and that it would be harder for people to use her siblings against her if they loved her. 

Seeing the wisdom in Laenor's harsh but true words, she had reluctantly spent more time with Aegon, Helaena, and when he was born, Aemond. 

To her disgruntlement, it did not take long for her to grow fond and more than fond of her half siblings. Aegon was a precocious little boy, always quick to flash a cheeky smile. Helaena was quieter, but no less adored. Aemond had been born small and thought to not survive, but he had and he had thrived. 

Rhaenyra had been relieved. 

Aegon was interested in Jacaerys and Aemma for all of a few minutes before he grew bored and wandered off to play. He was only nearly four years old, so it made sense. Helaena, at two, sat shockingly still to hold Aemma for quite a while before her arms tired. Aemond, only a mere several months older than her twins, babbled nonsense and gnawed on a soft toy Rhaenyra had made for him throughout her pregnancy. 

Her Father had been simply delighted to find out she had grown closer to her siblings, often supping with them all and Alicent - when she deigned to actually attend. 

Alicent had grown colder and more embittered as the months passed since Rhaenyra and Laenor's marriage. Many whispered about her audacity to show up in a green gown - a color that everyone knew declared war - and Laenor had bared steel in response. 

Her step-mother, who was a mere four years her elder, had looked as though she had sucked on a lemon when Rhaenyra and Laenor announced they were expecting their first child - children - at a family supper three moons after their wedding. 

Father had been overjoyed, of course, as had Corlys and Rhaenys, but Alicent had merely offered a stiff congratulations and soon left the dinner, blaming a headache for her swift and early departure. 

When Daemon and Laena's secret marriage had been revealed, Alicent had tried to have them punished but father had promptly disagreed and thrown a feast in celebration for their union, infuriating Alicent further.

It had been a clear ploy to once again exiled Daemon, and Laena by extension, and perhaps even insult House Velaryon. 

It had not worked.

***

The months passed swiftly, and Rhaenyra's days were full of her responsibilities as heir and as a mother. Jace and Aemma grew in leaps and bounds, and the eggs chosen by Laenor and Daemon hatched within two moons of their birth, delighting everyone bar Alicent. 

Jacaerys’ hatchling was jade green with peach-pink wings and frills resembling Seasmoke's, indicating relation. Aemma's hatchling was as pale as mist, nearly white, with blood-red wings and frills. They were named Vermax and Arrax respectively, after gods of Old Valyria. 

Alicent had been furious about the king’s decree that only Targaryens in the direct line of succession may claim dragons or eggs. She had insisted that it was her children's birthright to have dragons, but father had merely laughed and shaken his head.

“Dragons are a privilege that we are able to bond with thanks to the magic in our blood, Alicent,” he had told her reproachfully. “Not a birthright. Aegon, Helaena, and Aemond are fourth, fifth, and sixth in line for the throne, my dear, and likely to be pushed back further when Rhaenyra has more children. They shan't have dragons unless they wed any of Rhaenyra’s children.” 

Alicent had not been best pleased and stormed from the room, making Rhaenyra and Laenor share amused looks. 

Six moons after Jace and Aemma's births, Laena went into labor for five hours and delivered two healthy daughters, named Baela and Rhaena. Within a fortnight, Baela was betrothed to Jace with Viserys’ hearty approval. 

Shortly after Jace and Aemma turned one, Rhaenyra discovered she was once again pregnant. She was, of course, overjoyed and promptly told her family, laughing loudly when Laenor threw propriety out the window and kissed her in front of the court, then lifted her and twirled her around.

No one could doubt the Princess and her Consort's love for one another after that showing, which was half the reason Laenor had done it.

Rhaenyra's third child was a son, Laenor’s heir to the Tides, and was named Lucerys Velaryon after a grand-uncle of Corlys’. An egg was chosen for him by Laenor, and the dragon that came forth was like an omen from the gods, as the she-dragon's scales were the color of the sea, her horns silver. House Velaryon’s colors, and Corlys boasted constantly about his grandson and Luke's dragon. She was called Tyraxes by Rhaenyra. 

****

Throughout the next five years, Rhaenyra spent half a year on Dragonstone with her husband, children, and siblings and the other half in Kings Landing, doing her duties as heir in the capital, and that of Lady of Dragonstone while in her family's ancestral castle. 

Daemon, Laena, and their daughters would often join them on Dragonstone, the children all the closest of friends, even her siblings. 

The night things changed between the two married couples was like any other. They remained in the dining hall, imbibing deeply in the finest of wines bought by Daemon when something changed. 

One moment, they were laughing over the antics of the children, and the next Laena and Rhaenyra were kissing and Daemon and Laenor were watching with increasing interest. 

There was no denying that it was a beautiful sight, and Laenor had been part of this world for so long that the incest no longer made him feel squeamish. He was Laenor Velaryon now, son of Rhaenys Targaryen and Corlys Velaryon; wife to Rhaenyra Targaryen, father to Jace, Aemma, and Luke. 

Daemon and he shared a smirk as their wives continued, Laena straddling Rhaenyra as their kisses grew more heated. 

Laenor glanced down as a hand clasped his thigh and traveled upward. He inhaled sharply, desire sluicing through his veins like fire. He glanced at Daemon and smirked, shifting to spread his legs further apart, raising a challenging brow. 

Daemon's eyes darkened, and he turned in his seat to loom over Laenor. “Playing with fire,” he murmured, running a finger down Laenor's cheek. “You truly are quite pretty.” 

Laenor leaned his head against the back of his seat. “As are you, my prince,” he purred, biting his lip to stifle a smirk when Daemon's pupils dilated hugely. 

“Kepus, are you going to fuck my husband?” Rhaenyra asked breathlessly. Laenor peered around Daemon to see his sister kissing and nipping at his wife's next. 

“You're about to fuck my wife, your good-sister, sweet niece,” Daemon retorted, glancing over his shoulder in amusement.  

Rhaenyra’s gasped breathlessly, eyes sliding closed. “Mm, yes I am,” she murmured. 

