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i got malcom

it was painfully accurate in some parts

i made a uquiz!!! check it out y'all

there’s this awesome hp fic in wattpad, that i don’t remember the name, but i remember the oc was either sirius’ or remus’ daughter and in prisoner of azkaban when they go back in time, the oc is like “you cried for a pumpkin!” for hermione and it’s amazing

does anyone know what happened to this fic im looking? it’s an azriel one, where he was going back home and he discovers this female living in the woods, i think she was a healer helping in war relief, i’ve been trying to find it, it was on ao3 by the way

So I watched that episode of Our Flag Means Death where Ed finds the bunny and thinks it's a wolf and thought, what if Remus was a wererabbit and Sirius had no idea? Anyways, have a drabble.

Here I Am (a rabbit-hearted boy)

Hogwarts Era. 654 words. Wererabbit Remus. G.

Remus' floppy ears twitch unhappily. He had been so careful—so careful not to let his friends see the monster he becomes every full moon. He thought he was sneaky, when he made his way out of the castle before dinner—after the other boys had already left for the Great Hall, but here is Sirius, standing above him with wide eyes. He'd seen the whole thing, the whole transformation—running into the clearing before Remus could even shout at him to stop. Before his body bent and twisted violently into a monster.  Remus' tiny body shakes in fear. Finally, after an impossibly long moment, Sirius seems to come back to himself. "R—Remus? Are you—you're a werewolf?"  …I'm a what now? 

"I thought maybe you were upset about Snape ruining your Potions final when you didn’t follow us down to dinner, so I came back to find you and saw you sneak out of the castle. I decided to  follow you, but I didn't think...Oh my God. You're so...so...cute."  Remus' nose twitches in a way that he thinks sufficiently expresses his shock and distaste. He’s not cute. He’s fearsome! An abomination! Sirius, unafraid, crouches down and strokes a gentle hand over the tawny fur on his back.  Okay, well Remus doesn't hate that.  Sirius scratches behind one floppy ear, and it makes Remus’ back foot twitch. Sirius smiles. "Are you a friend, wolf? Merlin, wait til I tell James about this! Our Moony—a real bloody werewolf!" and then as quickly as he’d appeared, he's gone, running off back toward the castle. It's just as well, Remus is dangerous like this. As much as he would love some company on the moons, one bite is all it would take and he could turn Sirius, too. He couldn't live with himself. Remus has just finished snacking on some grass, and is just about to hop into the underbrush to play chase with the rabbits of the Forest, when Sirius comes running back, this time with James in tow. Great. "See James! That's Remus, he's a werewolf!"  James, who is bent over trying to catch his breath, looks up at him like he's stupid. "That's a rabbit, Sirius." "No...I saw him transform—that’s Remus. He's a werewolf." "At best that's a wererabbit." He looks down at Remus, his face twisted in thought. "Sorry Remus, just a sec. Sirius—" he looks back up at the other boy, pinching the bridge of his nose. “—have you ever actually seen a rabbit before?" "Well, not precisely...Grimmauld is in the middle of London, not exactly teeming with rabbits and the like." "Babbity Rabbity? Surely you've read Babbity Rabbity at least." "I'm pretty sure Babbity Rabbity would never make it into the Black family library. Not macabre enough." James sighs. "Okay well, I’m telling you that's a rabbit." James points down at him, and Remus twitches his nose, hoping it conveys how tired he is.  Sirius stomps his feet, insistent. “But his last name is Lupin, not Lapin! He's Wolfie McWolf, not Bunny McRabbit!” “I’m pretty sure his name has nothing to do with which were-animal decided to take a chunk out of him, Sirius!” Remus tries to hop away while they’re fighting, but Sirius spots him and scoops him up into his arms. “Oh no you don’t! Come on Remus, I’ll sneak you back into the castle—get you something to munch on. What do rabbits eat, anyway? Hay? Flowers?”  Human flesh.  “They eat grass and, like, carrots. Good call though, better get him inside before an actual wolf spots him. Come on, Remus.” And that’s how Remus finds himself, a few hours later, in a soft bed, snuggled under the covers with Sirius’ hand gently resting on his furry back. He supposes being found out isn’t so bad, and if he wakes up in the morning—human again, Sirius spooning against his back, he thinks that might actually be even better.

reblog if you’ve read fanfictions that are more professional, better written than some actual novels. I’m trying to see something

and it’s okay for them not to be close, family doesn’t mean blood. in my opinion the girls need to become tangents in each other’s life, they’re not estranged but their not close, of course that may not be possible with the whole mate situation but i feel like elain and nesta need a change of scenery you know, to heal on their own before trying to heal with feyre, cause feyre has already gotten her change of scenery she’s come to terms woth everything she’s feeling, they may not be the best of feelings but she is fully aware of them

“Feyre is eventually going to get over how Nesta and Elain treated her in the cabin” she literally said she’s never going to be close with them the way she is with the IC. Y’all really just need to accept that how they treated her is something that’s always going to stain their relationship.

someone saying that rhys was a scapegoat for the archeron’s problems and then proceeds to say all of them are nesta’s fault, like it takes two to have a relationship

just saw someone say that they don’t ship elucien cause elain feels uncomfortable aroung lucien, and while i agree she is uncomfortable i don’t believe it’s because of him. I believe elain is uncomfortable with the mating bond and the idea that’s lucien is her mate, bc all that it represents is another choice that’s been taken away from her, another chapter of her life she couldn’t control, but in my vision if elain and lucien met in different circumstances where there was no “obligation” to be together they would have gotten along so well, and be so in love with each other and i really wish they had this chance

this is not a hate post towards elriel it’s only my opinion on someone else’s thoughts

𝙻𝚊 𝚅𝚒𝚎 𝚎𝚗 𝚁𝚘𝚜𝚎

I siriusly don't know why I've chosen now to fall back into my marauders phase, mais c'est la vie...

(see what I did there?)

I've taken French for literally five years, (I'm nowhere near fluent tho) so I have no idea why it's taken me so long to incorporate it into my writing.

In all honesty, I'm doing great mentally, but I've been pining for some wolfstar! x reader angst, and I haven't really found any that meet my fancy yet soooooo.

Fine I'll do it myself.

Summary: You were a hopeless romantic who had always tended to see things through rose colored glasses, falling in love with the idea of falling in love. Each knew infatuation came to you like a fascination ready to be explored, there was nothing you loved more than the head-games of an all consuming crush. That was until, the latest object of attraction became two boys so incredibly and viscerally out of your reach.

Warnings: Angst! (like a lot), Unrequited love, fluff for a mere second, tbh I feel like it is funny at moments???

Once again, if you see any formatting/grammatical errors, please let me know!

Enjoy <3

———–

It had all been fun and games, it never really mattered, until it did.

It was no secret, to your family, your friends, and least of all you. You loved falling in love.

Bi-monthly, and sometimes depending on the circumstance, bi-weekly you waltzed into the Gryffindor common room with a new tale of budding romance to share with your friends. And they'd just look at you and smile,

"Ah, our (Y/N), ever the helpless romantic." they'd say, all the while you'd confirm their statements with a blush or grin.

It was harmless, innocent, you had made quite the reputation for yourself around Hogwarts.

Anyone who got involved with you knew your tendencies, that your heart could change pace like the seasons came and went. Each boy and girl you set your sights on was like a new game of chess for your dazzling beauty and quick wits to conquer.

Which, you knew in retrospect sounded terrible, but you also knew you were young, and that relationships and love should be something to explore, not something to hold you down.

Besides, it wasn't like they didn't mean anything to you, you felt heartbreak when it was said and done with. To you, the growth and rebirth that came with romance was something equally as beautiful as the summits and triumphs.

You had a sneaking suspicion, that if the Greeks and Romans were right about their gods, you had to have been under Aphrodite's watchful eye.

Coming up on your last year of Hogwarts, you had become unbeatable. You had captured so many suitors, there were even lingering rumors of Veela tainting your blood.

Of course, they were all false, though, you'd never tell anyone otherwise. Because, what fun would that be?

You had at least one crash-and-burn love story from every house to tell, it even got to the point that people were courting you with the intention of "taming" your rampage.

Never, had there been a crush you couldn't bounce back from, no matter how close to breaking you came, you never did.

That was until you just had to go and viciously fuck yourself over.

Your thoroughly used vinyl of La Vie en Rose echoed through your dorm room as it spun for what might've been the millionth time, lyrics serving as a cruel jab toward your current situation.

Des yeux qui font baisser les miens,

You hadn't meant for it turn to out this way. For the first time in your entire life, there you sat, face stuffed into your pillow, wishing to Merlin that your heart could just bleed out of your chest.

Maybe then, it wouldn't be something you'd have to deal with, and you could forget about the prospect of falling in love together.

Un rire qui se perd sur sa bouche,

It wasn't too late at all, it was just after dinner, and the rest of your dorm mates had cleared to the common room to celebrate the winning quidditch match that had transpired hours earlier.

On any usual occasion, you'd been down there with them, curled up on the couch next to Lilly, Mary, or Marlene, sipping rum-infused butter beer in content.

Instead, you were curled up alone, bathed in the dim light of your bedside candle, shivering from the cold.

Your blanket had fallen half down your body nearly fifteen minutes ago, and yet, the last thing on your mind was pulling it back up.

Voila le portrait sans retouches,

You had made some lame excuse as to why you would be exempt from tonight's actives, claiming you wanted to brush up on your divination for the exam at the end of the week.

Everyone had bought it, too high on youthful excitement and laughter to stop once more and examine the dark circles under your eyes.

De l'homme auquel j'appartiens,

As you stuffed your face further into the cotton pillowcase, you desperately wished the ground would open up and take you somewhere dark and quiet. Somewhere you could forget that you existed, so you could stop feeling like such a horrible human being.

Your mind had been clouded with buzzing jumbled thoughts for what felt like hours, never ceasing to give you a moment to rest. You surely thought your ears would start bleeding from how hard you had been thinking all day.

Quand il me prend dans ses bras,

You had now reached a point, with your uniform discarded haphazardly on the floor, and the sleep shirt you garnered swallowing you whole, where your brain had become filled with white noise.

The only coherent thought you could form right now, was how the hell did I get here?

Il me parle l'a tout bas,

Which of course, led you back into a rabbit hole of memories.

Je vois,

 la vie en rose...

The infirmary's visiting hours were long over, the only company you had to keep was the first year who had fallen out of a tree that was sleeping in the cot next to you.

You should've been fast asleep by now, but you couldn't bring yourself to count a single sheep. 

You weren't there for any real injury, a prank the boys had pulled a few hours earlier had backfired, and you had gotten the brunt of their mistake.

What was supposed to be a "pimple-inducing glitter rocket" (you had no idea how they got so creative) headed straight for Severus Snape, was quickly dogged by the intended victim, and who else was so lucky to be standing a few feet behind him, but you?

After a quick potion, you were fine, but you felt a little nauseous from the drink, and a little woozy from all the excitement, so you decided to stay there for the night.

A decision you were vastly regretting, as it was coming up on midnight and you had absolutely nothing to do. 

You had resorted to trying to write a letter to a boy you broke up with two days prior, he had left on quite a sour note, and truthfully you felt a bit awful for him.

It wasn't necessarily his fault, like many prior partners, you'd just grown uninterested. You figured you should at least leave him a note apologizing for the entire ordeal, even if it did get left in the bin.

That would've been great and all, only, you had no bloody idea what to write.

This had to have been the fourth page of parchment you had crumbled up and discarded next to you. With the thin sheet from the hospital bed drawn over you, you sat dumbfounded, cross-legged with a small, pink, dancing flame next to your quill. 

You had started writing the beginning sentence, but then again, nothing came to mind after that. Your regularly admired face was scrunched up deep in thought, your nightgown slipping down one shoulder as you held the feather deep in concentration. 

You re-read what you already had, and decided to just follow up with whatever came to mind. Perhaps, you were thinking too hard. 

After much consideration, you began writing once more, 

"I'm sorry I got bored of you-" scratch. Nope, that was dreadful, this was a lost cause, and you were wretched. 

You huffed dismally, with no regard for the boy sleeping only a few feet away, and just as you prepared to snuff the light out, and try to achieve some shut-eye, you heard it.

You heard the door to the hospital wing slowly squeak open. 

You paused, who would be coming in at this hour?

You turned to the small flame dancing on the candle seated next to you and snuffed it with a pinch before grabbing your wand which was next to it.

"Lumos." You whispered, as a small orb of light spouted from the end of your wand, you dragged the sheet off your form.

You looked around the hospital wing, from the dozing first year to the grand windows that lined both walls, and finally, to the door.

Though open, no one besides you and the boy seemed to be in the room.

But you were raised by wizards and were best friends with the most ruthless tricksters Hogwarts had ever seen, so you know better than to glance only at surface level.

Slowly, you turned and lowered your feet onto the cold stone floor. 

As you tip-toed around your bed, eyes squinting and wand raised high, you spoke aloud.

"Who's there?" Apart from the echo of your voice, and the murmurs from the boy next to you who stirred slightly, silence.

You stepped forward a few more paces so that you were in the center of the room.

"Show yourself!" You spoke slightly louder and turned in all directions as if hoping to catch any movement.

Nothing. 

You sighed, perhaps you were just a lunatic, and the door had blown open on its own. You turned to walk back to your bed, and just as you took one step, you were interrupted by what nearly made you shit yourself.

"Hello, dear." 

A voice cut through the air next to you, and you screamed on pure instinct.

Well, you would've, if not for the hand shooting out of the darkness to cover your mouth. You swung your wand in the direction of your assailant and were met with a sight completely unexpected. 

Remus Lupin's big brown eyes, illuminated by your wand stared back at you. Or rather, down at you. 

The significantly taller boy was heaving, his ruffled oaky hair falling slightly in his face, which held an expression that suggested you had scared him. The light traced his scars, and his large, cut-covered hand closed around almost the whole bottom half of your face.

You couldn't help but think; how pretty Remus Lupin looked at that moment.

He gulped, a smile tugging at his lips as his expression shifted into one of slight amusement, "Alright love, I'm going to remove my hand now, and you are going to promise me you won't scream at us."

His voice was a soft whisper and reminded you of the rocky seashore you used to visit every summer with your parents when you were little. 

It sent a shiver down your spine, had it always had that effect?

You then reconsidered his wording, Us? Your eyes shifted to his right, and there you were met with an even more surprising sight. 

Sirius Black stood with one hand in his pocket, and the other clenching James Potter's invisibility cloak.

"Of course." You thought.

He stood with an air of relaxation like he always did. His annoyingly beautiful face was drawn in mirth, though far more sheening than Remus'.

His brows were raised, and his eyes regarded your appearance with what could only be described as mischief, as a feathery strand of his rebellious raven hair dipped between his eyes. 

He winked at you after you had seemed to stare for a little too long, causing you to snap out of your bewilderment, and look back to Remus, who remained rooted in the same spot looking at you expectantly. 

You nodded at him, holding his gaze, which seemed far too intense for a boy his age. For whatever reason, he nodded back. 

He removed his hand, and just as he did, you swatted it away and stepped back.

"What in Merlin's name are you both doing here?! You scared the hell out of me!" You whisper-shouted at the pair. The two boys smiled youthfully at you in response.

Sirius finally swaggered forward, and past you, not refraining from brushing against you as he did. He turned and plopped down on your bed, discarding James' cloak next to him.

In his natural air of arrogance, he leaned back on his palms and lolled his head to the side, grinning up at you.

"We thought our girl could use some company, didn't we Moony?" 

Against your better judgment, you rolled your eyes and swayed to look at Remus, who remained smiling down at you. 

Annoyingly, a smile of your own made its way onto your face.

It was no secret that out of the group you, Sirius, and Remus were close in a way that the others weren't.

I mean, of course, the boys, and you and the girls would always be close in your respective ways, but for some reason, you three just seemed to click in a weird, and almost perfect way.

It wasn't like they called any other girl in the friend group "their girl", and it wasn't like you'd go through the animagus process for just anyone. 

Remus bit his tongue, his eyes flickered from Sirius', and back to yours before he nodded once more.

Suddenly, he pulled his wand from his pocket and lit a candle on a bedside table across the room, so that your wand could be lowered and placed gingerly in the pocket of your nightgown.

 As he returned his wand to his pocket all the same, he stepped forward and took both your hands in his own, swinging them back and forth idly, "Yeah, that and we wanted to apologize again for being the reason you're in here in the first place."

