Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“ You are a plague sent to destroy me. ”

Those were among the last words Viserys had spoken to his brother earlier that day and they popped back into his mind as he laid down in bed. It had been a very long day, but for some reason the words came back to him as he sat there, unable to fall asleep.

He shouldn’t have said it … No, Daemon deserved it. He’d gone too far this time.

The king tossed and turned, punching his pillows and yanking on the covers. Minutes later, he settled with a sigh, anger consumed. 

Not long after, he slipped into the world of dreams.

~*~*~*~*~*~

When he woke up, a cold wind bit at Viserys’s face and hands and even through his clothes. He hurriedly clasped his cloak closer and looked around.

The sounds of the waves crashing into sand and stones drew his attention to the vast waters. It was a cloudy, moody day, the sky and the sea seemingly in union. The screech of dragons had him turn inland to gaze upon a black stone castle piercing the gloomy fog. Dragonstone.

Viserys noticed a small group of people standing around 100 feet away. Were they wearing the traditional Valyrian wedding clothes? 

Curiosity had the king walk in their direction. Soon the chanting of the priest became clear. The ancient words of their ancestors’ marriage vows. 

Wait a minute, was that Daemon?

He picked up his pace until he stood mere feet away from the couple in front of the altar. Rhaenyra? No … it was not possible.

“Stop this!” the king yelled as soon as he regained his voice. “Take your fucking hands of her. I forbid it!”

But his brother and daughter ignored him. Didn’t even glance his way. Same for the priest and the children standing to the side.

When this failed, Viserys moved to rip his daughter out of Daemon’s vile hands only to realize that he couldn’t touch him. Or his beloved Rhaenyra. That is to say, his hands were no better than smoke and as soon as he attempted to make contact with anything, his body passed through like nothing.

He stumbled back, tripped and fell to the ground, without registering that there was no pain. He watched helplessly as Daemon and Rhaenyra got married.

They looked so … happy.

Just as Viserys was starting to process how much older both his brother and daughter appeared and how much the children resembled them, the new couple shared a kiss and the scene faded.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Viserys blinked and found himself inside a bedroom. He recognized the huge dragon sculpture which made up an entire wall of the great chamber atop the Sea Dragon Tower in Dragonstone. 

Rhaenyra’s silvery tresses threatened to escape their braids under the power of the harsh winds on the island. She was gazing out at the sea from the balcony so the king couldn’t see her face, but although she was not a girl anymore, he had no doubt it was her.

Had Daemon forced her to wed him? Viserys was going to make him pay … To make him wish he’d never laid his filthy eyes on his daughter …

As if summoned by his thoughts, Daemon entered, breaking the stillness of the room. He carried a missive which he threw carelessly on a table as he passed by on his way to Rhaenyra. 

He embraced her from behind, tenderly molding his body to hers.

Viserys approached them tentatively to hear any words that might be stolen by the winds, but there were none. Not for a long time.

After what seemed like an eternity, his brother nudged Rhaenyra away from the balcony.

“How bad is it?” Daemon asked, his hands never leaving her.

“He said we should remain in Dragonstone for now. He said -” Rhaenyra hesitated then raised sad eyes to his brother and coincidentally in the king’s line of sight as well. “He said he’s disappointed in me. That mother would also be disappointed.”

“Fucking Viserys!” Daemon exploded, finally wrenching away from his daughter and pacing his nervous energy. “If he weren’t so sick he can barely stand, I’d fly to the Keep and beat him senseless.”

A heavy rock settled in Viserys’s stomach. The reason his daughter was so melancholy was him? He was the cause of her misery? Him and not Daemon?

And his illness had progressed so much that he could no longer stand and walk? 

Could this be the future?

“It’s the shock and anger from first hearing of the marriage,” Daemon reassured his wife. “He’ll come around sooner rather than later. Just you wait. I’ll keep mine for later,” he continued snatching the scroll he’d discarded earlier. “It’s like a mini-dictionary for slurs and abuse. You have to be in the right frame of mind to read it.”

“He wrote to you too? What did he say?” Rhaenyra perked up a bit.

“Like I said, let’s leave it for another time,” his brother smirked.

“I don’t want to revisit this at another time. Show me.” 

When he didn’t budge, the princess attempted to extricate it from his coat only to be swept off her feet in an intense kiss.

~*~*~*~*~*~

The king was transported to an inner courtyard, still in the castle of Dragonstone given the statues of gargoyles, basilisks and hellhounds surrounding the area. The gloomy effect of the architecture was negated by the cheerful sunrays illuminating and warming every dark corner.

The two boys from Rhaenyra and Daemon’s wedding, each clutching a wooden sword, were standing together, as if waiting for something - or someone. There was something extremely familiar about the children, especially the younger one. He resembled … Rhaenyra.

Were they his grandsons? Rhaenyra must have already been married previously.

“What if he’s cruel and vicious? Like Aegon said,” the younger muttered nervously, fingers unknowingly picking at the lacing of his armor. “I mean, mother wouldn’t let him hurt us, right?”

“Of course,” the older boy assured his brother, although his shifting eyes and bearing suggested quite the opposite of his words. “But more importantly, I won’t let anything happen to you,” he continued much more confidently.

The two snapped their heads up when Daemon came into view, making his way down the stairs. Once he reached the courtyard and took them in, his brother’s whole demeanor changed. It was subtle. Clenching of his jaw. Changing his stance. But Viserys has spent a lifetime with Daemon and was well aware of his little tells. 

His brother had gone from relaxed to enraged in a matter of seconds. Whenever he got that cold look in his eyes it was better to steer clear if one wanted to avoid his temper.