Daemon faced Laenor once more, grabbing his arms and hauling him to his feet. He turned them, promptly bending Laenor over the table amidst their dishes and cups of wine. He groaned when Daemon pressed against him, grinding his very obvious arousal against his arse. 

“Fuck,” he grunted, shoving the plates and cups out of the way so he could prop himself up on his elbows. Daemon snorted behind him. “Shut up and fuck me, cousin.” 

Daemon yanked his breeches down, tearing the laces in the process, as well as his underthings. “So impatient, little sea dragon,” Daemon purred, dark promise in his voice. 

Laenor shuddered, glancing over his shoulder. Daemon smirked at him then dropped to his knees, spreading Laenor's cheeks apart. He hung his head, cursing fervently, when Daemon's tongue circled his arse slowly, teasingly. 

More cups and plates clattered to the ground, and Laenor looked up to see that Rhaenyra and Laena were both now naked, and Laena was crawling across the table towards him; she raised a questioning brow, and he nodded. 

Laena kissed him, and Laenor promptly kissed her back. He heard Rhaenyra groaning, Daemon pausing to curse loudly at the sight of them kissing. 

“Our pretty Velaryons, sweet niece,” he murmured, spitting obscenely onto Laenor's hole, making him shudder. He felt fingers prodding at him and inhaled sharply through his nose, groaning when Daemon plunged two fingers into him without warning. “Look at his greedy hole, niece.”

Laena leaned back and beckoned Rhaenyra onto the table with her. His wife swiftly lifted herself up and over to him, laying down on her back beneath him. He kissed her, smirking, only to groan and bury his face against her throat when Daemon's fingers twisted inside him and brushed that spot, making his entire body tense then shudder. 

Laena grabbed his cock and stroked him thrice, making him moan helplessly. Then he was inside Rhaenyra, who had prompted Laena to sit on her face. 

Laenor smirked, remembering when he had had Rhaenyra sit on his face, but it swiftly dropped when Daemon thrust his cock into him, making him choke at the abruptness of it. 

“Daemon,” he groaned, especially when Daemon's next thrust pushed him further into Rhaenyra, whose moan was muffled against Laena. 

“Fuck,” Daemon moaned, harshly grabbing Laenor's hips, which was sure to make him bruise. 

Laenor pushed himself onto his hands, bracing himself and thrusting back onto Daemon's cock. Daemon thrust forward, pushing Laenor into Rhaenyra's tight heat, making her moan and whimper Into Laena, who fondled her own breasts as she watched her husband fuck her brother.

He and Daemon found a good rhythm, which was pleasurable for them both, but also Rhaenyra and Laena. He thumbed Rhaenyra's clit when Daemon's cock began pounding at the spot inside that made his eyes squeeze shut from the pleasure. 

Rhaenyra peaked first, her inner muscles clamping around Laenor like a vice, which toppled him over the edge. He emptied into her, groaning as Daemon thrust hard and fast thrice, a hand tangled harshly in his hair, before he stilled and emptied into Laenor with a deep growling groan. Laena moaned loudly, grinding against Rhaenyra's tongue as she came apart herself. 

They were slow to disentangle themselves to clean up, but they did so. Then the four of them silently made their way to he and Rhaenyra's chambers where they collapsed into the huge bed and tangled together, falling asleep as one, each of them touching the other somehow.

***

Their new dynamic continued in private on Dragonstone, and a few times in the capitol - Daemon showed them Maegor’s secret passages that joined their rooms - but they were careful not to let even a whisper of their nights together be found out lest Alicent use it against them. 

A tourney was to be held for the seventh anniversary of Viserys and the Queen-Consort's marriage, but Rhaenyra tramped quite happily over the Consort's happiness and told the king that she was expecting their fourth child, something Laenor was quite chuffed about. He wanted as many children as Rhaenyra would allow.

A lot, it seemed. 

Laenor and Rhaenyra garbed themselves in resplendent red and black silk with gold and silver threading and embroidery upon their dress and doublet respectively, seahorse pins and blue-green sea glass pinned in Rhaenyra's hair and on Laenor's doublet. 

Laena and Daemon wore just as lavish clothing. Laena was draped in silver and blue, as usual, though black and red gems gleamed in her pale hair. Daemon wore black, red, and silver, looking quite handsome. 

Corlys and Rhaenys also attended, both garbed in Velaryon colors. 

Alicent predictably wore emerald green, looking quite out of place amongst the Velaryon and Targaryen colors. Even the children, hers included, wore red and black or teal and silver. Aemma wore Arryn blue as a nod to her namesake, something Laenor was glad to see had Alicent's mouth pinching. 

Especially when she spotted Rhaenyra's swollen belly, accentuated by her tight dress. Maester Gerardys had guessed she was close to four moons, or carrying twins once again, something that made her punch Laenor in the arm for. 

Viserys made a speech, of course he did, briefly mentioning his seven years married, but more so bragging about Rhaenyra's pregnancy. 

Alicent glowered, the poison in her gaze doubling when it was announced that her brother would be riding against a supporter of Rhaenyra's, Fool Frey, and was thoroughly trounced. 

He brought Rhaenyra's hand to his mouth and kissed her palm. “Let the games begin,” he murmured, winking. 

She grinned. 

Chapter Text

Laena was dead. 

Rhaenyra could scarcely believe it, but she had been beside her good-sister when she breathed her last, begging Rhaenyra and Daemon to care for her children before the life faded from her eyes. The moment it had, Vhagar had loosed a horrible mourning cry from the dunes around Driftmark.

Laenor and Daemon had been there as well. Daemon had bowed his head and wept silently, allowing Laenor to draw him close and hold him as they mourned Laena.

Now, Rhaenyra stood with her children - Jacaerys and Aemma seven, Luke six, her second set of twins Viserys and Visenya four, and young Laenora at two - and husband as Vaemond Velaryon said Laena's funeral rights. 

Daemon stood across the outcropping from them, Rhaena and Baela curled into his sides and his newly born daughter Daena in his arms.