"Even though it was James' idea to begin with!" Sirius' voice beckoned from behind you.

Remus shot him a glare over your head before looking back down at you and rolling his eyes, swiping his thumb gently across the back of your hand, "Yes," he droned begrudgingly, "even though." 

You bit your bottom lip while grinning in an attempt to conceal the laughter rising in your throat.

You released one of his hands, still gripping the other as you spun yourself around and face Sirius, who was now sitting cross-legged on the bed. 

You couldn't help the content sigh that escaped your lips as you regarded the look of merriment and genuineness that graced Sirius' face. 

You took turns looking between both boys before saying, "Consider yourselves forgiven, though I have a feeling that wasn't the only thing you came for."

"You'd be right to assume, Lovebug," Remus responded. Another thing, there wasn't a soul on the planet save for Remus and Sirius who called you Lovebug.

It was a title fashioned for your romantic tendencies, and it suited you quite well.

Sirius suddenly hopped to a stand, before taking his wand to poke the sleeping boy's foot ever so slightly, "We are taking you to the astronomy tower, to watch the crescent moon." He said nonchalantly, you scoffed in disbelief. 

"Right now? But Sirius I'm in a bloody nightgown, not to mention barefoot, and all my things-"

You were cut off by Remus, whose arms had suddenly wrapped around your shoulders, "Relax darling, we'll have you back before the sun rises, maybe we'll even take your things and you back to the dorm where you belong." 

You chuffed, "But-"

"As for the nightgown and lack of shoes, we can assure you, love, you look absolutely smashing in it, and have cute enough feet for it not to be too grotesque." Sirius winked.

You sighed and tried to ignore the light blush that settled across your cheeks, drowned out by the darkness.

You groaned petulantly like a child as you struggled to come up with a counterpoint, and leaned into Remus' lankily muscular build.

"C'mon Darling, it's your favorite moon cycle, and we know you must be bored to tears." 

You froze as Remus' smooth voice resonated against the shell of your ear, his breath fanning over you slightly.

It was then you became aware of just how dipped in his scent you were, it completely engulfed you, the smell of pinewood, candle wax, and parchment. 

You cleared your throat, before Sirius interjected once more, "Evidently, by the literary devices she's turned to to cope."

Your eyes widened, as your headshot over to Sirius, who had now grabbed and held the parchment you had forgotten you left on your bed.

His hair created a curtain around his face as he leaned over to read it, still though you could make out the shit-eating grin on his face as he did so. 

"Dear Callum, I know I'm probably the last person you want to hear from at the moment, but I'm sorry I got bored of you-" He read aloud in a high-pitched voice before he broke down into laughter.

You wrenched out of Remus' hold before surging forward and snatching the paper from his hand and shoving him slightly.

"Give me that you oaf!" You hissed lowly.

He snicked and pulled you into a hug, "Oh come now, you know I'm only joking lovely, please don't leave me! I promise never to bore you!" He sang, you elbowed him in rebuttal.

"Alright, fine! FINE! I will go, will you stop it now?!" You snapped, his laughter eventually died down as he hummed and looked down at you.

You craned your neck to meet his gaze, "Ah, knew you'd come around Lovebug, right then off we go!" He announced before spinning you and setting you down on the ground.

You watched as he practically skipped over to Remus, before grabbing the boy by the jaw and pulling him into a simple kiss.

Yet another symbol of your closeness, you were one of the only ones who knew that the two were more than just friends.

Remus hummed before returning the kiss and pulling away.

Sirius leaned into his neck, "Told you she'd come around Moony."

Remus licked his lips and gave you a half-lidded once over, not even he could contain the dim beam that spread across his face. 

"Course she did, she's our girl after all." He mused.

In an instant, the smile dropped from your face.

It was then, for the first time in a long time, you felt something. Like a punch in the gut, one that you knew familiarly, but not to this extent. 

The air in your lungs seemed to leave you all at once, as a cold hotness spread over you.

Your vision began to tunnel, as your ears filled with wind, and you became all too aware of the sweat that coated your palms.

"No," you thought, "no way."

 Your heartbeat quickened, and you desperately hoped that with Remus' advanced senses, he couldn't hear it. 

There was no way this was happening, not to you, not right now.

It was such a simple sentence, one you were sure he and Sirius had uttered to you before, so why did it ignite this feeling in you?

Why, did you have to have such a reaction, and why now? 

You wiped the sweat that sprouted from your palms on your nightgown and could feel some new form on the nape of your neck.

It felt as though the air of comfortability from earlier had evaporated, replaced with a thick blanket of awkwardness and anxiety, at least on your part.

The boys you had leaned into so carelessly before, had now become the two people you wanted to be furthest from.

You knew this feeling, you knew what it was, and normally, you'd welcome it like an old friend. But not this time, not for them. 

Why, did it have to be them?

"(Y/N)" Sirius' question shook you from your state of silent panic. You blinked and swallowed a thick glob of your saliva. 

"Yeah?" Your voice was far less even than it had been a second ago, it wavered and shook much without you meaning it to.

The boys looked at you with confusion drawn over their expressions, "You ready to go?" Remus said as if you were some dimwitted puppy. 

Your eyelids flickered, and you took a deep breath. "Yeah, sorry, I just zoned out, must be the after-effects of the potion." You lied through your teeth. 

They nodded at you, still seeming suspicious of your behavior but not questioning the matter further.

Each boy extended a hand, and you almost let out a shattered sigh as you slowly stepped forward and took each hand in your own.

As you three began walking to the door, and you plastered a smile on your face, you began to hear your voice screaming inside your head.

In an instant, you knew what you had done. 

You'd just gone and fallen in love with two boys you knew you couldn't have.

That exchange had transpired a week ago, and ever since then, you'd been spiraling.

You felt hot tears gather in your eyes as you recounted it redundantly. In your mind, there were layers to how fucked up this was.

You can't like two people at once, that's utterly selfish. You berated yourself, especially since those two people are dating each other, not to mention two boys! Not to mention even more two boys that just so happen to be your best friends!

You groaned as you rubbed your temples, blinking back the tears.

Any logical, normal person would've taken the high road, and just silently waited until this infatuation passed.

But as you were reminded incessantly, you were the furthest from logical, or normal.

The longer you lingered with this knowledge, the more unbearable it became.

Every moment you spent trying not to think about Sirius or Remus, was another moment in which your little crush turned into a full-blown obsession.

At first, you had resigned to pretending as if nothing was amiss, forcing smiles and hoping they couldn't tell. But every day you felt your resolve weakening, and so as of today, you had completely avoided them at all costs.

Then, you just had to let your friends drag you to that stupid quidditch match.

You had managed to sit as far from Remus as possible and tried to push through through the awkwardness, which worked for awhile, and then the world had to go and give you another slap in the face.

After James had caught the snitch, you were dealt the misfortune of locking eyes with Sirius, who, high on excitement as he was, decided to beam at you, and blow you a fucking kiss.

Damn Sirius Black for being the natural flirt he was, and damn his stupidly perfect face.

You knew in hindsight it was just Sirius being Sirius, he was head over heels for Remus.

It's not like he knew how much he made your heart flutter from that simple act alone.

But the side effects of it were damning, and whilst you got by with averting eye contact and keeping to yourself for the walk back to the castle, you refused to risk a much more obvious reaction given the boys pull anything else.

You sighed, again, as you shut your eyes and listened to the last lyric that played from your vinyl.

Et, dès que je l'apercois, alors je sens en moiI, mon coeur qui bat...

You bit the inside of your cottoned mouth, and gulped sending a sting down your dry throat.

Your favorite song was beginning to sound like torture every time you translated its meaning in your head.

Yes, you thought bitterly, I see life through rose-colored glasses, and look where that's got me now.

Finally, you opened your eyes. God, your side of the dorm was a mess, Lily was going to kill you.

Not that it wouldn't be deserved, you shot at yourself.

With all the remaining strength in your body, you pushed yourself off your bed. The needle on your record player had finally reached the center of the vinyl, meaning it was time for you to get up and move it again.

As your feet landed on the cold floor, you winced, rolling your ankles to re-attune your body to movement.

After a moment you stood, not missing the blackness that pinched at your view from your lightheaded state. You began to walk across the room, ignoring the cries that sounded from your locked joints.

Your brain felt fuzzy, and your movements were reduced to emotionless and empty.

You stopped in front of the table on which your record player sat, and lifted a weak, trembling hand to the needle.

And as you picked up, and moved it to the edge, allowing the song to replay once more, you heard the startling sound of the door creaking open.

You didn't bother to look at her, instead, you closed your eyes and inhaled in preparation for what was to come.

"Godrick, (Y/N) the room's a mess, what have you been doing all this time?!"

Lily's maternal croon should've at least offered a morsel of comfort, and yet, all it did was cause more tears to sting the corners of your eyes.

Your ears filled with ocean sounds as Lily began to parade around the room, picking up all your discarded articles of clothing, too lost in her own ramblings to notice the air of gloom that hung over you.

You bit your lip as you shut your eyes tightly, trying desperately to keep any more tears from running freely down your rosy cheeks.

Lily had this way about her, she was too comforting, too emotion-invoking.

You wished she would've just stayed downstairs for one more hour, at least then you would've more had time to collect yourself.

But she didn't, she was here, and she was going to witness you in the state that you were; raw, terrified, and utterly humiliated.

Your mind had turned into a wind tunnel of thoughts and feelings, preventing you from noticing how Lily had halted her movements and slighted her gaze to your now shaking form.

"(Y/N)? Lovie? Are you alright?"

You opened your eyes and looked up at the ceiling for one moment, teeth biting down harder on your trembling lip.

Finally, you turned and met her head-on.

Lily gasped in spite of herself, "Oh, Y/N." she whispered, brows stitched in worry, emerald eyes widening.

Before you could blink, she was on you. Lean arms enclosing your figure, one placed comfortingly behind your head, the other wrapped around your waist.

"Darling, what's happened?" Her soft voice resonated in your ear.

You couldn't bring yourself to respond, burrowing your head in her shoulder, shaking it slightly.

Your arms had returned the embrace tenfold, hands grasping her sweater tightly like she was the only thing in the universe holding you together at that moment.

Before you could stop yourself, soft hiccups began to escape you, and it was then, as Lily pulled away and began to wipe at the wetness under your eyes, you realized, you had to tell her.

You allowed yourself to be guided to her side of the room and sat down on her plush, quilted bed.

Blinking through tears you tried to focus on Lilly's concerned face, as she pushed a stray strand of hair behind your ear, and took your hand.

"Y/N, please, tell me what's the matter." Lily begged quietly as she smoothed her thumb over the back of your hand.

The moonlight from the window above her bed was nearly the only thing that illuminated the space around you, sheening on your variability, and exposing your flaws.

Your eyes flickered as you took a deep breath and attempted to collect your thoughts, and organize them into something, anything, clear enough to be spoken aloud.

"I..." Your voice quietly resonated, coarse and croaky from hours of wailing and weeping. You fought against the tightness in your throat, encouraged by Lily's soft eyes, and comforting presence.

After a moment, you cleared your throat and tried again.

You began with a sigh, focusing on the way Lily smelled of vanilla, allowing her scent to calm your flurrying mind.

"Lily," you said, much quieter this time, "I've done something terrible."

Lily's brows furrowed once more, in confusion this time. "What can you mean?" she replied, ever inquisitive and eager.

You inhaled and exhaled slowly, here it goes.

You gripped her hand like it was your lifeline, "I've..." you paused.

"I've fallen in love again."

Quiet settled over the room, blanketing the two girls.

Lily blinked, face going blank.

Before she could stop herself, a snort escaped from her mouth. Her demeanor of worry was now replaced with one of disbelief and wry amusement.

"You must be joking, seriously (Y/N)? That's all this is about? another silly little fling?" She teased, now finding this entire situation utterly ironic.

You huffed, frustration becoming your face. "No," You interjected, voice strained and tight.

"It's not- God, it's not that I've fallen in love again, it's with who!"

Lily raised a brow, squinting, lip quirking. "Right then," she teased, "Tell me, who is the soul lucky enough to hold your affections?"

You were glaring and lifting yourself off the bed in an instant. Bitterness bitting at your tongue.

"Forget it." You bit.

Lily sighed and grasped your hand before you could get even two steps. "(Y/N)," she groaned in defeat, feeling instant guilt as more tears glided down your chin.

"I'm sorry, that was cruel of me. You can tell me, and I won't make fun of you."

You eyed the redhead suspiciously, "Promise?" You quipped. Lily smiled, "Promise."

You bit the inside of your cheek and returned to your spot on the bed.

You huffed and picked away at some of the skin around your fingernails anxiously. "You really promise not to judge?" you mumbled, looking up at her through your wet lashes.

Lily nodded, "I promise lovie, you can tell me." her smile was the reassurance you needed, but it didn't lessen the ache in your heart.

You shut your eyes, annoyed at the feeling of more tears gushing down your neck.

You covered your face in your palms, before admitting out loud the confession you'd been reckoning with for days.

"I fucked up," you said through tears as you lifted your eyes to meet Lily's, "I've fallen in love with Remus Lupin," you watched Lily's eyes turn into saucers, "And, Sirius fucking Black."

In any other situation, you would've laughed at how Lily's jaw fell open, but this was no laughing matter. Her hand flew to hover above her mouth, and for the first time in all that you've known her, Lily Evans had been rendered speechless.

And you, were growing more anxious by the moment. Tears were now fully cascading down your face, sobs and hiccups wrenching from your throat.

"Say something!" You begged, her silence was making you feel worse by the second.

Lily jumped, broken out of her state of shock. She closed and open her mouth, trying to find the right words, before she so eloquently settled on,

"Merlin's fuck, (Y/N)."

You cried harder if that was even possible.

"I know, I know, it's horrible isn't it?" You whined.

After a week of keeping this all bottled up, it was now all coming crashing down on you.

You felt your heart ripping at the seams, in such a short period of time, these boys had suddenly had the most magnifying attraction you had felt.

You felt so utterly stupid, had you always liked them? Did it just so happen that that fateful night was your moment of realization?

Either way, neither explanation lessened your suffocating distress.

As you let your head fall into your hands, Lily grabbed your shoulders, rubbing them up and down encouragingly.

"Well, I won't lie to you sweetheart, it doesn't look amazing." She winced, resolving to pull your sobbing body to hers, wrapping her arms around you once more.

Lily knew the weight of this situation, because she knew Remus and Sirius, more especially, the relationship the two shared.

"When did you find this out?" She asked softly. 

You sniffed, "A week ago, I think? Oh Merlin, maybe I've always known but was never ready to admit it to myself." 

Lily sighed thoughtfully, before replying. "Well, do you want to tell them?" 

You thought for a moment, before shaking your head in defeat.

"It's no use Lils, even in my wildest dreams, they're out of my reach. I can't have them, and the fact that I even want them makes me feel like the biggest arsehole in the world."

Lily stayed quiet as you continued your rant, allowing you to verbalize all the feelings that had been festering in your heart. 

"Godrick, they're so perfect for each other, it's almost unreal. You've seen them together, they look as if they were made for each other. Not only that, but they fought so hard for the right to be together. And who the hell am I to come in here and even consider ruining that? I must be the most selfish girl in the world." 

You felt your heart break a little more with each word, but you couldn't stop yourself, you had to let these thoughts surface. 

"They trusted me," you sobbed, "every deep, grimy secret that they had no obligation to share, they trusted me enough to tell. All they've ever wanted from me was a friend, someone to be their home, and now I've gone and ruined it."

"You don't know that-" Lily tried, but you interrupted before she could even finish the sentence.

"Yes, I do! You know how I get Lily, even about simple crushes they become all I can think about. I will not be able to stop thinking about them, and every single time they feel comfortable enough to be affectionate in front of me, I'll break all over again."

Finally, you paused and took a deep breath.

"There is absolutely no situation in which this can turn out alright for me."

Lily felt her heartache for you as she assessed the sheer pain in your voice.

However, this situation was difficult, because she had to consider Remus and Sirius' well-being too.

She tapped a finger on the bare skin of your arm. "You know what I think?" She finally said.

You lifted your head and met her calculating eyes with your own. "What?" you asked pathetically. 

Lily rotated her jaw, "I think, that this situation is much bigger than you or I, so before we go making blind assumptions, we need to let Remus and Sirius speak for themselves."

She paused, "(Y/N), I know you're scared, but you have to tell them."

