Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Jacaerys Velaryon → Daeron Targaryen

Daeron Targaryen → Jacaerys Velaryon 

Visenya Velaryon → Rhaegar Targaryen 

Rhaegar Targaryen → Visenya Velaryon 

Aemma Velaryon → Baelor Targaryen 

Baelor Targaryen → Aemma Velaryon 

Jacaerys Velaryon

The First of His Name. The First Born son of the heir, Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen and Prince Consort Laenor Velaryon. The Future Heir of the Iron Throne. Blessed with his ancestors’ Valyrian features. Silver-white hair and bluish-lilac hues. A blessing from the Gods to the Heir of the Iron Throne. 

Daeron Targaryen 

The third son of the King and Queen. He was not blessed with the Valyrian features of his father unlike his elder siblings. Instead blessed with his mother’s plain Andal features. Wisp of auburn-chestnut curls upon his head and eyes, a hazel hue rather than the bluish-lilac hues that his elder siblings inherited from their father. He is his mother’s son through and through. There is no mistaking on who he favored after. 

Visenya Velaryon 

A miracle from the Gods. She is a miracle from the Gods, given to her mother if her elder brother is considered as a blessing. Her eyes differentiate from the rest. Her eyes lilac though green in the middle. Unique, she is considered for having such a different feature contrast to the other members of her family. Her hair is the silver-white that her parents and brother have. She would be the future heir of Driftmark. The Pearl of Driftmark and The Beauty of the Realm would be her moniker. 

Rhaegar Targaryen 

The fourth son of the King and Queen. Blessed with his mother’s features rather than that of his father. An exact copy of his mother, all would say. From his hazel eyes down to his pink pouty lips. He is adored by all. The Beloved Prince of the Realm , the smallfolk would give him that moniker. 

Aemma Velaryon 

The pride and joy of Rhaenyra Targaryen. Unlike her siblings, she had inherited the Baratheon’s black hair. The favored grandchild of The Queen that Never Was, Princess Rhaenys and Lord Corlys Velaryon. Though she lacks the Valyrian silver-white hair, her eyes are Valyrian coloring. The lavender blue hue of her eyes screamed her Valyrian heritage. 

Baelor Targaryen

The fifth son of the King and Queen. He would be the last child of Queen Alicent and King Viserys. Like his two brothers before him, his features favored that of his mother’s. 

Chapter Text

“ Is it true?” Daeron asks, catching his mother’s attention. “ Am I a bastard?” Alicent’s heart aches at her sweet boy’s question. 

“ No, you are no bastard,” She kneels in front of him, gently caressing his auburn-chestnut curls. “ Who have you heard saying this?” Her blood boils with anger at the thought of someone calling her son a bastard. 

“ Some of the knights,” Replied Daeron, looking at his hands rather than his mother. “ I overheard them calling me and Gar, a bastard because we don’t have Valyrian features like Aeg, Aem, and Helie.” Her sweet boy continues, his face flush with embarrassed and ashamed. She draws him into a hug, pressing a kiss to his head. 

“ You are not a bastard, do you hear me?” She tells him, pulling away from the embrace so that she may look him in the eyes. His hazel eyes so similar to hers stare into her own. He nods his head. “ You are Prince Daeron Targaryen, the son of the King. You are my son . Do not doubt who you are.” Daeron smiles at his mother upon hearing her claim him as her son proudly. 

It does not silence the voices in his mind but it is enough to quiet them for a bit. To have the affirmation of his mother’s love, her claim on him as her son is enough for him. When he was old enough to understand what the word bastard meant, he would sometimes look in a mirror and compare all his features to that of his elder siblings. Sometimes when he looks in the mirror, he is unable to find a connection to the man that sired him, he can’t see a feature that might belong to him and not his mother’s. But then he would look at Aegon and see himself in his older brother’s features. It is only looking at his elder siblings that he is able to see the shared features of their father. If he really thinks about it though, he sees more of his older-half sister, Rhaenyra in his features than that of their father’s but he does not think about it and pushes it aside. He is just happy to be able to see the resemblance between himself and his silver-haired siblings. 

“ I love you, Mama,” Alicent’s heart soars at the term. She rarely hears her children call her that anymore. Her youngest three boys are the only ones who still use it, still young enough to not be embarrassed or be reprimanded by others using that term. 

“ I love you too, my precious boy,” She hugs him once more, kissing his forehead. “ Now get along now. I believe your siblings are waiting for you.” 

Daeron and Rhaegar are godsent. They have accomplished something that Alicent herself has not been able to do. Rhaegar has always adored Aegon for reasons that Alicent struggled to understand despite the fact that Aegon is her firstborn or maybe it’s because he is her firstborn that she struggled to like him. 

Aegon has taken pride in the fact that Rhaegar favors him above their siblings. Before Rhaegar and Daeron were born, Aegon had been no one’s favorite. He struggled in connecting with his sister, Helaena. She was odd and he didn’t know how to understand her, didn’t know how to interact with her which caused a drift between them. He loves her, would do anything for her, would die and kill for her but that’s his job as her older brother. He did try when they were younger. But he and Helaena were polar opposite of each other. Where he was outgoing and liked attention, Helaena was shy and kept to herself. She hates physical contact while he loves physical contact. But he did learn what she liked and what she disliked so he tailored his love for her through that. To let her know that despite that he struggled to understand her, he loves her. Aemond was a different story. Aegon had wanted a brother to play with so when his mother told him that he had a baby brother, he was so excited. But Aemond preferred staying by their mother’s side. It made Aegon resent him for having their mother’s love, for being the son that Aegon could not be. The dutiful perfect son . He could never compare nor compete with his dutiful perfect brother in their mother’s eyes. 

So when Daeron was born without the obnoxious Valyrian features, there had been something so imperfectly perfect about him. The baby’s imperfection was what made Aegon fall in love with him. It made him feel less alone because he was no longer the imperfect child that could never live up to his mother’s and grandfather’s expectations. Daeron was the first sibling that he felt a connection with. 

Their Grandfather had made clear his disdain of Daeron causing a rift between him and his mother. Another reason why he loves Daeron is because he is the reason, he now has their mother’s love and affection as well as her support. He remembers it clearly when his mother and grandfather had gotten into a terrible argument about Daeron and himself. 

He is in the nursery, visiting Daeron and his nephew, Jacaerys though the latter boy was with his mother somewhere else in the Keep so it is just him, Daeron, and a nursemaid. The weight of his baby brother in his arms relaxes him after having escaped his grandfather’s stupid lectures about how he needs to start acting like the rightful heir and blah, blah. His Grandfather is a dangerous man, he knows that. Dangerous in the way that he makes his mother a bitter woman. Dangerous in the way that he harms his mother when he thinks no one sees or notices despite the fact that his mother is the Queen and that he could be charged with treason for harming her. He knows that knowledge is a leverage over his Grandfather and that should he decide to bring it up to Rhaenyra, his Grandfather would be burnt by dragonfire or be beheaded. But he keeps quiet because he knows how it would hurt his mother to lose her father. He keeps quiet for the love his mother holds for his Grandfather. 

After running away from the man, he finds himself making his way to the nursery room. He finds that being with Daeron brings him a calm that only the baby could bring. It brings him a peace that he knows or he guesses that babies could only bring. There is something about babies that are so pure, so innocent, so light and bright. Untainted by the harsh reality of the world. The nursery is one room that he knows that his Grandfather tries to avoid at all cost so to hear the door open and see his Grandfather shocks him. His hold on Daeron tightens, unsure if it is to protect him or to comfort him. 

“ Our conversation was not finished, Aegon,” his Grandfather says, glaring at him. “ Put that pathetic child down! A prince should be holding a bastard.” Aegon’s brows furrowed in confusion yet feels his brotherly instinct to defend his brother. 

“ My brother is not a bastard!” He tells him. His Grandfather only laughs though humorlessly. It’s a mock like he’s some naive child that knows nothing. 

“ Boy, you know nothing,” Otto says. Aegon does not recall what happens after arguing with his Grandfather, only remembers how angry the man was. Remembers his mother entering the room as he pressed himself in a corner to shield Daeron from the attack his Grandfather is about to make. 

“ Aegon?” The sound of his mother’s voice gives him comfort. “ Are you alright?” He turns to look at her, his eyes pleading for her to save him, to protect him, to choose him over his Grandfather. And for the first time in his life, she does not disappoint him. 

“ Father,” His mother greets his grandfather. “ Why are you here?” She asks him as she nears Aegon. She maneuvers her body so that it is shielding her son from her father’s gaze. Her father looks at her in the way she hates so much as if she’s disappointing him by choosing Aegon over him. And for the first time since Aegon’s birth, she is choosing her son. 

“ Can’t a Grandfather not be able to spend some time with his grandsons?” Her father asks though she knows that he has a different motive. He is here for a reason. She looks around to see that the nursemaid assigned to Daeron had left which meant that the girl was dismissed. It did not sit right with her that her infant son’s nursemaid was dismissed. 

“ He wanted to kill Daeron!” Aegon exclaims frantically. Her heart stops for a moment upon hearing that. She knows Aegon and while he lies, he would not lie about an attempt on his siblings' lives. She knows that despite what he says about his siblings, he loves them. He would die for them. He is loyal to them. “ He called him a bastard. That he needed to be rid of, to cleanse the world of a sin.” Alicent’s brows furrow confused. 

“ Daeron is not a bastard,” She says. “ I have been faithful to the King and have laid with no other man.” She glares at her father for such an accusation. “ To accuse me of such adultery is treason. To call a son of the King a bastard is treason.” Anger boils beneath her veins. “ An attempt on my child’s, on a prince’s life is death.” 

It is the first time that his mother showed his emotions. It is the first time that his mother protected him from his grandfather. It is refreshing to have his mother side with him. 

Ever since that day, he has adored his youngest brother and become very protective of him. The attempt on Daeron’s life had shocked him to his core and it made him very protective of his siblings. He isn’t the best brother, he knows that but he is changing to be a better one. He failed Helaena and Aemond as a big brother but he hasn’t failed Daeron yet nor the babe in his mother’s stomach. He has protected Daeron and he will continue to protect him and their siblings. He noticed how relaxed his mother is when Daeron is in proximity and how happy and proud she looks at him when he is with Daeron. There’s something about Daeron that softens their mother, there is a glow to her. 

