# King's Landing Harbor - Late Morning, 105 AC
The morning sun blazed overhead like a forge-fire as the small party made their way through King's Landing's winding streets toward the harbor. The tournament preparations had transformed the capital into something approaching organized chaos—banners snapped from every window, merchants hawked everything from "dragon's breath ale" to "Targaryen victory favors," and the air hummed with the sort of electric anticipation that preceded great events.
Prince Jaehaerys rode beside Princess Rhaenys on a spirited destrier that had been a gift from his grandfather, the beast's dark coat gleaming like polished obsidian in the sunlight. At eight years old, he sat the saddle with the natural grace of someone born to horseback, though his green eyes moved constantly through the crowds with the systematic attention of someone who had learned to expect trouble and prepare for worse.
Beside him, Princess Rhaenyra bounced in her saddle with barely contained excitement, her silver-gold hair streaming behind her like a banner of war. Her violet eyes sparkled with the sort of enthusiasm that marked all her interactions with family she genuinely loved, and her chatter had been keeping the party entertained since they'd left the Red Keep.
"I can't wait to see Laenor and Laena again," she declared for perhaps the fifth time since they'd begun their ride. "It's been nearly a year since their last visit, and Laenor promised to teach me that new sword form he learned from the master-at-arms at Driftmark. The one that's supposedly designed specifically for fighting multiple opponents simultaneously."
"Nine-year-old princesses don't typically require sword forms for fighting multiple opponents," Ser Harrold Westerling observed with the sort of fond exasperation that marked his interactions with the royal children. The grizzled knight rode with the easy confidence of someone who had spent decades keeping dangerous people alive despite their best efforts to get themselves killed through spectacular poor judgment.
"Not yet," Rhaenyra agreed cheerfully, "but Jae says planning ahead is the key to survival in politics and warfare both. Better to know how to fight off assassins before you actually need to, rather than learning during the attempt itself."
Her violet gaze swept toward her cousin with obvious affection and respect. "Besides, if I'm going to marry someone as formidable as Jae promises to become, I should probably develop some formidable skills of my own. Can't have people thinking the future queen is merely decorative."
Princess Rhaenys, riding slightly ahead of the younger members of the party, allowed herself a slight smile at this exchange. At thirty-seven, she had learned to appreciate the sort of clear-eyed pragmatism that marked both children—the understanding that royal birth brought obligations as well as privileges, and that survival often required skills that proper young ladies weren't supposed to possess.
"Formidable is certainly one word for it," she observed with dry humor. "Though I suspect your father might prefer 'diplomatically gifted' or 'politically astute' to descriptions that make his daughter sound like a siege engine in silk skirts."
"Father knows exactly what I am," Rhaenyra replied with the sort of quiet confidence that had been making her tutors nervous since she learned to speak. "He also knows what the realm requires from its rulers, and decorative princesses who faint at the sight of blood aren't particularly useful when dragons need riding and enemies need defeating."
Ser Gunthor Royce, riding beside Jaehaerys with the watchful attention of a bodyguard who took his duties seriously, rumbled out a laugh that seemed to start somewhere near his boots. The massive knight's weathered face bore the expression of someone who had seen enough combat to appreciate practical attitudes toward violence and survival.
"Lady Rhaenyra speaks sense," he observed with approval. "Pretty princesses make good political alliances, but warrior princesses make good rulers. The realm's had enough pretty queens who smiled while their kingdoms crumbled around them."
"Thank you, Ser Gunthor," Rhaenyra beamed, clearly pleased by this endorsement from someone whose opinion on martial matters carried considerable weight. "See, Jae? I told you not everyone thinks princesses should limit themselves to embroidery and harp-playing."
"I never said you should limit yourself to anything," Jaehaerys replied with that crooked smile that could charm or unnerve depending on the recipient. "I said you should master everything—embroidery and swordplay, harp-playing and military strategy, courtly grace and battlefield command. Why choose between being deadly and being diplomatic when you can excel at both?"
His green eyes held that quality of ancient wisdom that made adults uncomfortable when they remembered he was only eight years old. "Besides, the most dangerous opponents are the ones who can smile sweetly while planning your destruction with mathematical precision. Anyone can swing a sword—not everyone can convince their enemies to hand over their weapons willingly."
Princess Rhaenys turned in her saddle to study both children with new attention, her violet eyes bright with calculation and growing respect. "You speak like seasoned generals discussing campaign strategy rather than children anticipating family reunions. I confess myself curious about what sort of adults you'll become if you're already thinking in such terms."
"Effective ones, I hope," Jaehaerys replied with matter-of-fact certainty. "The realm deserves rulers who understand that power serves purpose, not personal gratification. That crowns are tools for protecting people, not decorative accessories for satisfying vanity."