You inhaled deeply, eyes flickering with fear.

You were scared, terrified actually. But, the more you thought about it, the more you realized what you had known all this time.

Lily was right, they needed to know. 

You couldn't just disappear from their lives without giving them a floor to speak their peace, it wasn't right.

Doing that, you decided, would truly be the cruelest thing you could possibly do.

You huffed, before blinking away the last of your tears and taking a moment to wipe the mess off your face.

Lily sat and watched you as you began to collect yourself, leaning on her own arm for support. 

After a moment, when you felt as though you were moderately put together, you shook your hands out and breathed deeply for that last time.

You looked to Lily, there were still a million questions you wished could be answered, but for tonight, as you checked the clock and saw it was coming up on 1:00 A.M., you settled for just one.

"Do you think they realize I've been avoiding them?" You cringed.

Lily opened her mouth to reply, but before she could, a sharp knock sounded at the door.

"(Y/N) (L/N), you open this door right now, or so help me Merlin, I will blow it down!" Sirius' muffled yell sounded from the other side of the aged wood.

Then, Remus chimed in. "You know he'll do it love, so there's no use in fighting."

You froze, and for a moment as Lily's expression turned into that of a deer in headlights, you thought maybe the whole universe froze with you.

Your blood ran cold as they continued raving about their usual nonsense, and as you saw the door handle rattle, you and Lily finally spoke in unison.

"Oh, fuck."

furthermore, how the fuck is percy a boy if gods don’t have dna and sally only has x chromosomes

the biggest bullshit of the percy jackson series is “the gods don’t have dna”, how does clarisse resemble ares then? how does percy look like a carbon copy of his dad? if those are not strong ass genes i don’t know what is! the only one who works with the narrative are athena and aphrodite, cause athena isn’t genetic reproduction and aphrodite changes depending on taste

there’s a massive mosquito bite that’s been on my foot for months and i hate it so much

tirei meu cabelo do tererê e esta o ó do borogodó de duro com agua do mar

the best part of the god complex is everyone else’s chapter where they talk about their perception of ris

i posted something some time ago, and i’ve come to thw conclusion that tumblr comes alive at 5am in my country

RIS AND CALYPSO ARE SO GOALS DEAR GOD I NEED TO STOP CRYING

the biggest bullshit of the percy jackson series is “the gods don’t have dna”, how does clarisse resemble ares then? how does percy look like a carbon copy of his dad? if those are not strong ass genes i don’t know what is! the only one who works with the narrative are athena and aphrodite, cause athena isn’t genetic reproduction and aphrodite changes depending on taste

I’VE GOT FUVE TESTS TOMORROW BUT I JUST GOT THE FIC I WAS LOOKING FOR SO FUCK THE TESTS

THE GOD COMPLEX WAS DELETED???? CAN SOMEONE TELL ME PLEASE, IT WAS AN APOLLOxOC HER NAME WAS RIS NGUYEN AND SHE WAS A SEER DAUGHTER OF HIPNOS!!!

I read one that draco was a gryffindor and it was so good

au gryffindor draco

u wanna know what bothers me? this whole “kaz brekker is emotionless” rhetoric. it really strips him of his complexity as a character - he’s a very emotional character, actually. he’s internal conflict personified. he is juxtaposition. if he didn’t have emotions, his entire vendetta and need for revenge wouldn’t exist. if he didn’t have emotions, he wouldn’t risk everything he ever built to save inej. if he didn’t have emotions, he wouldn’t have called jesper by his dead brother’s name. if he didn’t have emotions, he would not have seen himself in wylan. if he didn’t have emotions, he would not tease matthias. if he did not have emotions, he would not have a unique friendship with nina. kaz feels a lot, just all at once. he doesn’t carry himself without emotions, he hides behind a front, a lie, so that he doesn’t have to confront the things that make him so juxtaposed but that doesn’t make him emotionless. his entire internal dialogue is the fight between kaz brekker and kaz rietveld. so please, for the love of all that is wonderful, please stop calling kaz emotionless.

HOW CAN I STOP BEING FOLLOWED BY THESE SPAM ACCOUNTS ON THIS APP LIKE OMG I CANT TAKE IT ANYMORE

this is my favorite house of the dragon fic, like omg everything is so well done and daeron is just *chef’s kiss*🤌🏻, alicent is also one of the best characters

It's An Emotional Kaleidoscope (When I Face You)

FORGET ME TOO PART 6

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5

Summary: As King Viserys’s health steadily declines, the nobility in King’s Landing do what they must to prepare for it - on all sides. When the King succumbs to death, not going quite so “peacefully into the night” as they would’ve hoped or expected, the time that King’s Landing has waited for is finally here. A new ruler, the next ruler, must be crowned.

Word Count: 21.8k - Okay so I’m going to put some indicators throughout to help with length in case you get bumped out of Tumblr or wanna take a break you can use them to find you way to wherever you were at in the story. 

CWs/TWs: Adult/profane language, descriptions of declining health, descriptions of approaching death, dragon dreams, fear of being a bad mother, devious plotting, gaslighting/manipulation, threats of violence, violence/abuse, loss/grief, death/murder

Note: Points if you find the Eleventh doctor reference/quote lol. I need you to understand what this is lol. This is the tying up of all the loose ends. It’s an expression of the pain of aging and the challenges of life and grief and other bat shit crazy stuff that would only happen in ASOIAF type universes. So just like…be aware of that I guess lmao. Idk how this spiraled into it. But ANYWAYS! Sorry it took so long, Tumblr has still been mistreating me, and then work was crazy (the beginning of the year + government + election year endorsement bullshit + other political nonsense + THIS specific year = actual mess). But here’s the last part of this little baby that’s been cooking since the end of last year - thank you to everyone who went on the ride with me. I had no clue that this thing would blossom into a multi-part thing when I started so it was really fun! :) 

Disclaimer: Obviously I don’t own any of these characters except Y/N. This is just a fanfic, babe, I’m not George. I promise you that. If I were you would’ve waited MUCH longer for the ending here let’s be real

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

* 1 *

The smell of incense was overwhelming, leaving what felt like a film on my face of sandalwood, cinnamon, agarwood and cedar. Even so, the scent of death lingered, sticking to every surface, filling the lungs. Nothing, no amount of incense could conceal that. And no length of time spent in the room could prepare you for that. And still, I made myself go in daily. 

I waited in silence after I entered and just observed.

“My Queen,” I said after a few minutes of stark, maddening silence.

My words, a mere whisper, seemed to echo like a scream throughout the eerily quiet room. Alicent didn’t move from her spot, didn’t react, as though she were a statue immortalized in stone, and not a living breathing person. Aegon sat at his mother’s side, looking between his father and his mother every few moments, his gaze otherwise locked on the ground. The maesters’ heads remained down and they kept to their task of changing the King’s bandages.  

I let out a quiet sigh at the silence that stretched and walked in front of them. Looking down, I saw Aegon holding his mother’s already bloodied hands tightly. Her attention was locked on the curtains surrounding the bed of the King, eyes unseeing. It hardly looked like she was breathing. Aegon looked up at me, face blank, but eyes exhausted and disgusted. I knelt down and took one of the Queen’s hands myself. Finally, her eyes moved towards me.

“Alicent, you cannot do this to yourself,” I said quietly. 

“He is my husband,” she said quietly.

I squeezed her hand gently. “I know he is. And you are a far better wife than most would be. Nobody would dare question that,” I said firmly. 

Closer now, listening, I could hear the quiet, pained wheezing behind me and nearly shuddered at the sound. The weak breaths still managed to rattle so deep I could feel it in my own bones, my own lungs. I took Aegon’s free hand as well and squeezed it. And as mother and son both looked at me, I could only see them as one. Aegon as his mother. Alicent as her son. Their pain was a knife that dug into me in a familiar way that I buried deep to ignore every day, deeper and deeper as of late.

“I maintain that you cannot do this to yourself. The King would not want you to do this to yourself,” I quietly urged. “Either of you. His wife. His son. He would want you with the rest of the family. We need not mourn the living. Not even now.” I glanced over to the bed with the King finally and was greeted with the sight of my father laying on his deathbed instead. I quickly looked away. “Take it from one whose mother and father both died slower than I even realized. Do not elongate your suffering. You cannot do this so.” As I looked back, it was the King laying there again.

“He needs me,” Alicent said in reply, looking bitterly at the bed before her.

I glanced over to Aegon and pat his leg. “Jaehaera and Jaehaerys were asking for you, Aegon. You should go see to them,” I said shortly.

Slowly, Aegon released his mother’s hand and then mine and stood. He pressed a kiss to his mother’s temple before striding from the room. I rose to my feet once more and then occupied the seat that he’d left vacant. I looked at the Queen who stared in silent agony, watching the King as he lay dying. Not on his deathbed, but nearing it at a slow, painful, dignity-stealing crawl. It was a strange and terrible look on her face. One that betrayed somehow all of the emotions she was clearly feeling, and yet none of them at all.

Clenching my jaw, I looked to the maesters. “Leave us. The Queen and I can care for the King until we call for you. Now,” I said sharply, leaving no room for argument. 

Graciously, none of them were foolish enough to even try.  They left the room with minimal fuss and after they left the room, I dropped the bar, locking it from the inside for at least a semblance of privacy for the moment. The King remained in his fitful slumber and I turned my attention back to Alicent - the woman who had become even warmer after I’d married Daeron, and even more so after we’d started having children. There were times, even, when I caught myself nearly calling her mother. She looked at me once more with a wariness I wish I didn’t understand.

“Alicent, what grieves you so?” I asked quietly, moving to sit next to her. “Because I know it is not merely the death of Viserys. You’ve known that existed as an ever-present cloud since you married, from what you’ve told me. So tell me - what troubles you?”

She looked at me until tears suddenly filled her eyes and she glanced immediately away, fiddling with her hands, tearing her cuticles to shreds. I grabbed them to stop her, holding them tightly when she tried to break the gentle hold I began with. She took a few shuddering breaths to compose herself, ever unwilling to break down in front of anyone. When she returned her gaze to me, there was a solemnity and seriousness that I knew could not mean anything good. And in her gaze, I saw guilt too - something that worried me.

“There will be tension when the King dies,” she said shortly, looking to her husband, and then back to me. “And I worry what will come to happen when the tension reaches its head. I fear…I fear for bloodshed. And I fear for the future of the Realm.” She gave me a dark look. “You are no fool, Y/N. You must know that there are those who…worry for what may happen to the throne after my husband’s passing.”

I carefully kept my face neutral as I glanced down at our hands and then back up again. “I am no fool, Alicent. You’re right. But it is because I am no fool that I then ask this: what do you fear most? What…what do you wish to see happen? Because as much as you may act like you are above the fear of it all I know that you must have thought of all sides. Of how it could play out.” I pat her hand. “You need not sit alone in your musings. Not when your family cares deeply for you. Wants to see you well.” Gently, I squeezed her hands once more. “You worked hard for the peace that has come Alicent. Do not make yourself forsake it if that is not what you desire.”

“You have always managed to make even the most complicated of things sound simple, Y/N. Even after you had children you’ve maintained it,” she said, voice thick with emotion.

“In the North we keep things simple. I try to bestow that same grace upon you all,” I said simply. “Otherwise things would hardly get done with all the worrying done around here - needed or otherwise.” I squeezed her hands. “You should go rest, Alicent. I can stay with the King for a while. Daeron was walking this way too from dropping the kids at the nursery so he’ll be here.” Knowing what she would say I continued. “Or if you cannot bring yourself to rest, then go visit your grandchildren. They have been missing their grandmother greatly.”

Alicent’s face grew a faint smile at the thought of the children - it always did. “I will stay until Daeron arrives. Then I will go spend time with the children for a bit,” she decided after a few moments longer in silence. “And I will return in the morning. A night’s rest will do me some good, I believe. The…the maesters will be able to care for the King for the night.”

“Of course,” I said, nodding in agreement. “We look forward to seeing you at dinner tonight, then?”

We lapsed into a tired silence as we waited for Daeron to arrive. It was strained, but less than before. That was all I could ask for. I could practically see it when the tension began to melt out of her, leaving only bone-deep exhaustion in its wake. She took my hand suddenly, startling me while I looked over at her.

“I never said thank you nearly enough,” she said, voice grim. I frowned. “For your patience. For your kindness. Most would not have extended my…my family the grace that you did. And there are…there is nothing that I could say that would express the level of gratitude that I have for your unyielding support of us. Even when there were those who were so…callously cruel to you. It is more than just a reflection of House Stark. It is a reflection of you, Y/N. There are those who would burn the Seven Kingdoms to the ground to have you at their side. I am sure of it. A steady head and hand through all.”

“I am nowhere near steady through all. And there is no thanks necessary. I am…beyond lucky to have found such peace and joy as I have - luckier than most could ever claim to be.” I looked at her from the corner of my eye. “I just wanted to ask a question, Alicent,” I said quietly. “I heard the door start to wiggle, it trying to be opened. But, I’d locked it. Alicent stood to open it. “Just figure out what’s more important to you and hold to that answer firmly. Is it peace in the Realm? Or is it going to be your blood on the throne? There are those who I already know their answer as well as I know my own name. You…you aren’t one of them, in truth.”

Alicent raised the bar of the room, unlocking it. She peeled open the door. Daeron stood there, looking tired but no more worse for the wear. He offered his mom a tired smile and winced slightly at the smell as he entered. Her face was drawn, tired, sad. She turned her head and offered a tight smile, her hands clenched tightly in front of her.

“I’ll see you both at supper tonight,” she said after a moment.

“You’re joining us, mother?” Daeron asked, surprised.

“Yes,” Alicent said. She cleared her throat. “If you two could stay with your father until the maesters return, then I would appreciate it.” Then, she swiftly left. 

Confused, Daeron shut the door behind his mother and walked over to me. He sat down and raised an eyebrow at me. I shrugged, turned my head to speak and him and then cringed as the King let out a painful wheeze. I stood sharply and walked to the edge of the bed to check on him. He was fine, his face wasn’t even pinched in pain, but he was struggling to breathe. I carefully adjusted him so he was sitting up slightly more, head tipped forward so air could easier enter his lungs. Face drawn, I then returned to sit next to Daeron and took his tense hands in mine.

“He’s alright, my love,” I said quietly, lifting his hands to press them softly against my wrist.

“For now,” he said shortly. He wrapped an arm around my waist, pulling me into his side. I went willingly, tucking myself happily into his side. “But he won’t be for long, my love. We all know that.” He let out a quiet sigh and used his free hand to scrub down his face, frustrated. He glanced over at me. “What were you and mother discussing?”

I shrugged. “She said that she was worried for the King’s health and the future of the Realm. I told her that she needed to go rest and see the kids,” I stated. “And she thanked me for not running your family over hot coals years ago. And then I told her that she needed to consider if she cared more about the realm or the throne.”

He smirked. “I’m sure that gave her something fun to think about,” he laughed. 

The sound cut off quickly when he looked back to his sickly father, dying before his eyes, in truth dying slower than he could tolerate most days. I squeezed his hand supportively and leaned into his hold when he tightened the grasp on my waist. I ran a hand up and down his arm, soothing and a reminder that I was there. He took a few deep breaths and I looked up at him to check him over. His mouth was set in a frown that looked near carved out of marble it was so permanent in this room. His eyes were downturned and he looked older than he was, stress weighing him down in a way that it never did outside of the reminders this room created. 

“How were the kids?” I asked in a desperate hope to distract them.

Immediately, his countenance softened and a warm smile came on my face. “Rhaegar wouldn’t stop talking about his name day. Someone let the sweet boy think that turning six is some right of passage for kids. He’s set in the belief that it will be the best yet - that it must be.”

“It’s not for nearly seven more months,” I said through a laugh. My heart ached at the thought of our eldest son, his sweet nature and his razor sharp wit. “He gets his planning skills from me obviously if he’s already thinking of something so far away.”

He snorted. “Decidedly so,” he agreed. He smirked. “Cregan still ready with the surprise?”

I rolled my eyes. “Hardly a surprise when they know that my direwolves are coming,” I pointed out. I shook my head. “Besides, Cregan said that they only had one pup. And we agreed that the pup is going to Valaenora.”

He nodded. “Still going to hear about that for ages.”

“They have dragons, Daeron. They don’t need direwolves too. It’s about balance here. And she…she’s meant to have one. I can’t explain it,” I said. I nudged his side. “All we have to do is have you and Aegon take them up for a ride with the rest of you dragon riding lot. They’ll forget all about it.”