“ Mother,” Aegon greets his mother who enters the nursery in hopes to be able to hold her youngest son before starting the day but it seems that her eldest has beaten her to it. Seeing the way Aegon cradles Daeron in his arm brings a small smile to her face. She remembers Aegon asking sheepishly to one of the nursemaid of Daeron if she could teach him how to hold Daeron properly so that he would not hurt him. It is the first time she felt pride in Aegon. 

“ Aegon,” there’s a softness in his mother’s voice that he hasn’t heard in a long time. She joins him on the ground, watching her sons. Daeron looks so much like Aegon as a babe except his coloring was Florent instead of Targaryen. Daeron’s auburn-chestnut curls and hazel eyes, he inherited from her and she had inherited those features from her mother. “ What are you doing here?” It’s a genuine curiosity rather than the normal reprimanding that he’s used to. 

“ I wanted to spend some time with my youngest brother,” He answers. He’s tempted to offer his mother Daeron but he knows he’s selfish and wants to keep holding Daeron so he doesn’t offer his mother to hold his brother. She doesn’t make a move to take his brother from him which relieves him. Silence drapes over them unsure how to keep a conversation. They’ve never been alone before unless his mother is lecturing him about something. He doesn’t even know if they’ve ever been alone and had a proper conversation before. He doubts it. So this is likely their first time, just them two alone together aside from Daeron. The peaceful atmosphere is nice and Aegon doesn’t want to break that. 

“ How are you doing with your lessons?” His mother breaks the silence between them. He shrugs, staring at Daeron’s peaceful sleeping face. He waits for the reprimanding that never comes and it takes him by surprise. His mother always has something to reprimand him for. 

He looks at her, “ You’re not going to give me a lecture? Of how I am not taking responsibility for my lessons?” He asks, brows furrowing. His mother sighs, her left hand slipping through his curls, gently caressing. He finds himself leaning into her touch. Rarely is his mother’s touch gentle nor did his mother ever touch him affectionately not since he was babe. 

“ What’s the point of giving it to you if you won’t listen? Sometimes you learn when to fight your battles,” She tells him. He looks at her, a question in his bluish-lilac eyes (the same hue of Rhaenyra’s) but before he is able to ask, he feels his brother stir awake. He looks down to see hazel eyes looking back at him. Eyes of his mother. For a moment he feels a slight envy towards his baby brother, for being his mother’s son, for being the near exact image of their mother but that slight envy is washed away the moment the baby grasps his index finger. Daeron holds on to his index finger with a strong grip. 

“ He’s awake,” He whispers in awe as if it’s the first time he witnessed his brother open his eyes for the first time. Daeron blinks at him owlishly, watching him curiously. 

“ He is,” His mother agrees. She gently grabs a hold of his baby brother’s little foot, caressing it. “ I shall inform his wet nurse that he is ready to feed.” Aegon nods his head though rather focuses on his brother than the words of his mother. He is too mesmerized by the babe. He watches her leave a kiss on his brother’s head before he is taken back by surprise upon feeling her lips press against his forehead. There is a silent apology, an apology that his mother doesn’t say out loud. It confuses him. He watches her leave the nursery with emotional turmoil. 

Why must you be affectionate now? Why are you so different? Why couldn’t this version of you have been my mother when I was younger? Do you love me now? Do you like me now? I forgive you. I’m sorry. 

Alicent watches her son sleep. There’s something peaceful in the way he looks asleep. She brushes the wisp of auburn-chestnut locks on his head, smiling softly at him. He is hers . In the way that her three older children are not. Aegon, Helaena, and Aemond all belong to Viserys, they took after him. The Targaryen features in all three of them and not a trace of her except for their curls. But Daeron, he doesn’t look anything like Viserys aside from his nose and eye shape but everything else is her. From the color of his hair to the color of his eyes, he is a copy of her. He is the first child to ever make her feel the maternal love–instinct– that she was supposed to have with her three older children. Upon looking at him, she is not reminded of the stolen childhood, or the broken friendship when she married Viserys. It is not fair to her older children she knows that she has been unable to love them the way a mother is meant to love their child. She knows that it is unfair to them that she had to learn to love them, to like them. She loves them, of course she does. She gave them life, she carried and protected them for nine months in her womb. She would die and kill for them. She would do anything to protect them against the world. But it does not mean that it was easy loving them when they represent so much of her stolen childhood. When they remind her of what she broke when she married their father. When they are the very challenge against her former childhood companion by simply breathing and living. With Daeron though, there is none of that. She is not reminded of any of that. Loving him came easy to her. He is the piece of her that was Lady Alicent Florent, not Hightower, not Targaryen, and most definitely not the Queen, the piece of her that was Rhaenyra’s best friend, not her stepmother. While she had never had her mother’s maiden name, it is a surname she much preferred. A connection to her mother. 

She looks towards the other babe in the other crib that shares the nursery room with her son. The babe that Rhaenyra birthed, the babe who shares a wet nurse with her own son; Prince Jacaerys Velaryon . The babe is wide awake unlike Daeron, his lilac eyes looking around. Jacaerys is Rhaenyra’s son without a doubt. His silver wisp of hair and lilac eyes are all Targaryen, all Rhaenyra. She feels a connection to him, a motherly instinct towards him which takes her by surprise. She gently picks him up, watching the way he gives her a gummy smile as he grabs a strand of her hair before putting it in his mouth. She chuckles, carefully removing her hair from his grasp and mouth. “ Little Prince, is that a way to behave in front of the Queen?” She jests. He babbles as if answering her which makes a smile appear on her face. It pleases her to see that Rhaenyra had birthed a healthy son. She entertains him with a story while she waits for her own son to wake. 

Chapter Text

Blue as the wings of a heron in the night 

Like the rising of the tides on the shores of Isle Skye 

They gleam evergreen, winds ‘a whistling in the pines

Like a castle-crawling vine, like the grassy Glen of Lyon 

And rich as the mud after rain upon the ground 

They’re a whisky hue of brown, braided river running wild 

I fell astray, but in you, I found 

That I am ever bound to your hazel eyes 

Aegon listens to the lilt voice of his mother’s as she sings a lullaby to his newest and youngest brother, Rhaegar. He has never heard his mother sing before until Rhaegar was born. Or if he had then he had been too young to remember the melodic sound of his mother’s voice when she sang. He knows that his mother rarely sings. Only singing to lull her youngest son to sleep after learning that the young prince prefers to be sung to sleep otherwise he would cry his pretty little head off and keep nursemaids in the nursery as well as his little niece, Visenya up or cry til exhaustion. Aegon rolls his eyes at how much of a mama’s boy, Rhaegar is despite still being a couple moons old. Rhaegar preferred being held in his mother’s arms and if not her arms then Ser Laenor which was a surprise honestly. It would take a while for him to settle if he were in another's arms that were not either his mother’s or Ser Laenor’s. The babe also preferred to be sung to sleep by his mother otherwise he would force himself awake until he was unable to anymore. 

Deep as the sea where the ocean meets the shore 

Where I met them once before, on the emerald Cliffs of Moher 

Bright as the light setting fire to the north 

Rising high beyond the morn, laying shadows on the floor 

Long is the day when the moon obscures the sun 

‘Tis the darkness they become, till the dawn upon the fjord 

I fell astray, but I am bone and blood

And I am bound by love to your hazel eyes 

The last verse of the lullaby is Aegon’s favorite. I am bound by love to your hazel eyes. He repeats the last verse over and over when he goes to sleep. Replacing hazel to lilac, he pretends that his mother is singing it to him as well. He wonders if his mother ever sang to him when he was Rhaegar’s age. He likes to believe that she did since she sang to Daeron when he was but a babe and even now sometimes she would sing to him when asked for his lullaby as he proclaims the lullaby she sings to him as his. Aegon wonders what lullaby his mother would sing to him, if it was just one song or multiple different ones that he would not be able to proclaim as his. He wonders if Helaena and Aemond remembers their mother ever singing to them. 

“ Aeg,” the sound of his mother’s voice startles him awake, not realizing he had fallen asleep. “ Let’s get you to your chamber, darling boy.” A small smile creeps up on his face at the endearment. His mother rarely or ever calls him that ever since he turned ten. It was a term he recalls his mother using when he was a child and not a disappointment yet to her. He leans heavily against her side as she helps him stand, making their way to his chambers. For the first time since he was a babe, his mother stays and tucks him in. 

“ Mama ,” Aegon mutters sleepily, snuggling into his blanket as his bleary eyes look up at his mother. Alicent feels her heart break and mend at the same time hearing her firstborn call her that name. It’s been so long since he has called her that. She sits down at the edge of his bed, holding his hand. “ Mama?” 

“ Yes, my sweet baby boy,” She replies, brushing his silver hair away from his face, gently caressing his cheek. She sees the baby that she held the night that he was born. She sees the little boy that clinged to her. Her little boy that gave affection so freely. Her first born son. He took all of her features except the coloring. It was the reason why she struggled to like him, to love him because looking at him was like looking at a mirror. Except that the mirror she looked into was untainted by the cruel world, so pure and innocent and full of life. She knew that she would snuff that light out because she was his mother. A mother who was a child herself, raising another child. They would grow together. He would be the reminder of her stolen childhood. He would grow up in a cage as she is in because she did not know any better on how to raise a child. He grow up to be broken because of her. No matter how hard she tries, her baby boy would not get the mother he deserves, failing him profoundly. 

“ Do you love me?” Her eldest asks seemingly. Desperate to hear it once from his mother at this age to know that she does love him. He feels safe enough tonight after being in the nursery with her and Rhaegar. There is tentative peace between his mother and himself, an understanding in some sort of way after being in the nursery, a safe space for both mother and son. He is confident that his mother will not refute his question like she’s had in the past and that a part of him –childish and foolish– hopes that tonight will be the night that his mother gives him an answer. 

“ I love you with every beat of my heart, Aegon,” She answers. “ I do not tell it to you often but I do love you. I carried and protected you in my womb for nine moons. You are mine . I know that I am not the best mother and I am sorry for that. I am sorry that I could not be the mother that you needed when you were a child. I am sorry for failing you.” There are unshed tears in his mother’s eyes that she does not let fall. His heart stutters upon her admission. He never thought that his mother would ever consider herself  failing him as his mother. He knows that she isn’t the best mother in the world, but she is his mother and the only mother he will ever have. He understood that his mother tried the best she could raising him and his sibling as a single mother. His father is an absent father that could care less about him and his siblings. He knows that he and his siblings are not the easiest of children to raise and he forgives her for all her mistakes. His mother at least is trying and with his younger siblings in the picture as well as his half-sister, Rhaenyra and her husband, Laenor, helping and supporting his mother raising them, his mother is becoming a better, gentler, softer mother. 