"And that dragons are weapons of war, not overgrown pets for royal amusement," Rhaenyra added with the sort of steel in her voice that suggested she had given considerable thought to the responsibilities that came with commanding the world's most dangerous creatures.
Ser Harrold exchanged glances with Ser Gunthor, both knights recognizing the implications of such sophisticated political thinking from children who should be more concerned with games than governance. The easy camaraderie between the royal cousins spoke of bonds deeper than mere family affection—these were allies in the making, partners who understood that their future roles would require absolute trust and seamless cooperation.
The party crested a small hill, and the harbor spread before them like a living painting of maritime commerce and naval power. Hundreds of ships rode at anchor in Blackwater Bay—merchant vessels from across the known world, fishing boats that provided the capital with its daily bread, and the sleek warships that projected Targaryen authority across the Narrow Sea and beyond.
But dominating the harbor like a bronze leviathan rode the Sea Snake herself, Lord Corlys Velaryon's flagship. The massive war galley was a masterwork of naval architecture—three hundred feet of seasoned oak and iron, her bronze ram gleaming like captured sunlight, her sails bearing the seahorse of House Velaryon worked in silver thread that caught the wind like captured starlight.
"There she is," Princess Rhaenys breathed, her voice carrying notes of pride and affection that had nothing to do with politics and everything to do with watching her husband command the seas with legendary skill. "Nine Towers. The finest ship ever launched from Driftmark's yards, and the terror of every pirate between here and the Summer Isles."
The ship was impressive even at a distance, but as they drew closer, its true magnitude became apparent. The crew moved about her decks with practiced efficiency, securing lines and preparing for docking with the sort of seamless coordination that marked professional sailors rather than merchant seamen. These were naval fighters, men who had earned their positions through skill and courage rather than birth or political favor.
"How many men does she carry?" Jaehaerys asked with genuine professional interest, his tactical mind already calculating the vessel's capabilities and potential applications in various strategic scenarios.
"Four hundred at full complement," Princess Rhaenys replied with obvious pride. "Sailors, marines, officers, and passengers. She can outrun anything larger and outfight anything faster, which makes her perfect for the sort of diplomatic missions that might require... flexible responses to changing circumstances."
"Diplomatic missions," Ser Gunthor repeated with amusement. "Is that what we're calling naval warfare these days? How wonderfully civilized."
"Diplomacy backed by superior force is the most effective form of negotiation," Princess Rhaenys replied with the sort of practical wisdom that had made her legendary among the realm's political players. "Lord Corlys has never needed to actually use Nine Towers' full capabilities against foreign powers because everyone understands exactly what those capabilities are."
As they approached the docks, the organized chaos of a major port enveloped them like a living thing. Stevedores hauled cargo with methodical efficiency, customs officials checked manifests with bureaucratic precision, and merchants haggled over prices in a dozen different languages. The air was thick with the scents of salt, tar, exotic spices, and the sort of profitable commerce that had made King's Landing the wealthiest city in Westeros.
Nine Towers had moored at the royal pier, a position of honor that spoke of House Velaryon's status within the realm's political hierarchy. Even docked, she remained impressive—her bronze fittings gleamed like captured flame, her deck rails were polished to mirror brightness, and her crew moved with the sort of discipline that suggested they were soldiers first and sailors second.
Standing at the ship's rail, clearly visible even from a distance, Lord Corlys Velaryon cut an impressive figure. At sixty-one, the Sea Snake remained formidable—tall and broad-shouldered, with silver hair that caught the wind like spun moonlight and the sort of weathered dignity that came from commanding respect through decades of competent leadership. His sea-green doublet bore the silver seahorse of his house, and when he moved, it was with the controlled power of someone accustomed to being obeyed without question.
Beside him stood his twin children, thirteen-year-old Laenor and Laena, both bearing the distinctive beauty of their mixed Targaryen and Velaryon bloodlines. Even at their young age, they carried themselves with unconscious authority—the bearing of those born to rule, trained from birth to command, and educated to understand that privilege brought responsibility in equal measure.
"Lord Corlys!" Princess Rhaenys called out as their party approached the gangplank, her voice carrying clearly across the water despite the harbor's background noise. "I trust the voyage from Driftmark proved... educational?"
The Sea Snake's weathered face creaked into what might have been a grin, though it held depths of calculation that suggested the voyage had indeed involved more than simple transportation. "Educational indeed, my lady wife. Though I suspect our breakfast conversations will prove even more... illuminating."
His keen gaze swept over the assembled party, taking in the careful positioning of guards, the quality of their equipment, and the subtle signs of tension that marked people expecting trouble. "I trust the capital remains... manageable despite recent... developments?"