Rhaenys and Corlys both stood with him and their granddaughters, heads held high despite the sheer grief likely engulfing them. No parent should outlive their child.

The king and his consort were in attendance with their children. Rhaenyra's three older siblings, Aegon, Helaena, and Aemond, all wore black out of respect for Laena. Alicent and her youngest, Daeron, wore green. 

Behind the Queen-Consort, looking insultingly smug, stood Otto Hightower. Ser Lyonel and his heir, Harwin, had perished in a fire at Harrenhal. 

A very suspicious fire.

Ser Vaemond finished the rites and nodded to his sons, who yanked hard at the ropes holding Laena's casket in place. A tear streaked down Rhaenyra's face as it slid down into the sea with a grating groan of stone on stone.

Only ashes remained in the casket, as Daemon had also given Laena a Targaryen funeral she was due as his wife. Caraxes had burned her body, Vhagar perching on the sand dune near Laena's body; when it had gone up in flames, the Queen of Dragons had loosed a horribly haunting roar. 

Rhaenyra took Laenora From Aemma, whose Velaryon blue-green eyes were bloodshot, and held her daughter named so for Laena and Laenor both on her hip, watching as Jacaerys promptly went to Baela's side, sliding his hand into hers. Luke and Aemma went to Daemon and Rhaena; Rhaena rested her head on Luke's shoulder, and Aemma hugged Daemon's legs. 

Rhaenyra blinked away tears and turned to Laenor, who pressed a kiss to her cheek and linked their arms, leading her across the rocks to Rhaenys and Corlys. No words were exchanged, as they weren't needed. Laenor embraced his mother, and Rhaenyra pulled Corlys into her arms. 

He held her tightly for a moment before releasing her and taking Laenora into his arms, kissing her cheek. “Hello, my sweet girl,” he murmured, making Rhaenyra smile faintly. 

“Lord Corlys? Princess Rhaenys?” A hesitant voice asked, and Rhaenyra turned to see her brothers and sisters, save Daeron, standing there. It had been Aegon to speak, as he was the bolder of his siblings. “We are sorry for your loss and pray Laena joins with her ancestors in Balerion's realm.” 

Corlys smiled and clasped Aegon’s shoulder. “Thank you, Prince Aegon.” 

Helaena smiled a tiny smile, reaching for Rhaenys' hand. She placed a seashell in her palm the exact shade of purple that Laena's eyes had been. “So you might carry her always, princess,” she murmured softly. 

Rhaenys’ face softened, and she squeezed Helaena's hand. “Thank you, darling,” she murmured. 

Everyone moved to a balcony overlooking the Blackwater for refreshment and food, though no one was truly hungry. Rhaenyra watched her children closely, though Laenora was sent off to sleep with her nursemaid alongside Daena, who was a mere four days old. 

“ I am sorry, uncle,” she whispered to Daemon, who managed a feeble smile. She embraced him, rubbing his back. She ignored the suspicious look Alicent was giving her. 

Daemon pressed his forehead to her shoulder for a moment before he straightened and rallied, blinking the dampness from his eyes. “Thank you, niece,” he murmured. 

The Targaryens and Velaryons clustered together, even Viserys, to share in their grief. The mourners who had come to pay their respects approached with words of condolences, which were all accepted with grace. 

The children grouped together around Baela and Rhaena. Rhaenyra was so proud of them for their strength, and of her own children for supporting their cousins. Laenor and she kept their eyes on them, but were also relieved that Aegon was there, as he had proven to be quite the protective uncle over the younger children. 

Alicent remained with her father and sworn shield, a man from the Reach Rhaenyra hadn't bothered to learn the name of. 

Despite the grief that consumed her, Rhaenyra found herself concerned for her father's health. He was not an old man, but his hair was thinning and he breathed with difficulty; he even became breathless after speaking, for the gods sake, and she knew that it was not normal. 

She would have to consult Maester Gerardys about it once she returned to Dragonstone. 

“ Muña .” A hand tugged at her dress, and Rhaenyra looked down with a smile at Visenya and Viserys, her vivacious little twins. 

She crouched in front of them, brushing their pale hair away from their faces. “Yes, my darlings?” 

Viserys rubbed his eye. “We sleepy, Muña ,” he mumbled. 

Rhaenyra glanced up at Laenor, who picked up Viserys with a small, sad smile on his face. She picked up Visenya, who promptly laid her head on her shoulder. “Come on, little dragon, let's get you both to bed.” 

She and Laenor took the children inside to bed, pausing by Rhaenys and Corlys to tell them. The two nodded and offered small, sad smiles before kissing the twins heads and wishing them sweet dreams. 

Rhaenyra reached for Laenor’s hand, smiling faintly at him when he tangled their fingers together and squeezed. The children’s rooms were beside Rhaenyra and Laenor’s, Laenora and Daena sleeping soundly within, a nursemaid knitting by the hearth. She looked up with a smile and stood to curtsey. 

“Hello, Myranda,” Rhaenyra whispered, not wanting to wake the children. 

Myranda bowed her head. “Princess, my prince. Might I help?” 

“No, Myranda, that’s all right,” Laenor told her softly, easing Viserys into his bed. The boy was already asleep, grizzling softly before he settled. 

Rhaenyra placed Visenya into the bed beside Viserys, smiling when she whimpered and rolled over to snuggle against her younger twin brother. She leaned down and kissed their brows, stroking pale hair from their faces. Laenor lifted the quilts over their little bodies and tucked them in, placing their own kisses upon their cheeks. 

In the hall outside the children’s rooms, Rhaenyra took a moment to breathe. Her eyes stung, the loss of Rhaena more painful than a knife to the heart. Gentle fingers stroked her jaw, and she looked up into Laenor’s Velaryon blue-green eyes. She smiled faintly, lips quivering. “ I miss her ,” she murmured softly. 

Laenor pressed his forehead against hers. “ As do I. Let us find Daemon, he needs us.” 

Rhaenyra nodded and tilted her head up to kiss her husband, the love she had for him making her chest feel tight, as though too small to contain what she felt for him. He kissed her firmly, but chastely, and pulled back with a small smile. They tangled their fingers together once again and strode back out onto the balcony, ignoring the piercing glares sent their way by Alicent and her foul father. 