“I like your optimism,” he said.

I rolled my eyes. “How were the rest of the kids?” I asked. He groaned and I immediately smiled, knowing that the kids had tortured him just as severely as they always did to me. I smiled innocently, blinking as if confused. “What happened, Daeron?”

“Would you like to know who made an appearance at the nursery and nearly sent the septas into a tizzy?” he asked in a faux bright tone.

“Who?” I asked, furrowing my brow, dreading the answer.

“Issaros,” he said. My mouth fell open despite myself and Daeron nodded vigorously at me. “Our son’s fucking dragon just…” He waved his hands wildly in a gesture. “Appeared. Theo said he summoned him.” He let out a dry laugh. “I think we have quite the young dragonrider on our hands. Whether or not we want to. It’s…they’re going to be several handfuls.” I winced in agreement. “And don’t get me started on the girls.”

I winced again, more this time, practically a flinch. “Gods, what did the little terrors do?” I asked, reluctant to hear the answer.

“They managed to rope Maelor into one of their schemes. They disappeared from the room for twenty minutes before they were found again by a guard, absolutely covered in honey and feathers, carrying honeycomb and shrieking at each other so loudly the walls of the bloody keep could have fallen,” he said, groaning. “They wouldn’t even tell us what happened - we didn’t find out until a poor servant showed up twenty minutes later to report that one of the royal hives had been stolen from and a host of chickens unleashed as a distraction to do it.”

“Were any of them hurt? Stung?” I asked. My brow furrowed as I tried and failed to keep from laughing. “Perhaps prodded by a chicken?”

He shook his head. “No. They’re all well enough. Just sticky beyond belief and entirely too happy about it,” he dismissed. “And gods be good, you know Maelor loves being so doted on by the girls.” He looked to me. “When do Cregan and Percival arrive? I want them to be the little hellions' victims for a while.”

“They arrive in three days, Daeron,” I said chuckling. “I think we can be strong until then.”

* 2 *

A swift knock at the door indicated the arrival of the maesters and Daeron allowed them in. I reported quickly on the King’s struggle to breathe and then we left them to their work. With my hand looped through Daeron’s arm, my husband and I walked through the halls back to the nursery where our children would be. I offered him a playful roll of my eyes as we approached. But, the closer we got, I heard his mother’s laugh echoing out from the room. The first laugh I’d heard from her in nearly a month. I tightened my grip on Daeron’s arm and pulled him to a stop. He looked at me confused, but I gestured with my head, taking him down a different hall towards our chambers.

“Your mother is enjoying her time,” I said quietly. “I think it best to let her.”

His confusion gave way to understanding and he nodded, knowing the truth of my words. “You’re quite right,” he agreed quietly. We walked quickly towards our chambers. We gave a precursory glance around to make sure that there were no servants lurking around and only then were we willing to speak with each other. Daeron’s face was dark, drawn. “My father is not long for this world, Y/N. We need to know that my mother is on our side.”

“I know, Daeron,” I assured him. “And we shall. She is, I can feel it in my bones. We just need her to come to the conclusion herself.” I pressed a soft kiss to his lips. “And she will. We just have to be patient.”

“I know, my love,” he said, voice grim. He reached up and ran a hand through my hair. I smiled and leaned into the touch. “Why don’t we take the kids to Winterfell after all of this is settled? Get away from the chaos of King’s Landing?”

I grinned. “You know I’d never say no to that,” I stated. “I think the children would love a journey North.”

He smiled. “Oh I don’t know,” he mused. “They’ll be furious that they cannot take their dragons. Especially if Valaenora is able to take her direwolf pup.”

I rolled my eyes and ran my thumb fondly up and down his cheek. “I think they could live for a few months without them while highly qualified dragonkeepers care for them,” I tease. I pressed a kiss fondly to his lips once more - short and sweet. “We’ll work out the details later. For now…for now it is a sweet dream.”

Suddenly and without a word, Daeron brings me into his arms, hugging me tightly to his chest. I return the embrace easily, knowing that he needed it. I sighed and pressed a kiss to the side of his head, letting one hand stroke the back of his head. He held me tighter still, and I trailed both of my hands down his back. I pressed another kiss to the side of his head while he took a shuddering breath. I stayed in the embrace as long as he needed, and I would do so each day for the rest of his life if that was what it took for him to heal. 

“I can’t help but feel as though my life is not under my own control. That I am forced to live as a shadow with this threat looming over me. It is worse than balancing atop a blade. For there is no way that I shall fall and not be cut in the fallout,” he said. “Even in doing what is right…the older we get the harder it has become to accept.”

“I know,” I said softly. I pulled back from the embrace so I could look him in the eyes. “The more we see our children grow, the more we want a world of light and love for them…it is harder to justify the dark acts that will doubtlessly be required to ensure them happening. But…but, we cannot give up.”

He sighed. “I know,” he echoed. “I just wish that for once these things would not come at a detriment to my family. The loss…I can’t…I do not know how much longer I can wait, watching his life slip away.”

I leaned our foreheads together. I knew from firsthand experience that there were no words for this. “I am here. You need not experience it alone,” I assured him. “You do not hold this pain in isolation. Those who love you are all here.”

“I resent him,” Daeron said, the words coming out through gritted teeth, as though he resented himself for saying them. I waited silently for clarification. For the outburst. I did not have to wait long. “My father. I resent his decisions. More or less all of them.” He shook his head. “But I still mourn him. Fear for him. I resent that he’s dying. I resent that he won’t know our children. I resent that I shall never have the father that I deserved. I resent that I never had a true family for his foolish nature. I resent that he allowed me to be sent away to Oldtown to be raised when I should have been here with my family. And yet, I fear for all of the same things.”

His chest was heaving as he continued, all of the vitriol escaping that had been building in his chest for his whole life without respite or reprieve. I stood silently with him and nodded, listening to him, providing the little comfort that I could. And by the time that he was done, Daeron had shed more tears than I’d seen come from his eyes since I’d given birth for the last time. Still, he seemed calmer, more at ease for releasing it from his system.

“I’m sorry for putting so much upon your shoulders, Y/N. It is not fair to you. As if you do not have four children you care for day and night. As if you do not attend to my father and mother as devotedly as you would your own. And as if you do not have to prepare for the arrival of your brother and our nephew,” he said sheepishly. “You need not another layer of stress to your days, my love.”

Immediately, I shook my head. “Worry not for that, Daeron,” I said. “My concern is you. I am alright. Your pains are valid to begin with, but more importantly, they matter to me. Your grief is something that I will not allow you to stew in alone. You are more than welcome to voice your thoughts and anger to me, my love.” I grabbed his hands gently in my own, continuing to look at him. “My darling, those who have not lost a parent do not understand what it is like. The grief is one that is raw, no matter how present or absent the parent was from your life. Part of you, an innate, ingrained part of your very essence, is gone from this world. There are no lessons to prepare you for such a thing. No one knows what to do when half of what has created you ceases to exist.”

“I should not be grieving those still living,” he said through grit teeth.

“The state that your father is in now is hardly one of life,” I said. “When the world is no longer something accessible to you, when your body begins to truly fail you as his is, it is not life in the way that you or I think of it. He draws breath, occasionally he still speaks, laughs. But he is not the man he was when you were born. Nor when I first arrived in King’s Landing. Things are different and there is nothing wrong with acknowledging that. At all.” I sighed. 

“Even so,” Daeron countered, “I feel that I am disrespecting him by acting as though he is already gone. As though he was…as though he was never here. He is just absent in my life, he is losing his life. He has the far worse hand in the situation. He is the one who will…who will cease to exist.”

“You know…Daemon once told me that we’re all stories in the end, so our true duty is to make sure that it’s a good one.” I paused, took a breath. “Death is not so frightening at its core.One of the only guarantees in life. But, grief does not tie only to death, Daeron. It ties to life and what it takes to live without. It is as you say. He will not be around to see our children grow. He will not see you continue to grow into a fine man befitting of the Targaryen name. His presence is taken from you. You are the one who must go on without him - not the other way. And as such, you are allowed to be sad…angry…any emotion really. There is no wrong response to grief save for ignoring it. That can kill you quite quickly. A fate I would dread to see you endure.” I squeeze his hand. “Death is the easier route by far in this case. He merely passes. But you? Your family? You must live on with that knowledge that life would be different with him alive - a far greater burden than that of peace and endless pain finally ceasing to trouble you.”

He looked at me pained, almost wounded. “I don’t understand how you could have such a positive outlook on life, Y/N. You have lost so much,” he said sadly.

“That is why, I suppose, in part,” I granted. “When I was young my father taught me of my mother who I never had the chance to meet. Her death plagued me as a child. I felt it my fault when I was young, the nastiest of children would even say such to my face. But then I found what truly helped me begin to understand. Upon a visit to the crypts we have in Winterfell.” I closed my eyes at the memory for a moment before opening them. “I sat beneath the statue made for my mother’s tomb and cried. And a gust of wind - more powerful than anything I had ever experienced - especially given that I was not exactly outside - blew out the torch I had brought with me. And then, I was alone in the dark.”

“That sounds terribly frightening for a child,” he said. “How old were you?”

“Oh, probably five to seven summers old. Somewhere in that range,” I said. “And I stayed there, wailing until eventually my father came and found me, carrying a torch - a light in the darkness. I’d been there for hours freezing in the cold. He saw the burned out torch, looked terribly confused - and then picked me up and bundled me into his cloak. He carried me back to my chambers and set me in my bed. He scolded me and told me I could not scare him in such a way again. I told him of the wind and he frowned when I said that mother must have been punishing me for killing her.” I frowned. 

“My love,” Daeron said, a sad denial of the very idea.

“I wish I could explain the look that had been on his face when I said that. As though I’d torn his heart to pieces.’ I shook my head. “But that’s when he told me something I think of often. Even in the most gruesome and painful of deaths, there will come a moment of peace. It is said that we will, in our final moments, experience a flash of our life before our eyes. A collection of our greatest triumphs played before us once more - a collection of joy to send you to the unknown. And as that comes, as we fade from this world, it is like the wind that blew out my torch in the crypts. He said that fear fades, acceptance comes, and death feels like coming home, like the warm embrace of those you loved most in this world throughout all of your life.” I gave him a wobbly smile. “And if we are lucky enough, if we live lives that are truly and wholly good, or at least good intentioned, then one day, when we die, as we move onto whatever world may greet us as we pass, our loved ones will be there to greet us, they will take our hands and walk with us into death.”

Daeron leaned his forehead against mine. Sucked in a deep breath that sounded painful in my ears, as though his lungs could not fully draw the air in. As if he were trying to take on his father’s own illness. “I like the thought of that,” he said with a faint smile.

I put my hand on the back of his neck, centering him. “That’s why I struggle to understand worshippers of the Seven sometimes. The way that they condemn the Stranger. See the guide in such a negative light. Maybe it’s the Stark in me…the North…but that has never made sense to me,” I admitted. “When I think of the descriptions of the Stranger…neither man nor woman…no face…nothing. I think that ultimately those we love who have passed on before us are all the Stranger. I think that to be why no one walks into death alone. Because there are always those who love us, who have loved us, whether we know it or not. Death holds no sweetness, no, but it might yet hold relief from the pain of our last moments. It may even provide us peace. And how could that be anything but beautiful? The ultimate form of healing. The ultimate transcendance of grief and pain and conflict. True peace even through pain, through those who have hurt us.”

“If you keep speaking in such sweet promises I might start to believe you and hope for a life after death where we may yet reunite,” he said, leaning into my neck. Pain colored his tone and I longed to take it away, to make it so that he could smile wholly again, without the shadow behind his eye. 

“We shall not die anytime soon, Daeron,” I said, pressing a kiss to his temple. “So think not of that, you melancholy fool.” 

“But still,” he insisted, “when the time comes. I believe that I will go first. And when I do, I look forward to when I would yet be able to bring you back to me.”

I smiled and laughed. “So sweet even as you’re being grotesquely morbid,” I said. “You remain an enigma to me. Even so…like I said…the Stranger’s embrace may well feel like coming home. So regardless of which of us were to pass first, I think we’d find that feeling. And one day, when our kids die…long after us…we’ll provide the same for them. And they’ll reunite with us, with our parents, with everyone. And all will be well.”

He leaned his forehead against mine once more, eyes closed. “I think I somehow manage to love you more and more each day even now. It feels an impossibility and yet it is so,” he said.

“A grim reality to be sure. I will take the burden upon my shoulders,” I sarcastically said. I squeezed his hand. “Feel no guilt for the urge to smile. To laugh. You still deserve to, even as those around us suffer. Our lives may not stop and the world does not cease to bring about day and night, even in the face of death.”

The night passed in a somewhat tense, somewhat melancholic sort of dance of avoidance. The whole of the family joined together to sup - even Aemond and Otto, strange as it was for them to sit amongst us. The two paired together, talking largely only to themselves. Alicent doted on all of her grandchildren, smile on her beautiful, but tired face, and her eyes occasionally drifted to her son and her father. I tried to not look to her too often, to make sure that she did not feel my gaze upon her. We all tried to avoid any serious topics or discussions, even as the obvious hung over us like the heaviest of cloaks.

The subsequent days followed in much the same way until Cregan, Rickon and Percival arrived on horseback instead of the carriage that they’d apparently left the servants hours to finish bringing the rest of the way. Immediately, my children were all over their uncle and cousin - as always - though they looked at Percival, mountain of the man that he was, with nerves until I hugged him fiercely and introduced them to him finally. Then the kids were hooked. Utterly obsessed with the man, hanging on his arm, and on every word. Then, they noticed the direwolf pup cradled in their cousin’s arms - Valaenora’s - and all became hooked on the all grey creature that she fondly named Lyks, the Valyrian word for peace. 

Within a few weeks of their arrival, life began its usual tense normalcy, just with their presence thrown into the mix. It was good to have Cregan there to cut some of the stress and unending tension I felt. Though, his presence seemed to somehow be a harbinger of change - I felt it in my bones in a way that I could not place…that I did not like.

* 3 *

Then, the nightmares began. The first time that Valaenora woke up screaming, I tore down the hall with fear gripping my throat, faster than I could catch myself. Already, guards had burst into the room of course to see what happened to the Princess, and Valaenora was clearly unharmed. But still, she wept. And as she cried, Wylla shed a few tears reflexively. Even Rhaegon and Theo did when they toddled in from their room connected to the girls. I scooped her up and held her to my hip, mourning the fact that she would soon enough be too big for me to just carry around and soothe this way. Still, I shushed her and brushed her platinum hair back with my hand and dried the unending tears from her beautiful eyes. Her small body trembled in my arms and I felt a pit of dread in my stomach.

I was not the only to awake at Valaenora’s screams. Mere moments after I’d entered and picked her up, Daeron was barreling in behind me, checking to ensure that she was okay, touching her back to soothe her. And not long after that, a tense looking Rhaenyra and Daemon arrived, followed by a trembling Helaena and an extremely confused Aegon. Then, Alicent also appeared in the doorway. Cregan was the last in the door, but the strongest of reactions, sword in hand already until he saw that clearly the room was safe. She whimpered and reached out to Helaena of all people. Something in my brain snapped into place and the dread in my stomach solidified into something much more tangible. 

Helplessly, I let Valaenora into Helaena’s arms. My hands twitched at the sight, something so unnatural about not being able to comfort her that cracked at my heart. Daeron tightly grabbed my hand and I returned the grip, looking down and seeing Wylla start to lean into my legs the way that the boys were doing to their father. I wanted to throw up suddenly, all of the contents of my stomach to escape. 

We all watched, tense as Helaena cradled the girl and leaned their foreheads together. The look in Valaenora’s eyes was far older, fathomless in a way it had no right to be. Helaena’s own gaze was understanding and I almost had to turn away, too hard to see it. But, I didn’t let myself. Helaena whispered something to the girl so quiet I could not hear. But, Valaenora’s tearful reply was audible to everyone in the room.

“When the black turns blue, green shall bleed red, snakes lose their heads, and twice over family fall dead,” she blubbered. Helaena’s eyes fell closed as though she’d feared hearing it and tucked the girl’s head into her neck. 

The world felt like it had fallen out from underneath my feet. And, apparently, I was a bit more outwardly impacted than I’d even imagined, as Alicent walked to my side and put a hand on my arm. The touch almost startled me and I inhaled sharply, turning my eyes to her. I noticed then that my cheeks were wet. She gave me a tight smile. 