"Remarkably so," Princess Rhaenys replied with satisfaction that didn't quite hide her amusement at his diplomatic phrasing. "Prince Daemon's housekeeping efforts have proven quite effective. The city is safer today than it has been in years, though the methods employed have generated considerable... discussion among those who prefer their justice served with more ceremony and less efficiency."
Lord Corlys's expression shifted into something that might have been approval mixed with concern. "Efficient justice is often necessary, though it does tend to complicate subsequent political maneuvering. I assume the tournament proceeds without... significant complications?"
"So far," Jaehaerys interjected with the sort of diplomatic precision that would have impressed seasoned ambassadors, "though the morning's Small Council session demonstrated that managing the aftermath of necessary action requires as much skill as planning the action itself."
The Sea Snake's attention focused on the boy with new interest, his experienced eyes taking in Jaehaerys's bearing, his careful word choice, and the quality of attention he commanded from both children and adults in the party.
"Prince Jaehaerys," Lord Corlys said with the sort of formal courtesy due to royal blood, though his tone carried genuine respect rather than mere protocol. "Your reputation for... unusual insight precedes you. I confess curiosity about your assessment of current political currents, given your apparent facility for reading such things."
"The currents run deep and change quickly," Jaehaerys replied with the sort of matter-of-fact certainty that had been making adults uncomfortable since he learned to speak. "What appears stable on the surface often conceals powerful forces moving beneath. The wise sailor adjusts his course before the storm breaks, not after his ship starts taking water."
"Well spoken," Lord Corlys acknowledged with obvious approval. "Though I suspect the storms you reference involve more than mere weather patterns."
Before Jaehaerys could elaborate on his maritime metaphors, a commotion on Nine Towers' deck announced the arrival of the passengers everyone had been waiting to see. Laenor Velaryon bounded down the gangplank with the sort of enthusiastic energy that marked nine-year-old boys everywhere, his silver-gold hair streaming behind him and his violet eyes bright with excitement at seeing familiar faces after months at sea.
Behind him came Laena, moving with considerably more dignity but no less obvious pleasure at the reunion. At nine, she already showed signs of the stunning beauty that would one day make her one of the most desired women in Westeros, but there was intelligence in her violet gaze and purpose in her bearing that suggested she would be considerably more than merely decorative.
"Cousin Rhaenyra!" Laenor called out as he reached the dock, his voice carrying clearly across the space between them. "I brought the practice swords you asked about, and Father let me commission a new set from the smiths at Driftmark specifically for your size and reach. Wait until you see them—the balance is absolutely perfect."
"And I brought books," Laena added with the sort of quiet satisfaction that marked someone who understood the value of knowledge over material possessions. "Histories from the Free Cities that our maesters have been translating, accounts of dragon battles that aren't available in King's Landing, and some very interesting treatises on naval warfare that Father thought might be... relevant given current circumstances."
Princess Rhaenyra dismounted with quick efficiency, clearly eager to greet her cousins after their long separation. "Books and swords both? You two clearly understand what makes the perfect gifts for visiting princesses. Though I confess curiosity about which treatises Lord Corlys thinks might be relevant—unless he's planning to teach us naval tactics along with sword work?"
"One can never have too much knowledge about warfare, whether on land or sea," Lord Corlys observed with the sort of practical wisdom that had made him legendary among the realm's military leaders. "Recent developments in the Stepstones suggest that such knowledge may prove... applicable sooner than any of us might prefer."
His weathered gaze moved between the assembled children with calculating attention. "Though I suspect Prince Jaehaerys has thoughts on that subject as well, given his apparent facility for anticipating political developments before they become common knowledge."
It was at this moment—as family reunions mingled with political undertones and the harbor buzzed with commercial activity around them—that Jaehaerys stepped forward with the sort of ceremonial gravity that transformed casual conversation into something approaching formal diplomacy.
"Lady Laena," he said, his voice carrying that quality of ancient wisdom wrapped in youthful courtesy, "before we begin discussing warfare and politics, I have something that belongs to you."
From within his doublet, he produced the silk-wrapped package that contained the Valyrian steel bracelet, handling it with the reverence due to something beyond precious. The morning light caught the wrapped bundle, lending it an almost ethereal quality that made everyone present suddenly very attentive to what was about to unfold.
"A gift," Jaehaerys continued with formal precision, "from my father, but offered with the affection and respect of your future... partner in whatever alliances and arrangements our families have planned for us."
Laena approached with the sort of careful grace that suggested she understood this was more than simple gift-giving—this was ceremony, statement, and possibly the formal beginning of negotiations that would shape both their futures. When Jaehaerys carefully unwrapped the bracelet, revealing the Valyrian steel worked into patterns that suggested both waves and dragon scales, her breath caught audibly.