Daemon leaned against the stone wall separating the mourners from a sheer drop into the ocean. He looked thoroughly uncomfortable as her father spoke to him, leaning heavily on a cane. She peered around, spotting Rhaenys gathering the children, even her siblings, and ushering them inside; the sun had begun to set, the hour growing late. Rhaenys met her gaze and nodded, smiling softly. 

Laenor tugged Rhaenyra towards Daemon, who was making a hasty retreat towards the stone stairs that led to the beach. He sneered at Otto Hightower as he passed, uttering something under his breath that made the old man pale some. 

Rhaenyra hid a smile by biting her lip, glancing at Laenor only to see her husband glaring at Otto, making the man look gray like several day old porridge. 

They caught up to Daemon on the beach, the older man facing them only to sigh, jaw clenching over and over. His eyes were lined with tears, and he was clearly struggling to hold them back.

Rhaenyra and Laenor promptly drew him into their arms, murmuring nonsense comfort as they stroked his back and ran their fingers through his hair, which had grown back even longer and silkier after he had shorn it off after the Stepstones wars. 

“ Laena is in Balerion’s realm, uncle,” Rhaenyra murmured softly, kissing his cheek. She pretended not to feel the wetness on her shoulder. Daemon had never dealt with emotions well. “ Mother will care for her. As will uncle Aemon .” 

Daemon shuddered and straightened, wiping his face almost angrily. He sniffed, huffing a humorless laugh. “It’s my fault she's gone. I wanted more children.” 

“Laena would never blame you, cousin,” Laenor insisted, squeezing Daemon’s arm firmly. “She loved you, she still does. We love you, Daemon.” 

Daemon cupped Laenor’s face and kissed him, hard. “ I don’t deserve you. Either of you. I did not deserve Laena, either. But I am a selfish man. ”

Rhaenyra smiled and kissed his cheek. “ As are we, uncle. We will have you for as long as you will have us. ” 

“Forever.”

They made their way to an old, washed up ship on the shore. Their love making was slow and gentle, the kisses soft and deep and full of love and loss and adoration. It felt off, Laena not being with them, but they knew she was there in spirit. Tears were shed between all three of them as they remembered the last time Laena was with them, her stomach swollen and eyes bright with lust and excitement for the babe in her belly. 

When they finished, they lay tangled together, hands stroking one another's skin. 

Then a ferocious, familiar roar rent the peaceful silence. 

Rhaenyra jerked upward, glancing at her husband and uncle. “Vhagar.” 

***

The Hall of Nine was full of people, but Rhaenyra shoved her way through, Laenor and Daemon following her. She spotted her children, heart lurching into her throat when she saw blood on their faces. “Jace, Aemma, Luke!” she hurried to their side, dropping to a crouch to inspect their faces, laenor right next to her; Jace had a bloody nose and a bruise blooming upon his cheek, Aemma’s eyes were bloodshot, one bruising swiftly, and she cradled her arm to her chest. Luke, however, his nose was crooked, clearly broken. 

She stood, glancing over to see Rhaenys and Corlys with Baela and Rhaena, Daemon crouched before them, expression naught but fury. Baela’s lip was split and bloody, and Rhaena had a bruise along her jaw. “What happened, byka zaldrīzoti ?” 

“Daeron tried to claim Vhagar,” Baela told Daemon, her eyes damp. “Aemma told him he wasnt allowed, by order of the king, so he pushed her and when she landed she screamed. Rhaena and I went to help Aemma, but Daeron - he went insane and hit us, and when Jace and Luke came to our defense he attacked them, too!”

“Is this true, son?” Laenor asked Jace, who nodded rapidly. 

“I heard Aemma’s arm crack when she fell on it,” Jace said softly, hiccuping. 

“Where is Daeron?” Daemon demanded, standing tall and fearsome. 

“My prince, Prince Daemon is unlikely to live past the night,” the old Maester of Driftmark said, standing by a low table. Thats when rhaenyra saw him, her youngest half-brother, the one she had never managed to bond with. The one stuck under Alicent’s control. 

He was horribly burned, skin blackened and cracked. He breathed, though with great difficulty, a terrible wheezing rattle coming from his mouth. 

Alicent knelt by the table, head bowed and shoulders trembling. She raised her head and slowly stood, pointing at her son. “My son lays dying, and her daughter is responsible. She ordered that - that beast of hers to burn my son alive. I want her punished, I want the beast slaughtered!”  

“I didn’t!” Aemma cried, tucked firmly against Laenor’s side. “I s-screamed when I fell and Arrax knew I was hurt. He was just protecting me. You can't hurt him, you can't!”

Rhaenyra swallowed and shook her head. “This was a regrettable accident, your grace. Arrax instinctively protected Aemma, as dragons do.” 

Alicent shook her head, her auburn hair flying about wildly. “An accident? Your daughter has murdered my son. Viserys, she is as savage a beast as that dragon of hers - I want them both punished!” 

“Alicent,” Viserys sighed, looking much older than he truly was. “Rhaenyra is correct. Arrax saw Daeron as the threat he was, having harmed Aemma, and acted accordingly. It was a terrible accident. Daeron should not have been trying to claim Vhagar. I have decreed that none but those in the direct line of succession may claim dragons, and our son disobeyed his king’s order. I grieve with you, my dear, but this could have been avoided if Daeron had not sneaked out at dawn to try and claim a dragon he was not entitled to.” 

Alicent swallowed and stared, tears streaming down her face. “That is insufficient. She and her beast have killed our son, Viserys. There is a debt to be paid. I want her and that beast punished.” 

“Touch Aemma or her dragon and your son's death shall be the least of your problems, woman,” Daemon snarled, hand grasping Dark Sister tightly.

Alicent glanced at the maester when he moved abruptly. The maester bowed his head. “Prince Daeron is dead,” he whispered, trembling. 

