Chapter 31

Kevan thought back to the previous month with a hint of pride. After Jason Lannister's antics, Princess Elaena's family would have been negatively disposed toward any Westerlands match. His efforts to distance himself, even going so far as to tell the King he wished to seek vengeance against his overlord, had borne fruit. Elaena would be wed to him within a year's time.

It was a heady reality. His father had thought little of the match until it became a real possibility. Then, despite his reservations about some of Elaena's contributions to the changes across Westeros, he had backed him.

"You've done well, my boy." His father, Lord Humfrey Lefford complimented.

Kevan was back at Golden Tooth, having been flown there. Elaena would be joining him for their continued betrothal and to get to know his side of the family for a few weeks before they both returned to King's Landing. For the time being, she was on Driftmark to attend Lady Laena's birth.

"Thank you, father. Being knighted helped."

"Bah, you were ready. You underestimate your martial abilities. No, don't give me that look. You aren't the strongest or the fastest, but you have good form and, most of all, you don't lose your head in a fight. Kevan, you may have lost a duel to Daemon Targaryen, but there's no shame in that!"

"As you say." Kevan replied. Inwardly, Kevan knew he was far less accomplished than fighters like Ser Baldric, Ser Medrick, or Ser Forrest.

"I do say!" His father's face grew a bit more somber. "Our house has been given a great honor, but this has also complicated things. I've managed to convince Lord Lannister that you can be a restraining influence on the girl."

Kevan blinked at his father. "Father… what did you tell Jason?"

"Only that you have a good head on your shoulders and aren't prone to wild flights of fancy, which is true. Get the girl with child and keep her focused on hearth and home, and there will be no problems with the Lannisters."

Kevan could not help it. He let out a laugh. It started short and sharp, but then evolved into a full-on belly laugh. His father was not amused.

"Am I a mummer now, or have your steady wits departed?"

"Father, you do not grasp who Elaena, the Realm's Blessing, truly is. I have met with her family; there are some odd views concerning my betrothed, but regardless, she is beloved. Beloved by the King, the Queen, the King's heir, and the King's firstborn son, and many more. There is no one else in all of Westeros who can lay claim to that!"

His father frowned. "She is young, and 'tis easy to love a child who has yet to delve into political matters."

Kevan had to resist the urge to laugh again. "I… Father, please allow me to explain. You must first disregard anything Lannister has said, any rumors you may have heard from the Hightowers, and any whispers that have come to you. Elaena has the King's ear. She advises him on policy, and he listens to her. She deals directly with the Hand when disputes arise and manages the operations of the Dragon Bank. She has proclaimed neutrality in the spat between the heir and the Queen, but do not think she is uninvolved in matters of state."

"Ridiculous, she has just turned six and ten."

"She is wise beyond her years, and she will lead this house to greatness. These are your lands, father. This is your castle. But do not let your misconceptions or pride delay the rise of the name Lefford. Elaena has plans, more myriad and complex than you could imagine. And even more that I have yet to unearth."

"You are smitten with her; your view is gold-colored."

"I am, but I also see things with clarity. There is much we will need to do. For one, I need our house's books down to the exact detail. I need agreements made with the various tenants and knightly houses. If we have them, I also need the yields of each of the fields going back ten years, as well as the surveys for our existing mines and areas of speculation."

His father took a drink from his cup, taking the time to think over what his son had requested. Finally, he nodded. "I will provide those, but what is it all for?"

Kevan's hands moved animatedly as he explained. "To see what starting principal we have and how to best utilize the land and the people on it. Trade between the rest of the Westerlands and the Riverlands flows primarily through here, and there are ways we can expand and make it more efficient. There are several projects the Dragon Bank has funded that show promise and Elaena intends to use those same ideas in our lands."

"Our family has ruled these lands for centuries, why would we need to change what we do now?"

Kevan fished out a coin. "Would you rather have one coin or two?"

"Don't make this into a farce, my son. I am not a child to play question games with."