“I will put the kids to bed,” she said. “Go tell the maesters that they will need to prepare Valaenora the same dream tonic that they made for Helaena. It will help. For now.” 

I jerkily nodded, but could not move. Gently, she peeled my hand from Wylla’s shoulder and nodded, replacing it with her own. She understood this, this panic, this fear, and I hated it two fold. One that she’d experienced it and endured and made it look so easy. Two for the fact that I was experiencing it and it felt suffocating. 

We stood on the precipice of a potential war. Valaenora was definitely, decidedly, a dragon dreamer - and she’d seen something unimaginably terrible and frightening to her. And not only could we do nothing to stop it, but we could do nothing to help her. Not truly. 

I released Daeron’s hand. Watched as he picked up Rhaegon, while Theo wandered over to Aegon for comfort. I inhaled sharply, watched while Alicent then picked up Wylla, who tucked her head into her neck, looking tearfully at her twin who was still in Helaena’s arms. I felt another wave of nausea and turned abruptly to leave the room. Cregan made a move to follow before Daemon stopped him - at least as I saw from the corner of my eye. 

I didn’t have to look to know I was being followed though as I stiffly walked towards the maesters’ quarters. I heard Rhaenyra’s footfalls. I slowed just enough to allow her to catch up to my side. She looked at me, concerned, though said nothing in a silent show of support. My hands trembled even as I gripped them tightly, tight enough to make flesh bleed as my nails dug into my palms. We made it halfway there before I could manage to make my mouth move.

“So often through my life I have heard women speak of feeling like they could not be adequate mothers. That they fear they are not enough for their children. That they worry they will never be able to protect them from harm,” I said quietly. “Foolishly I thought that I would never feel that way.” I sucked in a deep breath, refusing to cry, even as I hastened my pace. 

“I assure you, Y/N, that all mothers have felt that way,” Rhaenyra said, voice even and calm to juxtapose the poorly concealed emotion in mine. “And each of them have been proven wrong. We are no less human than we were before having children. We inevitably cannot protect them from all the worlds ails. We are not invincible. And we cannot put them in gilded cages to protect them the whole of their lives. It would only serve to harm them.”

“And yet there my daughter is, distraught over something I cannot imagine, having to receive comfort from another who does understand,” I countered. “And I cannot help stop it. Cannot control if it happens again. Cannot even ask what she has seen because she will not be able to tell me. And the…the other children know now how terrifying it might be for their sister. So I have let them all down. I cannot protect them. I am a terrible mother. I must be. How foolish I am to have expected to keep them innocent…ignorant of it all for longer than they already have been.”

“I cannot speak on what a dragon dreamer may have to valiantly face in their dreams as they sleep. I cannot imagine the horrors that she may yet see,” Rhaenyra easily admitted as we approached the maesters’ quarters. “None of us can be spared from the agony of those we developed in our very own womb growing up. The instinct to protect does not fade even as the problems we can hide them from do fade. But you are not a bad mother, nor a fool, Y/N. Your words alone prove such to me. You love your children deeply. You teach and protect them with your very own hand. I have no doubt that you would throw down your life for them. You are a good mother. The mother they need.” She took a deep breath as we reached the doors of the quarters. I knocked heavily, insistently. “All you need be is their mother, Y/N. You cannot be everything. Do not drain yourself in trying to be. What you are - who you are now? It is more than enough.”

A surly looking maester opened the door with a scowl on his face until he saw Rhaenyra and myself. Immediately, he bowed his head. “Princess Rhaenyra. Princess Y/N. What is the matter?” he asked.

I took a deep breath. It felt as though my tongue was lead and weighed down. I could not bring myself to speak, even with the words right at the tip of my tongue. Rhaenyra stepped in for me, even when she did not need to, providing a kindness that made my heart ache. “The Princess Valaenora will need the same dream tonic that Princess Helaena takes going forward. Do you have any now?” she asked.

“Ah,” the maester said, nodding. He turned and walked back to a shelf. “The Princess Helaena advised us to make more. Said another would soon need it. Right she was, as usual.” He grabbed a bottle with a dark blue-toned purple and then handed it to me. I held the glass protectively in my hands as though it would save me from all ails of the world. He tapped the small metal crucible that covered the top of it with his hand. “Make sure you tightly cork the bottle each time or it may lose potency. One full crucible each night. It will help ensure deeper, more soothing sleep.”

“Thank you,” I managed to get out, my voice hoarse and grating. 

I bowed my head slightly and quickly began to walk away back towards the children’s chambers. Rhaenyra hardly a step behind me after issuing another thank you on our behalf. I was grateful she could manage to do so because I could not. Propriety was far from the first thing on my mind - potentially even the furthest, in fact.

* 4 *

Each step back towards my room had me aware of my state of undress and haggard appearance and had me walking faster to get back to the rooms and out of sight. And each step further lodged Valaenora’s words into my head. I was so focused on not thinking that when Rhaenyra pulled my arm to stop me I turned to look at her, confused, until she covered her mouth in a silent warning to not speak. 

That’s when I heard the voices. 

That’s when a different ugly feeling filled my stomach.

“Patience is all that you need to hold to, my prince,” came the eternally calm voice of Larys Strong. My eyes widened and Rhaenyra and I backed up silently a few steps to dip into a doorway and not be seen. “There will be nothing to stand in your way when the time comes. You have shown remarkable restraint thus far, even in the face of…frivolous difficulties. You merely must retain that patience.”

“Dynasties are not born in a day. They cannot end in one either,” Otto Hightower added. “And when you sit the throne, there will be nothing you need worry about. The Realm will be secured. No longer will the common folk see you as a second son. You will be their King. And you will be adored. Feared.”

“All you need do is play your part,” Larys continued. “The King is not long for this world. I told you, if he does not soon expire, I will acquire a…means to end your poor father’s suffering. But first, we must begin to thin the line before you.”

“And after,” Aemond muttered.

Again, my eyes widened. There was no mistaking what that meant. Few laid after Aemond’s claim to the Iron Throne - only Jaehaera, Helaena, Daeron and our children. I bit my tongue so hard I immediately tasted blood. I refused to let Valaenora’s words come to my mind. Refused to think of that first part. Refused to think of anything. The grip Rhaenyra had on my shoulder to initially stop me from walking tightened into something harsher. I glanced towards her. She looked at me, eyes hard as stone. The words were treason. Non-specific treason, technically, but treason nonetheless. I wanted to throw myself at them in a blind rage - the lingering fear and anger over Valaenora’s suffering doubtlessly - and the only thing that steadied me was Rhaenyra’s hand that was so tight on my arm it was certain to bruise. 

“Come,” she said, voice near silent to not echo in the corridors. We walked back in the direction of the maester’s chambers quickly, silently. I didn’t question her. “They cannot know we heard them. We will walk back. Loudly. Talking. So they either know we’re coming or disappear.” I looked at her in trepidation. “Do you understand?”

“Yes,” I said quietly, nodding. “Let’s go.” I took a deep breath, so deep it hurt my lungs. Then I began to practically stomp down the halls, my footsteps echoing on the stone. Rhaenyra began to do the same. “Rhaenyra, do you think this will work tonight?” My voice was loud, and I let it be pinched with stress. “I do not believe that she will sleep otherwise and I am worried how she will feel come morning.”

“The maesters are excellent at what they do, Y/N,” she assured me, just as loud. I could tell that the assurance was genuine, even if the volume was performative. “I do not doubt that this will help her tonight. You are doubtlessly the one who will lose sleep for it. Such is the lot of mothers.”

I let out a sigh. “Yes, well, they’re a bit too rambunctious to not lose sleep over,” I agreed wryly. 

Rhaenyra and I paused in our walk as we passed the alcove they’d been in. All three men were there. They stared us in poorly exuded confidence and nonchalance. We blinked back at them, confused. I tightened my grip on the tonic in my hands, blinked twice.

“What drew you from your bed at this time of night, Princesses?” Larys asked, voice pleasant.

“My daughter had a nightmare. Woke the whole hall,” I said shortly. “Went to get a dream tonic.” 

“Terrible things, such nightmares,” Otto said shortly. A very curt dismissive thing to to offer when one of your great-grandchildren was suffering in my opinion. But what did I know.

“Which daughter was it?” Larys asked. I stiffened at the question. Something about it setting my teeth on edge. Not even the obvious threats he posed. Just the thought of him asking after my children. I looked over at him. “I merely ask because I know how the Princess Helaena suffers at times. How it can weigh terribly on a mother. I’m always happy to lend an ear to the royal family. It is a difficulty to find trustworthy people to talk to.”

I had to physically restrain myself from both laughter and launching myself at him in rage.I looked at them peculiarly. “Valaenora,” I said shortly. “And I thank you for the offer, Lord Strong. I shall seek you out if I find myself in need.” A lie. Likely all of us knew it. But still, I did my best to appear gracious. I looked to Rhaenyra. “Come, let’s get this to her. Then everyone can return to their chambers.”

“Of course,” Rhaenyra agreed. She gave a last look to the three men. “Do enjoy your…chat, gentlemen. Good evening.”

Quickly, Rhaenyra and I walked away. “This was ready made,” I said to Rhaenyra, loud enough for them to hear so they did not think we were speaking about them as we left them behind. “Do you believe that it’s formulated for a child? Or do you think that I should dilute it? I feel a terrible fool for not asking.”

“I believe that you should trust the maesters,” she said in reply, just as loud. Then she lowered her voice so only I could hear. “And that you should not let this tonic out of your sight. Who knows what would end up inside of it.”

“Quite right,” I said with a loud sigh. “I just worry. She’s never had such a night terror.”

“It will be alright,” Rhaenyra said firmly. “I’m sure of it.”

Once we made it back to the children’s chambers, I could feel my hands trembling once more. Everyone was still there. Though the children were drifting back to sleep, save for Valaenora who sat rocking in Helaena’s arms while the elder plaited and unplaited her hair. I knelt before them, uncorking the bottle and carefully pouring her a full crucible. I handed it to her and nodded. She looked at me with tearful eyes and I nodded, only not showing tears myself through force of will.

“It’s alright, my sweet girl,” I whispered. “It will make sure you do not have to see such terrible dreams tonight.”

She looked at me, back at Helaena who nodded, and then at me again. She shoved one of her small hands into mine and I could’ve cried at the fact that she sought my comfort in such a way. Then, she drank the dark liquid. She winced as she swallowed and then handed me the crucible. I tightly recorked it and put the crucible overtop so I could not lose it.

“Not as bad as the one for when my tummy hurts but still gross,” Valaenora declared.

I laughed lightly at her words. “All of the best things to help are quite gross,” I assured her. “And I’m sure one day you may even taste one grosser than the one for an upset stomach, my sweet girl.”

Valaenora’s lip trembled slightly and she unwound her hands from Helaena, reaching out for me. I forced myself to not react and snatch her from the other’s arms and squeeze her to my chest. Instead, I reached out slowly and plucked her from Helaena’s lap. I cradled her in my arms gently, not squeezing tightly or anything like that. She was still shaking a little, but so was I to be fair - granted, for an entirely different reason now. I looked to everyone in the room. They looked grim. I glanced specifically to Rhaenyra for a moment.

“We should all break fast in the morning together after the children have gone to their lessons,” I said, voice dripping with the hint that there was much to discuss. “I believe that Rhaenyra and I have quite a funny story to paint. All of us…” I tooked towards Cregan. “Percival.” I tooked to Daemon. “Baela, Rhaena. Luke, Jace.”

“An excellent idea. Yes, I believe we shall,” Rhaenyra said. 

At her agreement, everyone in the room knew that it was more of a demand than a question. Daeron looked at me concerned, but I avoided his eyes knowing that I was liable to burst into tears if I were to look at him and see fear there. So, instead, I looked to Rhaenyra and glanced sharply to Alicent. Rhaenyra’s eyes then slid over to Alicent.

“It would please me greatly if you were to come too, Alicent. I would like you to be involved,” Rhaenyra said softly. Alicent looked surprised from where she sat, holding a sleeping Wylla to her chest, rubbing her back. Rhaenyra nodded. “Please. Break fast with us. There is much I feel we need to share.”

“I…yes. Alright,” Alicent agreed, a slight down turn to her lips. She was no fool. She knew who was left off of the list. She knew that any story we’d have to tell after running around castle corridors late at night would not be good. “I shall join you all. We…we could meet to do so in my solar. It is big enough for us all.”

We dispersed after that. Aegon put Theo to bed then him and Helaena left the room. Alicent brought Wylla to her bed and put her down. She pressed a kiss to Valaenora’s head, then mine - nearly making me cry - then she left, Rhaenyra and Daemon doing the same, Rhaenyra giving me a meaningful look. I nodded jerkily. Daeron went to put Rhaegon down in his own bed as well. I rubbed Valaenora’s back, watching as her eyes grew heavier and heavier, fluttering until they closed. Her breathing became steady as sleep took her. I refused to let her go, sitting on a couch, holding her to my chest, rubbing her back. My eyes filled with tears and I closed them, took deep breaths. 

Cregan came over, pressed a kiss to my head, then to Valaenora’s in much the same way that Alicent had. “I will see you both in the morning, sister,” he said. “We will handle whatever it is.” I nodded, unable to let myself speak, as though my throat has swollen closed. I heard footsteps, and the shutting of a door. Cregan was gone.

More footsteps and then the falling of the locking bar. Evidently, Daeron was on the same page as me. We were not leaving their rooms tonight. “What happened?” Daeron asked shortly from my side. I opened my eyes as he sat down, putting one hand on our daughter’s back, the other wiping my tears. “Y/N, you must talk to me, my love.” I closed my eyes again and shook my head, burying my face in my poor daughter’s pale hair.

“We are in so much danger,” I said, choking on my tears that now flowed freely. I held Valaenora tighter still to my chest, and she curled into the embrace, fisting one hand in my hair. Daeron looked at me in both confusion and alarm. “There are plots we do not know the full extent of. Those who wish us dead.” I looked at Daeron, shameless in my tears, shameless in my sadness. “There is…there is no way this will end without blood. I hate that we should be the ones to do it. But I will. Daeron I will to protect our family.”

“What do you speak of, my love?” he asked, running a hand through my hair, leaning closer to provide the steady comfort of his presence. 

I looked at him. “Aemond, Otto and Larys were speaking in an alcove by the maesters’ quarters,” I said shortly. “They spoke of him sitting the throne. Of no opposition to sit before or after him.” Daeron’s eyes darkened. I closed mine once more. “I beg you, husband, ask me no more of it this night for it will be a plight enough to recount tomorrow with Rhaenyra.”

“I would not endeavor to torture you, my love,” he said quietly. “I will ask no more. But I will remind you that I am here. I am with you.”

“I love you,” I managed to get out, opening my eyes to look at him. He ran a hand down my cheek, neck, and landed on my shoulder to rub in a soothing circle. I leaned heavily into his side. “Forgive me this moment of melancholy, Daeron. As much as I try to steadfastly hope - to wish - for peace, for joy, there are times where I cannot see a light in any direction. This is one of them.”

“I do not hold the brightness of the moon to illuminate the dark,” Daeron said. “But I may yet provide a guiding light if you allow me to. I cannot solve our ails as much as it pains me to admit. But let me be with you - just as you are with me. When I walk the lonely, dark woods of my mind, you are a torch in the darkness, bringing me back. Allow me to be the same for you. As your father once was in the crypts of Winterfell.” I turned my head into his neck and stifled a sob. He kissed the top of my head. “You need not apologize for your sadness, Y/N. You have equal right to it as me.” He grabbed my hand and squeezed it softly. “We should get some rest my love. As best we can.”

* 5 *

After a fitful night of rest on all accounts, we rose with the sun. We dressed quickly, helped the kids off to their lessons with their septas. I loathed leaving Valaenora there. Especially when I saw a smiling Larys in the halls who inclined his head to me. I did so out of respect, Daeron doing the same, but when we passed my face grew dark. When we reached Alicent’s solar luckily the rest of the family had already assembled. None looked more concerned than Percival as he set eyes me.

“How’s Val?” he asked worried.

That was enough to make me crack a small smile. The tiny thing had captured his heart in full and it was endearing. “She’s well enough that her only complaint this morning was not being able to wear her dress that matches Wylla’s because it’s being cleaned,” I replied. “So. I suppose that she’s handling it…well enough,” I said.