"Valyrian steel," she whispered, her violet eyes wide with wonder as she took in the extraordinary craftsmanship. "This is... Jae, this is magnificent beyond words. The artistry alone must have taken months to complete."
"The Smith in Qohor who created it called it 'Sea and Sky United,'" Jaehaerys explained as he carefully lifted the bracelet from its silk wrapping. "The wave patterns represent your house's mastery of the seas, while the dragon scales acknowledge the Targaryen blood we share. When worn, it adjusts to fit perfectly—the metal remembers its wearer and shapes itself accordingly."
He held out his hand, palm up, offering her the bracelet with the sort of formal courtesy that belonged in throne rooms and treaty negotiations. "If you will accept it, Lady Laena, not just as jewelry but as symbol of alliance, protection, and the bonds that will unite our houses in the years to come."
Laena extended her arm with unconscious dignity, allowing Jaehaerys to clasp the bracelet around her wrist with movements that were surprisingly gentle for someone his age. The moment the Valyrian steel touched her skin, something shifted—the metal seemed to warm and flow, adjusting its shape until it fit as if it had been crafted specifically for her arm.
"It's perfect," she breathed, turning her wrist to catch the light and make the scale patterns seem to shimmer and move. "Not just the fit, but the meaning. Sea and sky united—House Velaryon and House Targaryen bound together not just by marriage but by shared purpose and mutual respect."
Lord Corlys had watched this exchange with the sort of intense attention that suggested he was calculating political implications as much as appreciating the ceremonial aspects. "Prince Jaehaerys," he said with formal gravity, "such a gift speaks of more than family affection. Valyrian steel carries weight beyond its material value—it represents legacy, power, and the sort of commitment that shapes generations."
"Exactly," Jaehaerys confirmed with quiet satisfaction. "This isn't a child's present offered to secure temporary friendship. This is a promise, a pledge, an investment in whatever alliance our marriage will represent. Lady Laena deserves protection worthy of her station and her potential, and I intend to provide both regardless of what challenges the future might bring."
Princess Rhaenys studied the scene with new respect, her violet eyes bright with calculation and growing approval. "Well done, young prince. You understand that true alliances are built on personal bonds as much as political necessity. The bracelet is beautiful, but the gesture behind it—and the timing of its presentation—demonstrates sophistication that would impress seasoned diplomats."
"Political alliances that ignore personal relationships tend to crumble when tested by genuine crisis," Jaehaerys replied with the sort of analytical detachment that belonged on someone decades older. "Better to establish trust and affection early, before circumstances force us to depend on each other for survival. Shared adversity builds stronger bonds when there's already foundation of mutual respect to build upon."
Laena, still admiring the bracelet on her wrist, looked up at her betrothed with new understanding. "You speak like someone who's seen alliances tested by crisis, who understands how quickly political marriages can become sources of conflict rather than cooperation. That's... remarkably mature for someone our age."
"Some lessons are learned through observation rather than direct experience," Jaehaerys replied with diplomatic smoothness. "History provides excellent examples of what works and what fails when it comes to royal marriages and political alliances. The wise student learns from others' mistakes rather than repeating them personally."
Lord Corlys nodded approvingly. "Spoken like a true scholar of statecraft. Though I suspect your education extends beyond mere historical study, given your apparent ability to anticipate political developments with unusual accuracy."
Before Jaehaerys could elaborate on his educational background, Princess Rhaenyra stepped forward with her characteristic enthusiasm and what appeared to be a sudden burst of inspiration.
"This is perfect!" she declared with the sort of bright delight that transformed her entire expression. "Laena has her bracelet, I have my locket, and now we're all properly equipped with matching Valyrian steel jewelry that marks us as family. We look like a matched set—allied houses bound by more than just marriage contracts and political necessity."
Her violet eyes sparkled with mischief as she continued. "Though I suspect we'll need to coordinate our appearance at formal events to avoid looking too much like we're wearing identical uniforms. Three young people all sporting Valyrian steel accessories might send rather pointed messages about family unity and shared resources."
"Pointed messages can be useful," Princess Rhaenys observed with amusement. "Sometimes the most effective diplomacy involves making your strength obvious to potential opponents while reassuring your allies about your commitment to shared interests."
"Exactly," Laenor agreed with enthusiasm, apparently eager to join this discussion of practical politics disguised as fashion coordination. "Besides, if we're going to be bound by marriage and alliance anyway, we might as well make it clear that we consider ourselves equals in the arrangement rather than some sort of hierarchical power structure."