“ I forgive you,” He mutters, a smile gracing his lips. He lets sleep take a hold of him finally but not before uttering to his mother, “ I love you too, mama .” Something heals in Alicent upon hearing those words from her first born. It’s as if the girl she used to be is slowly healing as she mends her relationship with the son that she failed, with the children that she failed. She makes herself a vow that she would do everything to mend her relationship with her three elder children. To be the mother that they deserved to have when they were younger. She kisses her son’s head, tears falling to his head as she allows her tears to finally fall. She was forgiven by her firstborn son. Her darling baby boy. 

Chapter Text

“ Aeg!” Aegon turns to the sound of his brother’s voice. Rhaegar, all auburn-chestnut wind-swept curls and tearful hazel eyes, throws himself into the arms of his brother, sobbing. Aegon’s heart breaks upon hearing the sound of his little brother’s cries and the sight of his tears. His blood boils in anger that someone dared to make his brother cry, a prince to the realm no less. A prince that is adored by all at that. His brother is a sensitive kid but he isn’t so sensitive that anything could make him cry. Someone did something to him, Aegon deduced. He picks him up, rubbing his back gently, humming his lullaby to soothe him. 

“ What happened, Gar?” Aegon asks softly but firmly. Rhaegar buries his face against the nape of his neck, mumbling. “ Come on kiddo, you know I can’t understand you when you mumble. So how about we use your big boy voice? Hhmm?” 

Tears stream down Rhaegar’s face as he answers timidly, “ Ser Criston called me a bastard.” Aegon sees red after hearing that. Cole is dead when he sees him. How fucking dare he call his sweet brother, a fucking bastard?! “ I told him that I wasn’t and he laughed at me and pushed me. He said no one will believe me because I’m clumsy.” Rhaegar hiccups, his cries subsiding. Aegon’s hold on him subconsciously tightens. It takes every will power in him to not let his temper get the better of him, especially not in front of Rhaegar. Cole will be dead the moment he informs his mother about this, knowing that his mother, half-sister, and even his brother-in-law, will not let this insult slide. He had thought Cole had been a friend of his mother but he supposed not. 

“ Let’s go find Mama,” he tells Rhaegar instead, pressing a kiss on his dark curls. Rhaegar nods his head in agreement, resting his head on his big brother’s shoulder. They end up running into their half-sister who manages to catch herself before face planting. “ Apologies, sister.” Aegon is so in his head that he doesn’t register what he’s called Rhaenyra— sister. Rhaenyra notices though. She feels her freeze for a moment. Aegon has never acknowledged her as his sister not since he was a toddler. Even now despite his mother and her having been reconciled with one another, he refuses to acknowledge her as his sister. 

“ What happened, Aegon?” Rhaenyra asks him. There is murder in his eyes though not directed at her. The way he clings to his little brother’s smaller frame, tells her that whatever cause him to look like he is about to murder someone has to do something with Rhaegar. She knows how much Aegon adores their younger brother and knows that he tends to let his emotions get the best of him when it comes to Rhaegar. 

“ Someone called my brother a bastard,” Aegon snarls. “ And they need to pay.” Her eyes widen at the belligerent tone of his voice. Rarely does he let his temper get the best of him but when he does, it is not a pretty sight. He will see it through that whoever offended his brother gets punished. “ Do you happen to know where my mother is?” It doesn’t surprise her that Aegon asks her of the location of his mother. Ever since the birth of Daeron and Jace, her relationship with Alicent began to mend and the birth of their youngest children; Rhaegar and Visenya healed it. While their relationship could never go back to the way it was before, they were able to start over. Their children would be raised together as siblings, as family, like they’ve always promised each other when they were young girls before everything got between them. 

“ I do actually, I was on my way to the nursery to meet her,” Rhaenyra answers. She had finished a council meeting which Alicent had opted not to go since she wanted to be with the babes. Alicent also didn’t see the point of going if the King had not asked her to attend. Had this been three years ago, she would have been concerned to not be invited to the council but now she was grateful not to be, allowing her to spend time with her children. While Rhaenyra had wished to have joined Alicent, she knew as heir, it was required of her to be present in the council. She would one day rule and would need all the knowledge and source she can get. So once finishing the council meeting, she makes her way to the nursery to join Alicent when she runs into Aegon. Which brings them to this moment. 

“ And Aemond? Have you perchance seen him?” Aegon asks. 

“ Training ground. I do believe Laenor has challenged him into a friendly spar,” She answers. Aegon nods his head before kissing the top of Rhaegar’s then passes him over to her. She frowns, confused but accepts Rhaegar in her arms. Rhaegar leans his head against her neck as he peers through his lashes to look at Aegon. 

“ Do take him to Mother please,” He tells her. “ I’ll be back, Gar. I have to go talk to Aem, okay?” He reaches out gently to squeeze Rhaegar’s hand as the little boy pouts unhappily. “ I promise. I will be back.” He affirms, pressing a kiss on the little hand that he has in his before dashing off. Both Rhaenyra and Rhaegar watch Aegon race through the Red Keep to the training arena. 

“ Ser Cole!” The sound of his brother’s voice distracts Aemond, allowing Laenor to land a hit before he can deflect it. Laenor too stops at the sound of Aegon’s voice after landing the hit on Aemond, searching for the boy. Aemond knows immediately that his brother is angry. Point proven when Aegon stalks towards the Dornish Knight and before Aemond can even comprehend what happened, the sound of breaking bones hits his ears. Bluish-lilac eyes widening in shock and surprise. Aegon has just punched Ser Criston. Ser Criston stares at the King’s first born, disbelief, nose bleeding and definitely broken.

“ Prince Aegon,” Criston grunts, wiping the blood away from his bloody nose. Laenor is quick to grab hold of Aegon when he realizes that the boy is about to make another swing on the knight. A part of him wishes that he let Aegon take another swing on the Dornish but the part of him that sees Aegon as another son does not want him getting hurt even though he knows that Cole will not touch a single hair on the Prince if he likes living. Cole would not risk that but then again who knows? He would be lying if he said he didn’t  enjoy seeing Cole getting hit and no less by Aegon, himself because he did enjoy it. He remembers when Aegon used to look up to Cole, seeing him almost like a father figure since his own father was absent and that Cole was the only male role model he had in his life before Laenor came in and took the title Kepa. He also remembers when Aegon started distancing himself from Cole after his dark hair brother, Daeron was born. Aegon had quickly realized that Cole didn’t like Daeron and that the man had a disgusted look every time he looked at Daeron. Aegon didn’t like that and so he distanced himself from the man until the man was only a knight to him again. He no longer considered him as a father figure especially with Laenor coming into the picture. Laenor who slowly took the place Cole used to reside in his heart. Laenor who became a father figure to him and his siblings. Laenor who got the honor of the title: Kepa. 

“ Call them a bastard again and it shall be your tongue I cut,” Aegon growls, glaring at the Dornish man. Laenor frowns. Call who a bastard? His brain connects it quickly, knowing Aegon, there is only one reason what caused this kind of reaction from the boy. It seems that Aemond has also figured out what Aegon meant because the boy has his sword drawn, aimed at the knight who reacted by taking his own sword out in self-defense. 

“ Who did he call a bastard, Aeg ,” Cole feels his entire body freeze at the nickname. Aemond rarely calls Aegon, Aeg. It is a name that Aemond only uses when he is fighting side by side with his brother. It is a name used while being protectors to their younger siblings. Cole knows he fucked up having called their dark-haired siblings bastards. He knows that he will not win the fight against Aemond —a natural at swordsmanship— when the boy learns who exactly he called a bastard. They are always protective of him. 

“ Rhaegar,” Cole barely dodges the sword the moment Aegon utters the name. Aemond sees red upon hearing Rhaegar’s name out of his brother’s mouth. Their precious Rhaegar was insulted. Rhaegar who looks most like their mother. Sweet innocent little Rhaegar was insulted by some low life knight. Anger boils Aemond’s blood and the need to defend his baby brother surges through him as he swings his sword at Cole. 

“ Do you know that to question my brothers’ legitimacy is treason? Cole,” Aemond asks him condescendingly, as the clash of swords rings through the yard. In his peripheral vision, he notices that Ser Laenor is no longer holding Aegon back and Cole knows that his slim chance of surviving has just become even slimmer. Aegon might not be the best swordsman but he is clever and can handle a blade as well as unpredictable which is worse. 

“ To push a prince is death, especially a prince of the realm,” Aegon adds, sword aimed threateningly at the knight. “ You mean to injure our brother and pass it off as his clumsiness. That is something that can’t be let go. You harmed a Prince of the Realm and lesser men have died for less.” Aemond draws blood, his blade cutting against the neck of the knight. 

“ Fortunately for you, you are not ours to sentence,” Aemond says. “ You shall be having an audience with the Queen who will deem the punishment fit for the crime you committed.” He presses the blade deeper into the knight’s neck before pulling away, watching the way Cole’s blood drips from his neck. It is not enough to kill given that it is not an artery he nicked but it’s enough for Aemond and Aegon to see his blood leaving his body. No one dares to step in to help the Dorne knight though it was not a surprise since the other knights have heard what Cole had done. The knights adore the princes, having viewed them as son-like figures. Laenor watched the entire exchange with unmasked glee. 

“ Feel free to avenge your lost friend , Kepa ,” Laenor smiles at them, doing a quick over on both the boys just to be sure that neither boys are injured. He feels grateful to finally have the opportunity to avenge Joffrey after all these years he had been unable to. Now his sons give him permission to do so. It makes him grateful that Rhaenyra and Alicent have reconciled with each other. With Alicent no longer poisoning her children against Rhaenyra and no longer in the clutches of Otto Hightower, their family is more united than ever. He had slowly become the father figure to the HighTargaryen children. With Viserys being an absent father and the only other man, Criston Cole, in their life having shown his true colors, Laenor was the only man left in their life that they grew close with and began to trust. And in return, he started to view them as his children as well. 