“Having a twin must help,” Helaena said in her strange combination of dreamy and lucid. “She cannot get lost when another is there to tether her so much.”

We all quieted briefly at her words. Daeron settled into the available seat next to Aegon, who sat next to Alicent, with Helaena on her other side. I sat then between Daeron and Rhaenyra, who looked at me with a half-smile of support. I offered one of my own. Daeron linked our hands beneath the table and I held his hand tightly. Cregan and Percival across from us offered supportive smiles and I forced myself to take heart. The servants quickly brought in food while we had surface level conversations about nothing in particular. Once the Queen dismissed them and then Daemon ensured that none were lingering around to spy, he dropped the locking bar on the door and took his seat. Silence fell and we all waited to see who would break it. 

I looked to Rhaenyra. I was still too shaken from last night. I couldn’t find the strength in me to be the one to start this - she had to. Graciously, she seemed up to the task. She met my eye and then turned back forward. She let out a sigh.

“We…when we were walking back from the maesters’s quarters last night, Y/N and I heard something most unfortunate,” she said curtly. “And we thought that we must be mistaken, so we slowed our pace and stopped to listen. Most regrettably, it only became worse as we listened.”

Everyone at the table quietly started talking at that. All except Alicent, Daeron, Rhaenyra, and I. Alicent stared at Rhaenyra and I, an unfathomable stress in her face. I couldn’t bear to look. Part of me - a small one, the part of a mother - felt terrible for having to tell her this. But the other side of the coin - a larger part, also the part of a mother - was far more concerned with protecting my children, the whole of my family, really, than with making sure that she was comfortable in the reality she’d helped to first stoke into motion. I turned my head to Rhaenyra.

“Larys was outside of the nursery,” I told her, my voice low. She frowned at the news, concern pinching her eyes. “I cannot stand him around now. Around any of us.”

“If they exercise patience, so must we,” Rhaenyra said lowly.

“Who was speaking?” Alicent asked, voice cutting over the rest of the voices in the room. 

Rhaenyra sighed and closed her eyes. “Larys Strong, Otto Hightower, and Aemond Targaryen,” she reported.

I glanced over to Alicent and she looked concerned, nervous, almost twitching. I felt no concern at this on the surface. Her stress appeared to be from hearing that three people who were in her service, who cared for her, who she - at least at some point - had cared for in return were all just listed. Part of me had no doubt that she was surprised to hear they were all meeting together and without her too. I was sure that she felt a certain sense of dread hearing that they met together in an alcove by the maester’s office in the dark of the night, whispering ill tidings that both luckily and unfortunately befell our ears.

“What was the nature of their discussion?” Aegon asked before his mother could. 

I looked over at my brother-by-law and saw the deep furrow of his brow, the concern set in his features. And I knew that it would only get worse. Daemon would have to speak to him to keep him from doing anything foolishly irrational. A quick glance towards Daemon though saw him with clenched fists, a deep scowl on his own face, a blazing fire in his eyes, and exhaustion written across him from his slumped posture to the bags under his eyes. I glanced over to Cregan and saw his own scowl deep and vicious at the news - in that moment, I saw the true wolf that us of House Stark were when forced to be, and I found myself relieved to know that I had my brother on my side.

“Larys said that Aemond needed to be patient. That nothing would stand in his way when the time came. He complimented him for showing restraint in the face of…frivolous difficulties, and said that he merely need retain that patience,” Rhaenyra said.

“Otto added that dynasties are not born in a day, nor can they end in one,” I added in a clipped voice. “He said that when Aemond sat the throne there would be nothing to worry about - that the Realm would be secured and he’d no longer be a second son but their King. Feared. Adored.”

“Larys again encouraged him to play his part. Said that the King is not long for this world and that if he did not pass soon, then he would acquire something to end the King’s suffering. Then, he added that they must first thin the line of succession before Aemond,” Rhaenyra said curtly. She glanced over at me. I pursed my lips. “And then Aemond added that they would also need thin the line after him.”

Looking over, Alicent’s face was pale. Everyone’s face was in various phases of shock. All of us in the room would die - save maybe Alicent, if she were lucky. There was no question of it. The children of anyone in this room would all die. And as her face showed her finally understanding this reality, I saw her start to rip at her nails. Aegon reached out and stilled the motion almost immediately. Rhaenyra’s face contorted at the sight and I had no doubt that, at a time in their lives, she had done the same for Alicent.

It was as though I saw the numbers wracking up in Alicent’s head. Whether she liked it or not. Whether she truly agreed with it or not. The death toll would be high. The price would be steep. Her precious son would be a kinslayer of the worst kind. Viserys. Rhaenyra. Jace. Lucerys. Joffrey. Aegon. Viserys. Daemon. Aegon. Jaehaerys. Maelor. All wiped out for standing before him in the line of succession. Baela. Rhaena. Helaena. Jaehaera. All wiped out for their connection to those before him. Daeron. Me. Rhaegon. Wylla. Valaenora. Theo. All wiped out to ensure that none would be there to overthrow him, and because of his very personal and strong dislike toward us. Twenty one people from this branch of the family alone, currently in King’s Landing. And if you were to bring in the cousins and other family members, the bannermen who would ride for us…the dragons that would fight…the death toll would be inconceivably high. 

When words finally came from her mouth, it looked as though she’d rather die than speak them. “And you’re certain that you were not mistaken?” she asked gravely.

“Quite,” I said in a clipped voice, staring down at my hand, gripping Daeron’s tightly with the other.

“Do we have any specifics?” Cregan asked looking, unsurprisingly to Daemon.

Daemon sighed and ran a hand over his mouth. “I spent the night tracking down some of my…contacts,” he said. “And from everything that I have gathered, it seems that there are plans in the works by them - and a few others on their side as well, waiting to see how the dust settles before they show any sort of definitive alliance.”

“There are those who knew of these plans and had not shared the information?” I asked sharply.

“Information is currency,” Daemon said shortly.

“And currency is useless if your head is on a spike. Should you not offer to sell important information? Approach your lords with it,” I hissed.

“Believe me, Y/N, I understand,” he said, soothing. “And I assure you that my stance on anything of that nature is currently in the process of being made very clear to all who work for me.”

“What plans?” Alicent asked, cutting through our conversation. 

My brow furrowed and I looked over from Daemon back to her. Her voice was desperate. Desperate for a confirmation that would never come. Confirmation that her father, her son, her - at one point - Master of Whispers were not actively working against her interests, actively betraying her. I wanted to scream my fury, wanted to delight in watching tears roll down at her face that it should not matter to her if she loses two members of her family in place of over a dozen others. But I sat, looking back to Daemon. I waited. 

“There have been multiple instances with Larys or his little minions being spotted acquiring things. Poisons, for one. Different elements and ingredients known to make poisons in addition. Some from as far as Yi Ti - he goes to the docks some nights, takes the first things off of ships and steals away,” Daemon reported, looking near bored as he recounted the news. “I have also been told that he, Otto, and Aemond have been lining up spies and workers alike. There are talks of their machinations to poison some at this table, to have others encounter unfortunate fates in travel. Some should fall to conflict they should address. The network has revealed depths of depravity from them that even I had not expected from them. They, in essence, plan to kill us all to ensure their claim to the crown. They do not care for what comes in the aftermath. So long at the Iron Throne is theirs, they would call themselves satisfied.”

“That cannot be true,” Alicent choked out, looking horrified.

“It is. It has been confirmed. By many reliable sources to this point,” Rhaenyra said, lips turned down in a frown. She looked at Alicent, serious, sad. “We cannot let this go unchallenged. We cannot allow them to kill any of us. We cannot allow them to kill the king.” Alicent’s eyes drifted around the table to each of us. I saw the tears gathering in her eyes. “Please Alicent. I am asking you to promise me your support. To promise me your backing. To stand by our side - the crown’s side - no matter what. Your children have. Your grandchildren will too.” Rhaenyra took a deep breath. “My friend please.”

Alicent met Rhaenyra’s eyes, tears shining but not falling. She held her head proud, chin raised. Daeron squeezed my hand tighter, nervous, and I allowed it, running my thumb up and down his hand soothingly while I anxiously watched. The room was thick, anxious in waiting.

“I will support your claim. I will uphold it to be true until my death,” Alicent said, voice grave, looking over to Aegon who still held her hands. She seemed to be tightly grasping his. “Provided you vow to me…I don’t care if I need a legal document…you ensure that my children and grandchildren will be safe and protected when you are Queen. That they shall not be killed for the threat they pose to your claim..” She closed her eyes, took a deep breath - squeezed Aegon’s hand even harder if his wince was anything to go by.

“I can only guess who laid in your ear for all of these years whispering such insidious things of me,” Rhaenyra said, “but I vow to you on my life…on the lives of my own children…my future grandchildren,” she glanced to Jace and Baela, to Luke and Rhaena, “that I would never let my siblings be hurt. Nor my nieces and nephews. I love them all as fiercely as I love my own. I promise you that.”

Alicent inhales sharply at that, her grip on Aegon going slack before tightening again. “Then we shall work together to ensure that their aims are not achieved. We may sit with the King in schedules so he is not alone,” Alicent declared. “Nothing shall happen that would allow for their plans to work. We will enlist some food tasters to make sure we are not ingesting poison. We will keep the children with us.”

“A good plan,” Rhaenyra admitted, nodding. “That is likely the best way to make sure that we are not in a position such that any of us could be caught unawares with our own health. And likely the best to ensure the wellbeing of the King going forward.”

“Even so, Larys is right,” Daemon stated. “My brother is not long for this world. We need to call our bannermen. Carefully. Discretely. Quietly. So that we may rally the support we shall need to negate whatever coup they aim for.”

“We shall need your spies to bring forth messages to our bannermen. Those who are unknown. Those who would not be recognized as such - much less as ours. They must carry the messages to tell them. We cannot risk them knowing we are aware of their schemes. They would fall to desperation,” Rhaenyra said, face grim. “And a desperate man will spill blood faster than a drunk man will spill wine.”

“What other support do they have on their side?” Jace asked, hand laying atop Baela’s on the table. 

“Other than the entirety of Oldtown, you mean? There were whispers from the Lannisters of course being willing to back Aemond. Whispers of the Greyjoys as well, the fucking warmongerers. Then, most concerningly is rumors for the Baratheons…promises of a betrothal for one of the daughters. And finding a most suitable lord to take over Storm’s End,” Daemon reported. “They have the Merryweathers and Mormonts we believe. The Pomminghams are likely to side with them as well, and fear that the Redforts would turn too. Almost doubtlessly they have the Royces. The Rykkers are being promised a pretty sum for their efforts if they support. Seaworth is likely to fall to them. Stokeworths obviously in their pious buillshit. Potentially the Waxleys and the Towers. There are even rumors spurring of an alliance trying to be forged with the Martells.”

Silence reigned heavily and with an iron fist.

“And on ours?” Luke asked.

“The Targaryens, obviously,” Daemon began with a harsh smile. “The Velaryons, naturally. And the rest of the houses on both Dragonstone and Driftmark.” He inclined his head to Cregan. “The Starks…well…the whole of the North, we’ll just say to save the bloody time. We even have the Boltons.” He sighed. “We doubtlessly have the Beesburys. I’m fairy confident in the Tullys, Tyrells, and Arryns. The Fells, Pryors, the Vances all shall lend their support I believe. All of the Gold Cloaks would swear themselves and their families to the cause - of that I am certain. The Sarwycks will agree when they understand we fight for family. Westfords swore fealty and their house phrase is death over dishonor so I believe we have them. The Slynts should fall in line. The Risleys, Rambtons, Mertyns, Freys Gowers, and Fossoways should be easy to sway with a bit of coin transferred - small asks in the midst of a potential war. Dondarrions would be a hard sell…but doable. I believe that we have our own Dornish allies should it prove necessary in the Yronwoods, Ullers and the Wyls - maybe the Fowlers too if we’re lucky.” He paused. “I believe even the Lord that Larys Strong left Harrenhal under the watchful eye of alongside his wife - you know, his bastard sister Alys Rivers - would be on our side. It is said that he is spiteful of Aemond in droves.”

“He would kill his family to put a bastard on the throne - and he has no qualms with it,” Cregan said with a harsh laugh. “His foolish hypocrisy must know no bounds. If he accuses others of doing such, one would think he’d not do the same himself.” We looked at him. Only I seemed to understand his words. “Come now. You cannot tell me that you believe he would leave the throne without an heir lined up. He wanted to marry the bastard so desperately. He was refused and then shunned despite them having their own together. I would not be surprised if Larys promised the Lord’s death and to give him Alys as a spoil of war to do with as he pleased while they primed the bastard to be the heir.”

The air in the room felt as if it stood still, right alongside our breath.

“It will not be easy,” Rhaenyra stated - as if we did not all know that already. “But it is possible. It will be a fight if it comes down to it. But, if we are careful, it need not come to fighting. If we do not give war a chance to brew then it shall not come. We won’t let it go far enough that we need know anyone’s exact plans or machinations for this horrific, insidious coup.”

“None may fall to a trance if dragons should dance. One for them all and then none will fall,” Helaena muttered quietly, but not quietly enough. “The witch may glance through flame, and find cracked sapphire to blame.” Aegon glanced at her and closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Sometimes it was still abundantly clear that he wished for any other as his wife. Even so, he then reached out and pat her hand in support. She didn’t pull away. They were doing better.

“If I see Larys Strong with my children can’t I just kill him?” Aegon asked teeth clenched. “The despicable little…creature mulling about with my blood…I feel I would have the right to do so.”

Daemon grinned. “As endearing it is that you’ve fallen into the trappings of loving your family, your kids, no you cannot. There would be consequences. Such as you losing your head - furthering their aims anyways,” he pointed out. He stretched his hands onto the table. “I can get notice out today. Should be in the farthest of my camps by month’s end. All our allies would know. If we have Alicent say that she sent out say…invitations to the Lords of the Seven Kingdoms inviting them forth to King’s Landing for the nameday of Prince Jaehaerys and Princess Jaehaera soon. Then, when they begin to arrive, none would find it curious.”

“A bold strategy. Could get us all killed,” I commented. “They are not fools, no matter if we see them as such.”

“And yet they could not question it for it is their tenth nameday,” Alicent said, leaning back in her chair, gaze locked on the table. She sighed deeply. Looked around the table at us. “It will be a…it will be difficult. But it will be doable. When they ask after me, I will be able to wave them off any suspicion of such things. But I must distance myself somewhat - Larys has ears in places I would not even think to worry after.”

“More than fair. I just ask that we may maintain our friendship as we have worked diligently to develop over these past few years,” Rhaenyra said quietly. “I am sure they would not question it at this point.”

Alicent cut her eyes to me. “Can we ensure that Alys Rivers does not come to the capital even if her lord husband does. Nor the child,” she said stiffly. “Y/N need not deal with a stark reminder of Aemond’s foolish indiscretions.” My back stiffened - that was a prospect I hadn’t even thought of. And yet, I was glad to know she had. “And an assurance that her child will not try to get a place in the line of succession.”

“They would be conditions,” Rhaenyra said, clearly having already thought of it herself as well.

Alicent inclined her head, still staring at the table. When she looked up, I was not surprised to see tears in the corners of her eyes. “I have a request,” Alicent said shortly.

“Ask it,” Rhaenyra said. The Queen’s eyes remained locked to the table. Through all the years I’d known her, I’d never seen her quite so subservient. So…defeated. “Alicent, I will not hold ill will for you asking whatever it may be. Ask it.”

“I cannot imagine losing…” she said, trailing off, taking a deep, sharp breath. “I merely ask that I may be able to…” 

Rhaenyra looked at her suspiciously. “I cannot spare Aemond and I would not want to. He has been reckless, violent and foolishly impulsive for years now. He plans to usurp the throne from his own father if needed. I would not dream to spare your father for he is the one who orchestrated not only this mess of a situation but the rift that grew between us in our youth - though, he could not sit the throne. And I pray to whatever gods you want me to that you would not want me to spare that lecherous vermin Larys with the rumors of him murdering Lord Lyonel and Harwin to inherit Harrenal and his general demeanor towards your own grandchildren and willingness to kill them.”

“I do not wish to see those who have stood with me through the years systematically killed, Rhaenyra. I am sure you understand,” Alicent said, raising her head. She had a more determined look in her eyes. “But I do not want to plead their case. I wish to plead the case of whom you have not already spoken. Ser Criston Cole. He stands with those who he feels duty bound to. He would stand by their side if asked, but he will not if I tell him not to. Do not hold his loyalty against him. Please Rhaenyra, just spare Ser Criston.”