Alicent gasped, the sound seemingly coming from the depths of her soul, and Rhaenyra felt a pang of sympathy for the woman, if only momentarily. She turned and drew Aemma into her arms, gently stroking her hair. “It’s all right, my love, it’s okay.” 

“I didn't meant to, mama,” Aemma sobbed. 

“ NO! ALICENT!” Viserys suddenly bellowed, impressively loud for such an ill man. 

“Your grace!” Ser Harrold shouted.

Rhaenyra stood when Aemma screamed, whirling just in time to grab Alicent, who had Aegon’s dagger in hand and had been aiming for Aemma.  Laenor swiftly ushered their children out of the way, toward Rhaenys and Corlys, and she spotted Daemon intercepting Ser Gwayne, Alicent's brother and sworn shield, who had hurried after Alicent. 

“Stop this!” Rhaenyra snapped. “You go too far.” 

Alicent gasped, the sound more a sob than anything. “I? My son is dead, and your savage daughter caused it! What have I done but what was expected of me? Forever upholding the kingdom, the family, the law. While you flout it all to do as you please!”

“Alicent, let her go!” Viserys shouted. 

“And now you take my son’s life and even to that you feel entitled!” Alicent snarled hysterically, shoving against Alicent’s hold. 

Rhaenyra bared her teeth, tightening her hold on Alicent’s wrists and shoving back. “Exhausting, wasn't it? Hiding beneath the cloak of your own righteousness.” She sneered at her step-mother. “Now they see you as you are.” 

Alicent shouted and shoved, hard. Agony shot up Rhaenyra’s arm, and she stumbled backward into her father-by-law’s arms, right hand clutching her left arm. Alicent stared at her, mouth agape in shock; her finger’s loosened on the dagger, and the Valyrian steel clanked loudly on the floor in the sudden silence. 

Rhaenyra looked down, feeling oddly woozy at the sight of blood positively gushing from her arm. Nothing cut as deeply as Valyrian steel, especially when wielded by someone who knew not its deadliness. 

“Mother!” Jace cried, teary-eyed. 

Laenor hurried to Rhaenyra’s side, expression colder than ice and fearsome to behold. “I want them gone from our home, father, by dawn. I truly regret Prince Daeron’s death, but it was brought about by his own actions.” 

“I told him not to,” Aegon said in a small voice from the beside hearth. Alicent’s head whipped around, and she glared at him. “I told him it would bring nothing but trouble, but he insisted that as Targaryens it was our birthright to claim a dragon. He said mother told him so.” 

“Ah.” Daemon barked a dry, humorless laugh as he sauntered toward Alicent, who flinched at being the center of attention. “You urged your son to claim a dragon, didn't you? Perhaps it was your guilty conscience that led you to attack the Crown Princess. Your guilty conscience for causing your own son’s death.” 

Alicent flinched, hard, and recoiled. “I-I did no such thing-” 

“No?” Daemon all but purred. “You urged your spawn to claim a dragon, told him it was his birthright, and the first chance he had he did so - my late wife’s own mount, who is mourning her, and on the night of her funeral, no less - and my niece’s dragon protected her when your foul son assaulted her, third in line for the throne, because he got caught.”

“I didn’t -” 

“Is this true, Alicent? Did you urge Daeron to claim a dragon? Any of our children, especially after I forbade it?” Viserys demanded, shaking his head sadly. “What in the gods’ name possessed you?” 

Alicent glanced around helplessly, flinching at the hostile glares sent her way. Only her father and Ser Cole looked to be on her side. Her children, when she looked at them, glanced away, except for Aemond, who glared. 

“Take Alicent to her rooms, she is overcome by grief.” Viserys said, sounding exhausted. He looked at Daeron’s half burned body, closing his eyes and bowing his head. “Prepare my son’s body to be taken back to Kings Landing for a funeral.” 

Corlys helped Rhaenyra into a seat, beckoning the maester over. “My daughter and grandchildren need to be seen to.” 

Rhaenyra leaned back in her seat, smiling wanly at Laenor, who was still glaring after Alicent. She reached for his hand, squeezing his fingers. “We’re okay, Laenor.” 

He leaned down and kissed her, uncaring of their audience, as ever. “ I love you,” 

Rhaenyra smiled. “ And I, you.”    

***

The king, his Consort, and their three children left Driftmark the next day. Laenor breathed a sigh of relief to see The back of them, though he knew his brothers and sister by law would return after Daeron was laid to rest. 

He truly did regret Daeron's death, but the boy had gone against the King's wishes and assaulted his children and nieces. Had insulted Laena's memory by trying to claim Vhagar, who he was sure would have eaten the boy if he continued in his attempts. 

Rhaenyra visited Vhagar shortly after the king and Consort left, murmuring In soft Valyrian as she stroked the huge, mourning creature's nose. Vhagar was familiar with them all, loving them as Laena had loved them, so allowed the touch and comfort. 

Syrax, Seasmoke, and Caraxes nestled against Vhagar, the smaller dragons comforting their kin. It was clear Vhagar appreciated it, nuzzling the younger dragons and grooming their scales like a fussy mother. 

Rhaenyra stepped back, smiling sadly as Syrax rubbed her cheek against Vhagar, rumbling comfortingly.  “ They all miss her as we do ,” she murmured, letting Laenor wrap his arms around her. 

He kissed her temple. “ Vhagar has lost many riders. Visenya, Baelon, now Laena. I wonder how she copes.” 

Rhaenyra hummed, glancing to the side when Daemon and Rhaenys stepped out with the children. Aemma's arm was wrapped tightly, the bone having been broken when she fell on her arm awkwardly. Jace, Baela, and Rhaena's bruises were worse in the light, and Luke's broken nose had caused his eyes to bruise badly. 

A shrill shriek echoed, Arrax crawling from the sandstone caves behind the older dragons. He promptly went to Aemma and sniffed at her intensely, growling fiercely when he came to her arm. 

“ I'm okay, Arrax ,” she soothed, petting his pale neck. 

Rhaenys approached, smiling sadly at them and the dragons. “How about a flight?” She asked. 