"My intended says that it is a useful tool in conversation, but only if the other party is willing. I will speak plain then. If Elaena's methods improve our yields, improve our wealth, and improve our standing, we should do those things."

His father frowned, evidently not quite convinced. "Of course, but there's no guarantee what she proposes will work."

"There are no guarantees in life, but we can look at the past performance to see the results. Father, my children, your grandchildren, will be dragonriders." Kevan flashed a confident smile. "They will inherit what will be the wealthiest house in Westeros. I am speaking of a dynasty that will rival the Velaryons and the Targaryens. Elaena does not think small, neither should we. All that I ask, is that you trust us." Kevan implored his father.

"I will ponder over your words. I have no wish for discord, and I have a fondness for wealth. Include me in what changes you wish and I will give a free hand for a few years. But if I see our name driven into the muck, and our wealth diminishing, I will restore order." His statement was made with firmness, and Kevan knew it would be critical to produce some early 'wins' as Elaena called them.

"That is all we can ask, father." Kevan raised his cup in salute.

He was not worried at all about their success. Elaena had already created a list of recommended improvements, complete with supporting rationale and predictive financial gains, which looked impressive. If it were someone else, Kevan might have doubted it. But he already felt he understood how Elaena 'managed expectations' and knew these were conservative estimates. He couldn't wait to get started.

***

Rhaenys hoped that Otto Hightower didn't get into too much mischief while she was away. She would not miss the birth of her daughter's fourth child, especially not after what had happened with Maegor's birth. The naming of the child was vile, and she harbored some bitterness toward her good-son over it.

Daemon was always a trial, and his relentless pacing in the birthing room only worsened the already tense situation.

"Daemon, the Maesters say it will be hours yet," Rhaenys said firmly. "Go burn some energy in the yard. We promise to send a page to you the minute anything changes."

The irritating man snorted. "I think not. My place is at my wife's side when she delivers my heir."

Not this again.

"Maegor is your eldest son." Rhaenys said tiredly.

"Viserys chooses who his heir is. For a time it was me, then it was Rhaenyra. I have that right as well, and may the Others take me if I let that abomination rule my Stepstones."

"Do not fight, please." Rhaenyra interjected. "This is certainly not the time nor the place to be bickering over a seat that will hopefully not need an heir for several decades!"

True enough.

"Very well," Rhaenys replied, smoothing over the annoyance that had briefly crossed her face. "If you wish to be by your wife's side, then be so."

Rhaenys noticed the brief flicker of alarm on Elaena's face before the girl quickly composed herself. She put on a brave face, but King's Landing had been abuzz with talk of Daemon's fury over losing the duel with Lord Baldric. It was rare for the Rogue Prince to suffer defeat. Rhaenys knew more than most and was aware that Ser Criston had believed Daemon was moments away from harming the princess.

She puts on a brave face, but such proximity to Daemon must unnerve her after that.

It was mildly amusing to Rhaenys that both of her cousin's daughters had taken their places at either side of Laena. Elaena did claim one hand, and Rhaenyra the other. Rhaenys did not mind their closeness in her stead; in truth, she preferred to oversee what the Maesters were about. Though she had no training in the healing arts, she could discern much from their bearing and read between the lines of what was spoken.

"If the Maesters claim my pacing is troublesome, I shall stop, 'til then I will do as I please, princess." Daemon replied, his eyes daring the Maesters to say a word.

This was her home, and she could bid him leave, yet Laena would not prefer it. Rhaenyra muttered something Rhaenys did not quite catch. Rhaenys oft wondered how much more peaceful her life might have been had her children wed others.

"This time is so much better than the last," Laena said with a note of optimism in her voice. "The babe will come without any problems; I am sure of it."

Maester Gerardys nodded. "Too early to say for certain, but all signs are good. Your labor pains seem to be limited, or you're a good mummer."

Laena laughed. "Oh, there is pain, but it is much less than any of my prior births. The Gods are merciful."

