Chapter Text
Alyssa curses the entire flight to King's Landing.
She curses at the fleet, at Viserys, at the dead pirates, and every seagull that crosses her path.
She curses the Red Keep as it appears on the horizon and curses King's Landing as the stench hits her.
Her knees curse her as she lands on the walkway, scaring the two guards on duty.
...
"Alyssa!" Viserys sighs warily between his wheezes to catch his breath. "Must all your entrances be this dramatic?"
"There is no such thing as a subtle entrance with a dragon, Viserys - but I don't expect you to know that." Alyssa snarked and walked up to him. Viserys opened his arms, going in to embrace her but instead received a harsh shove to the chest. King Viserys stumbled back a few steps, making the nearby knights and Kingsguards reach for their swords, but he manages to regain his footing and waves them off. Alyssa is glowering at him, her hands at her hips and her face still smudged with soot and ash. "Your solar, now - or I yell at you in front of your subjects."
"Sister-" He tries to start but is cut off with her raised hand. Embarrassingly, he flinches back, bracing himself for another hit.
"Your solar or the Throne Room - choose." Alyssa pressed, her angry glare not diminishing.
He saw Otto and Alicent arrive out of the corner of his eyes and for a second wished he could call Otto to deal with this, but this was not an angry Stormlands lord that could be reminded of the King's wishes - this was his sister. His younger sister. The one he had dragged into the throne room chained and she managed to get those shackles off in less than five minutes. The one that rode a dragon that was currently circling above the keep like a warning.
She had handed him the ability to choose now - and she would not give it again.
"Solar." He said meekly, bowing his head as he turned around and started walking like a child that had been caught stealing sweets before dessert.
Otto made to intervene catching them as they walked through the heavy doors. "Your grace, perhaps I should accompany you-"
"I will not harm my brother physically, Otto. I will simply remind him of the burdens of being King - I am sure you were not happy with his stupid decision to send an armada to the Stepstones either." Alyssa taunted, the hit landing on both the Hand and the King. She suddenly stopped walking and grabbed Viserys' arm gently. "Actually, this matter concerns more than just you, brother and I don't trust you to relay the whole story correctly. Call the court, I'm sure they will all be happy to hear of the victory of House Targaryen of Dragonstone over the Crabfeeder and his men."
The servants that had been walking along the hall and the nervous knights that followed the King paused at her words. Viserys' mouth gaped open and whispers followed as others relayed the news to new arrivals and hurried off to tell others.
Viserys did as he was told - as always.
King Viserys Targaryen sits on the Iron Throne, his Hand at his right along with his wife and little Aegon while the rest of the Small Council stood to the left.
The rest of the nobility gathered at the sides, some excited to hear news from the war and others eyeing their surroundings with apprehension - many had been there or had heard of what happened the last time Alyssa Targaryen visited the Red Keep, so it was better to be safe than sorry.
The great doors to the throne room opened and all eyes turned to the lone figure that walked in, back straight and head held high. Alyssa Targaryen's dark riding habit was worn under steel armor pieces that still had smudges of ash on them, and a dark metal headpiece held back the princess' golden hair away from her face, the length of it gathered into the intricate Valyrian braids that Queen Visenya was known to favor. It was very similar to what they had seen Princess Rhaenyra wear when she interrupted the hunt less than a week ago.
Viserys had never been one for violence. He had no talent with swords or lances, so he was never made a squire, he had no military training, even in hunts others had to hold a beast down in order for him to actually kill it, and that often took a couple of tries. He liked tourneys and jousts and that was mostly because of the pageantry and public approval more than anything.
His siblings, however much it displeased him to admit, were natural fighters, much like their parents had been. Daemon was knighted at sixteen and given Dark Sister, Alyssa bested all the knights in a melee at eighteen, they both gained reputations as ruthless fighters around the Known World.
War was unthinkable to him. He was young when his Uncle Aemon went to defend the Stormlands and was felled down by an arrow, and that was the extent of armed conflict he had seen during his grandfather's reign. Viserys was stubborn to keep that hard-earned peace, and yet it seemed his siblings and the rest of his family were doing everything in their power to render his efforts moot.