Rhaenyra smiled and nodded. “That sounds good, mother,” she murmured. 

The dragon keepers helped the children saddle their dragons, their instructions patient and gentle. Vermax and Arrax were big enough to ride due to being allowed to grow freely and unchained on Dragonstone. 

Aemma promised to be careful, as her arm was broken, but beamed giddily as she mounted an impatient Arrax. 

Jace took Luke with him, as Tyraxes was still too small to mount. Rhaenyra had Viserys and Visenya strapped to her chest, and Laenora was strapped to Laenor's.

Daemon went to help Baela and Rhaena mount Caraxes with him, the Blood Wyrm nuzzling the girls in greeting. But before Baela could mount Caraxes, Vhagar snarled and intercepted her, lowering her huge head and purring lowly. 

Everyone held their breath as Baela hesitantly stroked Vhagar’s face, slowly making her way to the netting hanging from her side. She fearlessly climbed up, having done so half a hundred times, and settled upon the Queen of Dragon's back. 

Daemon beamed proudly, especially when Baela shouted for Vhagar to fly, and the old girl immediately obeyed, spreading her huge, scarred wings. 

Rhaenyra shared a look with Laenor, who had tears in his eyes. “Let's fly,” she said over the cheers of the children. 

He kissed her. “Lets.” 

***

Aegon, Aemond, and Helaena returned to Driftmark shortly after Daeron was laid to rest by boat with Viserys’ blessing. They, Rhaenyra, Laenor, and their children remained on Driftmark for six moons. It was cearly appreciated by Rhaenys and Corlys, who thoroughly enjoyed the joy and happiness brought to their home by the children. 

Rhaenyra also discovered she was once again with child, something that made Rhaenys and Corlys roll their eyes fondly. They were more than aware of Rhaenyra, Laenor, Daemon, and Laena's escapades, and had accepted them wholeheartedly. 

Rhaenys and Corlys even ignored the fact that Daena was entirely Velaryon, barely any Targaryen traits within her, or how Viserys and Visenya were entirely Targaryen, with none of Laenor's looks. 

Corlys had looked utterly stupefied to learn that his children were intimate, but Rhaenys had merely raised a brow. “They're half Targaryen, Corlys.” 

Corlys had sighed. “You Targaryens,” he had complained fondly. 

It was hard, without Laena, but they managed - somehow. The children were resilient, their grief there but not the focal point of their days. The older children spent their days on the beach playing, Aegon hovering over them like a protective dragon, making sure the little ones were okay. 

Jace and Baela were very close, as they had known their whole lives that they were betrothed. Luke and Rhaena were adorably shy around one another, blushing and giggling whenever their hands brushed. 

It was Aemma and Aemond that shocked Rhaenyra the most. Her brother gravitated toward her eldest daughter, and her daughter seemed to know she had her uncle wrapped around her finger. But she never took advantage - well, not much. 

“Like mother, like daughter,” Rhaenys said dryly, making Laenor and Daemon roar with laughter. 

Rhaenyra pouted, but her eyes shone with amusement. 

Laena's presence was missed, but she was remembered fondly and often. Memories of good times were shared, Baela and Rhaena hanging off Rhaenyra's words of how their mother was in her youth. 

Baela flourished as a dragonrider, bonding closely with Vhagar and spending more time in the air than even Laena had. 

Rhaenyra made sure to spent time with her siblings. Aegon had grown to enjoy archery, of all things, so Rhaenyra had found an expert bowman from Tarth to teach him, and her brother flourished under Arianne Tarth's tutelage. 

Helaena was fond of creatures large and small, often found with some sort of insect in her palm. Rhaenyra would let her talk endlessly about them as she braided her hair. 

Aemond was like a miniature Daemon, fascinated with Valyrian history and mythology. He would study Rhaenyra and her bond with Syrax, beyond awed that her Golden Lady could sense her emotions and orders without need for verbal command. She would take him flying, too, for hours on end. Syrax was as fond of him as she was of Rhaenyra's children.

The dynamic between Rhaenyra, Laenor, and Daemon shifted without Laena there, but did not end. They loved one another, but Laena being missing was like having a hole in one's heart, and it would take time to heal. 

Rhaenyra's pregnancy progressed well and swiftly. She grew so large so quickly that she threatened Laenor and Daemon with bodily harm if she gave birth to twins again, or gods forbid triplets. Rhaenys had overheard and laughed long and loud, the first time since Laena's funeral.

Ravens came from Alicent, demanding her children return home. Aegon wrote back, to Viaerys, and requested he and his siblings be allowed to remain, and to travel back to Dragonstone for the birth of Rhaenyra’s next babe.

Viserys responded with utter delight, remarking that he would meet them on Dragonstone in two weeks time to be there for the birth of his next grandchild. 

Rhaenyra, though heavy with child, flew Syrax to Dragonstone with Aemond behind her. Helaena and Rhaena flew with Baela, and Aegon with Daemon and Daena; Luke and Laenora flew with Laenor, and Corlys with Rhaenys, both of whom had Viserys and Visenya strapped to their chests. Jacaerys and Aemma flew alone, their dragons big enough to carry them over the short distance to Dragonstone. 

The king and, unfortunately, the Queen Consort awaited them at Dragonstone. They had timed their arrival to coincide with the king's, and he was delighted to see them all again. 

Rhaenyra dismounted with Laenor’s help, her husband stroking her belly and kissing her, uncaring of propriety. She smiled against his lips when the children complained and mimed vomiting. 

“ Muña ,” Jace complained, though he looked windswept and happy.

Rhaenyra ruffled his dark hair and leaned over to kiss his brow, pausing when she felt water gush from between her legs. 

She slowly straightened and looked calmly at Laenor. “The babe is coming.”

Chapter Text

Rhaenyra grasped Rhaenys’ hand, hard, and groaned low in her throat as yet another pain swept through her. No matter how many times she gave birth, the pain never lessened. It was agonizing, but having her children was beyond worth it. Her fear of the birthing bed had not lessened, but she prayed every day she was pregnant that she and the child - or children - in her womb would survive. 

