a chain reaction of countermoves

It’s a startling realization that all of her family is gone, one way or another.

Rhaenyra's mother dies in childbed, cut open. Her father may as well be dead to her, considering the maids whisper that he made the choice that killed her.

Her dearest uncle is heard mocking her dead baby brother, and her father decides to exile him.

Daemon is furious, but never furious enough to hurt her, she thinks. Her eyes still red from grieving, she meets his gaze in a dark corridor, where they say their final tense farewell, unbeknownst to her father the King. She wishes desperately to hate Daemon, but knows she never will.

Before he leaves, he takes her by her slight shoulders, a rough and steady grip.

"Listen to me, Rhaenyra, and listen well," he says. She does. "You may be the heir now, but you are a woman. He will marry again, she will give him sons, and your claim will be contested." She wants to protest childishly that her father will never stop grieving mother, but he shushes her. "You need to make your siblings love you, as I have always loved Viserys, enough that they will never think to turn on you, no matter how they have been robbed of being in succession for the throne. Because otherwise, and mark my words, they will have you killed or discredited when they are old enough."

He releases her, and she stumbles back, frightened of the intensity in his voice.

"Farewell, niece," he says, something fond in his tone even if it isn’t displayed on his face, and she doesn't know she won’t have him by her side for many years to come. It doesn't matter, because she remembers his advice.

The rift between her and Alicent after the wedding is huge. The rift between her and her father is perhaps even greater. It takes time to overcome the shock and the feeling of betrayal over the fact that her best friend is now her stepmother.

When she does get over it, Alicent is far along in her first pregnancy, and Rhaenyra watches her growing stomach and remembers Daemon's words. Her and Alicent may be a lost cause as friends, but Rhaenyra can mitigate any damage the new Queen's children do to her own security as heir.

So when Aegon is born, red and squalling, Rhaenyra and Viserys await the news together with a few cups of wine, and she congratulates her father as sincerely as she can manage on the birth of his son.

"You will always be my favorite," he says, a jovial smile on his face, and kisses her on her forehead before he strides to meet his long-awaited male child.

She sees the babe days later, and continues to show interest whenever her father is near. As long as Alicent is still in confinement, healing from childbirth, it is easy to cuddle the baby and declare to her father that she and her half-brother shall be the dearest of friends. Viserys shines like the sun whenever he sees Aegon in her arms.

Rhaenyra is not a mother, but even she can see that Alicent does not take to it well as Aegon grows. The Queen always looks tired and annoyed, handing the squalling boy to servants. Rhaenyra waits, and when the Queen is out of sight she approaches. Soon she knows all of her half-brother's nursemaids by name, and her presence is welcome since Aegon for some reason calms only when she walks with him, humming lullabies in Valyrian.

"You are a dragon," she murmurs to him, bathing him in water far hotter than the servant's hands can stand. The babe enjoys it and sleeps well afterwards, and Rhaenyra has never minded some heat.

When the babe begins to speak, his first word is 'nyla, always reaching for his older half-sister. Helaena, sweet and tiny, joins her brother in the nursery soon after, when Aegon has started to toddle after Rhaenyra during her visits. At this point, she already teaches him High Valyrian.

Alicent's smile sours one evening during a family meal, when Rhaenyra whispers to Aegon and the boy climbs into Viserys' lap, calling out for kepa and the King praises him in High Valyrian, joking with his eldest daughter in the same language.

Helaena takes to both Rhaenyra and High Valyrian just as easily. Alicent never learns the language.

Rhaenyra grows to love her siblings. It is perhaps an unfortunate side effect of this long-term plan of hers. She doesn't even know when she dropped the half.

They all require different things. Aegon needs a steady maternal figure, someone to whom he is always enough. She smothers him with praise and gifts, secret horse rides and sometimes even covert visits to the dragon pit to see the dragons from afar. She cares enough to discipline him and set boundaries. She tells him so-called secrets, watching his eyes light up as he is trusted with them. They never make their way into Alicent’s ears, those innocent secrets. Aegon only needs to feel special, seen, loved.