"It is my honor to announce that under the leadership of Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen, the Stepstones are now free of pirates. At the age of six-and-ten and with arrows being shot at her, she burned over a hundred pirates and destroyed half their ships." Alyssa announced to the gathered court with an abundance of pride. "Princess Rhaenyra led the aerial attack on their ships with Lady Laena and myself while Prince Daemon led the fighting men on land and Lord Corlys captained the naval assault. Working together, we have managed to completely eradicate the foreign invaders and bring peace to our coasts once more."
Viserys is flooded with an emotion that is equal parts pride and revulsion. They turned his baby girl into a killer too.
His beautiful daughter, the Realm's Delight, now had blood on her hands.
Alyssa did not seem to notice, or did not care, about his inner storm as she changed subject. "In accordance with the laws of ownership established by Aegon the Conqueror, if a territory is left unused and undefended by its owner and another claims it, then the original owner has no recourse to reclaim it." She recited, turning to the Master of Laws. "Is that correct, Lord Strong?"
"Aye, it is." The Master of Laws nodded from his place.
"Adding to that, the Triarchy had taken full control of the Stepstones before we killed them all. There was no previous lord or warden of the Stepstones, and the ownership of the islands has long been disputed between Westeros, Dorne and the Free Cities. Having led the efforts to eliminate the Triarchy, it is only right that Princess Rhaenyra absorbed the Stepstones into part of her territory by right of conquest. The men have proclaimed her Queen of the Narrow Sea; and her first act was to name Prince Daemon Targaryen as Lord of Stepstones and negotiations with Dorne are to begin posthaste."
A rumble of comments were heard from the assembled nobles, but none as loud as the offended guffaw that came from the Lord Hand. “To proclaim herself Queen while she is neither the ruling monarch nor heir to the throne is preposterous-!"
"No more preposterous than sending your maiden daughter to a married man's chambers, Lord Hand." Alyssa said primly with a predatory grin, pointedly ignoring the blushing young Queen and the laughs disguised as coughs from the courtiers, and then turned to the King. "Worry not, brother, you are still King and the title is only that: a title. But it does bring me to my next point: in compliance with the laws of conquest and the annulment contract signed by yourself and Lady Aemma Arryn, the tariffs and tolls collected by said garrisons will go to Dragonstone alone. The new fares that will be tallied on Westerosi ships will be sent shortly."
Lord Beesbury goes pale once he realizes what that means. Ser Steffon kept an eye on him for fear that the old man would collapse. None of that mattered to King Viserys as he sat on the Iron Throne and imagined his daughter - not grown as he had seen her during Aegon's hunt, but as a babe and a small little girl that struggled to hold the pitcher correctly when she first became a cupbearer - atop her golden hatchling, who just yesterday had become big enough to carry her, being sieged by arrows and scorpions. She was no Queen Rhaenys or Prince Aemon to send into battle! And they rode fully grown dragons and were felled down anyway!
"Is Rhaenyra alright?" Viserys finally asked, his voice almost extinguished by anguish.
"She was not harmed and she remains regal as ever. You should be proud, Viserys - we certainly are. Rhaenyra has shown to be a decisive leader and did not leave the fight even when her own life was in peril - she was like Queen Visenya Come Again." Princess Alyssa praised her niece, wanting especially to make sure that Viserys heard that she led the fighting men.
Viserys smiled widely and pushed himself upright with some difficulty. "My daughter has made us proud, indeed!" He laughed, only to be interrupted by a sharp cough. "A feast- no! - three days of feasting to celebrate the joyous tidings my sister has brought us! Another victory for House Targaryen!" He called, much to the surprise of the nobility and the displeasure of Princess Alyssa and some lords from the Stormlands.
With what right did this idiot call to celebrate the end of a war he did not participate in?
He had to grab onto he nearest knight's arm to stand upright. "Have ravens sent to Driftmark and Dragonstone! I want everyone together to celebra-"
"Are you out of your fucking mind, Viserys?" The princess did not yell. She did not shout. It was a low, almost growled question. "You expect everyone to leave the territory we just fought and bled for because you want to celebrate a victory you did not ensure?"