What was Rhaenyra thinking, leaving her sons alone with his brother? 

“Let’s get started,” Daemon directed, picking up a wooden sword. “A little demonstration would do well to establish your level.”

The older brother gritted his teeth and stepped forward.

“No, no, I’ll start with Luke,” Daemon said, effectively cutting him off. “He’s likely less prepared and in this way, I’ll get a better grasp of your preparedness.”

The two exchanged worried looks but changed places without complaint. 

“Go on, attack me,” the prince ordered, not giving the boy much time to think or plan.

Luke turned out to have a pretty good grasp of the basics - good form and a rudimentary style of hits. In the beginning, Daemon appeared satisfied to offer corrections and the occasional approval, but of course, being who he was, he could not stop at that. He pushed and pushed, keen to discover Luke’s limits.

It ended with the young man falling hard to the ground and unlike earlier, this time not springing immediately to his feet. Daemon moved to his side, but was stopped by the other boy’s sword, which had appeared like a flash to point at his chest. Being the arse he was, his brother yanked it out of the boy’s hands and threw it away.

“Poor strategy. You should have waited until my back was turned and then attacked,” he instructed.

“But that would be dishonorable,” the young man rightly protested.

“Do you want to be honorable? Or do you want to be alive?”

Daemon took advantage of the temporary distraction to carefully help the fallen boy up. 

“I’m not saying there’s no place for honor, but it’s certainly not in battle,” he explained but the brothers didn’t seem convinced. “Let’s say we have a knight who always fights his opponents in a way you would call honorable. When he goes home however, he slaps his wife around because the food is not warm enough and kicks his child for being a lazy, waste of money. Is he an honorable man?”

Luke instantly shooke his head no, while his brother appeared deep in thought.

“Now, what did Cole used to do during your training?”

Daemon’s question sparked a quick, charged look between the boys, with the older one giving a subtle abortive move.

“There’s no room for lies between us. Not now. Not ever,” the prince stated, catching the gazes of both his charges.

“He didn’t do anything,” Luke started, “but he had favorites and his hands often left … bruises.”

Viserys knew the flash in his brother's eyes well. Someone would pay with their lives. 

“You won’t tell mother, will you? Please, she’ll be upset with us.”

“Rhaenyra would certainly not be upset with you, especially not over this,” Daemon said fiercely. “I won’t tell her, but you should, whenever you’re ready. But you promise me that if anyone acts anything like Cole again, you’ll tell me right away. Understood?”

“Yes, ser,” the two boys intoned at the same time.

~*~*~*~*~*~

“He broke his arm and could have been injured much more seriously! What were you thinking?” Rhaenyra lectured her eldest sons.

The two boys appeared repentant, heads bowed, shame and distress clearly etched onto their faces. A toddler bearing a striking resemblance to them was playing with wooden dragons in front of the fire. Daemon was leaning against a wall, amusement clear in the quirk of his mouth.

“We didn’t mean for it to happen,” the eldest offered softly.

“So that makes everything fine? As long as your intentions were decent, you bear no responsibility? Is that the kind of king you wish to be?”

“No, mother,” he mumbled.

Rhaenyra stared hard at her sons for a few more uncomfortable moments before dismissing them.

“Go back to your rooms and think hard about your actions. Tomorrow I want to hear what you propose to do to remedy the situation.”

The boys trudged out of the room, closing the door gently behind them.

“Was that really necessary?” Daemon asked casually. “We’re talking about the third son of some minor lord and they didn’t even intend to do him harm.”

“Don’t you start,” the princess said, spinning to face him. “I haven’t gotten to you yet.”

He shrugged and smirked, but promptly bent down to pick the toddler when he called out “Kepus!” and held out his arms.

“Did you really rule against Lord Seaworth on the grounds that his wife is too ugly? And did you settle the dispute between Ser Dargood and Ser Bar Emmon by having them draw straws to see who gets the shortest?” Rhaenyra questioned, her voice rising a bit towards the end.

“My judgments were on par with their idiotic requests.”

Viserys snorted at his brother’s answer. It was good to know that he was acting just as childish and chaotic when it came to authority as he remembered.

“Are you going to send me to my room too?”

“If anything, you won’t be sleeping in my bed,” the princess glared.

Daemon gave a dramatic, suffering sigh, as he started for the door.

“Very well, I’ll sort them out tomorrow.”

What? He was going to clean up his own mess? Rhaenyra’s silent stare seemed to work wonders in comparison to the king’s endless lectures and punishments which had turned out to be completely inefficient when it came to his younger brother.

“Come, Joff, let’s leave muňa alone for a while. She needs her space,” he teased, but as he turned before closing the door, he winked at the princess, who answered with a soft smile.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Rhaenyra and her children, as well as the two young girls from her wedding, were seated at a great table, ready for dinner. Viserys noticed that while they didn’t exactly look alike, all children had something of the Targaryen look. Could the two be Daemon’s daughters? 

The boys were busy whispering behind their palms so they probably didn’t even hear their mother say that she had something important to tell them. They were paying attention, but not to Rhaenyra. Their gazes suddenly snapped to the arched entryway.

Daemon appeared but only for a flash before he stumbled over something, barely catching himself before falling face down on the floor. Luke dropped his fork on the floor and both him and his brother swiftly dove under the massive table. Being out of sight did nothing for masking their giggles.

“Jace! Luke! That was not funny,” Rhaenyra scolded, extending her arm and entwining her fingers through her husband’s as he took a seat. “You’re well?”

“It was nothing, just a harmless prank,” he replied dismissively.

The princess glared at her sons as they surfaced, red faced, but didn’t comment further. They all started eating - an ordinary activity given their ease and familiarity with each other.