Helaena needs companionship, someone who does not judge. The girl is unique, her interests so different from Rhaenyra's even as a small child. Rhaenyra offers her sister her time and her patience, kneeling by her as they watch the ants toil and the butterflies flutter in the rose garden. Helaena loves to hear stories of the old Valyria and they flip pages carefully in old books about Daenys the Dreamer. The girl is a deft hand at High Valyrian, more so than her brothers, and enjoys both poetry as well as flora and fauna. Rhaenyra loves her perhaps best, because Helaena will never be a threat to her.

Aemond is too young to truly have specific needs. He wants attention and cuddles and someone to play with. He gets that and more from his eldest sister, though he is the one his absent mother loves the most.

Alicent and her father undermine Rhaenyra at every turn. How King Viserys has not noticed his Hand's machinations, the Princess will never understand. For every year that Aegon lives and Viserys fails to name him heir instead of Rhaenyra, the Hightowers grow more dangerous.

While Otto is ambitious and slimy, Alicent is bitter. She is on the outer edge of the family that Rhaenyra has brought together, unable to follow along the conversations in the Targaryen mother tongue. Her blonde children laugh with their equally blonde elder sister, while their blonde father watches indulgently, and Alicent's brown updo pales in comparison. Rhaenyra is careful to never let the children call her mother, but it makes little practical difference. Their mother is just the distant woman they bow and curtsy to and who inquires stiffly about their studies.

It should not be so surprising, when Otto makes a move against Rhaenyra in regards to the children.

He meets her at the entrance to the nursery at the time she usually comes to see her siblings. He postures, he threatens, and Rhaenyra lets him see the slight flinch so he'll think he's won. Then he takes the King's name in his mouth and Rhaenyra smiles inwardly: victory is near. She pretends to leave in a huff, and storms towards her father's chambers, prepared to put on the best act of her life, asking his Kingsguard to announce her.

Her father's voice bids her to enter, the Kingsguard opening the door for her.

Rhaenyra only has to think of her dear departed mother to bring convincing tears to her eyes, holding her hand over her mouth as if to hold in a sob. Her father is seated in a chair by the fire, a goblet of wine in his hand.

Perfect.

She rushes to him, allows herself to kneel in an uncoordinated rubble of limbs at his feet, her breathing shallow and distressed.

"Have you forsaken me, father?" She sobs, bowing her head and hearing his confused intake of a breath.

"Rhaenyra–", he begins, but she allows the words to flow from her lips in a rush, a real measure of hurt behind them. It does hurt that he has allowed his kingdom so far out of his control that his Hand thinks to impose his own will on the heir to the throne.

"Have I done something for you to think I mean our family ill? Have I misbehaved? Have I lost your trust, kepa?"

"Rhaenyra, child–", he begins again, and this time she allows him to continue. "–what has brought this on? Of course you have my trust, dearest daughter!"

Rhaenyra gives a theatrical sniff, still keeping her eyes low. "Truly, kepa? It is only–"

She trails off, and waits for her father to take the bait.

"Only what? Who has sowed such grief in your heart with what must be lies and slander?"

"Kepa..." she murmurs. "If you didn't, then why would..."

"Speak up, Rhaenyra!"

Her father is losing his patience, grabbing her by the chin and tilting her head up to examine the tears gathering in her eyes.

"I was– you know I have been spending a lot of time with my siblings lately..." Her father nods, a touch of pride in his eyes. "I want us to be as close as you and Daemon were, as Targaryens always have been." Mentioning Daemon in her father’s presence is always like playing with fire, but today it works. She blinks and a tear rolls down her cheek. "Today I went to visit them in the nursery, and the Hand forbade it. He told me that on orders of the King and Queen, I was only to see my siblings with his permission and proper supervision."

"My lord Hand oversteps," her father rumbles, radiating anger.

"I thought," Rhaenyra pauses, visibly gathering herself. "I thought you believed I wished my siblings ill and had to be watched with them."