"You are talking to the King, Princess-" Otto Hightower tried to police her tone but was quickly silenced by a roar from the Cannibal.
Alyssa glared at the man. "I will speak to my brother however I fucking please." She then turned to Viserys, who was looking at his shoes and fiddling with his robe like a scolded child. "You are lucky we did not burn your armada the second we saw it. If you really wanted to aid in the fight, then you should have sent aid to the Stormlands, who were hit the hardest and had their women and girls taken and their villages ransacked. Instead, you wasted resources and men by sending them to where they were neither wanted or needed."
Silence reigned over the throne room as the nobility watched their King be given a verbal lashing by his younger sister. Such a spectacle would have been unthinkable in the time of Jaehaerys, but it was glaringly obvious to all that King Viserys was nowhere near the previous monarch.
"I will leave in the morning, I don't intend to spend more time in this shithole than I need to." Alyssa said finally to her brother. She looked around the gathered nobles and found the eyes of Lord Caswell. "Are my rooms ocuppied, Lord Steward?"
Lord Caswell stood at attention and bowed his head. "No, your highness. I shall see that they are readied."
"Thank you, my lord." Alyssa then locked eyes on the Grand Maester, who had not forgotten that she had stabbed him in the shoulder and was currently attempting to hide behind Ser Otto. "I see you, Mellos - I am not going to stab you again unless you give me reason to. I just need one of your acolytes to send a few ravens for me."
"I...," the Grand Maester Mellos looked at the Hand, who only glared at him for showing such weakness in front of the court. The man gulped and nodded. "Of course, Princess."
"Good."
She didn’t wait for the King to dismiss her. She simply turned her back to the throne and walked out.
…
My dearest husband,
I’ve arrived safely at King’s Landing and will depart for Dragonstone after breaking my fast tomorrow, barring any delays.
See you in Dragonstone with all our household (hopefully) in one piece.
All my love,
Alyssa
Bloodstone - The Stepstones
With Daemon staying behind at the Stepstones to supervise the building of the first garrison and burn away any scouts, Rhaenyra and Laena were free to return to their homes.
Rather, Daemon and Laena all but had to force Rhaenyra to mount Syrax and go back to Dragonstone. Rhaenyra was insistent on staying until Daemon was fully healed, even though the healers still stationed on Bloodstone agreed that he was in no danger of dying or festering, and Daemon was equally insistent on her flying to Dragonstone to continue ruling her seat. Laena thought it was like watching two equally stubborn goats clash heads, though she refrained from making such a comparison outloud.
"I am your liege lady and I could have your heads for daring to disobey my orders." Rhaenyra countered almost petulantly as her uncle and cousin refused to let her walk back to their tents.
"Your mother must be missing you terribly and there is nothing left for either of us to handle here." Laena tried to appeal to her love of Aemma Arryn and the growing sense of practicality she had been cultivating as a Lady Paramount.
Daemon took another approach entirely, pulling Rhaenyra into a hug so her head rested right on his chest, where she could hear his heartbeat. "Do you hear that, zaldristos? I am still alive and I don't plan on greeting Balerion any time soon." He smelled a whiff of ash and lemon and something uniquely Rhaenyra that had his own heart beating faster, much to his embarrasment.
Rhaenyra felt Daemon's heart beating and breathed a little easier, only to blush deeply when she felt his breath so close to her ear and cheek. "I still don't want to leave you alone."
"I won't be alone. I'm surrounded by men loyal to me and trusted healers, not to mention Caraxes will not be going anywhere." Rhaenyra shot him a tired glare that looked an awful lot like Alyssa's. "Oh, I see. You are concerned I will do something reckless."
"And will you?"
"Will you leave if I swear to not do anything arrogantly stupid?"
Rhaenyra pouted for a second but nodded, prompting Daemon to step back and place his fist over his heart and bow his head. "I swear upon the ashes of my parents to return to you in one piece and not do anything that might endanger my life without good reason."