“As I was saying earlier, I have some news I’d like to share with all of you,” the princess raised her voice over the din of utensils, chewing and talking. When the children turned their attention to her, she continued. “I’m with child. In around six moons, you’ll have another little brother or sister.”

The announcement was met with silence. The children looked taken aback, while Daemon smirked, self satisfied. One of the girls was the first to recover.

“I’ll pray for a brother then -”

“No,” Luke interrupted. “Mother wishes for a daughter. We should all pray for a sister.”

“Well, I won’t. Kepa wants a son and we,” she said, pointing at her sister, “want a brother.”

“I don’t care! Take it back.”

“You take it back!” the girl yelled, which prompted Luke to take a fistful of peas from his plate and throw them at her. 

The young girl didn’t back down and in moments, food was flying like little projectiles over the dinner table.

“Luke, Rhaena! That’s enough!” Rhaenyra admonished them, putting a stop to the small war with a firm voice. “The matter is not up to either of us. No matter if it's a boy or a girl, we’ll love them all the same.”

The two children frowned at each other, but the princess’s words appeared to have diffused the situation. The rest of the meal continued in a much more harmonious manner.

As a matter of fact, Viserys couldn’t recall such a joyful dinner with his own family. His time with Aemma had often been overshadowed by unsuccessful pregnancies and the loss of their children. And with Alicent, meals were hardly comfortable and far from cheerful.

He carefully took in every gesture, every word and every expression from all of them, but especially from his daughter. She appeared radiant with happiness.

After dinner, Daemon and Rhaenyra walked the children to their rooms. Once the girls were safely tucked into their beds and only the boys remained, his brother took a carefully wrapped package out of his pocket, the look in his eye alerting Viserys that he was most definitely up to something.

“I’ve just remembered,” Daemon said, “ I’ve had these treats prepared especially for you.”

As he unwrapped it, he revealed delicious looking cookies, which he offered to the boys. They examined them suspiciously, but reluctantly took one each and popped it in their mouths. They chewed tentatively and soon gagged, only to rapidly school their expressions in front of their mother. 

As Rhaenyra twirled to look at her husband, brow raised, Daemon could freely enjoy the children’s dismayed looks and valiant attempts to swallow as fast as possible. 

“What did you do?” the princess questioned, as they left the boys and headed down a corridor.

“May have bullied the cook into filling them with spinach,” Daemon confessed with a machiavelic grin.

Rhaenyra sighted and shook her head. “You sure you don’t want me to talk to them? Frogs in your boots, vinegar into your wine bottle, telling you I’m in the castle cells and then locking you there, now tripping you - and that’s just this week. It looks like it’s escalating.”

“Don’t even think of talking to them. I’ve got this well in hand.”

As they reached their chambers up in the Sea Dragon Tower, Daemon opened the door and his wife slipped in muttering an exasperated “Boys!”

~*~*~*~*~*~

Daemon was sitting at a desk, going over some missives, quill in hand. Viserys did a double take and stopped himself from rubbing his eyes to check whether they were playing tricks on him. This was a sight he never thought he’d see.

A timid knock came at the door.

“Come in,” his brother called out, without raising his gaze from the scrolls.

A door opened and one of the girls - his daughter - made a few steps inside. “Kepus?”

“Baela?” Daemon sat up and circled the desk. “Shouldn’t you be in bed?”

“I couldn’t sleep,” the young lady confessed, “so I went to your bedroom. Nyra was there but she …” Baela hesitated then took a fortifying breath and plunged ahead. “She was sad - crying. Is something wrong, Kepus? Is it me and Rhaena?”

Daemon took her by the shoulders and led her to a chair where he sat her down.

“Listen to me. If there is something wrong, it’s not you or your sister. That I guarantee.” He tilted her chin up and the girl gave a wobbly smile. “Now let’s get you to bed, so I can tend to my weeping wife.”

Viserys watched father and daughter walk the halls of Dragonstone chatting and laughing. After hugging both girls goodnight, Daemon turned his steps to his own chambers.

Rhaenyra was indeed cuddled in front of the fire, silent tears streaming down her cheeks.

His brother knelt in front of the futon and took her hands in his, placing tender kisses on her knuckles. 

“Talk to me, little dragon,” he said softly.

Rhaenyra turned red, watery eyes to her husband’s. “Father wrote.”

This was Viserys’s doing?

“He wished good health and seven blessings for me and my unborn child. Still didn’t acknowledge you. Not even a mention.”

“Rhaenyra, you don’t -” Daemon started only to be stopped by her finger on his lips.

“It dawned on me that I’m content. The last year with you and the children - I haven’t been this happy since mother was alive,” she confessed with a nostalgic smile. “And in the wake of my epiphany, I realized I could have avoided it all. My sham relationship with Laenor, looking outside my marriage for children, the constant battle with Alicent, the nasty rumors about my sons’ parentage. I’d never regret Jace, Luke and Joff, but the last decade might have been filled with wonderful, precious memories, joy and love. If only I’d run away with you when you came for me at the wedding.”

“Rhaenyra …”

“I wish you’d taken me away and made me your wife, even if the cost would have been my inheritance,” the princess whispered fervently, her forehead pressed against Daemon’s.

Viserys felt as if his legs were melting. He stumbled a couple of steps back and leaned against the wall. He’d recalled he’d just resolved to have his daughter marry Laenor Velaryon. What had he done?

“You say that now, knowing all that has passed. But if I’d had taken you away back then, you would have grown to resent me - and rightfully so - for all you would have lost because of me. I couldn’t do that. Not when all I’ve ever wanted is your happiness.”