“ Gladly,” Laenor tells them. Both Aegon and Aemond watch as their Kepa socks the shit out Cole before returning to them, wrapping an arm on each of their shoulders. “ Now I shall inform my wife and you boys inform your mother.” They make their way inside the castle. 

Chapter Text

He hates the way the older Targaryen boys dote on their younger dark-haired brothers. Something about the younger boys not having Valyrian traits irritates him like nothing ever has. How dare they call themselves true born Targaryen princes when they lack the distinguished silver hair and bluish-lilac eyes. A mockery of what he could never have, of what he could have had had he been a Noble. They could have been his , had the Queen chosen him to take as a husband, as a lover. Instead they are the bastard children of some other man that do not deserve the attention of his Queen. Another man who is not worthy of her affections. While he refuses that his beloved Queen would be capable of adultery and bare bastards, he would not fault her for that. He would only fault her for the man whom she decided to share her bed with. 

Rhaegar, the Realm’s Adored Prince , is the one who gets on his nerves. It’s the way everyone treats him as if he were no bastard when his entire look screams ‘bastard’. He had told him so and watch his hazel eyes — the same eyes as his Queen— fill with tears as he so bravely argued that he was not a bastard. 

“ I am Prince Rhaegar Targaryen. Son of Queen Alicent and King Viserys!” the little prince had said defyingly, back straight and head held high. 

“ You are a bastard ,” Criston kneels in front of the boy, making himself as innocent as possible. The prince is known to be clumsy, one little nudge and no one would bat an eye thinking of it the prince’s clumsiness. Terrible idea, Cole would quickly realize when he decides to nudge, read: push, the prince. He should have known better knowing that where a dark-haired prince is, not far behind is a silver-haired prince. 

“ Aeg!” The cries of the Prince’s voice has Cole tensing up. Aegon is not one to be messed with when it comes to his younger siblings, especially his dark-haired brothers. He would have preferred Aemond though even Aemond would be terrible as well. But at least Aemond would seek the permission of his mother to seek justice for his younger siblings’ behalf. Aemond would not act irrationally unlike Aegon. Aegon on the other hand would let his emotions get the best of him and take action then think of the consequence later. Cole would be lucky if he survives after insulting the Realm’s favorite prince. 

Alicent frowns upon hearing her elder sons and Ser Criston be announced to the chamber. 

“ Your Majesty, Prince Aegon, Prince Aemond, and Ser Cole, seeks to have an audience with you,” the knight guarding her chamber door informs her. 

“ Let them in, Ser Arrk,” Alicent says. Baelor in her arms watches with curiosity as the door opens. She meets her eldest son’s eyes first. Anger . It is the first emotion she sees in his bluish-lilac eyes. It is a familiar look that is only invoked in him when it is about his siblings. It is a protective kind of anger. Her gaze goes to her second son only to see that same anger in his. It makes her worry and tense to see that not one but two of her sons are sporting that look. She knows that whatever is about to occur is important so she presses a kiss on her youngest son, Baelor’s head before passing him off to the nursemaid, ordering her to go to the Princess so that the children may spend some time together. Aegon and Aemond stop the nursemaid for a moment so they could say goodbye to their brother before allowing her to leave again. Alicent watches the anger fade back into their eyes after bidding goodbye to their brother. “ What is the meaning of this? Aegon? Aemond?” She asks her sons. A gasps escapes her when Aegon harshly grabs the back of Ser Criston’s neck, forcing the knight to his knee. 

“ Aegon!” 

“ Tell the Queen what you did,” Aegon demands. Alicent takes a good look at the knight, noticing the cut on his neck and bruised bleeding nose, most likely broken. “ Tell her and you will beg for mercy to keep your head.” 

“ Aegon?” 

“ I’m sorry. Forgive me,” Cole starts and her thoughts are quick to jump to assumptions. She looks at her sons in desperation, hoping that they would not confirm what she assumed happened. 

“ Your brothers? Daeron and Rhaegar, where are they?” She asks frantically. 

Aemond is quick to reassure his mother. “ They are safe, Mother. Do not fret.” He tells her, knowing that his mother is quick to assume especially when it comes to his younger siblings. “ They’re with Ser Laenor at the Dragon Pit.” Alicent lets out a sigh of relief at the knowledge that her younger sons are with Laenor and while she would have preferred that her sons were not at the Dragon pit, she’d much prefer that then learning that they were dead or terribly injured. 

“ Then what is the meaning of this?” She asks. 

“ Cole, here, called our brothers; your sons, what was the word? Hhmm,” Aegon says, pulling the knight’s head back by the hair so that he could look into his eyes. He repeats himself. “ The word. Cole. What. Was. It. Hmm?” He enunciates the words. 

“ Bastard . I called your sons; bastards,” Alicent’s body moved before her mind could catch up with its action.

Whack!  

Her hand connects with the Dorne knight’s face. Her hand making a red hand print of the man’s cheek of how hard she had slapped him. 

“ How dare you…” She growls, glaring at the knight. Aemond and Aegon watch with satisfied smirks on their faces. Their mother, when angered, is scary. There is a feral look about her, especially her eyes, a fire burning so bright that it could burn the world and right now that look in her eyes is directed to the knight kneeling in front of her. The same knight who she had saved the day of Rhaenyra’s wedding. The same knight who had been loyal to her until the birth of her dark-haired sons. A green flame , dancing in her eyes. The color that is lit when a Hightower calls for war. She knows that he is envious for whatever reason. He has developed an obsessive admiration for her, putting her on a pedal stool that she will never meet. The punishment she gives him is stripping him of his title as her Sworn Protector and leaves the rest of his punishment up to Laenor to decide. It is only right that Laenor gets the right to punish him when Laenor was unable to all those years ago when Cole had brutally murdered Joffrey Lonmouth. Her sons had also informed her that they’ve given their Kepa permission to avenge his friend.  

Chapter Text

Otto has plotted since the birth of Daeron and Jacaerys. It had been luck that the two boys had been born on the same day and around the same time. It seems that the Gods had favored Otto that day. His plans were set in motion the moment that labor bells rang out informing the kingdom the Queen and Princess’s labor had begun. Hearing that he had another grandson and that the Princess had given birth to a first born son, his plan was set in motion. He took one look at his grandson then the Princess’s son and switched them. He took note of how the Princess’s son looked nothing like his supposed father, Laenor. The boy was too pale to be fathered by someone like Laenor and the boy lacked the Valyrian silver-white wisps that Targaryens have. The boy has auburn ish-brown wisps atop his head and when he opened his eyes it was not the bluish-lilac hues. It was a hazel gray hue that neither of his parents have. A bastard , Otto quickly realized. A bastard that could be passed as Alicent’s. His grandson on the other hand just like his siblings before him was born with silver-white wisps and bluish-lilac eyes. A boy that could pass as Rhaenyra’s. It made the switch a lot easier. None would be the wiser of whose son’s belong to whom. A part of him was suspicious of who sired the bastard but pushed it aside. He paid off the midwives and maesters who delivered the babes for their silence. 

If Viserys could not be persuaded to change the line of succession, then he would ensure that his blood still sits on the Iron Throne even if it means throwing his grandson straight into the arms of the enemy. If Aegon will not be heir then the boy who was meant to be his grandson: Daeron Targaryen shall be the future heir. The silver-haired boy would be named Jacaerys Velaryon . The boy who was meant to be the future heir: Jacaerys Velaryon shall remain as a prince. The dark-haired boy would be named Daeron Targaryen . 

In making the dark-haired prince as Alicent’s son and the silver-haired prince as Rhaenyra’s son, it had altered the course of history. The dance of the dragons will not happen. 

With Jacaerys as Rhaenyra’s child, it helped protect her claim to the Iron Throne. A perfect healthy male heir with Targaryen features that no one would bat an eye at him. His legitimacy would never be questioned. No rumors of an affair would ruin her reputation, remaining as the Realm’s Delight. With Daeron as Alicent’s child, it helped Alicent become a better mother. It allowed her to open her eyes and see how much of a danger her father is to her children. She knew that she was not the best mother and had always struggled to be a mother to her elder three but since the birth of her dark-haired child, something in her awoke. The maternal instinct that she had been missing had finally awoken inside her. All it took to realize what kind of man her father was having a child with Andal features rather than Valyrian features. The pure disdain and hatred on her father’s face whenever he so much as looked at Daeron and the attempt on her baby boy’s life had made something inside her snap. The sight of her father striking Aegon, her first baby, who had his back turned using it as a shield to protect Daeron, her youngest baby, from harm made her grow a spine to finally take a stand to her father. 

“Rhaenyra is not a threat!” Alicent's voice trembles with fury as she glares at her father, the words echoing in the nursery as if to ward off the very idea. She had sent Aegon away, instructing him to take his younger brother with him. The thought of leaving her youngest child vulnerable in her father’s presence was unbearable. The room felt too small, suffocating under the weight of her father’s relentless warnings.

“You should be more concerned with Aegon,” her father continues, his voice cold and dismissive. “Aegon is too soft, too indulgent with Daeron. He is a prince, yet he dotes on his brother like a common nursemaid. A true prince would—”

“Enough!” Alicent cuts him off, her patience frayed to the breaking point. She had heard it all before—this same relentless lecture since the day Aegon was born. Each word was like a hammer to her skull, echoing endlessly. She had always dismissed her father’s warnings about Rhaenyra, never once believing that her childhood friend could ever turn kinslayer. But when Rhaenyra lied to her about that fateful night, a seed of doubt was planted. It was the first time Rhaenyra had ever lied to her, and it rattled Alicent to her core.

Yet, with the birth of Daeron and Jace, that doubt began to wane. How could Rhaenyra, a mother herself, ever harm her own blood? 

“If anyone is a threat, it is you, Father!” Alicent’s voice cut through his rant, sharp as a blade. She took a step forward, relishing the shock that flashed across his face, a rare moment of vulnerability in the man who had always seemed unassailable. She steps closer, her voice lowering to a dangerous whisper, each word laced with a steely resolve. “If you so much as lay a finger on my children again, I will see to it personally that you regret it. I am done with your schemes.”

She wasn’t the perfect mother; the gods knew how many mistakes she had made, especially with Aegon. But she was trying—trying to be better, to mend the broken pieces of her family. Her father would not destroy that. He would not strip away the fragile peace she was desperately clinging to. Not this time.