Rhaenys walked with her as she paced restlessly, her free hand cupping her hugely swollen stomach. Her midwives had hesitantly told her they believed there to be two babes in her belly, something she had paled when told. Giving birth once was hard enough, twins were just torturous.

“Princess, we must check your progress,” the head midwife, Anya, murmured. 

Rhaenyra nodded, waddling painfully over to the birthing chair, a contraption her midwives had ordered built. Women in Essos had used them for centuries. She sat, Anya pushing her shift up and over her knees. She knelt and peered at Rhaenyra’s sex, brows raising. “What is it?” 

“You’re ready to push, princess,” Anya said, gently maneuvering Rhaenyra’s legs further apart. “On the next pain.” 

Rhaenys ran a hand over Rhaenyra’s sweaty hair and kissed her brow. “Squeeze my hand as hard as necessary, daughter,” she murmured. 

Rhaenyra did just that when a pain swept through her, making the muscles of her abdomen clench hard. She tucked her chin and made sure not to clench her teeth, shouting as she pushed as hard as she was able. Anya tapped her leg, indicating she should stop, and Rhaenyra gasped and panted, leaning her head against Rhaenys. 

“You’re doing well,” Rhaenys murmured softly. 

Rhaenyra huffed a laugh, wincing as pain once again swept through her. She bore down, shouting through the pain, and felt a tear roll down her cheek when the horrendous pressure between her legs eased, and a babe’s unhappy wail echoed through the room. She looked down, sobbing when she saw her babe being passed into the hand of one of Anya’s assistants. 

“A prince, your grace,” Anya declared, turning back to Rhaenyra. “Though another babe is coming.” 

“I’m going to kill Laenor,” she gasped, bearing down once more. This babe came far more swiftly than her first, and was yet another boy. Anya handed him off, and Rhaenyra tracked the midwives holding her sons with a gimlet eye. 

Rhaenys chuckled and kissed Rhaenyra’s temple, uncaring of the sweat covering her skin. She winced when an extremely sharp pain lanced through her, and she looked at Anya, whose mouth was agape. “What is it?” she demanded, knowing it wasnt the afterbirth. 

“A third babe,” Anya whispered. 

“Triplets?” Rhaenys queried, stunned. 

Rhaenyra groaned, pushing hard. “ I’m going to fucking kill Laenor!” 

***

Laenor winced when he heard his wife’s shrill scream, slanting an unimpressed look toward Daemon, who looked amused despite the fear and worry in his eyes. He, too, worried for Rhaenyra. Whenever she took to the birthing bed, he was full of fear and worry that his wife - whom he loved - and the babe wouldn't live.

He ignored the pinched expression of the queen-consort, who had muttered that it was improper for them to be able to hear Rhaenyra giving birth, especially for the children, but Viserys had either ignored her or not heard her complaints, souring her already sour face, due to his concern. 

Laenor had the servants bring refreshment and finger foods, but he ignored it all. He was too worried. He paced restlessly, nearly falling over when he heard two babes wailing, and actually did stumble when a third wail echoed from the birthing chamber. 

“Triplets?” Daemon breathed, eyes wide. “Rhaenyra is going to geld you, cousin.” 

Laenor eyed the stone steps to their chambers warily, jolting when Anya appeared. “How is my wife? The babes?” 

“All healthy, though tired, my prince,” Anya told him, smiling warmly and fondly. “The princess wishes for you to meet your children.” 

Laenor promptly bolted up the stairs, taking two at a time, and hurried down the hall and into their chambers. Rhaenyra lay back on their bed, two babes tucked into her arms and feeding. Mother held the third, gazing at them lovingly. 

“Nyra,” Laenor breathed, beyond relieved, but hesitant to approach. 

“Come and meet your sons and daughter,” Rhaenyra told him, looking amused at his hesitance. 

“Sons and a daughter,” Laenor murmured softly, padding closer. 

“Rhaegar, for mother,” Rhaenyra said, smiling when Mother’s head snapped up, eyes wide. “Aemon, for Mother’s father, and Aelora.” 

“Rhaenyra,” Rhaenys murmured, voice breaking as tears filled her eyes. “Thank you, daughter.” 

A knock at the door made Laenor turn, even as he took Aemon into his arms. The queen-consort’s maid, Talya, stood there looking worried. “The queen wishes to see them.”

“Tell her grace,” Laenor began coldly, “That if she wishes to meet her step-grandchildren, she can come to us. My wife has just delivered triplets and will not be moving from her bed until she is cleared by the midwives and Maester Gerardys.” 

Talya’s throat bobbed as she swallowed, but she curtseyed and fled, taking the message to the consort. 

Laenor faced his mother and wife. “ She needs to be dealt with. Immediately.”  

***

Rhaenyra was told remain abed for two days before she was allowed to move. She had pouted at Maester Gerardys, who had merely smiled at her and bowed before taking his leave. 

Shortly after the triplets' birth, the children were brought in with Corlys and her father and siblings so they might meet their new family members.

The queen was not with them. 

“Triplets!” Father crowed, delighted. “Congratulations, daughter, Laenor.” 

Rhaenyra smiled as she gently rocked Aelora, who was sleeping soundly. “Thank you, father,” she murmured. 

The children clustered around the bed, eyes wide as they peered at her two boys sleeping on the feather mattress and her girl in her arms. Jace and Aemma gingerly crawled onto the bed and picked up their brothers, both having ample experience in holding babes. 

“What are their names, mother?” Luke asked, perching beside her to smile at Aelora. 

“Rhaegar, Aemon, and Aelora,” she told them, gesturing to which boy was which; Rhaegar's hair was curled like Laenor's, whereas Aemon's was paler like his namesakes had been. 

Corlys beamed and held his hands out for Aelora, making Rhaenyra chuckle. She handed over her daughter carefully, sharing an amused look with Laenor when the feared Seasnake promptly began cooing at his granddaughter. 

“Rhaegar for aunt Rhaenys?” Aegon asked, managing to take his nephew from Jace, who pouted but allowed it. 