Rhaenys felt a gnawing worry at the edges of her mind, but as the hours passed and the birth drew near, everything seemed as good as could be. As host, she should have ensured that everything was prepared for the forthcoming feast, but she trusted her staff. Rhaenys thought it rather premature to set the table and invite guests for a celebratory feast, but both her husband and Daemon took pleasure in showcasing their wealth.

Thinking of her husband, Corlys, the Sea Snake, brought a smile to her face. The man wouldn't enter the birthing room, but he would be just outside it. He would never admit it, but he too was nervous. The ostentatious feast and celebration were his way of denying the reality that once a woman had a difficult birth, future births were more fraught.

"Very good, my lady, now push, push!" Gerardys commanded.

Rhaenys watched, watched as her new grandchild was born. Laena lay back, breathing heavily as the babe squealed and cried.

"It is a girl, and of healthy weight. Her heart beats well, and her breathing is fine. She is as healthy as she can be!" Maester Gerardys congratulated.

"A girl." Daemon's voice was flat.

Laena took the babe in her arms. "She's perfect."

Rhaenyra squeezed Laena's hand and then stood to face Daemon.

"A healthy girl. Go and behold your child." Rhaenyra told her uncle.

Rhaenys was watching carefully, there was a tension in the air that felt like the beginning of a storm.

"It was to be a boy! The Gods have robbed me again. Oh, how they delight in humbling me." Daemon growled and then lashed out and kicked over a table. "Do not ask me to pretend to be joyful over this. I am no mummer to mince words with."

Rhaenys saw her daughter sit up, babe now at her breast. "Damn you, Daemon! Rhaenyra will become Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, why is it so hard to tolerate the idea of a woman succeeding you for the Stepstones!?" Laena's voice was hoarse and raw. "Do you think a woman cannot rule? Cannot fight? I name our child Visenya! She will be like the Queen who ruled with Aegon."

"Name her as you will," Daemon spat. "I depart for the Stepstones, the thought of feasting makes my stomach churn."

Daemon stalked out and with it the tension fled. Rhaenys came over to her daughter and laid her hand on the babe's back.

"Visenya is a good name, a strong name. Congratulations my daughter, she is beautiful."

Laena wiped away tears from her eyes and nodded. "Thank you."

Rhaenyra looked torn for a moment but then went to Laena's side. "I will stay with you this evening, dearest, Daemon can sort out his own misery alone this time."

Elaena took to her feet. She looked a bit pale, but was steady on her feet.

"Be sure to follow the Maester's instructions to prevent any birthing fever. I am glad that little Visenya is with us, but now I believe I could use some rest."

Rhaenys watched Elaena leave with some interest. The second daughter of Viserys was a strange one. The birthing chambers were a place that troubled her, yet she went in willingly and stayed by the expectant mother's side. For Rhaenyra, for Laena, and for Alicent.

A pity she had not been born first.

Rhaenys was far from blind to the faults in Rhaenyra. She was not at all ready to rule if something happened to Viserys. It was not too great a concern, so long as Rhaenyra chose her Hand wisely. If Rhaenyra named her Hand – her husband, her son, or even a lesser lord, but one with a good head on their shoulders like Lord Gunthor Darklyn – it would go well. If she named Daemon… there would be no end to problems.

Laenor stood up and gave his sister a kiss on the forehead. "I'll tell father the good news. And Joffrey as well, you know how fond he is of you."

"Give them my love, brother." Laena replied with a smile.

Rhaenys was in no hurry to leave. She wished to be with her daughter and new grandchild far more than she wished to attend a feast.

***

Laenor was pleased with the birth of his new niece. The unpleasantness of Daemon's reaction would not mar the joy he felt that his sister and her child were healthy. A weight had been lifted from his shoulders – one he had not consciously realized was there.

"Now this is the Laenor I like." Joffrey said.