The room fell silent, the air thick with the unspoken threat hanging between them. For the first time, her father seemed at a loss, his eyes narrowing as he studied her, perhaps realizing that his grip on her had finally begun to slip. Alicent’s chest heaved with the weight of her words, but she felt a strange calmness settle over her. She had drawn her line in the sand. Now, it was up to her father to decide which side he would stand on.

Much to Otto’s dismay, the switch only brought his daughter and the Princess back together. Infuriating him that the Princess was back into his daughter’s life and that his daughter is back in the Princess’s clutches. He knows that with his daughter back in the clutches of the Princess that his control over her is slipping. He had never been able to fully influence nor manipulate his daughter when the Princess was with her every second of the day. Which was why he had been pleased that their friendship fractured when Viserys decided to marry Alicent. It isolated her with the Princess temper tantrum, it left Alicent all alone, leaving him as her only ally. And now he is losing his daughter again to that cunt of a princess. 

Chapter Text

Rhaenyra knows how lucky she has been so far that all her children came out looking like her. Her children favored her features more than their father’s. Should her children have come looking out with plain Andal features, the legitimacy of her children would be put to question. Even more so of a scandal should the people start noticing the uncanny resemblance of her children to the Queen. She is grateful that her children all came out looking like her. Silver hair and lilac eyes. Laenor too had been grateful that his son and daughters came out favoring the Valyrian genes rather than of their father’s Andal genes. Rhaenyra and Laenor did try to conceive an heir but Laenor had been unable to perform his duty, too heartbroken over the loss of his lover that they chose a different alternative to have an heir. He hadn’t been too pleased with the choice of partner that Rhaenyra decided on to sire their children but nevertheless grateful to the man for not only providing them the heirs they needed but also keeping it a secret and accepting that he would never be able to acknowledge the children he sired. He gave them three beautiful children. A son and two daughters. 

“ Three children is enough, Rhaenyra,” Laenor tells his wife. “ We did our duty to the realm and our families. We do not need anymore. I will not risk your life in the pursuit of another son. We do not owe the realm anything anymore. We have our heirs.” Tears blur his eyes. It’s been a week since the birth of their daughter, Aemma Velaryon . A week since he nearly lost his wife, since the realm nearly lost its Queen and Princess to the birthing beds. 

“ No more, I promise,” Rhaenyra vows to her husband. Birthing Aemma was harder than the two previous births. 

“ Both the Queen and Princess have lost consciousness!” exclaim the Maesters informing the midwives. None truly paying attention to the babes, all attention to the Queen and Princess. So when a newly midwife entered the birthing chamber, taking care of the babes without knowing who belonged to whom, it was a mix up. The Maester in haste to answer the midwife’s question made a mistake. His priority was making sure to keep the Queen and Princess alive. 

“ Queen Alicent has given birth to a son,” the Maester declared, having forgotten that the Queen had actually given birth to a daughter and not a son. He hadn’t realized his mistake, too worried about the declining health of the Queen and Princess. The Realm will not lose its Queen and Princess on the same day and he was determined to make that true. “ Princess Rhaenyra has given birth to a daughter.” False, the princess had actually given birth to a son but the Maester didn’t care much about that. He cared about keeping his head on his body and the King would most definitely have his head if he allowed both women to die during childbirth or at least the king would have his head for allowing his precious daughter to die in childbirth. 

And a second switch was made that day though not by the hands of Otto Hightower this time. This time purely accidental.

“ The Queen, Princess,” 

Alicent walks into the Princess’s chamber with Baelor in her arms. Laenor greets her with a kiss on her temple. A newly developed closeness between the two of them. Ever since the birth of Rhaegar and Visenya, a bond was created though neither was sure how it formed. It definitely took Rhaenyra by surprise, having not expected that Laenor forgive Alicent for defending the man that killed his lover. 

Rhaegar and Visenya are only a couple moons old. Alicent has taken a habit of going to the nursery during the night to watch over her son sleep. It seems that Laenor too has taken the habit of watching his daughter sleep. She would always run into him on her way to the nursery. During the first couple of visits, neither talked to each other though acknowledged each other’s presence in the nursery room. Laenor could never fully forgive Alicent for making Cole as her sworn protector. He had noticed their closeness before Daeron’s birth. He had noticed Cole’s odd obsession with the Queen. He noticed the way his dark eyes would blaze with jealousy and anger when the Queen would talk to another man. It was odd to a knight act like that, especially to the Queen. Laenor had brought it up to Rhaenyra one night during a dinner. He was concerned for Alicent on behalf of Rhaenyra knowing that his wife still cared and loved the woman. Rhaenyra tells him about her time with Cole and how it made him bitter when she had rejected him to run away. Ever since then Laenor had kept an eye on Cole from afar making sure that he didn’t act on his obsession. It takes a couple of moons for them to actually make conversation. Surprisingly it had been Alicennt to break the silence between them. 

“ Do you love her?” The Queen had asked him, there was a hint of curiosity in her tone. There was no need to clarify who her was. He knows. 

He tells her earnestly and honestly, “ I do.” It is not a lie. He loves Rhaenyra yes but it will never be a romantic kind of love. He will never love her as a husband should love his wife. He loves her as his cousin, as the mother of his children, as his partner. His platonic soulmate. 

“ Do you love her in the manner of a husband’s love for his wife? Romantically,” Laenor’s breath hitches at the question. He doesn’t know what kind of game the Queen is playing nor what she’s trying to get at. 

“ I love her with my very being but I do not love her as a husband should love his wife,” He doesn’t know why he tells her the truth, knowing how much of a risk he took by just telling her that. Maybe it is the way her hazel eyes stare into his lilac ones with a pleading expression as if he could give her an answer to an unasked question. Maybe it’s the way he sees the longing and love in her eyes when talking about Rhaenyra. He had thought that Alicent hated her when she had declared a silent war between their family during his and Rhaenyra’s wedding day. She had worn green, the color of the Hightower. But recently since Daeron’s and Jace’s birth, she has been dressing in Targaryen colors again and even Florent—the house of her mother— colors. He knew how hopeful Rhaenyra had been when she had seen Alicent in a light blue dress. 

Alicent surprises herself when she admits, “ I don’t love the King. At least not in the way that a wife is meant to love their husband.” Laenor is taken back with the reciprocation of telling the truth to each other. He hadn’t expected it but he appreciates it. He gives her a small smile in thanks. 

The conversation ends there. They sit in silence for the rest of the night, watching their respective children sleep. A routine forms after that and a silent agreement/promise to always be honest to each other in the privacy of their children’s nursery. They have no reason to make that promise to each other but they do it anyway. In time, they slowly learn to trust each other. Alicent learns to trust a man that has no other intention other than to be someone whom she can rely on, to talk to, to be a friend. Laenor learns more about Alicent, and learns to trust her. He sees her as her for the first time. He sees the Alicent that Rhaenyra fell in love with. He could see why Rhaenyra fell in love with her, had he not preferred the same gender, he could have fallen for her too. The Queen and the Alicent he is getting to know are so different from each other. The Alicent that he gets the privilege to know and talk to is more open, more happy while the Queen he has known is reserved, uneasy to read, guarded. It boggles his mind honestly. 

“ When did you know you loved him ?” Alicent had asked one night. They are closer and more comfortable with each other now that she is comfortable to ask him that question and he is proud of it. She is carrying Visenya in her arms while he holds Rhaegar in his—it is another development between them; a show of trust with their children— as they take a seat on their own respective rocking chairs. 

“ Since I was old enough to understand what love is,” Laenor answers her, smiling down at the baby in his arms before looking up at Alicent. “ He was all consuming, every thought was of him. He was mine and I was his.” The pain of talking about Joffrey was less but he knows that it will never fully fade. It would never go away but it becomes easier to talk about him. He has made peace with it and he honors Joffrey, keeps him alive by talking about him. He honors the memory of his lover by singing his songs. “ And when did you know you were in love with Rhaenyra?” Alicent’s eyes widened at the blunt question. Body tensing, unprepared for the question. 

“ What? I’m not— Alicent…” Laenor gives her a pointed look, prompting Alicent to stop floundering, trying to find an excuse or to deny it. She sighs before her body relaxes. She knows the promise that they vowed to each other. To be honest, always. So she will. 

“ I think I’ve always known. I loved–was in love with her but refused to acknowledge it,” Alicent tells him. She then tells him the time that her religious mother had caught her and Rhaenyra kissing when they were girls. She tells him of how her mother made her pray for forgiveness for having sinned. “ It is a sin in the eyes of the Seven. But how could loving another woman be a sin? It harms no one, it will bear no bastards, yet it is a sin.” Laenor was never one that believed in the Gods or the Seven but he knew how imbued religion is in Alicent, knows how much Alicent puts her faith in them. He knows that it wasn’t easy for her to admit to him that she was (is?) in love with her —former?— best friend. He gives her a soft smile, gently squeezing the hand that was holding Visenya with his own free hand. “ I wanted to say yes.” Laenor’s brows furrowed in confusion, waiting for Alicent to elaborate but when she didn't, he didn't poke. He knows that she will tell him eventually. 

“ My Queen,” Laenor greets with a grin. 

“ My Prince,” She greets, grinning back at him. They join Rhaenyra in bed, sitting in the center with Aemma in her arms. 

“ Ali.” Rhaenyra greets her, a hand extending out which Alicent happily accepts. 

“ Nyra.”

I want to fly with you on dragonback, see the great wonders across the Narrow Sea and eat only cake. 

Come with me. 

Chapter Text

The once black hair on Aemma’s head starts turning a lighter shade. Rhaenyra is able to see her daughter’s father’s features in her. It worries her a bit. She had been hoping that Aemma’s hair would stay but she knew that the chances of it lighting up could happen which it did. She knows that by the time her youngest daughter’s hair settles it will be the same auburn-chestnut coloring as the Queen’s and her dark-haired uncles. Aemma had been the only child of hers that came out with black hair—very dark brown mistaken for black—while her first two children came out with silver-white wisp of hair that she knows will not change unlike her dark-haired daughter. Something that all her children did inherit from their father was his curls. Her children’s curls are barely passable as Laenor’s curls. 