Ser Harrold, who had been observing this exchange with the sort of patient attention that marked his interactions with royal children, cleared his throat diplomatically. "Your Graces, while these discussions of family unity and political symbolism are... illuminating, perhaps we might consider returning to the Red Keep? The morning grows warm, and I suspect Queen Aemma would appreciate an opportunity to greet Lord Corlys before the day's more formal ceremonies begin."
"Of course," Princess Rhaenys agreed immediately, her expression shifting back to more practical concerns. "Corlys, the Queen's condition requires our attention before any other social obligations. She's been eager to see you, but the pregnancy has been... more challenging than usual."
Lord Corlys's weathered features grew serious at this news. "More challenging in what way? If there are concerns about her health or the child's welfare, perhaps I should speak with the maesters as well as their Graces."
"The maesters have their own opinions," Jaehaerys said with the sort of careful neutrality that suggested deeper concerns beneath his diplomatic phrasing. "But Aunt Aemma would benefit from visitors who see her as a person rather than simply a vessel for producing heirs. She's been somewhat... isolated lately, between the physical discomfort and the political pressure surrounding the succession."
The boy's green eyes held depths of understanding that seemed far too mature for his age. "Your presence would remind her that she has family and friends who value her for herself, not simply for whatever political advantages her pregnancy might provide. That kind of emotional support is often more valuable than any number of medical consultations."
Lord Corlys nodded slowly, clearly processing both the spoken concerns and the implications that lay beneath Jaehaerys's carefully chosen words. "Then we should indeed return promptly. Family obligations take precedence over ceremony, and Queen Aemma deserves our attention regardless of any other considerations."
As the party prepared for their return journey to the Red Keep, Laena fell into step beside Jaehaerys with the sort of easy camaraderie that suggested their betrothal might develop into genuine friendship as well as political alliance. The Valyrian steel bracelet caught the sunlight as she moved, its wave and scale patterns seeming to flow like liquid metal around her wrist.
"Thank you," she said quietly, her voice carrying genuine warmth beneath the formal courtesy due to royal occasions. "Not just for the bracelet, though it's the most beautiful thing I've ever owned. But for understanding that our marriage needs to be more than just a political arrangement if it's going to work the way our families need it to."
"Political marriages succeed when both parties respect each other and work toward shared goals," Jaehaerys replied with the sort of matter-of-fact certainty that had been making adults uncomfortable since he learned to speak. "They fail when one person treats the other as a possession or obstacle rather than a partner. I have no interest in possessing anyone, Laena, and I hope you'll consider me worthy of partnership rather than mere tolerance."
Her violet eyes, so like those of all their shared bloodline, sparkled with what might have been approval mixed with amusement. "I think we'll do very well together, Jaehaerys. Very well indeed."
Behind them, as the party began their return journey through King's Landing's bustling streets, the Sea Snake rode at anchor in the harbor like a bronze promise of power and possibility. The tournament awaited, family obligations called, and the great game of thrones prepared to resume its ancient dance with new players who understood that survival required more than noble blood or inherited privilege.
It required intelligence, preparation, and the ability to forge alliances strong enough to withstand whatever storms might come. The bracelet on Laena's wrist pulsed once with inner warmth, as if acknowledging the bonds being forged and the futures being shaped by children who spoke like adults and thought like generals.
—
# Rhea's Chambers - The Red Keep, 105 AC
The afternoon sun filtered through the tall windows of Lady Rhea's temporary chambers, casting geometric patterns across the polished stone floor that seemed to shift and dance with each passing cloud. The room bore the careful touches of someone accustomed to making any space feel like home—tapestries from the Vale depicting the ancient runes of House Royce, a writing desk arranged with the precision of someone who conducted serious business regardless of location, and fresh mountain flowers that somehow managed to thrive despite being hundreds of miles from their native soil.
Rhea sat before her mirror, methodically working the bronze pins from her auburn hair with movements that spoke of long practice and quiet contemplation. The morning's activities had left their mark—court functions always did—and she was looking forward to a few moments of peace before the evening's festivities demanded her attention once more.
The sound of approaching footsteps in the corridor outside drew her attention, though she didn't turn from her reflection. After eight years of marriage to Daemon Targaryen, she had learned to recognize his particular cadence—confident but not quite arrogant, purposeful but with that underlying restlessness that never seemed to leave him entirely at peace.
The chamber door opened without ceremony, as was his custom. Daemon entered with that fluid grace that had made him legendary on battlefields and in ballrooms alike, though today he moved with the sort of careful energy that suggested news to be shared rather than mischief to be planned.
"Wife," he said with that particular inflection that could mean anything from formal greeting to intimate endearment, depending on his mood and the circumstances. Today it carried warmth tempered by something that might have been amusement or embarrassment—possibly both.