”Honor and bragging rights are not a good reason. Just so we are clear.” The Lady of Dragonstone pointed out as she nodded again, allowing him to rise to his feet.
Daemon smirked. “As you say, my liege.” He jerked his head towards Syrax, who was being preened by Caraxes. “I suggest you leave before the Bloodwyrm gets too comfortable with your Golden Lady and doesn’t allow you to take flight.”
Rhaenyra rolls her eyes affectionately and goes to hug Laena. “Thank you for everything, cousin.” She then lowers her voice so that only Laena can hear. “Keep an eye on him, please?”
“Of course.” Laena whispers before she lets go and curtsies. “It was an honor to serve, my princess. I’d like to see my father attempt to betroth me now that he has seen what I could do to his fleet.”
Daemon snorts. “I would pay good coin to see Corlys’ reaction to that. Please let me know beforehand, Lady Laena, we might even make it a paid event and make a profit.”
Rhaenyra watches an easy smile pass between them and something bitter and burning curdles in her chest. It plants her feet to the ground and prevents her from moving towards her dragon. For some reason, she is afraid to leave - afraid of what could happen once she is away and they are left alone.
The ground shakes and suddenly Syrax has detached herself from Caraxes and gone up to them, her snout lingering over Rhaenyra’s shoulder and eyes suddenly locked on the other two dragonriders. The she-dragon breathes out a sulphuric warning, startling Laena into taking a step back and making Daemon raise his hands towards Syrax.
“Syrax may think we are still in battle and confuse friends with foes.” Daemon warns her, keeping the dragon’s attention on him. “Caraxes and Vhagar have acted similarly in the past. The keepers at Dragonstone will know what to do, but be ready for her to be difficult.” He speaks more softly to Syrax. “Lykiri, Syrax. Lykiri. We are safe, your rider is safe.”
Syrax huffs as if she doesn’t believe him, but stops huffing at them. Rhaenyra counts it as a victory that Laena is still eyeing the golden dragon with trepidation. She climbs onto Syrax’s saddle and pets her scaly neck in thanks, though now that the moment has passed she feels a little off for scaring Laena, who has been nothing but a loyal friend for over three years. Rhaenyra thinks that she’s should get her something nice for the victory feast they will be hosting at Dragonstone the following fortnight, once the patrols for the Stepstones and the building of a garrison is underway and they can have a proper celebration with their bannermen and soldiers.
Rhaenyra takes to the skies without actually saying goodbye.
Dragonstone
While the Lady Paramount of Dragonstone was finishing a war, ravens arrived for her ladies-in-waiting by the dozen. Some of them were from their concerned families asking about the war on the Stepstones, others were from vendors and business folk from their various connections around the continent, and an ever increasing number of them came from suitors.
Now that the War on the Stepstones was over and Rhaenyra emerged victorious, Aemma made sure to write to the girls’ families detailing their valuable contributions to the war effort, something that did not go unnoticed for the unmarried men of the nobility. A letter of reference from the former Queen that praised their abilities in managing a household through a crisis? It made their prospects reach unprecedented heights.
Johanna Westerling, who already boasted an uncle in the Kingsguard, was surprised to see a letter from Lord Jason Lannister addressed to her, waxing poetic about all the gold he possessed and all the luxuries he would bestow upon her as his wife. They had all heard of Rhaenyra’s unpleasant encounter with the man and it seemed that he truly had no further personality than his pride and his family’s wealth.
“Good. I can work with that.” Johanna said as she showed the letter to the other young ladies at breakfast.
“Are you certain? Men like that won’t like their wife ordering them around.” Sabitha Vypren pointed out.
“The trick is to let them believe they are the ones giving the orders. A few well-placed suggestions here and there, some specific and very carefully worded questions, and calling them ‘my lord’ and they will do what you want.” Johanna relayed. “That’s what my mother advised me anyway.”
Catelyn Strong snorted as she bit into her pastry. “Gods, men really are useless.”
Multiple murmurs of assent echoed through the table.