“ She’s looking more and more like her father,” Laenor comments as he watches their youngest play with Baelor in the nursery. Rhaenyra hums in acknowledgement though not really paying much attention to him. She’s too busy looking at her youngest brother and daughter. The two could be siblings. They look so alike that they could be twins. Rhaenyra is kind of surprised that she didn’t give birth to twins knowing that the father of her children is a twin, himself. The Queen’s own twin brother to be exact. She had known the risk she was taking when choosing Gwayne as the sire of her children and knew how selfish it was of her to choose him because of his resemblance to Alicent. What Rhaenyra didn’t expect was Alicent to give birth to miniature versions of herself when the woman had given birth to three silver-haired babes previously. Daeron, Rhaegar, and Baelor taking after Alicent was a complete shock to her. She never thought that any of the Queen’s children would take after her despite wishing that they had. 

If her half-siblings had taken after their mother it would have been easier to love them and not see what they truly represent: a threat to her claim on the Iron Throne. She loves her siblings, yes but there are times when she was younger that she did despise them. They are a mockery of what her own mother could not give the King. Sons that her own father killed her own mother to get but failed to. Now the King, her father do not even give them a time of day nor be a father to them. “ They look like they could be siblings.” Laenor tells her. Rhaenyra’s eyes snap towards him, meeting his lilac eyes. “ All of our children including Alicent’s could pass as siblings. People who don’t know them could easily mistake them as siblings.” He adds. “ It would make sense as to why your siblings would look like you since you share the same father but it won’t make sense as to why our children have any kind of resemblance to the Queen.” Rhaenyra knows what he is trying to say. Had any of their other children come out having their father’s features, there would be a scandal. Whispers of an affair; her children, bastards. 

“ Then thank the Gods that our first two came out with silver hair and lilac eyes,” Rhaenyra jest, though there is no real humor in it. They are both grateful that two out of their three came out looking Valyrian and not Hightower nor Florent. There is a sliver of her that questions that though. When she looks at her eldest, Jacaerys , standing side by side with her brothers, Aegon and Aemond, she can see an uncanny resemblance between the three of them. He looks like a mix of Aegon and Aemond while Daeron looks more like her. There’s a part of her that whispers what if Jace isn’t hers? He looks too much like her brothers and sister. But guilt would hit her for thinking that he isn’t hers. So she blocks those whispers out and focuses on how her baby boy is perfect the way he is. She wouldn’t change a thing about him. He is her heir, her first born, her soul. Her baby boy and nothing would ever change that. 

“ Thank the Gods,” Laenor echos. The sound of the chamber doors open gets their attention as their two older children burst in with their uncles and aunt following. They share a look before addressing all the children. “ And what pleasure do we have of seeing all of you here?” Laenor greeted them. 

“ Mama isn’t feeling well,” it’s Jace who answers him. “ And she told us that we have to stay with you guys so she doesn’t get us sick.” the little boy pouts at being forced to stay away from one of his favorite people. 

Both Rhaenyra and Laenor share a look of concern. They both know that Alicent’s seventh pregnancy was taking a toll on her body. When they learned that Alicent was pregnant again not even four moons since Baelor’s birth, they were furious. 

Laenor was the first to sense that something was wrong with Alicent. It was during their nightly routine in the nursery, a time usually filled with the soft coos of their children and the comforting rhythm of their shared duties, when he noticed it.

“Whoa, whoa, hold on. Are you alright, Ali?” Laenor's voice was laced with concern as he reached out, guiding her to sit down in a nearby chair. His hands were steady, but his heart raced as he noticed the way she swayed on her feet, as if she were on the verge of collapsing. Kneeling before her, his eyes anxiously scanned her face, searching for any sign of what might be wrong.

“No, I think I’m going to be sick,” Alicent murmured, her voice weak and strained. She gagged, a hand fluttering to her mouth. Her other hand trembled as she reached for her stomach, her face contorted in discomfort.“Nor, I think—I think…” Her words trailed off as her eyes rolled back, and she slumped forward, unconscious.

“Ali?” Laenor's heart pounded in his chest, a surge of fear gripping him as he checked her breathing. It was shallow, too shallow. “Ali!” he cried out, his voice thick with panic as he shook her gently, trying desperately to rouse her. When she didn’t respond, dread set in. Without wasting another second, he scooped her up into his arms, her limp form cradled against his chest.

He sprinted out of the nursery, his breaths coming in ragged gasps as he shouted for the Maester, every step filled with urgency. As he raced through the corridors, the cold stone walls seemed to close in around him, heightening his fear. He ordered his knight to stay behind and watch over the sleeping babes, his mind consumed by the fear of what might happen to Alicent. Every second felt like an eternity as he prayed for her safety, the intensity of his worry pushing him to move faster, desperate to save the woman he learned to love as another sister, as a co-parent. 

When Laenor finally found the Maester, he was breathless, his voice sharp with urgency. "Check her—tell me what's wrong," he demanded, his eyes never leaving Alicent's pale face as the Maester began his examination. 

He watched, his anxiety mounting with each passing second, until the Maester finally looked up, a mixture of surprise and something else—something like pity—in his eyes. “It seems that congratulations are in order,” the Maester said, his tone carefully measured. “Her Grace is with child once more.”

Laenor’s frown deepened, confusion and disbelief warring within him. "How is that possible? The Queen gave birth only five moons ago," he reminded the Maester, his voice low, almost disbelieving.

"It is not impossible for a woman to conceive shortly after giving birth," the Maester replied calmly. "However, it is not recommended, particularly given how the Queen's last delivery nearly claimed her life. The chances of both her and the babe surviving this time are very slim."

Laenor’s heart sank at the words. "Would she be able to take moontea?" he asked, grasping for any solution, anything that might spare Alicent from the dangers of another pregnancy, especially so soon after the last one had nearly killed her.

"It would not be wise," the Maester said, his tone grave. "The moontea could also be fatal for Her Grace. Her body has not yet healed sufficiently to handle such a strain. It would be too great a risk."

Laenor’s hand found Alicent’s, gripping it tightly, seeking some sense of stability in the chaos of the moment. "Then what is there to do?" he asked, his voice breaking with desperation. The thought of losing her, of Rhaenyra losing her as she had lost her own mother to childbirth, was unbearable.

The Maester’s response was measured, almost infuriatingly calm. "We must have faith that the babe is healthy and that both mother and child will survive the birth."

Laenor felt a surge of anger rise within him, a primal urge to shout, to lash out. Faith? Faith would not save them. It would not keep Alicent alive. He wanted to yell at the Maester, to demand a better answer, to do something—anything—other than rely on faith. His fists clenched, muscles taut with the effort it took to hold himself back. 

“I suggest that Her Grace remain bedridden and avoid any undue stress,” the Maester advised, his tone firm but compassionate. Laenor nodded, his mind already racing with how to protect her from the dangers ahead. “I shall inform the King on the morrow.” 

“Will she wake?” Laenor asked, his voice steady despite the turmoil inside of him. His eyes lingering on Alicent’s pale face, her stillness unsettling. The sight of her like this made his chest tighten with fear.

“She will,” the Maester reassured him. “Her body is strained and needs time to heal. She’ll sleep it off, but she will wake.”

Relieved but still anxious, Laenor gently scooped Alicent into his arms once more, cradling her as if she were made of glass. She felt so light, so fragile, and it made his heart ache. With the Maester’s permission, he carefully carried her from the room, each step measured to avoid jostling her.

Instead of taking her to her own chamber, Laenor turned towards his and Rhaenyra’s quarters. He couldn’t bear the thought of leaving her alone, not even for a moment. The fear gnawed at him—the fear that if he left her side, she might slip away while he wasn’t there to hold her, to protect her. As he carried her through the silent halls, his resolve hardened. He wouldn’t let anything happen to her, not while he still had breath in his body. He carefully laid Alicent down on the bed, pulling the blankets over her to keep her warm. He sat beside her, unable to tear his gaze away from her face, watching the rise and fall of her chest as she slept. 

The sound of the door creaking open startled Laenor awake. His eyes flew to the bed where Alicent still slept, her hand nestled securely in his. His heart skipped a beat, but when he saw her chest still rising and falling steadily, he let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. Slowly, he turned to face the door, where Rhaenyra stood, a look of confusion and concern etched on her face.

“Laenor?” Rhaenyra’s voice was soft, careful not to disturb the sleeping woman in the bed. Laenor didn’t respond immediately; instead, he rose from his seat and crossed the room in a few quick strides, pulling Rhaenyra into a tight embrace. 

“Laenor? What has happened?” she asked, her worry intensifying as she felt the tension in his body.

“Ali is pregnant,” Laenor whispered, his voice thick with emotion. He felt Rhaenyra stiffen in his arms, her breath catching as the news sank in. Rhaenyra felt her heart plummet at the words, her mind reeling.

“What do you mean she’s pregnant?” she asked, her brows knitting together in disbelief. “She just gave birth five moons ago.”

“Your father…” Laenor began, but the words caught in his throat. The dread that filled Rhaenyra’s heart turned to a sickening nausea as she realized what he was implying. Fury flared within her, directed at her father. The thought of him putting Alicent through this again made her blood boil.

“I just spoke to the Maester,” Laenor continued, his voice heavy with sorrow. “He doesn’t think she or the babe will survive. I asked if she could take moontea, but he refused. He believes it would kill her—her body isn’t strong enough to handle it, not after what she’s been through.”

Laenor released Rhaenyra, allowing her to move to Alicent’s side. The sight of the pale, sleeping woman brought tears to both their eyes, though neither let them fall. The room was thick with unspoken fears and the weight of what might come.

Rhaenyra took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. “Promise me,” she said, her voice trembling slightly, “that if I’m not in that birth chamber, you will be.”

“I will,” Laenor vowed, his voice firm. He had always been there, waiting outside the birthing chamber during each of their children’s births, a pillar of strength for both women. He had never been allowed inside unless called by the Maester, but he had always been close, waiting anxiously for the moment he could meet his child.

Rhaenyra’s gaze locked with his, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “And if you’re forced to choose who survives… choose Ali.”

Laenor’s heart ached at the request, but he nodded solemnly. “I promise,” he vowed, pressing a tender kiss to Rhaenyra’s head. The promise hung heavy in the air between them, a solemn pact forged in the face of unimaginable fear. 