"Husband," Rhea replied without turning from her mirror, though her dark eyes found his reflection behind her with the unerring precision of someone who had spent years learning to read his expressions. "You have that look."
"What look?" Daemon asked with theatrical innocence as he closed the door behind him and moved deeper into the chamber.
"The one that means you've either done something spectacularly foolish and are hoping I won't find out until after you've had time to plan your explanation, or something unexpected has happened that you find simultaneously entertaining and mortifying." Rhea's hands never paused in their work with the bronze pins, but her attention was entirely focused on his reflection. "Given that you're here voluntarily rather than being dragged by guards, I'm assuming it's the latter."
Daemon moved to stand behind her chair, his hands settling on her shoulders with the familiarity of years and genuine affection. "Your powers of deduction remain as sharp as ever, my dear. Though I should note that 'mortifying' might be too strong a term. Perhaps... 'unexpectedly revealing' would be more accurate."
"About what?" Rhea asked, setting down her brush and turning to face him directly. The movement brought them close enough that she could see the way laughter lines crinkled around his violet eyes, the subtle signs of amusement that he was trying unsuccessfully to suppress.
"Our son," Daemon said with that crooked grin that had been getting him into trouble since he was old enough to walk, "has apparently been having conversations with his betrothed about our domestic arrangements. Conversations that he chose to share with the entire Small Council this morning during what was supposed to be a discussion of maritime security and piratical threats."
Rhea felt her eyebrows rise with mathematical precision. "Our domestic arrangements? Daemon, please tell me you're not about to inform me that our eight-year-old son has been providing commentary on our private life to the realm's most powerful men."
"Not commentary, exactly," Daemon replied with obvious amusement, settling into the chair opposite her with that casual elegance that made even simple movements look choreographed. "More like... enthusiastic advocacy for expansion of our family unit."
The words settled between them like stones dropped into still water, sending ripples of implication spreading outward in all directions. Rhea studied her husband's face with the intensity of someone trying to determine whether they were being told a joke or receiving life-altering news.
"Expansion," she repeated carefully, her voice carrying that particular quality of controlled attention that suggested he was walking through a field of potential dragon eggs. "Jaehaerys discussed the possibility of siblings with the Small Council?"
"At volume," Daemon confirmed cheerfully. "In front of King Viserys, Otto Hightower, Princess Rhaenys, and various other dignitaries who probably didn't expect their morning briefing on trade route security to include detailed assessments of our reproductive potential and parenting capabilities."
He leaned forward, his violet eyes dancing with barely suppressed laughter. "Apparently, both he and Rhaenyra have given the matter considerable thought and concluded unanimously that we should provide them with additional family members to dote upon and educate in the finer points of political maneuvering and dragon management."
Rhea closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose with the gesture of someone who had just realized that her life was about to become significantly more complicated in ways she hadn't anticipated. "Eight years old, and he's already managing family policy initiatives during formal government meetings. What exactly prompted this... public declaration of domestic recommendations?"
"Otto made some unfortunately phrased comments about marriages that produce limited offspring, suggesting that such arrangements might benefit from greater attention to domestic duties rather than external distractions." Daemon's grin widened as he recalled the morning's confrontation. "Our son took this as an opportunity to clarify that any limitations in our family size were matters of choice rather than capability, and that both he and his cousin would be delighted if we chose to... address those limitations in the near future."
The chamber fell quiet except for the sound of Rhea's measured breathing and the distant noise of the Red Keep's daily bustle filtering through the stone walls. Outside, King's Landing continued its preparation for the tournament, blissfully unaware that the realm's future succession might have been influenced by an eight-year-old's commentary on family planning delivered during a discussion of maritime security policy.
"Both he and Rhaenyra," Rhea said finally, her voice carrying that particular tone that suggested she was processing information that challenged several of her basic assumptions about how the world was supposed to work. "They've discussed this between themselves? At length? With sufficient detail to reach unanimous conclusions about our reproductive choices?"
"Apparently so," Daemon confirmed with obvious delight at her reaction. "Rhaenyra was quite vocal in her support of the proposal, citing my obvious aptitude for fatherhood and your excellent parenting instincts as evidence that additional children would be welcomed, loved, and properly educated in whatever skills the future might require."
He paused, his expression growing more thoughtful. "Though I should note that their advocacy wasn't entirely without practical considerations. Jaehaerys pointed out that he would be an excellent older brother, while Rhaenyra seemed primarily interested in having more cousins to play with during family gatherings. Quite reasonable motivations, when you consider their ages and interests."
Rhea was quiet for several long moments, her dark eyes distant as she contemplated the implications of what she was hearing. When she finally spoke, her voice carried the sort of careful precision that suggested she was working through complex calculations involving personal desires, political necessities, and the peculiar demands of being married to a Targaryen prince.