The sight of his daughter and brother blurred as tears fell. The king let himself sink to the floor and buried his head in his hands.

~*~*~*~*~*~

The by-now familiar sight of the corridor outside Daemon and Rhaenyra’s rooms greeted Viserys. He was standing again. His eyes were still watery, so he hurriedly wiped them with his sleeve.

Three maesters entered the hallway followed by his brother.

“Well?” Daemon demanded impatiently, as soon as the door closed.

“My prince,” the one who looked like the eldest began, “the child is still alive in the princess’s womb, but it’s been more than a week past the due date and there are no signs of impending labor. Both mother and child might perish if this continues. There are potions which might induce the birth, yet none are safe, especially for the child -”

“Get to the point,” his brother interrupted, voice harsh. “What do you recommend?”

“If labor doesn’t start naturally in a day or two, my prince should consider cutting the child out of -”

The maester stopped abruptly when a knife was pressed against his neck, a thin trail of blood seeping down his neck and into his robes.

“Utter such words again,” Daemon said in a low, cold tone, “insinuate them even, and I’ll cut you open from sternum to belly.”

“Yes … I, I mean no, Your Grace. Never!” the man swore, horror in his eyes. 

Viserys has seen his brother enraged many times, but never like this. There was something - a disturbing fire - in Daemon’s eyes which made him truly terrifying.

As soon as he released the maester, one of the other two swiftly led him away, supporting him on the stairs as his legs trembled.

“Maester Gerardys, tell me something sane,” his brother asked of the remaining man.

“I remain of the opinion that the best course of action is to wait. The princess already had three successful births. We should let nature take its course.”

“Doing nothing seems harder than doing something.”

“It often is in such cases, but if I may be so bold, marital relations have been known to advance labor.”

Daemon looked skeptically at the man. “I’m in no mood for jokes or teasing.”

“I would not dare, my prince,” the maester assured him firmly.

His brother stared at him for long moments before whirling back towards the bedchamber. 

“You better be right, because my threat stands,” he vowed before slamming the door closed.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Rhaenyra was walking slowly up and down the room, singing softly and rocking the babe in her arms. Viserys approached and peered down at the precious bundle - a tiny nose, delicate features and a mop of silvery hair. How he wished he could hold his grandchild, if only for a few moments.

Daemon entered the room, carefully closing the door in his wake. He glided to the side of his wife and child, greeting them both with tender kisses. 

“So, are we packing for King’s Landing?” he asked.

Rhaenyra lifted her eyes from her baby and her adoring expression changed, a fierce look settling over her features.

“Alicent wrote,” she said in a forced calm tone. “She was gracious enough to invite me and Aegon to the capital, but prudently advised that you and the boys remain here. Baela and Rhaena were not even mentioned.”

To say that Viserys would have feared for Alicent’s wellbeing had she been there was an understatement, although his daughter's anger was justified. Why hadn’t he forgiven them and welcomed them back in the Red Keep? Confronted with Rhaenyra’s infectious happiness and a new grandson - Aegon! - he should have been over this a long time ago. Could it be … could it be that Alicent and Otto had overruled him? Surely not …

“That’s not my brother's answer. I don't give a rat’s ass what the little Hightower bitch has to say.”

“Just as well, because I’m not going anywhere until father writes to invite us all.”

Daemon seemed content with his wife’s resolve and got completely absorbed in watching his son, gently caressing his hair and cheeks. Rhaenyra watched them fondly and debated whether to say something or not, biting her lower lip several times before blurting out.

“Aegon will not be king. Are you sure this doesn’t bother you?”

“So an invitation was not all the queen included in her letter?”, Daemon mused and his suspicions were confirmed right away considering Rhaenyra’s guilty countenance. “Of course she had to spread her poison.”

His brother led the princess to a bed and guided her down until they were both sitting.  

“Aegon is my firstborn son, but more than that, he’s the result of our love, our blood and flesh coming together to create new life. He’ll always be special to me and being born a girl wouldn’t have changed that. As for him not being king, no, I don’t really care. Jace, Luke and Joff are your blood so they are mine too, my sons, no matter who their sire was. Don’t listen for a moment to Alicent or to anyone else. My life with you is better than I could have ever imagined and I regret nothing.”

Rhaenyra’s eyes shined with unshed tears and a brilliant smile broke on her face. She leaned over and pressed a sweet, loving kiss on her husband’s lips.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Viserys blinked and he was conveyed into another hallway on Dragonstone. He first observed Daemon coming down the stairs and only afterwards registered the sniffling and angry shouting coming from one of the rooms.

“We could have left this morning and none would be any the wiser of our disappearance. I don’t care if you’re coming, I’m packing,” a young lady could be heard easily through the walls.

“Baela, please,” another girl answered in a trembling voice. “I’m sure things will change for the better soon. It’s just that they’re really busy with a baby and the castle -”

“Joff was a baby and they still had time for us … Things might get better, but we’ll always be second or third or whatever best. Are you really willing to settle for that?”

“You’re wrong. Father loves us just as much. Mother told me -”

“Mother? That was ages ago, when we were a family, just the four of us.”

Daemon hovered in front of the door, brows low and lips pinched. He rapped on the wooden frame. Silence descended. He opened the door and entered. Viserys followed him.

Rhaena’s face was blotchy with tears. After freezing for a second at the sight of her father, she launched herself at him, hugging him tightly around the waist. Baela, stony faced, remained standing by the bed, position erect and mutinous expression in place.

He raised his arm in a wordless gesture for his eldest to join them. Baela resisted for almost a minute before running into his embrace.

They hugged for a long time, no words needed, so long in fact that the king got a weird, empty feeling in his chest.

