Lady Arianwyn Targaryen, Lady of Runestone, was not born of love. Nor passion. Nor even a sense of duty. She was seeded by her father, the Rogue Prince Daemon Targaryen, in an act of unbridled hatred, and borne of her mother, the late Lady Rhea Royc...
Author's Note: This chapter just had minor edits. I've realized that in early chapters I kind of jumped around with POVs, so I've fixed that. Enjoy!
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The nameday celebrations for Aria were far humbler than those for her cousins who held the titles of prince and princess. It drove Aemond mad, for she surely deserved at least an equal celebration, if not grander. But she was still the daughter of a prince and a favorite of the queen. So, on her tenth nameday, a grand reception was held in her honor.
While formal invitations for her past celebrations were sent to all the noble houses of Westeros, only House Royce and their bannermen from the coast of the Vale had dutifully journeyed to the capital to observe the occasion each year. The rest of the court came and went as their own agendas dictated. Indeed, while many were in attendance this year, Aria was not the reason why.
Rhaenyra was with child once again. Though still weeks away from the birth, the nobility of Westeros was eager to ensure their presence at the birth of the newest Targaryen. Aemond and Aria had finally learned why.
Jacaerys and Lucerys were bastards. It meant Laenor was not their father, and their mother was a whore.
It was not hard to see it, now that he knew. Neither had the white hair or violet eyes of a Valyrian child, but rather hair as black as raven's feathers and eyes a deep brown, like muddy water. Had it been just Jacaerys, perhaps the court could have overlooked his common appearance. After all, his presumed paternal grandmother, Rhaenys Velaryon, was half Baratheon. But even the Queen Who Never Was was blessed with the violet eyes of her father's house.
When Lucerys was born looking as ordinary as his brother, the court began looking beyond her husband's family. Most eyes fell upon her sworn protector and Lord Commander of the City Watch, Harwin Strong. The son of the Hand sported the same coloration as the young princes and often visited their rooms in Maegor's Holdfast when he visited the Red Keep for Small Council meetings – despite the two towers being on opposite ends of the castle.
But while it was clear for all to see, their bastardy never left whispered conversations in empty corridors. At least, not anymore. Not since Ser Evin Tascer had ended an evening of heavy drinking on a cart to the Wall – without a tongue. But the gossip persisted, though out of the king's earshot. His mother had forbidden him from mentioning it in public.
That didn't stop him from teasing them about it in private. It was rightfully deserved after all they'd done to him – and obviously true. He only ever felt bad about it when Aria found out and scolded him.
Many suspected Rhaenyra was purposeful in avoiding another pregnancy. After all, the princes were born only a year apart, and Lucerys was already nearly six years old. With no miscarriages or other devastating accidents reported and the princess still young, there seemed to be no other explanation.
But now she was again with child, and every noble in Westeros waited with bated breath to look upon the babe – and its hair. As the birth neared, more and more nobility descended on the capital to ensure they were among the first to know. It just so happened that Aria's nameday coincided with the deluge of Westerosi nobility.