I blinked in surprise, not having expected that. Daemon snorted. “Criston Cole is a ruinous, defamatory cu-” he spat before being cut off by Rhaenyra raising her hand to silence him.

“I will spare him. Provided he hold the station of sworn sword for the rest of his life. To you, obviously,” she agreed. “And understand that if we get even the slightest whispering of him helping an enemy…he will face a worse fate for it. I am willing to try and provide trust. But that means if he crosses me…crosses any of us…the consequences will be dire.”

Alicent bowed her head in thanks. “I will make sure he will not,” she said. “Thank you, Rhaenyra.”

Rhaenyra looked at Alicent, a sad sort of smile on her face. “I do not wish you to be alone, Alicent. The opposite, actually. And I wish you to be safe. To have peace,” Rhaenyra stated.

Cregan and Percival looked over my way, both slightly crooking an eyebrow at the soft, tender words between the Queen Regent and future Queen. I shrugged, the action so miniscule they barely noticed. Still, their lips both twitched in smirks before they looked back. He cleared his throat, clearing the bizarre tension from the room.

“Shall we set a schedule then to ensure the King is not left alone?” Cregan asked. “Otherwise, I’d like to go get my son if a lecherous vermin is haunting our halls as suggested by Princess Rhaenyra.”

And with that, a delicately spun plan began to be woven.

* 6 *

Nearly two and a half months passed by without incident. Alicent sent out actual invitations with the messengers so it appeared as though they were there for purpose beyond just their whispering. And within two weeks, the first of the Lords began arriving with the fanfare deserving of their stations. So it went, with life going on in a series of unending dinners and meetings - private and public - and celebrations preceding Jaehaerys and Jaehaera’s nameday celebration. On and on it went as the weeks pushed on. And with each passing day, we watched the threads of patience fray around the carefully woven plans of Larys, Otto, and Aemond.

There were three near misses with our own health and with accidents. A food taster fell ill after sipping from a goblet meant for Rhaenyra. Aegon’s new saddle for Sunfyre snapped when he was mid flight - a lesser dragonrider, which was most as I came to learn of Aegon’s true skill, would have fallen to their death. But, luckily Sunfyre did a roll and swish so fast to pluck him from the air onto his bare back that Aegon didn’t even have the chance to flinch much less fall. Most upsetting to me was Wylla, coming to me with tears streaming down her face saying that she’d taken a sweet from Larys fucking Strong and that her stomach felt terrible. So, after forcing her to throw up, and getting the maesters to quietly deliver an herbal tincture, she felt better within a few days. To her credit, she bounced back and was still her happy self, though Valaenora - who cried that she’d warned her sister not to, and Wylla cried that she didn’t, before she then said never take a sweet from a rat for angels turn to liquid then stone - clung to her sister. So, after that point, all in the Red Keep held their children closer and were much more wary about each facet of their daily lives. 

The King himself posed a different issue entirely. Viserys Targaryen, may the gods old and new bless his foolish soul, was a stubborn man. Refused to die. Steadfastly. We rotated through several different schedules with different times so that it couldn’t be guessed when we were changing people or who would be there. Through it all, we all watched as Viserys croaked as many words as he could - cracking a few jokes even - before returning to his labored breathing that sounded like the rolling line of an execution drum. But never once, not while we stayed with him - always unless maesters were staying for an extended period of time - did he seem closer to death than he had for the past near year. It was almost a comfort. 

But comforts were never meant to last it seemed.

After a late eve, punctuated by Valaenora waking wailing from another nightmare, I was returning to the children’s chambers with a new bottle of her dream tonic in hand. But then, I paused upon passing someone in the hallway who bowed their head to me. I reached out and caught their shoulder, pulling them to a dead stop.

“Maester Mellos who is with the King?” I asked sharply.

“Princess Y/N, Prince Aemond entered the room and sent me away. Said that he would watch over his father for the eve as his family so oft did,” the man replied in a reedy thin voice.

I released his shoulder and resisted cursing. I turned on my heel and started near sprinting down the hall. I cursed under my breath in every colorful combination that I could imagine. Daeron was with the kids, I reminded myself, they were safe, they were fine, they were safe, they were fine. I made it first to Rhaenyra and Daemon’s chambers nearly threatening the guard with bodily harm until a groggy Daemon opened the door to see who was yelling in the hall and sent the seemingly agitated guard away.

“Rhaenyra. You. Now,” I snarled. “Go to the King. I’m getting the Queen.”

They emerged not five seconds after me and started running down the hall towards the King’s chambers. I sprinted the rest of the way to the Queen’s and saw Ser Criston standing guard as he did every so often when he took up a night guard over day - more often alongside the days he spent. When he saw me he looked concerned. This was a man who carried my children around and indulged them endlessly for fuck’s sake, and I likely looked like a ghost had scared me.

“Need the Queen,” I gasped. “Now.”

Criston entered her chambers and Alicent came out within a few moments, wrapped in a dressing robe darkly colored. She saw my face and immediately, dread wracked through her. She grabbed my arm.

“He was left alone. I got Daemon and Rhaenyra. I don’t know. But he said Aemond was in there,” I hurriedly stated.

Alicent’s face fell to fear then darkened. Criston looked hopelessly confused. “Ser Criston. Come,” she said, nodding firmly, offering no explanation. And, loyal guard dog he was, Criston followed us.

We moved in a near sprint down the corridor until we reached the King’s chambers, wrenching the door open. Rhaenyra laid over the King, panicked and yelling, shaking him. On the ground was an unconscious Larys Strong and Otto Hightower - strange but not entirely unexpected to be in the room. I gawked at that for a moment, brain struggling to register all before it.

And Daemon? 

Daemon was strangling Aemond, battering him against the windows and walls in a ploy to not fight back. Criston went to stop it until Alicent grabbed his arm. Her eyes were locked on the bed. My eyes traveled there. Rhaenyra had moved from leaning over the King. Tears swam in her eyes, her chest heaved for breath.

The King’s face was pale, taking on a blue tinge. His lips had lost their color. And there were markings around his neck. A contrast against the pale of his skin. The markings of hands. The marking of hands strangling. The markings that I’d seen once around my own neck the sole time that Aemond Targaryen had been stupid enough to put his hands on me in an attempt to harm me. My breath caught in my throat.

The King was dead.

His illness had not kiled him.

The King and died by his own son’s hands.

Valaenora’s screaming from months before and now less than an hour before popped into my mind. A sobbed chant, a plea, a beg…an omen. King Viserys of House Targaryen. A House of black and red, of fire and blood. I looked at the pallor of his skin. The tint to it, to his lips, darkening, the pooling of blood at the neck from the strangulation. My poor sweet little girl had marked something in this moment, and my brain wired in warning. A warning that the end was coming - an end was near, but not one that I necessarily needed to fear.

When black turns blue.

Aemond Targaryen was a kinslayer. He was a kingslayer. Two titles that he would hold for the rest of his life. No matter how long, no matter how short. Two titles that would blot out any impressive things he had done with the level of his atrocities. My heart beat in my chest violently. I didn’t know how long I had been staring. It felt like hours, but I knew it could only be moments. Moments that had stretched into a lifetime of uncertainty and fear.

“Daemon stop,” Rhaenyra snarled. “Be done with it.”

Not one to avoid an order from his wife whom he loved, Daemon ruthlessly took his fist to Aemond’s temple and knocked him unconscious. He crumpled to the floor in a heap and my heart skipped a beat at the sound. In that moment, my brain turns fully back in and I take in a large breath of air. I feel hands on me, Alicent’s hands, pulling me back, Criston’s also on my shoulder pulling me back.

“Gods be good! What happened?” Alicent asked, hysterical. “Who has done this?” 

“We walked in to Aemond strangling my father,” Rhaenyra said, voice clipped. She pointed to the other two. “And those hissing at him that it was too soon to do such a thing as he did so instead of stopping him.” Rhaenyra bared her teeth, looking more a dragon than woman for a moment in my eyes. “He murdered my father. He killed the King.” She looked at Alicent and I.

In a single look, when Rhaenyra and Alicent connected eyes, a crown transferred between them - an unknowable type of crown, not one of royalty, but one of responsibility. And Alicent looked relieved to have it off of her own head. There was no doubt about it. None. It was over. It would be finished in just the way that Alicent promised it would be. Rhaenyra Targaryen, in that moment of eye contact, became the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. And Alicent Hightower, in that same moment of connection, did not lose the title she’d had thrust upon her and then nearly been willing to war over - she gave it up.

“Alicent. Y/N. Go get Daeron, Helaena, and Aegon. Send them here and return. Y/N, get Jace, Baela, Cregan, and Percival. Send the first three here and send Percival to find Ser Criston. Ser Criston, get Ser Harrold and gather all of our children in one room. Guard the door. When Percival arrives he shall too. None shall leave until we return to relieve you,” Rhaenyra commanded.

Alicent was the first to bow her head. “Yes, my Queen,” she said, voice clipped and tight, but genuine.

“Of course,” I replied, bowing my own head.

There was a moment of pause. “My Queen,” Ser Criston said, inclining his own head, even if he seemed reluctant.

The three of us hurried to our task, separating quickly. My first task was getting Jace - the closest, then Baela. I sent them down with very little explanation, and only a warning to hurry. Then I sprinted towards Cregan’s chambers with Rickon, peeling Rickon from bed, peppering him with kisses to keep him from crying and barking at Cregan to go to the King’s room now. Thankfully, a life in the North prepared Cregan for abrupt wake up calls and he was up in a moment. I assured him that Rickon would be alright. He pressed a kiss to his son’s head and then left. I took a confused, frightened Rickon then over to Percival’s chambers across the hall. I handed my nephew reluctantly over along with Valaenora’s dream tonic. I made him vow to protect the children. He needed no other details. He nodded and headed towards where the rest of the children would be gathered by Ser Criston. 

Then, with a war in my stomach of where I wanted to be - with my children - versus where I had to be - with the adults - I returned to the King’s room. My heart pounded in my ears when I walked back into the room and saw three gold cloaks hauling the three unconscious men up, tying their arms behind their backs. None in the room really looked like they were coping well. When Daeron saw me his shoulders slumped in relief.

“Fuck,” he said sharply. 

He walked over to me and pulled me into a tight hug looking me over. Once he saw I was okay he pulled me in tightly again and hugged me, pressing a kiss to my forehead before he pulled back once more. He ran his hands up and down my arms. I did the same to him. I saw that just beneath his stress laid his fear and sorrow, and I loathed the day that he would come to have to deal with that. I leaned into his arms, looking around the room as we all hissed different suggestions for ways to proceed. Silence only fell when the Queen spoke.

“We will tell the truth. We will proceed as we would in the case of a normal death of a King. I will be crowned as Queen in the Sept of Balor. And then we will tell the people what happened here tonight. We will tell them there will be a trial in three days. And we will move forward as such,” Rhaenyra declared.

She sent Jace then to get the maesters. When Maester Mellos returned he looked petrified for his mistake - rightfully so because I had no doubt that he would pay for it one way or another based on the hateful look he received from Daemon. He declared the King dead and then went to raise the bells - to alert the people that the King had died. And as the maester did that, the rest of our plans moved into motion. By the time that the bells had gone up, we’d woken most of our bannermen who had arrived and told them the news. We’d organized the servants to get mourning clothes for everyone urgently. The news was spreading that come morning there would be a coronation and all must attend.

By sunrise, we returned to the room where the children were - all of us - and gathered them together. Inside, Luke, Rhaena and Joffrey had been left to watch over the still-younger children. They all looked grim. They all looked as if they’d been crying. And it tore my heart out to watch as Valaenora took one look at her father’s face, burst into tears, and then ran into his arms for comfort. After a painful explanation that the King passed - their grandfather, well, grandfather and uncle in the case of Viserys and Aegon - we all had to get ready for the mournful coronation. Our mourning clothes were resplendent. Alicent wore a crown atop her head - the crown that would be removed soon. The haze of chaos did not end until we all entered into the Sept of Baelor 

We arrived and walked through a throng of guards to get to the dais. The whole of the family stood atop the dais together and waited while Rhaenyra slowly passed through a line of guards performing a sword salute for their new Queen. When she stood before us, we all bowed. Words were not yet spoken. Not until Corlys Velaryon - newly decided Hand of the King as of like two hours ago - stepped forward, brooch of the Hand attached to his doublet.

“Late in the eve, our great king…King Viserys Targaryen, first of his name passed. He was taken into the next life, guided on. We are here to affirm his wishes as willed by the law, and by his last breath,” he declared. A stretch, given that I doubt Viserys said anything before he died. Didn’t matter. “To name his daughter, his heir, Rhaenyra Targaryen, as the first Queen of the Seven Kingdoms.”

There was rumblings amongst the crowd. But no outright yelling or screaming. Progress. Good. Corlys nodded towards Alicent and Aegon who walked forward. Helaena took a step forward with the King’s crown on a fine pillow. Daeron then left my side, holding Aegon the Conqueror’s crown on another. My heart caught in my throat. 

With one hand, Alicent removed the crown from her head, placing it on a pillow held to the side Corlys, and so began another series of crown transfers until another pillow made it into Corlys’s hands. Then, Alicent took the crown of Aegon the Conqueror from the pillow held by Daeron - a crown that represented the will and strength of the Targaryens, being held by the Hightower Queen who was willingly putting it on Rhaenyra’s head. As Alicent laid the crown upon Rhaenyra’s brow, there could be no doubt. She was the Queen and she was supported. That done, Alicent stepped to the side. Then, Aegon took the crown of Vicerys from the pillow Helaena held out, and he placed it onto Daemon’s head. I took a deep breath as Jace then walked forward, bowing on one knee before his mother. Rhaenyra took a circlet from the pillow Corlys had acquired and placed it upon her son’s brow and indicating for him to rise.

“Presenting Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen, the First of Her Name, Queen of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lady of the Seven Kingdoms, Protector of the Realm,” Corlys announced loudly, voice echoing throught the Sept. “And presenting King Consort Daemon Targaryen.” Corlys bowed his head then to Jace, to his grandson, and his smile grew slightly. “And the Queen Rhaenyra’s heir to the throne…Prince Jacaerys Targaryen of House Velaryon.”

Above I could hear the dragon screeches of Syrax and Caraxes as they curled atop the glass of the building, screeching, and posing a clear and dynamic threat. Especially with Sunfyre and Tessarion perched on nearby buildings, adding their calls into the mix. A show of dragon with dragon both inside and out. The crowd began to cheer in tandem with the dragons, evidently willing to go along with the Queen business for the time being. The showing of a united front posed exaftly what we’d needed to make it here without harm or issues. But, the worst of it had not yet come. 

Rhaenyra, the Queen, then held up her hand and silence fell in the echoing Sept rather quickly. Her face was grim, drawn. “It gives me no pleasure to stand before you today as your Queen,” she announced. “For my father should still be breathing air as your King.” There were whispers amongst the crowd, a dull roar compared to the previous silence. “He did not go peacefully and quietly into the night. He felt no joy or love in his last moments because they were viciously stolen from him. Last evening we discovered the King had been murdered, assaliants still in the room. The same assailants who have attempted to kill multiple other members of House Targaryen over the past few moons.” There were gasps and shouts. “And so, in three days, these criminals will be sentenced for their crimes agains the King and the crown.” 

The crowd erupts in a louder din of shock. Above, Syrax and Caraxes screech and the crowd quiets again, keenly aware of the dragons. And as she spoke again, her voice held a vow like none heard before in Westeros. I felt a chill go up my spine and felt as Daeron settled back next to me, our shoulders brushing. I kept my hands laid over my girls’ shoulders, my boys on either sides of them. All of our eyes stayed locked upon our new Queen.

“Justice will come,” the Queen promised. Rhaenyra’s voice changed it seemed, authority settling over it like a fine cloak to match the crown atop her head. “And with it will follow peace. For those who have sought to undermine the kingdom will be cut out and burned like rot from the flesh. And I say to those who have done so…your reckoning is coming and there is nowhere you may hide from the wrath of a dragon. We shall take our revenge in fire and blood if we must. Do not burn the whole of the Kingdom in your pitiful search for a faux ruler with no claim. You will die for it. Painfully. I declare this to you as your Queen.”