Finally, the trio made their way to the bed, making themselves comfortable against the headboard, the girls snuggled on either side of their father.

“I think it’s time for a story -” Daemon started only to be interrupted by his eldest daughter, who straightened, disentangling herself from under his arm.

“A story? We’re not babies anymore to be placated with fairytales.”

“I was going to tell you about my first wife, but if you don’t want to hear it, just as well.”

“Your first wife? You mean mother?” Baela asked, confused.

“No, Laena was not my first wife,” his brother answered, a glint in his eye.

“I want to hear it,” Rhaena interjected. “Please, Kepus!”

Daemon squeezed his youngest daughter to his side, but didn’t take his eyes off Baela. Apparently just as stubborn as her father, she kept silent but snuggled back into him.

“When I was sixteen, your great-grandmother, Queen Alysanne, had me marry a Valewoman, Rhea Royce. I greatly disliked the woman, I hated her ancestry, I hated that she didn’t want me, but most of all, I hated being forced to marry her. I stayed shackled to her for almost eighteen years, yet I never kept her as my wife or sired any children on her. Laena on the other hand …” Daemon drifted off for a few moments, seemingly lost in thought and the two young ladies stared at each other in amazement. 

“Your mother was my choice. I wanted her for my wife and I wanted you - both of you,” he stated, looking each girl in the eye, one and then the other. “Laena will always have a special place in my heart. As for my girls, who could ever replace you?” he smirked, getting the girls to giggle and look up at him adoringly.

“Who’s up for a dragonflight tomorrow, just the three of us?” Daemon offered, garnering squeals of delight from his daughters.

~*~*~*~*~*~

The next time Viserys opened his eyes, he was standing on the beach near Dragonstone castle. Many dragons were gathered in his vicinity.

Caraxes - red, weird and dangerous - and Syrax - golden and graceful - he would recognize anytime and anywhere. The other three dragons he’d never seen before. They were much younger and smaller. 

Riders were ready to take flight on all the dragons present, so the king approached to observe them more clearly. 

Rhaenyra was already tied into the saddle and Daemon was making sure that the young boy in front of her was also safely secured. The boy could not be more than four of five namedays and he greatly resembled Jace and Luke. Was it Joff? So many years had passed already?

As he got close to the yellow dragon, Viserys noticed that Rhaenyra had a baby or a very young toddler strapped to her chest, one with silver-golden hair. Yet it couldn’t be Aegon. He was held by an older Rhaena and looking very much at home on Caraxes. The two were soon joined by their father. Daemon double checked they were secure before settling himself in the saddle.

The princess signaled the younger dragons to take off and as they did, the king realized who their riders were - Jace, Luke and Baela. A few years older but still children.

As they were soaring above the sea, Syrax and Caraxes followed, easily catching up. In the beginning, laughter and shouting could be heard over the wind, but as the family flew further away, it slowly faded. 

Viserys remained on the beach, watching - heart full - until the smaller dragons disappeared and Caraxes and Syrax became only small dots on the horizon. 

~*~*~*~*~*~

If anyone were to enter the king’s room, they would see him smiling in his sleep.

Chapter Text

Viserys opened his eyes to blackness. He blinked a couple of times until he distinguished the canopy above his bed. His eyes desperately searched the room, but no Daemon, no Rhaenyra and none of their children were to be found. 

He got out of bed so fast he felt dizzy for a moment and had to steady himself against the bed frame. The king paid it no mind and hurried to the door. He yanked it open and came face to face with Ser Harrold. 

“Your Grace,” the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard snapped to attention.

Ser Harrold was exactly the same as Viserys had seen him when he retired to his chambers, so what he had suspected was confirmed. They had all been dreams … No, not just any dreams, the king shook himself. They were dragon dreams - snippets of a future that was yet to come. A future he could still prevent.

“Is anything the matter?” Ser Harrold asked when the king remained motionless in the doorway.

“Where is my brother?”

The Lord Commander appeared somewhat taken aback by the question, but he quickly recovered.

“He’s been in his rooms all day, nursing the effects of drink. Last I heard, he hadn’t left the Keep.”

“Very well, take me to him,” the king ordered.

Ser Harrold looked shocked, but wordlessly obeyed, grabbing a torch and leading the way through the deserted corridors of the Red Keep. The soldier guarding the hallway where Daemon resided stared unabashedly at the Lord Commander and the king trailing behind him in his sleep clothes. 

“Is the prince in?” the Kingsguard asked.

“Yes, hasn’t left his room since noon.”

The three men marched to the Rogue Prince’s door and, at a sign from the king, the guard opened it. Viserys strode in, while Ser Harrold stayed in the doorway, illuminating the room by holding the torch aloft.

Daemon moved swiftly and, before the king could react, was on his feet, Dark Sister at the ready. He squinted against the offending light, trying to make out the intruders. He soon recognized his brother and dropped back on the bed, perching his sword back against a nightstand. 

“For fuck’s sake, what is it now? I’ll be gone at dawn,” the prince growled irritably. “Unless, of course, you’re here to drag me to the cells. Maybe Otto had more to report?”

Despite his baiting words, Daemon leaned back in bed, hands behind his neck, as if he had no care in the world.

“Ser Harrold, light some candles and leave us. My brother and I need to talk,” the king ordered.

“I have nothing I wish to say,” the prince stubbornly retaliated.

Viserys ignored him until they were left alone. Then, he got directly to the point.

“Do you love Rhaenyra?”

Daemon didn’t move from his position, yet he grew tense as a bow.

“I’m in no mood for idle chit chat, more threats or whatever you have in mind, Your Grace,” he said sarcastically, glaring at the king angrily.