"And what," she asked with deceptive casualness, "was your response to this unexpected input on our family planning decisions?"
"I may have been momentarily speechless," Daemon admitted with uncharacteristic honesty. "It's one thing to discuss such matters privately between husband and wife, quite another to have them raised as policy recommendations during formal council sessions by one's own child. Even I require a moment to adjust when the conversational ground shifts that dramatically."
His violet gaze met hers directly, and for once the usual glint of mischief was tempered by something more serious. "Though I should note that both children raised excellent points. Jaehaerys would indeed make an outstanding older brother—he's protective, patient, naturally educational in his approach to most situations. And the realm would certainly benefit from additional members of our particular... genetic combination."
"Our genetic combination," Rhea repeated with dry humor. "How romantically you phrase it, husband. 'Additional members' makes it sound like we're considering expanding a military unit rather than our family."
"Well," Daemon replied with a return of his characteristic grin, "given the way our son analyzes political situations and your tactical approach to estate management, perhaps military terminology is more appropriate than traditional domestic language."
He leaned forward, his expression growing more serious despite the continued amusement in his eyes. "But in all honesty, Rhea, the children's advocacy raised questions I haven't given proper consideration. We've been so focused on Jaehaerys's education, the political implications of his unusual abilities, the challenges of preparing him for whatever role he'll eventually play in the realm's future..."
His voice trailed off as he seemed to search for words to express thoughts he hadn't previously organized. "We've been excellent parents to one remarkable child. But perhaps we've been so concerned with doing justice to his particular needs that we haven't considered whether our family might benefit from... expansion."
Rhea studied her husband's face with the intensity she usually reserved for complex legal documents or military correspondence, her dark eyes cataloging every nuance of expression, every subtle shift in posture or tone. After eight years of marriage, she had learned to distinguish between Daemon's casual observations and his genuinely held convictions, and this conversation was clearly moving into the latter category.
"Are you saying you want another child?" she asked directly, her voice carrying none of the diplomatic evasion that often characterized discussions of such personal matters between noble couples.
"Are you saying you don't?" he replied with equal directness, though his tone carried curiosity rather than challenge.
They looked at each other across the space between their chairs, eight years of shared experiences and growing understanding creating a moment of perfect communication that required no words. The afternoon light caught the auburn highlights in Rhea's hair and made Daemon's silver-gold seem to glow with inner fire, and for just an instant they were not the Lady of Runestone and the Rogue Prince but simply a man and woman contemplating the possibility of creating new life together.
"I think," Rhea said slowly, her voice carrying the sort of careful honesty that marked the most important conversations of any marriage, "that I've been so focused on managing the complexities of raising one extraordinary child that I hadn't allowed myself to consider whether we might want to repeat the experience."
She paused, her fingers absently tracing patterns on the arm of her chair as she organized thoughts that had apparently been developing beneath her conscious awareness. "Jaehaerys requires so much... attention, guidance, specialized education to help him manage abilities that go far beyond normal childhood development. I've been afraid that dividing our focus might somehow fail both children."
"And now?" Daemon prompted gently.
"Now I'm wondering if perhaps the opposite might be true," Rhea admitted with the sort of vulnerable honesty that she rarely allowed herself in political or social contexts. "Jaehaerys is remarkable, yes, but he's also somewhat... isolated by his own capabilities. Other children his age can't relate to his interests or understanding, adults are often made uncomfortable by his insights. A sibling closer to his own developmental level might provide companionship that we can't give him, no matter how much we love him."
Daemon nodded slowly, clearly following her reasoning. "A brother or sister who could share his world without being intimidated by his unusual qualities. Someone who would understand both the privileges and burdens of their bloodline because they carried the same inheritance."
"Exactly," Rhea confirmed with growing conviction. "And from a purely practical standpoint, the realm benefits from having multiple potential heirs with our particular... genetic combination, as you so romantically phrase it. Jaehaerys will almost certainly play a significant role in whatever challenges the future brings, but history suggests that important work often requires entire families rather than individual heroes."
She leaned forward, her dark eyes bright with the sort of enthusiasm that marked her approach to any project she had decided was worthwhile. "Besides, I've missed... this. The experience of pregnancy, childbirth, those early months when everything is new and full of possibility. Jaehaerys grew up so quickly, became serious so young. It might be nice to have another chance to simply enjoy being parents without quite so many supernatural complications."
Daemon's grin widened until it threatened to split his face entirely. "Rhea Royce, are you telling me that you want to have another child with me? Because if so, I should probably mention that I've been hoping you would reach that conclusion for months now, but didn't want to pressure you into decisions that should be made freely."