“Don’t you think it is suspicious that he was rejected by Princess Rhaenyra not one fortnight ago and he has already proposed to another?” Melissa Beesbury questioned.
Maris Baratheon, who has just received news of the birth of yet another younger sister and is preparing herself for her parents’ possible annulment, leans into sarcasm. “Well… if the King can entertain potential spouses minutes after an annulment, why should other lords wait to propose to another lady?”
Celaena Celtigar, the eldest among them at twenty and still unmarried by her own choice, rubs Maris’ back in sympathy but doesn’t deter from replying. “I think Melissa has a point, especially considering he asked a lady-in-waiting to the woman who rejected him. It could be a plot to gain information about the Princess or Dragonstone.”
“Or perhaps, since her last lady-in-waiting conceived and carried a boy quickly, he hopes that serving Princess Rhaenyra acts as a sort of fertility blessing.” Rosalind Strong mocks with an eyeroll. “But I agree with Celaena. No offense to you, Johanna, but I’m sure there are other eligible ladies in the Westerlands.”
”Indeed - but how many can claim to already have experience in the running of a keep during a war? Ironborn attacks are always a possibility and some houses along the coast have been reduced to one or two members after a particularly brutal raid.”
“That’s why the women of Bear Island are also trained to fight.” Wylla Manderly comments. “The Mormont women are well-known for being some of the best fighters in the North. It doesn’t really make sense why the West doesn’t train their women to do the same.”
“They would likely be too offended if their sisters, wives, or daughters were better fighters than them.” Sabitha grumbled and placed a hand on the hilt of her sword. While the general rule on Dragonstone was to not carry weapons during mealtimes and gatherings, Lady Aemma had lifted the ban for the duration of the war.
Speaking of Aemma Arryn, she was catching snippets of the girls’ conversation and sighing internally.
Having been betrothed at ten and married at ten-and-one, Aemma had not had the opportunity to appraise and dissect any proposals - she was told she would marry Viserys and that was that. It brings her relief that these young ladies have options presented them, that their opinions have weight - something Rhaenyra vehemently insisted on: one word about an undesired match and she would take on the lady permanently without the need for marriage, paying the spurned suitors and the lady’s family with her own. It was unprecedented, but so were most of the things they were doing at Dragonstone.
“They have good heads on their shoulders.” Rhaella says suddenly, catching Aemma’s attention. Though she no longer wears a veil, the former Septa dresses in unadorned coat-dresses, mostly in black or ash grey, and wears her white hair in an orderly bun at the back of her head. “What you and Rhaenyra have done here… I think my mother would have loved it.”
While Vaegon spends most of his time in the library with Maester Gerardys, Aemma has spoken quite a lot with Rhaella. The woman, who kindly informs them that she is just past her seventh decade, takes tea with her almost every day in the small solar attached to Rhaella’s guest chambers. The older woman doesn’t complain about being treated as a guest still - watched guest, actually - and instead thanks Aemma for her hospitality. Rhaella reminds her a lot of Alysanne, or at least the Alysanne that most people imagine when they think of the Good Queen.
Rhaella speaks about her uncertain first years, about being given to the Faith so young, growing up in Oldtown, her lessons to become a Septa - but she also speaks of the conversations she had with Maegelle when she their paths crossed, of extending an open invitation to Vaegon to meet (that he never took), but perhaps the one that hurts the most is that she tried to see Aérea when she came back from Valyria, the letters from Queen Rhaena that were dripping with grief and pain.
“I think my mother would have yelled at the King, yelled at Father’s ashes, yelled at Alyssa and Daemon for good measure, and then eventually barely approve of this.” Vaegon snorts as he gulps his bitter concoction. It’s a drink brought over from Leng, made by roasting and brewing small beans into a drink that is very bitter but boosts their energy and alertness. He’s been drinking it constantly to be able to stay awake at night and keep reading well into the night.
Aemma is about to reply when a roar reverberates through the hall.
A single golden dragon circles the island, announcing its return to all the inhabitants.
The Lady of Dragonstone had returned.