"I did not command this!" Viserys rages, then softens, his hand against her cheek, wiping away a stray tear. "You are my eldest, my heir. I trust you with my kingdom, and with the safety and happiness of your younger siblings, Rhaenyra."

It warms her heart to hear it, to hear his absolute faith in her has not wavered though the distance between them in her own heart is still great. She crinkles her forehead in confusion, suddenly glad her father has never seen her as a political creature. Perhaps she will learn to play the courtly games this way, always underestimated.

"But if not you, then... your Queen?"

"Alicent." Suddenly the name sounds like a curse on her father's tongue. "I will get to the bottom of this, dear heart, I swear I will. You will be allowed to bring your siblings joy with your visits."

"Thank you, father," Rhaenyra whispers and tilts her head against his knee, resting her cheek on his thigh. He cards fingers through her hair like he and mother used to do when she was younger, and they sit by the fireplace, seemingly at peace.

Later, Alicent smoothly denies all knowledge of such an order, not yet understanding what she implies instead.

Otto Hightower is dismissed from King's Landing and his post as Hand for daring to sow discord amongst the King's children with false commands. Lyonel Strong is a good choice for Hand, one Rhaenyra can work with.

The power at court splits into blacks and greens, but Rhaenyra has her siblings' love, and from the nervousness in Alicent's demeanor, the Queen knows this.

It comes to a head when Daemon returns, victorious, and the King welcomes him back into the fold. Family dinners are more in High Valyrian than ever.

Rhaenyra dotes on the little ones and Daemon flashes her a searching glance. She meets his eyes with an innocent smile, ruffling Aegon's hair while the boy speaks excitedly about watching Rhaenyra and Syrax fly from the balcony earlier in the day.

I remembered, uncle, she thinks. I am securing my own position.

The backing for Rhaenyra is stronger each day. Then Viserys, the fool, begins to speak of marriage. He wants her to tour and meet potential matches, but she hears the whispers that she will be betrothed to a Velaryon. Father slighted them by passing over lady Laena for Alicent, and believes Rhaenyra should take responsibility and right the wrong.

But the tension between Rhaenyra and Daemon grows stronger by the day until she can't ignore what she now recognizes as desire. She knows what she wants, so the young Princess schemes again.

"You once told me you loved Viserys enough to never turn on him, uncle," she says to Daemon in the Godswood one quiet morning. They are conversing in High Valyrian, as always, their shared language smooth on her tongue.

"Indeed, niece," he says, barely looking up from a book he is studying.

"And do you love me the same?" Rhaenyra demands, and now she has his attention. He rises to tower over her, close enough to feel his warmth.

"You know I do," he says.

He is right, she knows. He will never hurt her. Not even to get to the throne. They established this long ago, exchanging taunts over a dragon egg.

"Father wants me to marry." It is nothing new to Daemon, surely. "I wish to strengthen our family, yet he throws lords with no Valyrian descent at me as if there is no tomorrow."

"And who would you choose? The Velaryon who favors men?"

He looms ever closer, challenging.

"I would choose you, uncle," she says, unyielding. "I would marry who I really want and keep power in the family at the same time. If only you were in father's good graces enough for that to be possible." She frowns, then looks up at him mischievously. "And if only you did not have a wife."

Daemon smiles darkly. "Those can be arranged."

He kisses her then, bold and demanding, and Rhaenyra bends under his hands, displays her throat and collarbone for him to nip and suck red blooms into. High-necked dresses for the next week, then.

She melts for him, and even though she knows they will eventually be equals in the marriage bed, taking and giving, today they are not. Her uncle possesses superior knowledge and talent, and he puts those to good use.

Rhaenyra gives him her virginity in the peaceful Godswood where no eyes can spy on them, and he works hard to stay at court and earn her father's trust. She entertains some suitors half-heartedly to pass the time and Daemon begs for leave to check on the Stepstones.

He returns fairly quickly, even if the months apart are agony, leaving men there to do the peacekeeping. He returns to the disturbing and completely unexpected news that his unwanted bronze bitch of a wife has suffered an accident.