“Yes, and Aemon for his grandsire the pale prince,” Rhaenyra explained, smiling brightly as her family cooed over her children. 

Visenya, Viserys, and Laenora crawled into the bed and cuddled up to her, making her heart melt. “Hello, my sweet dragons.” She kissed their heads and held them close. 

“Mama has lots'a babies,” Viserys said solemnly, making everyone laugh. 

“Yes, my love, I do,” she said, stroking his hair. “And I love each and every one of you.” 

Father smiled brightly, now cradling Aemon in his arms. “Beautiful children, all of them,” he declared. 

“Thank you, your grace,” Laenor said, smiling widely. 

Daemon bullied his way to Corlys’ side, hands out expectantly. Corlys scowled, reluctantly handing Aelora over. “ Littlest dragon ,” he cooed, bouncing her gently. Daena was being held by Baela, and tugged at her father's breeches. Daemon crouched so she could look at her cousin. “This is your cousin Aelora, Daena.” 

Daena, only almost seven moons old, beamed a toothless grin and pressed a slobbery kiss to Aelora's forehead, making Rhaenyra's heart swell. 

Rhaenyra leaned back against the mound of pillows Laenor had fluffed for her, watching as her newborn babes were passed around to her children, nieces, siblings, and parents and felt as though her heart could burst; it was so full of love and light. 

***

Alicent fumed in her chambers, alone. She had demanded the children be brought to her, but that Godsforsaken sword swallower had denied her. Her, the Queen! 

Then, her husband and children had trotted off to meet the three bastards birthed by that - that whore! 

She refused, on principle, to go and look at the spawn of that girl. She was still grieving her dear Daeron, who had been callously murdered by her foul stepdaughters' spawn, Aemma . 

The girl was as beastly as her dragon. Alicent often comforted herself by imagining the pale creature being butchered in front of the girl in punishment for Daeron's death. 

He had been so brave, trying to claim the monstrous Vhagar only to be stopped by the whores filthy brood and the ungodly rogue's daughters. 

Even her children had been drawn into the princess’ poisonous web of lies and deceit. It pained her so, to see her poor, naive children be blinded by false love and care when she, and everyone else, knew that Rhaenyra would slaughter them all without blinking to ensure she sat the throne, to ensure her claim went uncontested.

Rhaenyra was the epitome of greed and selfishness and gluttony, parading about with her brood of bastards and ever widening hips and thickening waist.

Alicent smoothed her hands over her flat stomach, smirking faintly. She had lost all the weight she had carried during her pregnancies and remained flat of stomach and trim of waist. Rhaenyra had begun to look like a prized sow in silk.

The girl had spent years trampling decency and tradition beneath her feet. Any good, law abiding and pious woman would have gracefully handed over the title and position as heir to her brother, but Rhaenyra's greed knew no bounds.

There were also whispers that the Princess and her husband had allowed others into their bed, shaming the ancient vows of marriage. Alicent had had to pray fervently when she heard from a servant that the Lady Laena and Rogue Prince had been seen leaving their chambers at early hours. 

Alicent just knew the rumors were true. Rhaenyra was as sinful and whorish as ever, the Rogue Prince having long ago corrupted her, and, well, it was expected of a godless, heathenish sword swallower like Laenor Velaryon. 

It was some miracle that her stepdaughters' bastards looked like her. But expected, since Alicent was absolutely sure that the Rogue Prince was the children's true father. 

Alicent's lip curled in disgust at the thought. Her husband's family's customs disgusted her. To wed brother sister…it made her stomach lurch in disgust. 

She knew, though, to add even more legitimacy to Aegon's claim - his birthright - she would have to let him marry Helaena. It went against all her lessons, the word of the Seven, but she knew it was a necessary evil and the Seven were sure to forgive her and her children.

It was their righteous path Alicent was on. The Seven could no longer tolerate the existence of the abominable, sinful heathens that were the Targaryens and their monstrous beasts.

Alicent's path was righteous, and she would be successful. 

***

A week after the triplets' births, Laenor strapped Aelora to his chest while Daemon and mother did the same with Rhaegar and Aemon; Rhaenyra had wanted to join them, but she was still healing. 

Aelora was a sweet, quiet little thing. Rhaegar had discovered his voice early, shrieking loudly whenever he was hungry, his underclothes soiled, or even when he merely wished to be held. Aemon was a bit of both, but already his curiosity was clear in his violet eyes.

Seasmoke crawled closer, crooning softly as he snuffled at Aelora's head. Laenor smiled fondly, stroking the mist-blue dragon's nose. “ This is my daughter, Aelora ,” he murmured, rolling his eyes when Seasmoke snorted softly.

Daemon and mother introduced Rhaegar and Aemon to their dragons, as well; Caraxes clicked and cooed, his whole, serpentine body shivering with excitement. Meleys sniffed delicately at Aemon's head and melted to the floor, gazing at his son with adoring, molten eyes.

Dragons never ceased to amaze Laenor. Their intelligence was unparalleled; sometimes they seemed even more intelligent than some people he knew, which wasn't hard, especially when it came to the queen-consort. 

Mounting Seasmoke had become second nature to Laenor, who tried to spend as much time as possible flying. It was the most freeing experience of his life - lives - and he adored his dragon beyond reason. 

After strapping himself in, he didn't even have to verbally command Seasmoke to take off, as he simply knew through the bond they shared, pale wings flaring and thrusting downward, hard; they steadily climbed into the air, Seasmoke loosing a happy, gleeful roar. 

Caraxes and Meleys soon joined them, echoing Seasmoke’s roar. 

From dragonback, Laenor spotted a spot of green on a balcony connected to the rooms given to the king and queen and smirked deviously, purposely having Seasmoke fly passed with a deep, guttural roar; Alicent stumbled back, hand pressed to her chest, as they whipped passed, her green skirts flaring about her ankles. 

Her face was pale, mouth open in shock, and Laenor gave her a jaunty wave as Seasmoke rose up and over the castle, the midmorn sun breaking through the clouds and smog