𝑳𝒐𝒔𝒕 𝒊𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝑻𝒆𝒏𝒔𝒊𝒐𝒏 - 𝑰𝒗𝒂𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝑩𝒐𝒏𝒆𝒍𝒆𝒔𝒔

40

"It's no easy thing for a man to be a dragonslayer," Daemon said, his eyes sharp, "but dragons can kill dragons. And the simple truth is this: we have more dragons than Aegon."

Rhaenyra's gaze didn't waver. "Viserys spoke often of Valyrian histories. I know them well. When dragons flew to war... everything burned. I do not wish to rule over a kingdom of ash and bone."

Lord Bartimos cleared his throat. "Are you accepting the Hightowers' terms, Your Grace?"

Rhaenyra's voice was steady, yet heavy with burden. "As Queen, my duty is to the realm, Lord Bartimos. Ensuring peace and unity — or sitting the Iron Throne at any cost?"

Daemon glanced toward Daenaera, tension rippling beneath his calm. "That's your father talking," he muttered.

"My father is dead," Rhaenyra said quietly, "and he chose me as his successor... to defend the realm, not cast it headlong into war."

Daemon's pacing quickened, frustration breaking free. "Well, the enemy have declared war. What are you going to do about it?"

"Clear the room," Rhaenyra commanded. One by one, the council members departed until only silence remained.

⸻

In the quiet of the maester's chambers, Daenaera awoke with a pounding headache.

"Fuck," she muttered under her breath, rubbing her temples.

"What happened?" she asked the maester, sitting up slowly.

"You were found unconscious in your bedchambers, Princess," he replied gravely. "I have news for you."

"What news?" Her voice barely a whisper.

"You are with child, my Princess. Congratulations."

Daenaera blinked, absorbing the words like a distant dream. A child — the very hope she and Ivar had imagined.

⸻

"The only one showing restraint is Rhaenyra," Lord Staunton said, voice low but sharp. "The purpose of war is to fill graveyards, my dear Lord Bartimos. The trick is to put more of their men in the ground than your own."

"Easy words for a lord who commands from the safety of his castle," Bartimos replied, tone biting.

"Doesn't make it any less true," Staunton argued, unwavering.

The heavy doors burst open.

"The Lord of the Tides!" Ser Erryk announced, descending the stairs with urgency. "Lord Corlys Velaryon and his wife, Princess Rhaenys Targaryen."

Rhaenyra rose, smoothing her gown.

"My lords," Corlys greeted, his voice steady as he stepped forward.

"Lord Corlys," Rhaenyra said softly, a faint smile playing on her lips. "It brings me much relief to see you hale and healthy."

"I'm sorry for your loss, Princess," Corlys said quietly. "Your father was a good man. Where is Daemon?"

"There are other concerns demanding the Prince's attention," Rhaenyra answered smoothly. Daenaera smirked — her cousin had no idea where Daemon truly was.

"Your declared allies?" Corlys asked, approaching the stone table.

"Yes," Rhaenyra replied swiftly.

"Too few to win a war for the throne," Corlys remarked, eyes sharp as they met hers.

"We hope for the support of Stark, Baratheon, and Arryn..." her voice trailed off.

"Hope is the fool's ally," Corlys said flatly.

Rhaenyra's jaw tightened. "Both Baratheon and Arryn share blood with my house. Both swore oaths to me."

"As did House Hightower... if I remember correctly," Corlys countered, raising an eyebrow. Daenaera's hand flew to her forehead, frustration plain on her face. Rhaenyra was far too softhearted, far too naive.

"As did you, Lord Corlys," Daenaera snapped, glare sharp.

Corlys met Daenaera's gaze, then Rhaenyra's, before turning back to the stone layout. "Your father's realm was one of justice and honor. Our houses are bound by blood and common cause. This Hightower treason cannot stand. You have the full support of our fleet and house, Your Grace."

Rhaenyra inclined her head. "You honor me, Lord Corlys, Princess Rhaenys. But I made a promise to my father to hold the realm strong and united. If war's first stroke falls, it will not be by my hand."

"You do not mean to act?" The Sea Snake asked, his voice low.

"Caution is not standing fast," Rhaenyra replied. "I wish to know who my allies are before I send them to war."

"The consequence of my near-demise in the Stepstones," Corlys said, "is that we now control them. I fully garrisoned the territory. A blockade of the shipping lanes will be in place within days, if not already. The Triarchy has been routed. The Narrow Sea is ours. If we seal the Gullet, we can cut off all seaborne trade and travel to King's Landing."

"I shall take Meleys and patrol the Gullet myself," Rhaenys declared, stepping close to Rhaenyra.

"When we drain the Narrow Sea, we can surround King's Landing, lay siege to the Red Keep, and force the Greens' surrender," Lord Bartimos suggested, eyes locked on the layout.

"If we are to have enough swords to surround King's Landing, we must first secure Winterfell, the Eyrie, and Storm's End," Rhaenyra said firmly. The maester nodded.

"I'll prepare the ravens, Your Grace."

"Dragons fly faster than ravens, and are more convincing," Jacaerys suggested, voice eager.

Rhaenyra glanced at Daenaera, who raised an eyebrow in silent agreement.

"Very well. Prince Jacaerys will fly north — first to the Eyrie, to meet my mother's cousin Lady Jeyne Arryn, then to Winterfell to treat with Lord Cregan Stark for the North's support. Prince Lucerys will fly south to Storm's End to treat with Lord Borros Baratheon. We must remind them of the oaths they swore... and the cost of breaking them."

Lord Corlys nodded approvingly.

⸻

Daenaera stood beside Rhaenyra after their sons had taken to the skies on dragonback.

"Tolvȳn iksos going naejot sȳz, mandia," Daenaera said softly, placing a hand over her sister's shoulder and drawing her close. Everything is going to fine, sister. Do not worry.

Rhaenyra rested her head on Daenaera's shoulder, whispering, "Thank you, sister."

"For what?"

"For everything. Just you being here is enough. I am so very happy I have you."

Daenaera smiled, brushing back a loose strand of hair. "I will always be here for you. No matter what."