"You've been hoping?" Rhea asked with surprise that was only partially feigned. "For months? And you never mentioned it?"
"You had quite enough to manage without me adding domestic pressure to your list of responsibilities," Daemon replied with uncharacteristic sensitivity. "Runestone, Jaehaerys's education, the political implications of his abilities, your own role in whatever changes are coming to the realm... I wasn't going to complicate your life further by expressing personal desires that might conflict with practical necessities."
Rhea felt something warm and bright bloom in her chest at this evidence of consideration from her notoriously self-centered husband. "Daemon Targaryen, practicing restraint and consideration for other people's circumstances? Who are you, and what have you done with the man I married?"
"He's still here," Daemon assured her with a return of his characteristic cockiness, "but eight years of marriage to the most remarkable woman in the Seven Kingdoms has occasionally produced moments of actual wisdom. I'm as surprised as anyone."
"Only occasionally?" Rhea asked with mock disappointment.
"Let's not go overboard with the compliments," Daemon replied cheerfully. "I have a reputation to maintain. If word gets out that I've become thoughtful and considerate, half the realm will lose interest in my adventures entirely."
Rhea laughed, the sound bright and delighted in the afternoon air. "Your reputation can survive a few rumors about domestic happiness, husband. Though I suppose we should inform our son and his cousin that their advocacy was successful before they decide to escalate their campaign to include public speeches at the tournament."
"Gods, yes," Daemon agreed fervently. "The last thing we need is Jaehaerys explaining to the assembled nobility why his parents should reproduce for the good of the realm. I can only imagine Otto's reaction to that particular performance."
"Though it would certainly provide entertainment," Rhea observed with wicked amusement. "Nothing quite like family planning discussions delivered by eight-year-olds to liven up otherwise tedious court functions."
"True," Daemon acknowledged, "but I prefer my entertainment to come from sources other than my son's commentary on our private life. There are limits to how much domestic exposure even my ego can tolerate."
They looked at each other for a long moment, the decision hanging in the air between them like something tangible and precious. Eight years of marriage, of learning to love and trust and build something together, had led to this moment of perfect understanding and shared commitment to whatever came next.
"So we're doing this?" Rhea asked softly, her voice carrying all the hope and anticipation and slight nervousness that accompanied any major life decision.
"We're doing this," Daemon confirmed with absolute certainty, rising from his chair to pull her into his arms with the sort of eager enthusiasm that had characterized all his best decisions. "Though I should probably warn you that if this child inherits even half of Jaehaerys's unusual qualities, we may find ourselves with two young political advisors instead of one."
"I can think of worse problems to have," Rhea murmured against his chest, breathing in the familiar scent of leather and steel and something indefinable that was purely him. "Besides, the realm could probably use more people who understand that power serves purpose rather than personal gratification."
"True enough," Daemon agreed, his arms tightening around her with protective warmth. "Though I reserve the right to complain if our next child starts providing commentary on military strategy before they're old enough to walk properly."
"Complaint noted and disregarded," Rhea replied with contentment that seemed to fill all the empty spaces in her chest with warm light. "Now, shall we go inform our current child that his advocacy was successful before he starts planning additional campaigns for domestic policy reform?"
"Let's," Daemon agreed with laughter in his voice. "Though I suspect he already knows. The boy has an unsettling tendency to understand outcomes before they're officially decided."
As they prepared to leave the chamber—to find their son, to share their decision, to begin planning for whatever joy and chaos another child would bring to their already complex lives—neither could have imagined how crucial that decision would prove to be. The realm would need all the dragons it could muster for what was coming, and sometimes the most important victories were won not on battlefields but in quiet chambers where two people chose love over fear and hope over caution.
The future was uncertain, the challenges ahead unknowable, but at least they would face them together—all of them, including the new life they would create and cherish and prepare for whatever role destiny might demand.
---
Hey fellow fanfic enthusiasts!
I hope you're enjoying the fanfiction so far! I'd love to hear your thoughts on it. Whether you loved it, hated it, or have some constructive criticism, your feedback is super important to me. Feel free to drop a comment or send me a message with your thoughts. Can't wait to hear from you!
If you're passionate about fanfiction and love discussing stories, characters, and plot twists, then you're in the right place! I've created a Discord (HHHwRsB6wd) server dedicated to diving deep into the world of fanfiction, especially my own stories. Whether you're a reader, a writer, or just someone who enjoys a good tale, I welcome you to join us for lively discussions, feedback sessions, and maybe even some sneak peeks into upcoming chapters, along with artwork related to the stories. Let's nerd out together over our favorite fandoms and explore the endless possibilities of storytelling!
Can't wait to see you there!