They were in the guest chambers that belonged to him and Rhaenyra. Harwin's room had been next door, but he had swapped it with Joffrey. Since Rhaenyra had chosen to sleep in the same room as Laena, the arrangement had worked out for the better. Although there was some risk of being discovered, it was minimized by a little trick they had devised. A small wedge-shaped block of wood was placed under the door, ensuring that no maid or servant could accidentally open it and catch them. If someone knocked, Joffrey could hide in the spacious closet.

The guest rooms also had guards stationed in the hallway outside them, and the men at High Tide knew better than to enter rooms where Laenor was present. Whether this was out of loyalty to his family or fear of the Dark Storm's wrath, he could not say.

Drunk on relief, wine, and love Laenor closed his eyes and let sleep take him.

Laenor was jarred awake by a thump against the door. He tried to wipe the sleep from his eyes and ignore the pounding in his head. Joffrey disentangled himself from Laenor, a bit awkwardly due to his ailment.

"What is it?" Laenor asked.

The only response was another slam against the door.

"Who goes there?" Laenor shouted, his voice growing louder.

A loud crack threw the door open, torchlight streaming into the room as men rushed in. Joffrey cursed, grabbed the decanter of wine, and hurled it at the approaching men. Laenor had only a moment to glimpse the crossbow before he dove off the bed, the bolt striking the spot where he had been lying a fraction of a heartbeat earlier. He reached for his arming sword and drew it from its sheath.

The first man was on him a moment later, and Laenor parried the blow. Yet the man's charge was relentless, forcing Laenor back into the wall. Despite the lingering effects of too much wine, he drove the hilt of his sword into the attacker's face and then slashed it open. He had to reach Joffrey.

"'GUARDS!" Laenor roared, leaping atop the bed, and then diving at the man who had just swung at Joffrey. Laenor's slashing strike was deflected by the scaled armor of the would-be assassin, and he felt the bite of steel across his chest. Knowing he had to finish his foe quickly before the man with the crossbow could finish reloading, Laenor attacked with all the fury he could muster.

The sound of splintering wood and a cry of pain from the hallway distracted him. The man he was dueling suddenly lost his footing, and Laenor saw why – Joffrey had grabbed the man by the ankle. Laenor wasted no time pressing the advantage, and this time his blade cleaved open the man's face.

Turning toward the door, Laenor beheld a man crashing into the far wall. The crossbow-wielding foe staggered forward, his neck a ruin of blood with a table knife jutting from his windpipe. Laenor blinked, feeling dizzy from the sudden movement and the swift combat so soon after awakening.

"Elaena?" Joffrey cried out in surprise.

Laenor cleared his vision and beheld the princess with eyes far too blue walk past the two corpses; the crossbowman and another warrior whose head faced the wrong direction

"Are either of you injured?" Elaena asked in a calm, but clipped voice.

Joffrey said no, while Laenor indicated he only had a minor wound. Elaena moved swiftly toward the man who had crashed into the far wall.

"This one is dead as well. I suspect the guards will arrive shortly; you shall take credit for their deaths, as I arrived only later. Are we understood?"

Laenor's breathing was labored. He rasped, "Yes… yes… of course. Ha, what is another…" His chest ached, and the dizziness began to return, causing him to sway. "Another lie. Can't have, can't…" His head was now swimming.

"Scheisse."

Laenor did not recognize the word, but suddenly two images of Elaena swam before him, both scrutinizing the wound.

"You've been poisoned. He needs a Maester. I need to stay with him, but there may still be fighting going on. Joffrey, will you risk it?"

"For Laenor? Always." Laenor saw his lover limp out of the room.

His chest felt like it was on fire. Was he dying? Laenor wished Joffrey was still with him. If he was dying, he would want him there.

Gods, this will destroy my sons.

He didn't want to die. He wanted to stay with Joffrey, with Laena, with Rhaenyra, his parents, with Jace, Luke, Aenar, and Aelyx.

Pain gripped him, and he felt himself shudder. Warmth suffused him, and the pain began to recede. Everything grew dark, save for two brilliant orbs of light, which soon faded, and consciousness abandoned him.

