The Hidden Heir (ignore the cover)

The Rogue Prince's Gambit

 Chapter Three: The Rogue Prince's Gambit

The Red Keep loomed on the horizon, its dark towers rising against the afternoon sky as Daemon Targaryen approached the gates on foot, Lyanna securely nestled against his chest. The journey from the Riverlands had been swift, but his mind had raced the entire way, plotting the steps he would need to take to protect his daughter and secure her place within the Targaryen lineage.

As he crossed the threshold into the castle, the weight of the task ahead settled over him like a cloak. The Red Keep was more than just stone and mortar; it was a den of vipers, a place where secrets could be both weapon and weakness. And now, he had brought the most dangerous secret of all into its heart.

Daemon did not head straight for his chambers or even the throne room, where his brother, King Viserys, might be holding court. Instead, he turned down a series of winding corridors, his path leading him deep into the bowels of the castle. He moved with purpose, his boots echoing on the stone floors, until he reached a small, nondescript door.

He knocked once, sharply, and waited. A moment later, the door creaked open to reveal a slight man with ink-stained fingers and a nervous disposition. This was Maester Alaric, a man whose loyalty to Daemon had been secured years ago through a combination of gold and threats. The maester's eyes widened as he saw Daemon, but he quickly stepped aside, allowing him to enter."My prince," Alaric stammered, bowing his head. "I did not expect you—""Close the door," Daemon interrupted, his tone leaving no room for argument. The maester hurried to obey, shutting the door behind him and sealing them within the small, cluttered chamber. Scrolls and books were piled high on every surface, the room lit only by a single candle that flickered uncertainly in the draft. Daemon wasted no time, unfastening the sling and gently placing Lyanna on a nearby table, her wide eyes taking in her new surroundings."This is Lyanna," Daemon said, his voice low. "My daughter."Alaric's eyes darted to the child, confusion evident in his gaze. "But, my lord... I thought your wife, Lady Rhea, passed without—"

"She did," Daemon cut in sharply. "This child is not hers. Lyanna is of my blood, but her mother was not of noble birth. That is a secret that must remain buried, Alaric. As far as the world is concerned, she is the daughter of Rhea Royce and Daemon Targaryen. Do you understand?"

The maester nodded quickly, his face pale. "Yes, my prince. Of course."Daemon stepped closer, his presence imposing in the small room. "You will forge the necessary documents to support this claim. Birth records, letters from Rhea, anything that might be required. They must be flawless, Alaric. If anyone questions her lineage, they must find no reason to doubt."Alaric swallowed hard, his fingers trembling as he gathered the courage to speak. "And... and the witnesses, my prince? The midwives who might remember—""Silenced," Daemon said coldly, his expression hardening. "I've already taken care of that."Alaric nodded, his gaze dropping to the floor. He knew better than to ask for details. "I will do as you command, my prince."

"Good," Daemon said, his tone softening just slightly as he looked down at Lyanna. The child was watching him, her small hand reaching out toward him, and Daemon's heart clenched with a mixture of love and determination. "She will grow up in the Red Keep, and she will be protected. But her place here must be unassailable. You understand what's at stake."

Alaric nodded again, his hands wringing together. "I do, my lord. I will begin at once."Daemon lingered for a moment, his gaze shifting between the maester and his daughter. Trust was a rare commodity in the Red Keep, but Alaric had served him well over the years. The man was frightened, yes, but fear could be a powerful motivator. And Daemon had no doubt that Alaric understood the consequences of failure."See that you do," Daemon said finally. He reached down to pick up Lyanna, cradling her against his chest once more. "And remember, not a word of this to anyone."With that, he turned and left the chamber, leaving Alaric to his work. The door closed behind him with a heavy thud, sealing the maester inside.

As Daemon made his way back through the labyrinthine corridors, his mind turned to the next step in his plan. The documents would be a crucial foundation, but they were only the beginning. If Lyanna was to be accepted as a trueborn daughter of House Targaryen, he would need more than just forged records—he would need the support of key allies.

His first target was Lord Corlys Velaryon, the Sea Snake, one of the most powerful and respected men in Westeros. Corlys was married to Rhaenys Targaryen, Daemon's cousin, and had long been a thorn in the side of those who underestimated him. If Daemon could secure Corlys's support, it would lend immense credibility to Lyanna's claim.Daemon knew where to find him. The Sea Snake was a man of routine, often found overseeing the shipyards or discussing naval strategy with his captains. Daemon made his way to the courtyard where Corlys was known to hold court with his men, his steps measured and deliberate.As he approached, he saw Corlys standing near a map of Westeros, his sharp eyes scanning the coastlines as he spoke with a group of captains. The Sea Snake was a man of action, his skin weathered by the salt of the sea, his hair a shock of white that spoke to his Targaryen lineage. Daemon respected him—more than that, he needed him."Lord Corlys," Daemon called out as he approached, drawing the older man's attention.Corlys looked up, his expression neutral as he dismissed his captains with a wave. "Prince Daemon," he replied, his tone cautious. "What brings you here?"Daemon wasted no time with pleasantries. "I need your help, Corlys. A matter of great importance to our house."

Corlys raised an eyebrow, intrigued despite himself. "And what matter is that?"

Daemon gestured to Lyanna, who peeked out from the folds of his cloak, her violet eyes wide and curious. "This is Lyanna, my daughter. The world believes her to be the child of Rhea Royce, but her true mother was of low birth. I need her accepted as a trueborn Targaryen, and for that, I need your support."Corlys's gaze sharpened as he studied the child, then returned to Daemon. "You ask a great deal, Daemon. Legitimizing a child of unknown parentage is no small matter.""I'm not asking, Corlys," Daemon said, his voice edged with steel. "I'm telling you. Lyanna is my daughter, and she will be recognized as such. The question is whether you will stand with me or against me."The tension between the two men crackled like lightning, but Corlys was not one to be easily intimidated. He weighed Daemon's words carefully, his mind calculating the risks and benefits. Finally, he nodded, a slow, deliberate gesture.

"You have my support, Daemon," Corlys said, his voice firm. "But know this: if I stand with you, I expect you to stand with me. The Sea Snake is not a man to be trifled with."

Daemon inclined his head, acknowledging the terms. "Agreed. Together, we will ensure that Lyanna's place is secure."With that, the alliance was struck. Daemon knew that with Corlys Velaryon's backing, Lyanna's claim would be significantly strengthened. But his work was far from over. There were still others to convince, and threats to neutralize.As he left the courtyard, Daemon's thoughts turned to his brother, King Viserys. The king had always been more soft-hearted than Daemon, more concerned with peace than with power. But Daemon knew that his brother's approval would be crucial in quelling any rumors or dissent. Viserys would have to be convinced—gently, if possible, forcefully if not.But that battle would come later. For now, Daemon returned to his chambers, Lyanna cradled securely in his arms. The road ahead was long and treacherous, but Daemon Targaryen was not a man easily deterred. He would see his daughter recognized, her place in the Targaryen dynasty assured, no matter the cost.

As he laid Lyanna down in her cradle, Daemon allowed himself a rare moment of tenderness. He brushed a strand of silver hair from her forehead and whispered, "You will be safe, my little dragon. No one will take your birthright from you."

Outside, the sun was setting over King's Landing, casting long shadows across the city. But within the Red Keep, the game of thrones was just beginning. And Daemon Targaryen was prepared to play it to win.