He grieves lightly, for show, and entwines himself deeper with Viserys, impressing Rhaenyra with his self-control. Then again, when Daemon wants something, he will do anything to get it.

He spends time with Rhaenyra and her younger siblings. They learn to love their uncle Daemon and his stories of war and conquests. He tosses them in the air and reassures them that one day they, too, will be dragonriders, and he and their eldest sister shall teach them to ride fearlessly.

As for Rhaenyra, he courts her, though subtly. No one else would see anything but an attentive uncle who enjoys his niece's company, but the two of them know. They race on Caraxes and Syrax, they take luncheon by the sea, they spend days wandering the markets in King's Landing, Daemon picking out finery for her and Rhaenyra supporting commerce to sow goodwill with the citizens. Daemon works with the Gold Cloaks, Rhaenyra takes to delivering alms to orphanages and fostering relations with the septons and septas. Alicent will always be a Hightower and the Faith of the Seven and the Maesters more firmly on her side, but Rhaenyra is fierce and caring and wins the hearts of common folk and the lower septas and septons who serve them.

"I think it's time to discuss marriage seriously, kepa."

"Finally," Viserys smiles at Rhaenyra. "Don't think I haven't seen you fluttering about. I wish you to take marriage seriously."

"I have been dithering," she confesses, pouring him more wine. "But I must choose well for the kingdom and the family. I cannot have someone who seeks to rule through me, or who would always be looking over his shoulder at my brothers and finding them a threat."

Playing on the security of his children is always a strong card, and she must use her hand very carefully.

"You have grown wise, daughter," Viserys states, surprised.

"I have learned that family is the most important thing. We have been too splintered, it's time to remedy that."

"Let's hear your plan then," the King challenges and leans forward on his elbows over the small table the two of them are sitting at.

"I would betroth Helaena to Aemond," Rhaenyra muses, "and Aegon should wait for a girl to be born to either Laena or Laenor Velaryon, once they marry someone. Any further children as well as the children of Helaena and Aemond may foster relations with other parts of the kingdoms or perhaps with the Faith. Or then be perfect matches for my own babies."

"True Valyrian marriages," Viserys muses, and leans back in his chair. "A future betrothal to a Velaryon would also mend the rift I caused. But why Aemond and Helaena, and not Aegon?"

"Oh, father," Rhaenyra smiles and clasps his hand in hers over the table. "Have you not seen how the boy worships the ground she walks on? He will take good care of my favorite sister."

"You have no other sister," Viserys accuses, but laughs.

"Perhaps I shall have one, one day," Rhaenyra muses. "Alicent is fertile, if nothing else."

"Spare me the insults," the King dismisses. "And what of yourself? Not the Velaryon then. Who would strengthen you and care for you?"

"I have considered many, father, but there is only one sensible choice. I know you may not trust him, but my uncle has had his period of mourning and we must tie him firmly back to the family. He has been adrift for too long."

"No. No, Rhaenyra."

"Listen, father." Rhaenyra leans forward, uses her most imploring voice. "Do not dismiss this out of fear that Daemon will one day rule, for I have considered that. Instead, he shall one day be my King Consort, and until we have an heir of our own, Aegon shall be my heir."

"Daemon is a whoremonger and troublemaker–"

"But he has changed. Have you not seen him with the children, how he softens?" Her father nods reluctantly, because it is the truth. "I believe he is ready to settle, dote on some little ones of his own. And you know Daemon would never kinslay. He will protect me as well as my siblings from any who may oppose the Targaryen rule."

Rhaenyra can see him thinking. He is actually considering it, and she must strike the blow now.

"He would make me happy and he would be loyal. He knows I will tolerate no whores, and you know he has always held me in a high regard."

Her fathers eyes turn suspicious, just as she knew they would, as he calculates all the hours Daemon and Rhaenyra have gone hawking and dragonriding together. His tone rises into anger.