***

Rhaenyra was in a state of shock. Joy had turned to ash with horrifying swiftness. She could do naught but place her faith in her Maester to save her husband. Though there was no carnal love between them, Rhaenyra did care for him deeply. He was a trusted confidant, a friend, and she likened him to a cherished brother.

She was in Lord Corlys's solar, along with the pacing Corlys, Ser Erryk, and Ser Harwin. Harwin had informed her that a ship had set sail shortly after the alarms were raised, and that Rhaenys had took to Meleys to either turn them back to Driftmark or burn them to cinders.

Rhaenyra had seen Laenor. His wound did not appear severe, but he was drenched in sweat and thrashing in agony. Maester Gerardys and Maester Vaelar had argued over the nature of the poison, as none of the known toxins matched the symptoms precisely. Vaelar had dispatched a raven to the Citadel to seek advice from Maester Orwyle, but it would be days before a response could be expected.

The guards at the door announced Ser Joffrey Lonmouth, Ser Denys Woodwright, and Maester Vaelar.

Rhaenyra raised her eyes and beheld that Joffrey was pale. The Master-at-Arms appeared to be in a state of shock. Ser Denys, the captain of the guard for High Tide, wore a grim countenance. Maester Vaelar, nervous and visibly weary, mustered himself despite seeming as if he had been near drained of all strength.

"Maester, how is my son?"

"My lord, I bear grim tidings. We believe this to be a rare and insidious poison, crafted to kill in a most cruel manner. The substance has induced a deadly fever and commenced the breakdown of Ser Laenor's organs and tissues. Simultaneously, it has heightened his heart rate to perilous levels. It acts as a stimulant, akin to those used by scholars at the Citadel when striving late into the night and requiring heightened alertness."

Rhaenyra saw Corlys tighten his fists. His voice was raw when he spoke, "Is there no hope?"

Vaelar hesitated. "We have begun leeching, but the leeches die shortly after meeting flesh. Laenor has not regained consciousness, which Gerardys believes to be a good sign as the poison is not doing what its users intended. If it cannot induce the wakefulness they desired, mayhaps it will not produce the fatal outcome they hoped." He spread his hands. "And yet, I see little optimism, and within the next few days I fear the worst. The young princess has made some suggestions, we do not see harm in trying, but they will likely accomplish little and less."

Rhaenyra stirred. "Elaena reads a lot. She went to the Citadel a time or two to study, you should listen to her."

Vaelar gave her a pitying smile and nodded.

"Go. Save my son, Vaelar."

Vaelar departed, and Corlys turned his gaze to Ser Denys.

"You have served me well and acquitted yourself with honor in battle, at sea, and on land. How did you so monumentally fail?"

"I have no excuse, my lord. I can only tell you what I know and what we have pieced together."

"Do so." Corlys spoke, voice tight with barely restrained fury.

"In the hour of the wolf, the attack was launched. Four of my guardsmen were slain, and it seems the deed was done with great swiftness, for no hue or cry was raised. Three more are dead, but I have cause to suspect that at least two of these may have been traitors. When their quarters were searched, each was found to possess a bag of gold. Two serving maids and two pages were also murdered last night. High Tide was open for the feasting, and two of the slain guards were those stationed at the postern gate, while the other two were tasked with guarding the guest hall."

He took a breath and grimly continued. "The target appears to have been Ser Laenor, for neither Princess Elaena, Ser Harwin, nor Ser Joffrey's chambers were breached. Laenor fought with valor, and I believe he slew seven of the attackers – each of them was of Dornish descent." There was a note of awe in his voice as he spoke. "Indeed, I have seldom witnessed such grievous wounds inflicted upon an adversary. Heads were battered against walls, limbs were shattered, and more. It seemed he dispatched most with his bare hands rather than with his blade. Another five of the assailants were slain once the alarm was raised. They were stationed at the stairwell and the postern gate but were swiftly overcome by my men."

Corlys growled. "Dornish? Dornish? I will see the Martell line ended! Those oily bastards dare strike my son down in my place of power? I will raze Sunspear to the ground!" Corlys was breathing hard, his blood was up and every inch of him was suffused with rage.