“Hours ago, you asked for my daughter’s hand, so now I’m here and I’m dead serious. Do you love her? Not as your niece, or some Valyrian woman who stands to inherit a crown. But as Rhaenyra, a woman to love, respect and cherish for the rest of your life.”

Daemon had risen to a sitting position and was staring at him so intently, Viserys figured that he could see flames burning in his eyes.   

“Are you in truth?” the prince fiercely demanded. “By the twelve flames, Viserys, if this is some sort of jest or -”

“No jest, no anything else,” the king assured. “I’m earnestly considering your proposal.”

Daemon slowly stood up, never breaking eye contact, and approached his brother until they stood less than two feet apart.

“I do,” he answered simply, but no less resolutely. “I’ve loved Rhaenyra since I first held her as a baby. As the years passed and we lost more and more of our family, she slowly made her way inside me until she became the most important person in my life. Recent events have only served to lift the veil from my eyes and make me appreciate it. Rhaenyra is the other half of me. We’re meant to fly together, to share this life and the next.”

“And your sudden epiphany has nothing to do with her being my heir?”

“Oh, fucking hells, not this again,” Daemon snarled. “You’ve known me for all my life. Otto’s poison aside, do you truly think I want the throne? That I would go to such lengths for it? You do recognize that I’ve had countless opportunities to kill you or to kidnap Rhaenyra …”

A weary, sad look twisted the king’s countenance at his brother’s words. Had he really been so blind?

“Then why? Why treat Rhaenyra like this? Why not ask to court her properly, as she deserves?”

“Would you have agreed to a courtship if I’d asked for one?” the prince wondered, lip curled sardonically.

“I’m here now, aren’t I?” Viserys answered, although he couldn’t help thinking that in the absence of the dragon dreams, his response would have been an unequivocal no.

Daemon looked intently at his brother before breaking eye contact for the first time that night.

“A drink?” he offered, indicating the table and chairs. 

Viserys took a seat gratefully, while Daemon poured them some wine.

“The thought of marrying Rhaenyra has crossed my mind in the past,” the prince confessed, “but only as an abstract, remote idea. She was a child. Until I returned from the Stepstones, I never looked at her as anything else than my niece and a child … Well, maybe except that one time at Dragonstone when she came to retrieve the dragon egg. You should have seen her, Viserys,” he said, a different kind of flame in his gaze - more tender, more passionate, but just as fierce. “She was so brave, so commanding and so graceful. Like a Valyrian goddess.

And now … she has not only bloomed into a woman grown, beautiful and magnificent as only a Targaryen princess can be, her mind has matured beyond her years. Yet she’s not full of life and enthusiasm. Instead, she’s afraid, riddled with insecurities.”

Viserys choked on his drink at his brother's revelations, but Daemon continued, relentless.

“Do you know she thinks you mean to sell her to whichever lord has the biggest castle?” he asked accusingly. “That she fears the birthing bed so much that she likened marriage to a death sentence? And her dearest wish is to be alone?”

The wine turned sour in the king’s mouth. He’d known, of course, that Rhaenyra was unhappy with his marriage and often at odds with Alicent. He’d believed that she opposed marriage on principle or was just being contrary to annoy him. Why hadn’t she said anything about her fears to him? Did she really trust him so little that she’d revealed more to his brother in a day than to him in years?

“Daemon, you must know …”, the king tried to speak but stopped, overwhelmed, burying his teary eyes in the heels of his hands. “What I did to Aemma was unspeakable and I’ll pay for it forever more, but I’d never - never - do anything like it to my daughter. No matter the consequences.”

The prince looked at him in a speculative way that had shame clawing at Viserys’s insides. After a few interminable seconds, he finally put him out of his misery with a brief nod.

“But she wouldn’t have to trust in you, would she? Instead, she’d put her life in the hands of her future husband. Can you vouch the same for him, whoever he turns out to be?”

Yes, he could, Viserys understood. If his daughter’s future husband was Daemon.

“It seems my sins against Rhaenyra are graver than I’ve conceived,” the king sighed, weary. “But what of you, brother? If she’s confessed all this to you, then why did you treat her so abominably?”

The Rogue Prince stood up so abruptly that his chair almost toppled over. 

“I only meant to help her escape - her worries, her duty, her uncertain future, all of it. For one night,” Daemon confessed, pacing. “To show her that there’s pleasure between a man and a woman. And fine, the idea that it would piss you to no end when you inevitably found out was just a perk,” he said, a ghost of a smile on his lips. “It all went perfectly until the brothel. When I understood that I no longer saw Rhaenyra as just my beloved niece.”

Viserys refused to dwell on that particular disaster. Instead, he concentrated on the fact that his brother’s intentions had not been as evil as he’d intentionally believed.

“Sit down, Daemon,” he directed and the prince reluctantly obeyed. “I trust you’ve been honest with regards to your feelings and intentions towards Rhaenyra. But there are still several things to be cleared up before I consent to your suit.”

“Spit it out then. I’m sure I can meet whatever conditions you can devise,” Daemon declared cockily.

“This is not a competition and it’s not about winning. Don’t forget though that I’ve witnessed you treating your wife most cruelly -”

“The bronze bitch has never really been my wife. Not to me,” Daemon interrupted curtly.

“Very well, I’ve no wish to rehash this old argument,” the king placated his brother. “But I do want you to give me your word regarding Rhaenyra. Do you promise to respect her and hold her above all other women for as long as you shall both live? To be faithful to her? To protect her - with your life if need be? To support her when she becomes queen without seeking to rule through her? To serve as her king consort and the protector of the realm?”