"Has he–"

"No, father, no," Rhaenyra lies softly. "But he and I have spoken on this while he has been at court. We have reached an accord..." she blushes convincingly with an innocent and bashful smile, "...and I might have kissed him."

"Rhaenyra," her father groans, but seems to buy the confession of simply an innocent touch, nothing more. Sometimes she wonders if her father is blind: Alicent and even the children have noticed the looks Rhaenyra and Daemon exchange at dinner. "Well, there is nothing for it then. Your plan is indeed solid, and I shall think on it overnight."

"So be it," she says, and kisses his cheek carefully when she rises. The seed is planted. "Thank you for listening, father. Sleep well."

Viserys does not sleep well, images of what Rhaenyra could have gotten up to invading his mind. He really needs to be more careful in having his children guarded.

Come morning, Viserys calls on both Daemon and Rhaenyra, as she knew he would. They arrive separately, and Daemon is for once sedately clothed and representable.

"Brother, Rhaenyra presented a convincing suit for your hand yesterday. Have you anything to say for yourself?"

Daemon bows his head just a touch in apology, and gives a convincing look of contrition.

"Apologies for discussing it without your knowledge, brother, but I would never presume to ask for Rhaenyra's hand without her explicit consent and request that I do so."

"Indeed, you have always allowed her much freedom," Viserys muses, and places a hand on his brother's shoulder while Rhaenyra watches silently. "I am not truly angry, for you have shown that you can grow into a better man, and though I know you wouldn't do it for me, you will do it for her."

It sounds like a threat.

Daemon nods his head seriously, very unlike his normal self. It is touching to see him put his best foot forward and handle this matter delicately, to see that he really wants to marry her.

Later, when the details have been sorted and the brothers embrace, Rhaenyra meets Daemon's eyes over her father's shoulder. Her grin is triumphant and his smirk promises things that make heat gather between her legs.

They excuse themselves rather quickly after that.

Rhaenyra and Daemon find happiness in their marriage, though it takes time to find a balance that suits them both, hot-tempered dragons as they are.

Rhaenyra's siblings rejoice with them, always happy and chattering and making claims that they will be the favorite aunt or uncle of any children to come. Helaena states her claim in a calm but eerie voice, and Rhaenyra believes her. They are no longer so young, her siblings, and they clamor for the opportunity to go on dragon rides with Rhaenyra and Daemon. While the boys challenge their uncle in the training yard, Rhaenyra embroiders with Helaena and actually listens to the girl.

"Your daughter is a dragon dreamer," she tells her father with certainty one day as they watch Helaena inspect insects in the garden.

"I thought I had such a dream once," Viserys sighs. "About my son on the throne. But now I see it shall be my grandson instead."

Rhaenyra smoothes a hand over her growing belly, and smiles. Still, Viserys listens more to Helaena after that day, and the family is spared some minor disasters.

Rhaenyra births a son, Jacaerys, the name a nod to the Velaryons who they are still placating for Viserys' choices. Her eldest is likely to take a Velaryon Queen, one day.

Then comes a Lucerys and a Visenya and a Baelor and a Viserys and an Aemma and a Daena. She loses a child after her third daughter, a boy that is stillborn and early. Rhaenyra comes close to bleeding to death, so from there on Daemon decides they have their brood and she will drink moon tea. To no-one's surprise, Helaena is the children's favorite, and they gather at her feet with their cousins to listen to stories of Targaryen history when Aemond is out flying.

She gains siblings in those very first peaceful years of marriage – Daeron and Alysanne – and her siblings and children gain dragons. Alicent perishes in birthing fever after her daughter is born, and Rhaenyra holds the tiny girl and vows that she will be a mother to the girl to the best of her ability. Visenya and Alysanne grow up inseparable.

Rhaenyra becomes a mother to all her younger siblings, in truth, and when she ascends the throne a few years after Alicent’s death when her father succumbs to blood fever, Daemon becomes an honorary father too.

Their house flowers, multiplying, as do the dragons. There is no dance, only family and Valyrian lullabies sung for the numerous children and grandchildren.