Rhaenyra didn't know what to think. "Ser," she began her voice softer than usual, "were any taken alive to put to the question?"

The knight shook his head. "No. However I am investigating all the friends and known associates for those guards we believe to be traitors. This would not have been possible without treachery and the confusion of so many feasting. With your permission, my lord, I would lock the island down and allow no one to leave until we have concluded our questioning."

"Do it. No ship is to leave without my express permission." Corlys replied.

"At once, is there anything else before I continue my tasks?"

"No, we will have an accounting of your failures later." Corlys spoke, contempt clear in his pitch. In a less crass tone he turned to Harwin and Erryk. "Leave us, I would speak with Ser Joffrey and the princess alone."

Both looked to Rhaenyra who nodded and gestured for the door.

"Joffrey, the tale you told my captain was false. You did not run out of your room to see what was happening, you were already in Laenor's room. I do not fault you for protecting my son's reputation, but I must know what happened."

Joffrey looked away from the eyes of the Sea Snake.

"My lord, I was in my cups. Laenor saved my life, and if it costs him his life, I will bear the bitterness in my heart for all time." Rhaenyra's heart went out to the poor man. Ser Criston had robbed him of his grace and strength of limb, were it not for that he could have fought by Laenor's side.

Damn Alicent and Cole to the pits of the Seven Hells. This is as much their fault as the Dornish!

A part of Rhaenyra knew that was untrue, with so many men another sword arm would likely not have made the difference. The attackers were armored and two men unarmored were bound to take some wounds in the fighting. Laenor had fought to defend his friend and lover, propelled to greater heights than any tourney fight, because the stakes were higher.

Corlys softened his visage. "Did the attackers say anything? Did Laenor?"

Joffrey again did not meet the Sea Snake's eye, and Rhaenyra made note of it.

Something embarrassing a father would not wish to hear?

"The attackers said nothing but merely shouted wordlessly as they charged at us. When the princess found us, Laenor was still lucid and claimed his wound was minor, bidding us not to worry. As we waited for the guards to arrive, Laenor had begun to feel dizzy, attributing it to the wine. However, the princess suspected something more sinister, and that's when I departed to find a Maester."

Rhaenyra's heart felt like it skipped a beat. Elaena had been the one to find him? That made sense as her room was next to her own. An icy chill clutched at her, what if they had gotten the rooms wrong? What if their target was not Laenor, but had been her? If she had not stayed with Laena – no in that case she would have had a Kingsguard in full armor and most like Ser Harwin at her side. Still, guilt was starting to spring up within her. And poor Elaena, she must have been terrified.

"By the time the Maester had arrived, he had already lost consciousness. If he said anything more after I left, you will have to ask the princess."

Corlys looked at Joffrey suspiciously for several long moments before he then sighed. "You have been through much. Go and rest, after you have done so, you may return to my son's side."

Ser Joffrey left and Rhaenyra was alone with Corlys.

"What now?" Rhaenyra asked.

"I pray for my son and call upon the banners. Write to your father and inform him of the events that have transpired. Though he did not aid me in my campaign in the Stepstones, his good-son lies wounded, poisoned with a substance crafted for sheer malice. The Seven Kingdoms must unite and achieve what even Aegon could not – the end of Dorne."

***

Aegon began his morning as he did every day. He arose, completed his stretches, and then ran in place, loosening his body and preparing for the day. Elaena had taught him the importance of 'calisthenics.' He then bathed and dressed for the day's activities. He was scheduled to practice in the yard with Ser Willis Fell of the Kingsguard. However, when he arrived, Fell's squire apologized.

"My prince, Ser Willis sends his pardons but all Kingsguard were pulled for other duties."

"Oh, did something happen?"

The squire did not know, and Aegon's curiosity was now piqued. He decided to see what he could uncover. He learned that the King and his small council had received ravens, and many more were being dispatched than usual. Lacking the authority to interrupt a small council meeting, he went to seek out his mother in the Royal Apartments. With some amusement, he realized he had made something of a circuit.