Daemon watched him with narrow, cold eyes and didn’t answer right away. 

“In this, you have to be Rhaenyra’s father before you are my brother, so I won’t question your mistrust or take any offense. I give my promise easily to all of your terms. I’ll love Rhaenyra until my last breath. I swear on the memory of our mother.”

If he hadn’t already seen his brother's devotion to his daughter and their family, Viserys would have been downright shocked to hear him make a vow by invoking their mother. He had seen Daemon beat people to death for mere subtle barbs against Alyssa Targaryen. 

“I give my blessings to your union, brother. Getting Rhaenyra’s consent is your job though. Let me talk to her first in the morning and then you may propose.”

Viserys stood up and the prince followed suit, stepping closer. For a second time in as many days, the two brothers embraced. 

“Thank you,” Daemon whispered as they parted. 

As the king reached the door, he was stopped by his brother.

“Viserys!” he called and the king whirled back to meet his purple gaze. “Nothing happened at the brothel. We kissed and I wanted to … but I couldn’t. Rhaenyra deserves more than that for her first time.”

And naturally, Daemon couldn’t have informed him of this the first time he confronted him. So typical of his brother. 

As he gave a nod of understanding and left, something else dawned on Viserys. 

Otto had lied to him.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Viserys didn’t get any more sleep, his mind a jumble of memories and thoughts. He tried to eat something but his stomach rebelled, so he settled for tea. Finally, after a disastrous morning meal, he had the servants clear the table and sent for Rhaenyra. 

She walked in and the king released the breath he had been holding for a long time - most likely since he woke up hours ago. His daughter was the same as he remembered - young and lovely. Still unsmiling, melancholy, maybe a bit troubled. Still, Viserys had hope that he could change the future. Spare her pain and suffering and give her a chance at achieving happiness earlier and easier.

Like with Daemon, he decided to get right down to the root of the issue.

“We haven’t had the chance to talk yet, but since you’ve cut your tour short, am I to deduce that you’ve chosen your future husband?”

Rhaenyra looked visibly displeased with the topic of discussion, but held her ground.

“No, I ended it because it was becoming ridiculous.”

Such an announcement would have seriously rankled if they’d had this conversation just a day prior, before Daemon had opened his eyes on his daughter's real worries and fears.

“Rhaenyra … I’ve done everything in my power to make this more palatable to you, to empower you to make your own choice of future consort so you won’t feel burdened or forced. If there’s anything that makes you uneasy or that you want to talk about, just know that I am here for you,” Viserys encouraged, harboring a small hope that his daughter would unburden herself to him and he might try to ease her fears.

The princess pondered his words and for a moment looked to be on the verge of saying something, only to shake her head slightly and keep her silence. Still, it was more than he’d achieved with her since the death of his beloved Aemma, so he chose to be optimistic about them growing closer in the future.

“Marrying and bearing heirs for the throne is your duty,” he forged on as Rhaenyra kept quiet, “and given recent developments, you must realize that your courtship tour is at an end.”

“So the truth doesn’t matter?” she jumped, incensed. “You haven’t even asked me what happened that night.”

“You know there’s little room for truth at court. When it comes to a lady’s - nay, a princess’s - reputation and virtue, appearances are of utmost importance. Everything you do has consequences for the entire realm. But you know this already.”

“Were I a man, I could have a hundred women, sire a dozen bastards, and nobody at court would even blink,” the princess retaliated.

“Yet you are a woman. The rules that apply to men don’t apply to you,” Viserys said in a conciliatory tone.

“So what? You’ll strip me of my titles and name Aegon your heir?” she questioned, obviously hurt.

“I promised I wouldn’t forsake you and I won’t,” the king reassured her. “But you have to work with me, Rhaenyra. I may not be able to grant you more time, but you still have choices.”

The princess appeared dubious and quite disheartened by his words, so the king tried once again to stir her into confessing her thoughts and desires.

“Before I say anything, isn’t there any man you would prefer? He should take precedence over all others.”

Once more, the princess’s gaze reflected a battle being fought. Unfortunately, just like the other time, no sound made it past her lips. What’s more, her eyes became purple pools of sadness. 

“So you’re not interested to know that your uncle asked for your hand yesterday?”

“Daemon?” His brother’s name escaped her mouth seemingly without consent. 

The transformation that came over Rhaenyra was quite amazing. It was like she woke from a deep slumber and came to life - cheeks rosy, eyes sparkling and body vibrating with excitement. 

By the seven, how could he have been so blind? The feelings that Daemon and Rhaenyra had for each other seemed so obvious to him that he wondered at how he had never noticed them before.

His daughter’s answer took him by surprise.

“No, I don’t care about him,” she answered with forced nonchalance, her posture still tense and her fingers twisting her rings impulsively. 

“You don’t even want to hear what he said?”

“Not particularly,” the princess answered, her body language signaling the exact opposite of her words.

“Well, I think you should hear it,” Viserys said resolutely. “It was not particularly romantic, Daemon spouted some nonsense about how you two would restore the House of the Dragon to its former glory, but when pressed, he confessed his love for you. He holds you in higher regard than any other woman in the Seven Kingdoms.”

Rhaenyra looked as if she’d stopped breathing for a few seconds as she processed the news. Then a dazzling smile of pure happiness curved her lips, making the day outside seem sunny and cheerful, even though it was actually cloudy and windy.

“And … what did you say?” she inquired tentatively.

“I gave him my blessing, on the condition that you consent. Should I send for him?”

He hadn’t even finished the question that the princess was nodding and bouncing on her heels with exhilaration.