“Mama was bleeding,” Helaena’s voice was small but urgent as she relayed the troubling news. Rhaenyra’s heart skipped a beat at the words. Without hesitation, she called for the nursemaids to take care of the children, trying to reassure them with a trembling voice that she and Laenor were going to check on their mother and that everything would be alright. The children’s initial arguments quieted as they saw the deep worry etched on their Muña’s face. Once the nursemaids arrived, Rhaenyra hurried out of the chamber, her mind racing with fear.

When she entered the Queen’s chamber, the sight that greeted her was heart-wrenching. Laenor was holding Alicent in his arms, her face streaked with tears, while blood pooled around them. The room was filled with a sense of dread that seemed to cling to every corner.

“The Maester is on the way,” Laenor’s voice was strained as he informed Rhaenyra, his eyes red-rimmed with exhaustion and anguish. Alicent was nestled between them, her body trembling.

“I can’t feel the babies moving,” Alicent’s voice was hoarse, filled with desperation. The words were a knife to their hearts. As the Maesters and midwife finally entered the room, Alicent pushed herself away from Laenor and Rhaenyra’s comforting embrace, standing unsteadily.

“Your Grace, I do not think that’s a good idea,” the Maester cautioned, his voice filled with concern.

“I will not be slaughtered in bed,” Alicent growled, her voice fierce despite her weakness. She refused to surrender to the pain and fear. Instead, she began to pace, her movements unsteady but determined, while Laenor and Rhaenyra watched her with hearts heavy with worry.

Hours passed in a blur of pain and anguish. When the time finally came, Alicent gave birth to twins—a boy and a girl—both stillborn. The Maester and midwife exited the room to give them privacy, leaving Laenor, Rhaenyra, and Alicent alone in their grief.

Alicent, lying amidst the disarray, cradled the lifeless bodies of her children in her arms as she whispered their names, “Alyrie and Lucerys.” The names felt like a tribute to lives that would never be fully lived. Laenor and Rhaenyra joined her on the bed, their own tears mingling with hers as they held the children.

“It’s not fair,” Rhaenyra sobbed, clutching the baby girl, her sister, her daughter. Silver wisps of hair adorned the tiny head, and Rhaenyra could almost see the hazel eyes that would have been a mirror of Alicent’s. “They didn’t even have the chance to live.”

“It is not,” Laenor agreed, his voice breaking as tears streamed down his face. He grieved for the son he would never know, Lucerys—the boy who would have had auburn-chestnut curls and bluish-lilac eyes.

The three of them sat together in the center of the bed, enveloped in sorrow. They mourned the loss of their youngest children, the lives that were doomed from the start. The pregnancy had been fraught with risk, and the twins’ arrival had only magnified the danger. Despite their hopes and prayers, the Gods had not favored them. The room was filled with the quiet weight of their collective grief, the sense of something precious lost before it could truly begin.

Chapter Text

"Come on, Ali! Let me take Aemond to Dragonmount," Rhaenyra pleaded with her wife, her voice filled with excitement. It had been three years since the devastating loss of Alyrie and Lucerys, and while the wound of their absence would never fully heal, the pain had softened over time. Life had slowly returned to some semblance of normalcy, allowing them to find joy once more. In that time, Rhaenyra and Alicent had secretly married on Dragonstone, with Laenor and the children as their only witnesses. It was a Valyrian ceremony, sacred in its own right, though it would never be recognized by the Faith of the Seven. But that didn’t matter to them; what mattered was that they were bound to each other, heart and soul.

Rhaenyra’s eyes sparkled with the promise of adventure, and her hand clutched Alicent’s as she made her case. "I will be with him, Ali. No harm will come to him, I swear." 

Aemond’s longing for a dragon of his own was a well-known fact in their household. Born a Targaryen, it was his birthright to bond with one, and the unhatched egg in his cradle had only deepened his yearning. Dragonmount, with its many unclaimed dragons, held the possibility of fulfilling that desire. Rhaenyra was hopeful that one of the magnificent creatures would bond with Aemond, granting him the dragon he so desperately longed for.

Alicent hesitated, torn between her protective instincts and the knowledge that denying her son this opportunity would break his heart. She knew how much this meant to Aemond, how the thought of having his own dragon had consumed his dreams. After a moment, she sighed, her resolve softening. "Swear to me that both of you will come back home to us. That you will do everything you can to keep him safe, do you understand?"

Alicent’s voice wavered with the intensity of her emotions. The fear of losing another child weighed heavily on her, and the memory of her two lost babies was ever-present. She couldn’t bear the thought of Aemond joining them. Rhaenyra, sensing the depth of her wife’s anxiety, gave her a reassuring smile, her expression filled with love and determination.

"I swear, Syrax and I will do everything in our power to keep our son safe," Rhaenyra vowed, her words earnest. She saw the small quiver in Alicent’s lips as a tentative smile formed, touched by the way Rhaenyra had claimed Aemond as their son. It isn’t a recent development the use of our but it is the first time that Rhaenyra is claiming Aemond as a son rather than as a brother. 

Alicent nodded, her heart easing slightly as she looked into Rhaenyra’s eyes. She trusted her wife, and though the fear remained, so did the hope that Aemond would find the bond he longed for. As Rhaenyra leaned in to press a tender kiss to her lips, Alicent felt a glimmer of optimism. She hopes that her son finally gets what he has longed for so that he may join his siblings up in the air on the back of a dragon. 

“Kepa!” Laenor heard Aegon’s voice calling out to him, a mix of excitement and urgency in the boy’s tone. He paused in his stride, allowing Aegon to catch up. As the boy approached, Laenor felt a familiar tightening in his chest, a blend of pride and nostalgia. Aegon had grown so much; the top of his head now reached Laenor’s chest, and it wouldn’t be long before Aegon was as tall as he was. Though Aegon wasn’t his by blood, Laenor had watched him grow, becoming a father figure to the boy after Alicent and Rhaenyra had mended their relationship.

“Aeg, what’s wrong?” Laenor asked, wrapping a protective arm around Aegon’s smaller frame. Aegon leaned into him, a gesture that made Laenor’s heart swell. He quickly scanned the boy for any signs of injury, his worry easing when he found none.

“Aem has claimed Vermithor!” Aegon exclaimed, his excitement bubbling over.

Laenor’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “You’re certain it was Vermithor?” he asked, his voice tinged with awe. Vermithor had remained riderless since the death of King Jaehaerys I, Laenor’s great-grandfather. The thought of the mighty dragon being claimed once more was both thrilling and monumental.

“I’m certain! We saw Syrax and Vermithor flying back from Dragonmount,” Aegon confirmed, his words spilling out in a rush. Laenor noticed the faint scent of dragon clinging to Aegon’s clothes, a clear sign that he had just returned from the Dragonpit or a flight—likely the latter.

Laenor’s grin spread wide across his face. “Well, congratulations are in order for the little lad,” he said, pride evident in his voice. “Shall we go and meet them at the Dragonpit?” 

Aegon nodded eagerly, his excitement infectious. “Go fetch your siblings,” Laenor added, “so we may all go on our first family flight.”

Before long, the older children were perched on the backs of their respective dragons, their eager faces alight with anticipation. The younger ones were securely strapped to both Laenor’s and Rhaenyra’s chests, nestled safely atop their dragons. It was a sight that filled Laenor with a profound sense of fulfillment—a family united in the skies at last. 

As the dragons took to the skies, Alicent remained on the ground, watching with a mixture of pride and longing. She stood with her brother, Gwayne, as well as Ser Harwin and Ser Harold, her gaze following the majestic creatures as they soared into the heavens. There was a part of her that regretted not accepting Rhaenyra’s offer to ride with her. The thought of flying with her family, of being part of that shared experience, was tempting. But her fear of dragons and heights held her back, a deep-seated anxiety that had lingered since childhood. It was ironic, really, that she had married into a family of dragonriders despite her fear of the very beasts that were so integral to their lives.

She had grown up around dragons—Rhaenyra’s Syrax had been a constant presence during her youth—but that familiarity hadn’t quelled her fears. Still, as she watched her family disappear into the sky, she couldn’t help but feel a twinge of envy. She longed to be up there with them, to share in the thrill and freedom of the skies. But for now, she would wait patiently on the ground, her heart lifted by the knowledge that her family was soaring above her, together.

Chapter Text

“Kepa!” The sound of Helaena’s voice caught Laenor’s attention, bringing him back from his thoughts. He had noticed over time that Alicent’s children had started calling him Kepa—Father in High Valyrian. It had been a shock when he first heard one of them use the term for him, a mix of surprise and deep emotion filling his heart.

It was a sunny morning, and the family had just finished breaking their fast. King Viserys had retired to his chamber, leaving Rhaenyra, Laenor, Alicent, and the children in the dining hall. They were discussing their plans for the day when Aemond’s voice caught the attention of the three adults at the table.

“Kepa promised that he’d take us on a morning flight,” Aemond announced to Aegon, his tone matter-of-fact. Rhaegar, Baelor, and Daeron all nodded in agreement, their excitement palpable.

“Kepa said that I can ride on Seasmoke with him!” Baelor exclaimed happily.

Rhaenyra and Alicent exchanged looks of confusion, while Laenor felt his heart swell with overwhelming emotion. The title “Kepa” was an honor he hadn’t expected, and hearing it from Alicent’s children was both shocking and heartwarming.

“Kepa?” Rhaenyra asked, turning to her younger half-siblings with a questioning expression. She wasn’t sure how to feel. Laenor was being honored with the title of Kepa by Alicent’s children, yet she herself was only referred to as Rhaenyra or sister. It was clear they were speaking of Laenor, as their father, Viserys, did not ride Seasmoke. Rhaenyra had hoped that over time, Alicent’s children might come to view her as a mother figure, much like how they saw Laenor as a father. But she knew her history with her silver-haired siblings was complicated. They had been old enough to understand the rift between their families before she and Alicent reconciled. However, Daeron, Rhaegar, and Baelor—all born after the reconciliation—called her Muña. They were the symbol of peace between their families, and she had helped raise them with Alicent. But she knew that developing a closer bond with her silver-haired siblings would take time. She was willing to wait—even if they never saw her as more than a sister, she would be content with that.

Her silver-haired siblings frowned in confusion at her question, unsure what she meant since they know that she calls Viserys, Kepa..