Aegon found his mother pacing in her chambers.

"Good day, mother, what is all the commotion about?"

Alicent looked at him with worry in her eyes. "Aegon, my sweet boy, promise me that you will not volunteer to go anywhere near the Dornish border."

Aegon frowned. "My sister has already asked that I take part, and why shouldn't I? I should be seen doing something to help the Seven Kingdoms. You wish for me to…"

He was cut off. "Oh, quit speaking on things you know naught of! The Dornish have struck Driftmark."

Aegon's thoughts instantly went to one person.

"Is Elaena well? What happened?"

"Thank the Seven, yes, she is. I know little as of yet, but Dornish assassins sought to slay the Prince Consort, and he has been gravely wounded. No one else of import has been harmed, or if they were they were not named. If it was Elaena, Rhaenyra would have mentioned it in her missive."

Aegon breathed a sigh of relief, and his stance relaxed. Elaena was his mentor, his sister, his beacon of what it meant to be royalty and a rational thinker. The few moments of uncertainty before his mother answered his query had been as terrifying to him as the time he had tried to bond with Dreamfyre.

"It will mean war then. I know your fears, mother, but I am almost a man grown. Sunfyre is younger than the great dragons, but he is swift and his breath is hotter than most. I can help."

"No!" Alicent exclaimed as she walked to him and embraced him.

"You are brave, but young. It is not time for this, not yet." She spoke softly and urgently, and then pulled away to look him in the eyes. "The Dornish do not act with honor or decency. You know the histories, they use poison, they ambush, they break guest-right, they would sooner sneak into where you are sleeping and murder you than face you in open battle. The Velaryons were the ones attacked, let them deal with it."

Aegon frowned. "And give them all the glory? Mother, you say I am to be the next King, but if the Blacks win a war with their dragons, what will the lords of the realm think? They will fear them, and despite their distaste for the idea of Rhaenyra, they will not rally. Daemon's legend is second only to the Dark Storm's, and his wife rides the largest dragon in all the realm."

Alicent paused. "I had not thought of that, but it matters not. You are still too young."

Aegon could see his mother was fraught with worry, and that reasoning with her would do no good.

"I can make no promises, mother. If I am called upon by my father to aid in the effort, I shall not shirk from my duties."

Alicent just shook her head. "My brave boy, you lean heavily to the Warrior for guidance, but sometimes it is the Crone that we must heed. Nothing is decided yet, but I beg you, do not volunteer for anything of the sort."

Aegon squirmed and then nodded slowly, "I will not leap forward without due consideration, mother. I will leave you with your thoughts and speak with Aemond."

His brother was ecstatic at the news. Aegon did not think he wished Ser Laenor any particular ill, but the notion of flying his dragon to war excited him.

"I thought it would be years later before I had the chance to ride Vermithor into battle. This is most excellent news!"

"Brother, if mother feared I was too young, it will be even worse for you."

Aemond waved away the concern. "Who cares what mother thinks? Most women's soft hearts betray them and make them soft-headed when it comes to conflict. Fearing what they could lose instead of anticipating what they can win."

Aegon laughed. "Most women? Because you know women oh so well."

Aemond raised an eyebrow. "Come now, you know history. For every Visenya and Rhaenys, there are a hundred men who have achieved great deeds. Mother has never shown any warrior spirit and is severely lacking in knowledge, save for useless theology. Her opinion is worth only as much as she can persuade others to heed. Given father's refusal to name you heir, you can see how little her thoughts truly matter."

Aegon did not like when Aemond maligned their mother. Too often, he spoke of her with contempt in his voice. It was not right, but arguing with him would just be giving him what he wanted.

"We shall see, brother, we shall see." Aegon said simply, looking to avoid said argument.

"It will not be just us who see; all the Seven Kingdoms will hear of the prowess of the Bronze Fury," Aemond replied, his eyes dancing with anticipation.