Daemon must have been cooling his feet in a nearby corridor because no way it took so little time for him to arrive from his rooms. The prince had taken pains to wash and dress himself appropriately in a red shirt and black doublet. He was almost back to his dashing, rogue self, if one discounted the lingering dark circles beneath his eyes from heavy drinking.

“I’ll give you some privacy,” the king announced and he retreated on the balcony. 

He doubted that either of them even registered his words, considering the way they drank each other with their eyes. 

The king turned his back on the couple and looked at the city sprawling in front of him. He could still hear them quite clearly.

“Rhaenyra,” his brother started, “I never thought I’d admit to being a coward, yet I was one with you the other night. I’m … sorry that my actions made you doubt my love for you, little dragon, but if you’ll have me, I’ll -”

Daemon was cut off mid-sentence so the king naturally spun in place to check what had happened, only to discover his daughter was hanging onto his brother in an extremely unladylike way - as she’d always done. The prince carefully held her to him, kissed her hair and put her back on her feet.

“Let me finish,,” Daemon said with an indulgent smile. “I don’t have much to offer you, princess. I don’t have lands, castles or riches. My name you already have. But I promise myself to you, body and soul, to the end of our lives and beyond - if the gods permit. Your happiness will be my happiness and your pain, my pain. I vow to protect you, our children and the throne with my life. Will you have me as your husband?”

“Yes, I will,” Rhaenyra didn’t hesitate.

Daemon leaned over to kiss her and Viserys averted his gaze. Before he could turn completely, he was stunned into place by his daughter’s interruption. 

“Wait! There’s … something you should know,” she announced. “The other night, when you left me, I felt betrayed and confused and well, vengeful, so I … I found someone else and I slept with him.”

Shock slammed into Viserys with the force of a rogue wave. He felt both hot and cold at the same time. Who had dared to put his hands on his daughter in that way?

Considering Daemon’s expression, he mirrored his feelings. Moments later, his features morphed into a combination and jealousy and wrath. 

“Who was it?” he demanded through gritted teeth.

“That’s not important right now,” the princess simply dismissed it and straightened her spine. “Will you have me or not?”

His brother’s countenance softened somewhat at Rhaenyra’s posturing.

“Do you really think something like that would hold me back?” he countered and in lieu of a proper answer, he swept her in his embrace and a kiss so passionate it had the king whirling back to his view of the capital.

“Any other man touches you, I’m not above feeding them to Caraxes,” his brother threatened as soon as they drew apart.

“Same for any woman who touches you,” Rhaenyra countered. 

Why was he not surprised? mused Viserys. Daemon and Rhaenyra were more alike than even they realized.

His brother must have whispered something - probably indecent - to the princess, making her erupt in giggles. Viserys re-entered the room and cleared his throat. The two reluctantly broke their embrace but remained within touching distance.

“Congratulations, brother, Rhaenyra! I wish you a happy, fruitful, long union.”

“Thank you, father,” the princess replied, brimming with joy.

“Some last issues,” the king stated. “Daemon, your marriage to Rhea Royce. I’ll write to the Vale and have it annulled.”

His brother had tensed at the mention of his soon to be former wife, but relaxed slightly at his pronouncement and gave an inclination of his head as a sign of gratitude. Considering this had long been a point of contention between the two brothers, Viserys left it at that and moved on.

“Rhaenyra, I insist you reveal the name of the man who had the impudence to lay with the heir to the Iron Throne.”

“I don’t think he deserves to be punished. I didn’t really give him much choice -” 

“Unless you’re telling me that you held him at swordpoint and somehow managed to tie him to your bed, I reject your excuses. Now, tell me!”

“Promise me you won’t kill him,” she remained obstinate until the end.

“Fine, he won’t be given the death penalty,” the king relented.

“It was … Ser Criston.”

Unbelievable. It was worse than he’d thought. That the very man who’d been entrusted with the princess's protection - a knight of the Kingsguard - would betray his oaths and his king in this manner was inconceivable.

“Ser Harrold,” Viserys raised his voice and the Lord Commander swiftly appeared in the doorway. “Arrest Ser Criston Cole. He’s to be stripped of his white cloak and sent to the Wall.”

“May I ask his crime, Your Grace?” 

“Treason against the crown,” Viserys answered simply and resolutely. “Any details are exceptionally sensitive, so make sure that it’s handled quietly and Ser Criston speaks to no one.”

“At once, Your Grace,” Ser Harrold acknowledged and left right away.

“What about the vulture perching on your throne?” Rhaenyra advanced as soon as the door closed behind the Kingsguard. “Your Hand.”

“Otto has been a loyal Hand for decades,” the king protested instinctively, yet flashes of the happenings in the dragon dreams and of the lie he’d recently caught the Hand in immediately flooded his mind. 

“He makes no secret that he wants Aegon to be named heir,” his daughter complained. “He went as far as spying on me to bring about my ruin.”

The king looked to his brother, expecting him to join the princess in her efforts to get rid of Otto Hightower, but Daemon didn’t add anything. Not that he needed to. His dark expression said enough. Not to mention that Viserys knew intimately his feelings for the Hand. 

“I agree. Otto will be dismissed and you two will join the council. I welcome suggestions for a new Hand.”

His brother and daughter looked at him incredulously for long moments. Daemon was the first to recover, a smug smirk rapidly affixing itself on his face. 

“Can I be there when you give Otto the good news?” he drawled in his most arrogant tone, prompting Rhaenyra to lightly punch him in the arm. 

Imagining which of the announcements - Rhaenyra and Daemon’s wedding or his dismissal - would horrify Otto more had Viserys burst into laughter.

Daemon and Rhaenyra soon joined him in what must have been the first time the three Targaryens laughed together in many years. 

The End