“Not your father,” Aegon replied, his tone carrying a weight that surprised Rhaenyra. The open disowning of Viserys as their father was unexpected. Aegon’s statement made it clear that, in his eyes, Viserys was not their father. “Laenor is our Kepa,” he gestured to his siblings. “The only man who actually cares about us and treats us as his own. He doesn’t pretend we don’t exist.”

Alicent listened quietly, her heart swelling with gratitude toward Laenor. He was the man who stepped into the role that Viserys should have filled as a father. He had become the father who stepped up. She knew she should feel guilty or conflicted because another man had taken her husband’s place in their children’s lives, but she couldn’t find it in herself to care. Her children had chosen a man who deserved to be called Father—Kepa.

Aemond, his cheeks tinged red with embarrassment, addressed Laenor. “I apologize, Ser Laenor. It was inappropriate of me to call you such a title without your permission.” He and his siblings had agreed only to call Laenor Kepa in private or when they were alone, unsure of how Laenor would feel about being given such a title when he wasn’t their father by blood. They all secretly wished it had been Laenor who had sired them instead of Viserys, believing they might have known the love of a father sooner. But the past could not be changed.

Laenor, tears welling in his eyes, shook his head. “It’s alright, Aemond. I am honored to be given the title,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “I swear to honor and cherish it.”

The Hightower-Targaryen children beamed at him, their faces lighting up with joy as they all rushed from their seats to hug him. Laenor embraced them all, feeling the warmth of their love and acceptance. It was a moment that solidified the bond between them, and he knew he would protect and cherish these children as his own for the rest of his life.

“ Helaena, darling,” Laenor greets the girl. He doesn’t make any move to make contact with her instead waits for her to initiate the touch. Helaena unlike her siblings excluding Visenya dislikes having physical contact. It takes Laenor by surprise every time that Helaena does make contact, knowing how rare it is. When he feels her relax in his arms, he too relaxes, allowing himself to wrap his arms around her though loosely so it doesn’t make her feel trapped. “ What happened, love?” But before Helaena could answer, a voice called out her name. 

“ Princess Helaena! There you are!” a boy of a noble man comes running towards her. Laenor maneuvers his body slightly so that he’s in front of Helaena. 

“ Who might you be?” Laenor asks the boy who stops right in front of him.  

“ Ser Laenor, I’m Alester Florent.” The boy’s chin lifts with the arrogance of a noble son. “ My lord father is here to petition the King about the Reach’s grain stores.” 

Laenor didn’t miss the way the boy positions himself, trying to catch Helaena’s eye despite his presence. Politics start young at court—even children know the value of a royal marriage prospect. 

“ The Florents.” Laenor knows that name. It’s the house name of Alicent’s mother. Alicent doesn’t really talk much about her mother but the rare chances that she does, she has told him that her mother had been very religious and that Otto had been utterly in love with her and had been gutted at the loss of her. “ Your house has long sought to challenge the Tyrells’ dominion over the Reach, have they not?” 

The boy’s confidence falters for just a moment. “ We have the better claim, Ser. Descended from the eldest line of House Gardener—” 

“ And yet here you are, accosting a princess of the realm without leave.” Laenor interrupts. Behind him, Helaena’s grip on his doublet remained. He shoots her a quick look to make sure that she’s alright before paying back attention to the boy in front of him. 

“ I only meant to show her my hawk, Ser.” The boy’s face reddens. “ A gift from Oldtown—” 

“ The Princess’s time is her own to give or withhold as she chooses.” Laenor steps forward, forcing the boy to crane his neck up. “ Consider carefully how you conduct yourself at court, young Florent. Accidents do tend to happen through the days.” 

The threat lands. Alester backs away with a hurried bow, nearly tripping over his own feet. “ My deepest apologies, Princess Helaena. Ser Laenor.” 

Once the boy is gone, Laenor turns to find Helaena’s lilac-blue eyes studying him. She has her mother’s shred gaze, seeing more than she lets on. 

“ You frightened him,” she says quietly. 

“ Fear has its uses at court.” Laenor’s expression softens. “ Though I’d rather you never need learn them.” 

Helaena’s mouth twists. “ Mother says I must learn. That being different makes me vulnerable.” 

The words hit Laenor like a physical blow. Alicent isn’t wrong— the court would see Helaena’s aversion to touch as strange, her dreams as madness. Just as they had whispered about his own preferences years ago. 

“ Your mother wants you safe,” he says carefully. “ As do I. But there’s strength in being different, Helaena.” It took him years to finally understand that. His preferences had prevented him from giving Rhaenyra a true heir (their children are true heirs in his eyes) in the eyes of  the realm but it allowed him to be a better husband to her. They created something special that was theirs. 

Helaena doesn’t respond, but her shoulders lose some of their tension. Helaena isn’t the only dreamer in the family. Visenya is a dreamer as well. It comforts Helaena in a way that she’s not alone, that she has a sibling who understands what she goes through. “ Visenya dreamed of blood in the water last night.” She said after  a moment. 

Laenor feels a chill despite the warm day. The dragon dreams rarely bring good tidings. “ Did she say more?” Having two dragon dreamers in the family meant cryptic messages about something. Helaena’s dreams seem to be that of the future. Visenya’s dreams they’re still trying to figure out.

“ No. She came to my chamber before dawn. We watched the shadows move across the wall until sunrise.” Helaena pauses. “ Sometimes I think she sees worse things than I do.” 

Laenor studies her face—too young to carry such burdens, yet here they are. She looks so much like her mother yet so much like Rhaenyra as well. It’s interesting how genetics works. “ Would you like to fly?” 

Something like relief crosses Helaena’s features. She nods. He knows that she never likes talking about dreams because they are never able to fully understand it and it frustrates her. He doesn’t blame her honestly because if it was him, he’d be upset that no one understands what he’s trying to say, everyone just brushing what he said aside. 

The dragon pit is thick with the smell of dragons. Dreamfyre’s scales shimmer like beaten silver as she raises her head, while Seasmoke’s pale grey coils shift in the shadows. Here at least, they’re free from the burden of politics and titles. 

They take to the air without ceremony, the ground dropping away beneath them. Laenor watches as Helaena guides Dreamfyre with subtle shifts of her body, no reins needed. All her problems washes away as she flies on the back of her dragon, she grows confident and sure of herself. 

Seasmoke banks close enough for Laenor to see his daughter’s face. Her smile on her lips lights her entire face up, the pure undiluted joy shining in her eyes makes his chest warm. Up here, they’re free, unburdened. They can be themselves up here without the eyes of the realm scrutinizing them. 

He knows that they’ll have to land eventually but for now, they’ll remain up in the clouds flying carefree until the call of home brings them back to the ground to their family.   

Chapter Text

“ Who are the children’s father?” Alicent asks, looking between little Aemma and Baelor. 

It’s mid-noon during a cold winter day. Some of the children were out on a flight with Laenor while some of them remained in the Red Keep training or studying with the Sept. 

“ What do you mean?” Rhaenyra asks, her heart racing. She knew eventually that she would have to tell Alicent the truth about her children’s parentage. She knew that she should have told Alicent long before they were married, long before they started their relationship but a part of her was scared. She was scared that she would lose her again and they would be unable to mend their relationship. So she held on to the secret for as long as she could. And now it’s time. 

“ Aemma and Baelor should not resemble so much of each other,” Alicent says. “ None of our children should not be able to pass as siblings. So I ask, who are your children’s father?” She sees the way the Princess hesitates to answer and she feels her chest ache at the suspicion of how the Princess’ children came to be. 

“ Laenor is their father,” Rhaenyra answers. “ He is their father in every way but blood.” It is the first time she is admitting it out loud to someone who was not Laenor. She sees the heartbreak and anger in her love’s hazel eyes. 

“ Who is their true father?” Alicent forces herself to ask. A part of her knows. There’s only one way all of their children could resemble so much of each other. Gwayne. Her own twin brother who is the exact copy of her. The male version of her. 

“ Your brother.” Rhaenyra answers. Silence falls between them. She doesn’t attempt to touch Alicent knowing that it would be unwanted. She just looks at her, gauging her reaction. 

“ Why?” 

“ He was the closest thing to being you,” Rhaenyra says. “ I could not have you. I was angry at you, at my father for stealing you away from me, at myself for not being able to protect you. I was wed to Laenor. His love was brutally slaughtered by the hands of Criston Cole during our wedding.” Alicent seems to start to connect the dots. She knew Laenor’s preference. He would never love a woman like how a man should love a woman. He would never find attraction to women just like she would never find attraction to men. 

“ Did you attempt?” She asks. Rhaenyra nods her head. 

“ For three moons straight, we had tried to perform our duty yet no fruit was borne,” She says. “ We had an agreement that we would find a way to have our heir.” 

“ Gwayne.” Rhaenyra nods again. 

“ Laenor and I spent many moons finding the right person to father our children. I had already set my mind on Gwayne but Laenor not so much,” She explains. “ You and I were not in a great area with our relationship. He had feared that you would be furious to learn that your brother had sired our children. He did not want that for our children.”

“ Laenor was correct in a way,” Alicent admits. “ I would have been furious. Had your children came out looking with plain Andal features, your claim to the throne would have been questioned. You would endanger yourself and your claim. But I would have been blinded by rage and jealousy.” Rhaenyra raises an eyebrow at her, a small smile on her face. While Alicent just fondly rolls her eyes. “ My own twin got to be with you in a way only I could ever dream of. Except it is no longer a dream for you are my wife.” Rhaenyra wraps her arms around Alicent’s waist, pressing a kiss on her lips. She feels Alicent sink into her embrace. 

“ I am sorry that I did not tell you before,” Rhaenyra murmurs against her lips. “ I was afraid.” 

“ Thank you for trusting me with it,” Alicent says. “ I know we hadn’t always been on the best of terms for you to confide in me so thank you.” 

“ You are my wife, the mother of my children, and while we hadn’t always been on the best of terms with our relationship. I trust you with my life,” Rhaenyra says, pressing another kiss on Alicent’s lips. 

“ I love you.” 

“ I love you.” 

“ Now if you can excuse me, I do believe I have a twin to strangle,” Alicent says, pulling away from her wife’s embrace. Rhaenyra chuckles. Her wife is very hot when she’s jealous. 

“ Do try not to harm him too much. The children would miss their favorite uncle,” Rhaenyra says, grabbing a hold of her hand and pressing a kiss to the back of it before letting her go.