* 7 *

The three days following coronation resulted in only circular arguments amongst old and new members of the Small Council. Those who did not understand why the council need change were marked as potential threats to be watched. Those who did would still be made to prove themselves. Even so, in that time, we managed to all agree upon the fates of Otto Hightower, Larys Strong, and Aemond Targaryen. As much as some tried to fight - those who likely wanted to see Aemond on the throne - they could not win. Not in the face of Rhaenyra, who was proving to have quite a host of strategic allies, with the last of our bannermen falling in two days after the coronation had been done.

Once we had entered the throne room, we stood off to the side slightly, still facing the throne, but not wanting to be near the center of attention. Aegon and Daemon stood on either side of Rhaneyra as silent predators. The elder’s eyes were shrewd, almost gleeful. It was easy to tell that he couldn’t wait to run Dark Sister through someone’s neck to alleviate them the burden of living. But for Aegon, you could tell that he was fulfilling his duty. The Valyrian steel at his side, Blackfyre, the sword of his late father, was gripped at his side out of a sense of obligation - he got no pleasure from this.

We heard the doors of the throne room opened. 

It was time.

“Bring forth the first prisoner,” Rhaenyra commanded to the guards.

The rattle of chains sounded. Then, I heard the quiet muttering, cursing. I did not need look to know who it was. I looked only at Daeron. Daeron’s face turned slightly away, focusing on the windows of the throne room, then the swords that made up the Iron Throne. I kept my eyes on him. Only when he turned his own face did I let my gaze fall to the first prisoner.

“Otto Hightower, you stand before the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. Kneel,” Daemon said, smug, when Otto, haggard and dirty was brought before the court. The smile on his face grew feral when the guards holding Otto by the arms forced him painfully to his knees. “Look to your Queen and grovel at her feet for a mercy you do not deserve.”

Rhaenyra glanced at Daemon and the man at her side closed his mouth, bowing his head respectfully to her. She looked back to Otto then. She stared at him in silence, analyzing him as if he were some sort of puzzle that could be solved. Otto stared back at her as if Rhaenyra had been the one to send him to the blade - as if it hadn’t been his own daughter’s decision to save another and end his ruinous life. Her face remained impassive, while his fell into a darker and darker glower. 

“Otto Hightower, you have committed high treason against the throne. You are here, accused and proven to have conspired to undermine the rightful, lawfully established line of succession, attempting to start and stoke the fires of a rebellion against the crown, adhering to your sovereign’s enemies, levying war against House Targaryen, and for plotting the murder of King Viserys Targaryen, First of His Name,” she said. There was very little inflection in her voice - if any.  

Rhaenyra made a dismissive gesture with her hand and the guards dragged Otto back to his feet, shoved a filthy gag into his mouth, and then dragged him off to the side of the room. The Queen nodded once.

“Bring forth the second prisoner,” she commanded.

I didn’t turn my head to look back when I heard the dragging of feet into the room, and I paid no mind to the rattle of the chains. Then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw Larys Strong being dragged forward, looking rather worse for the wear. 

The absence of emotion in Rhaenyra’s eyes at the sight of Otto Hightower seemed to be made up for as she gazed upon Larys Strong. Actively, she had to keep herself from curling her lip in anger and disgust. Her hands were clenched so hard in front of her that I was sure those in the back of the throne room could see the tension in them. I flinched slightly when he too was forced to his knees before the Queen. I saw the snake’s composure drop for a moment, face reflecting an agonizing pain I didn’t want to imagine - accompanied by a sick sound of bone connecting with the hard stone floor. But, he quickly schooled it back to his normal expression of bland nothingness. Even so, at that moment, I knew that Larys Strong would never again rise to his feet. I felt no particular sympathy for that.

“Larys Strong you are here not only as proven a kinslayer, a vile, unforgivable offense, but accused of committing high treason against the throne. You are here, accused and proven to have conspired to undermine the rightful, lawfully established line of succession, attempting to start and stoke the fires of a rebellion against the crown, adhering to your sovereign’s enemies, levying war against House Targaryen, and for plotting the murder of King Viserys Targaryen, First of His Name,” she said, voice a tense sort of song. 

It was as if she wanted to scream, cry, and gloat all at once, and her brain couldn’t settle on which of the deliveries to use. This insidious man had, evidently, committed offenses that the Queen deemed far worse than Otto’s own sins. Daemon watched her closely while she nodded for Otto to be brought back over. The other man was roughly dragged back over, suddenly showing signs of resistance. I took a slight step closer to Daeron who stared emotionlessly forward watching the scene unfold, providing a silent support he’d never even think to ask for. Again, as Otto was dropped unceremoniously to his knees, the old man winced, but forced himself to turn it back to his usual scowl. Rhaenyra at that point, painted her face to be aloof, to be uninvolved, and unaffected. Knelt before the Queen, I could see the wounds upon their bodies already lazily bleeding - soon to be joined by a flood of blood. Part of my heart dropped. My brain went to Valinor.

Green shall bleed red.

“And for those crimes, I, Rhaenyra Targaryen, the First of Her Name, Queen of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lady of the Seven Kingdoms, Protector of the Realm, the Dragon Queen, as you have so named me, sentence you to death. May the Lord of the Seven Hells ferry you there Himself for your gods would find nothing of your souls left to save,” she said.

The Queen then glanced over her shoulder and nodded to Aegon and Daemon. They walked closer. Aegon practically sneered at Larys, and suddenly he looked a lot happier to be doing this than he was from afar. Evidently, the crimes of Larys, how far he was willing to go - all that he’d successfully managed to do - had grated Aegon more than he realized. At least until this moment. Daemon on the other hand looked like he would’ve been jumping in glee if he weren’t standing before the court. 

Rhaenyra raised her chin and looked down upon Otto Hightower first. “Any final words?” she asked cooly. 

“My only regret is not working swifter,” Otto hissed at the Queen.

I blinked, startled by the honesty from him of all people. The Queen merely hummed, disinterested, and looked to Larys. “Any final words?” she repeated, voice colder than ice.

“History will not look upon you kindly,” he said simply, a strange and serene smile on his face. It made my stomach turn to see, madness licking at the edge of his gaze.

“I will cut out the abscess you have created in the Seven Kingdoms. It will no longer spread,” she vowed, dark, serious, and intensely. “It will be burned out if it has to.” She looked between the two for a moment and smoothed her features out into one of regality, into one of a Queen - a look that I had often seen on Alicent Hightower herself, over the years, as a matter of fact. “You deserve no death of a dragon rider.” She gestured to the guards who shoved the gags back in the mouths of both the prisoners.

I glanced to Daeron, leaned close so I could whisper in his ear, silent to all others but him. “You don’t need to watch, Daeron,” I stated.

“I’m fine,” he replied, voice low.

Rhaenyra looked then to Daemon and Aegon.

She nodded.

Valyrian swords were unsheathed, a scraping sound in the eerie silence.

A last, silent exhale, felt throughout the whole of the room, even unheard.

Wet, yet solid sounds in almost perfect tandem.

Two dull thumps.

Blood covered the swords and hands of both Aegon and Daemon. Specks of blood landed upon the Queen and both executioners, staining their pale faces and their hair. Silence fell not only outwardly, but inwardly upon overworked minds after the dual downstroke of the blades. Treason was, once again, being treated with the severity it deserved under the reign of Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen. And it took not three days. There was much - too much to register about the visual, the sound. I stared blankly at the red covering the ground. I was sure that if I looked down, I’d find that we were close enough to the violent spray that there would be blood on my shoes and the bottom of my skirts. So, I didn’t look down, again my brain tipped to Valaenora for a split second.

Snakes lose their heads.

I pressed my shoulder even more into Daeron’s, and we stood, side-by-side. We were silent sentinels of observation, playing the role that we had to. After another few heavy, lingering moments of silence, he reached out and linked our hands. I squeezed his hand once. I merely felt satisfaction from this blood coating the floor. This blood was meaningless to me in truth. The world would not miss Otto Hightower nor Larys Strong, and history would not speak kindly of them in truth. This blood, I could’ve bathed in for all I cared.

 The hardest part was far from over.

“Bring forth the final prisoner,” Rhaenyra demanded coldly.

As the doors to the throne room entered once more behind me, I forced myself to look down to the floor to avoid looking backward. Graciously, or perhaps miraculously, there was no blood upon my shoes nor my skirts - nor Daeron’s own trousers or shoes. There was a strange confidence to the footfalls, even with the half-dragging that was going on. I heard no chain rattling and I bit my tongue to keep from even looking out of the corner of my eye.

But, before I knew it, Aemond Targaryen had been dragged before the throne and forced to his knees. Just as his little informant had been. Just as his grandsire had been. He knelt in their blood, with their heads and bodies serving as the only reminders of both their existence and of his own fate. I bit my tongue and gripped his hand slightly tighter, anxiety jumping into my throat I hadn’t expected. I could only see Aemond’s profile, not his full face from where we stood, slightly off to the side. He wasn’t gagged, wore no eyepatch, and his face held a bizarre sort of neutrality that couldn’t possibly be genuine. I didn’t know how to read his expression, couldn’t even begin to interpret it. I did not even want to try. I glanced at Daeron, but his own face was like a sculpture of ice and stone - hard and impossible to penetrate.

So, instead of festering in my own sudden all-consuming worry, I locked my eyes on Aegon. He looked down at his brother, sitting in the blood of their blood, surrounded by broken bodies, and his face twisted. His grip on Blackfyre tightened and he looked over to Rhaenyra. The Queen nodded once, not taking her eyes off of Aemond, her half-brother, who knelt in the destruction that he’d wrought upon himself. I held my breath while Aegon, without a word, or additional look in Aemond’s direction, tightened his grip on Blackfyre. 

Then, he walked out of the throne room.

He didn’t pause.

He didn’t look back.

“Lord Cregan Stark, Warden of the North, Lord of Winterfell…please come forward,” Rhaenyra said evenly.

My brother entered my field of vision a few seconds later, bowing his head as he stood before the Queen to whom he had sworn fealty. He raised his head then and took Aegon’s side, Daemon remaining just where he was, just as before. Though, he might’ve looked more solemn for it. That said, Cregan’s happiness - clear only to me and Percival, present on the other side of the room, his hulking frame a threat in and of itself to any who would disrupt the day’s proceedings - made up for Daemon’s sudden solemnity. 

Daeron squeezed my hand gently. 

I remembered to blink - then to breathe.

“Aemond Targaryen, you are here as a kinslayer and kingslayer,” Rhaenyra said. Her voice was emotional as she looked down upon the coward who had killed her father - their father. But she did not waver, and she certainly did not break. “You are here as a man who murdered his father and his King. You are here as a man who has conspired to kill more of his family - including his brothers, his sisters, his sister-by-law, his nieces, his nephews, his cousins, his uncle, his aunt - all who would’ve stood between him and his claim to the Iron Throne. You are here as a man who would have killed his Queen too. You are here as one who has conspired to undermine the rightful, lawfully established line of succession, attempting to start and stoke the fires of a rebellion against the crown, an attempt to usurp the crown and take it for yourself, adhering to your sovereign’s enemies, levying war against House Targaryen, and for plotting and executing the murder of King Viserys Targaryen, First of His Name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, Protector of the Realm. You are here guilty of far more crimes - too many to list unworthy of falling from my own lips.”

Daeron and I were both, by this point, squeezing each other’s hands tight enough that they ached. I saw Cregan’s eyes dart over to me, and the concern that passed through him. Still, I couldn’t bring myself to move my eyes from where they locked upon the screen. The Queen looked briefly over to us after Cregan quietly cleared his throat. She drew in a deep breath and looked over at Daemon. He inclined his head just slightly.

“Prince Daeron, Princess Y/N,” she began. We both tensed. “Your Queen commands you to leave. Now.”

The words were sharp - a sting of both relief and betrayal. It was only then that Aemond’s head turned slightly in our direction and I saw his full face. The set of his mouth, pretending to be impassive, with his lips curled slightly down. The gnarly scar over his eye and the blue sapphire that he’d had put in there. I dropped my head into a bow just so I wouldn’t have to look at him anymore, so I wouldn’t have to witness his eye upon me, taking in my appearance and making judgments that would fade soon to silent nothing. My chest squeezed in a swirl of emotions I had no interest in analyzing while standing in the path of creeping blood that would soon grow. Again, my poor sweet Valaenora entered my mind before I pushed her away, refusing to associate this with her at all.

Twice over family fall dead. 

Viserys first, killed by Aemond’s hand.

And now soon to be Aemond, life taken by Cregan’s. 

“Yes, my Queen,” Daeron said, voice quiet, but carrying. He inclined his head to his sister and we turned together, swiftly exiting.

* 8 *

As the door to the throne room was shut once more, firmly behind us, I glanced over at Daeron. There were no words for this. The unpleasantness or pain. The feelings new and old colliding into something that felt like poison in my veins when I thought about it too long. He sucked in a deep breath, face grave, reflecting the warring emotions that I felt across in his gaze. I felt no joy from this - no satisfaction. If anything, I was resigned to the need for this to happen. For the safety of House Targaryen - for the safety of my family. That reality did not erase the sorrow I felt for Aemond’s impending death and the fact that things could’ve been different in another life. But, we were all here, in this life and it was the hand we were dealt. In time, we would all grow to be okay with it - to brush past it without even a second thought.

I squeezed Daeron’s hand. “Let’s go see the children,” I said firmly.

Jerkily, he nodded, staying silent. We walked swiftly Daeron’s mother’s chambers where we knew that they would be. As we approached the door, we saw Aegon approaching from the direction of his chambers. He was dressed in new clothes and his skin was red, but not from blood, rather from scrubbing it so aggressively to rid himself of it. He gave us a slight, weak, fake grin. We returned it as best we could. The door was opened for us by the guard and the three of us entered.

A slight peace fell over me walking in. At least enough to cover the all-encompassing dread that had been at the forefront of my mind. The first thing that my eyes registered were our children. Rhaegon, Wylla, Valaenora, and Theo were all playing with their cousins Jaehaera, Jaehaerys and Maelor while Helaena and the Queen watched over them. And then my eyes registered Criston Cole in the corner, still in the uniform of the King’s Guard, only alive by Alicent’s pleading for him. He was the one that she had chosen to spare over her father - and she’d done so without any hesitation. Any last love she’d seemed to have for her father died when King Viserys’s last breath was stolen for him.

“Kepa!” Jaehaera shrieked, voice high-pitched. 

Then, she threw herself towards Aegon. He scooped his daughter up immediately and held her close to him, burying her face in her pale hair for a moment. She giggled and held him tighter. He looked grateful for it, and he looked startled, then even more so grateful when his sons then stood holding his legs and demanding their own turns to be held.

“Kepa, muña!” Valaenora said softly, practically floating over to us. She looked calmer than she had since she’d had her first dragon dream.

She took both our free hands in hers, locking us in a little circle for a moment until Daeron broke the link to pick her up. Almost immediately, Wylla was at his side also demanding to be lifted. She was, of course, obliged. Rhaegon and Theo both attached themselves to my legs and I briefly panicked until I remembered that my skirts weren’t covered in any blood. I ran a hand through their hair and let them hug me as tightly as they wanted to. They didn’t know why their grandmother had been tense, but all of the children knew it - that much was obvious. Even my nephew Rickon who had made his way over after his cousins all had, wrapped himself around my leg as if trying to use my skirts to hide from the invisible tension of the world. 

Then, I looked away from them. Helaena was laser-focused on a needlepoint she was working on, a frown tugging her lips down. Alicent was worrying at her hands that were, graciously, not bleeding because she’d been clearly working on her own embroidery of some sort, her own lips in a frown that had not faded since her husband had died. Even Criston Cole looked mildly concerned and invested, though I would bet that it was more for the fact that he could not guarantee his own safety and instead was trusting that he would be left alive and free so long as he stayed serving Alicent, as promised by a woman that he hated, defamed, and distrusted.

“Was…” Alicent began, voice choked. She cut herself off and looked away from us.

“Rhaenyra ordered us to leave after he was brought in,” I said quietly.

Alicent sucked in a deep breath. Her eyes filled with tears that she tried to stifle but failed. She dabbed them quickly away before the children could really notice, and nodded. My own heart ached and squeezed uncomfortably. But, I felt the weight of my boys leaning against my legs and knew that we’d done the right thing. I looked over at Valaenora, more peaceful now than in months, and knew that we’d done the right thing. We avoided outright war, for one, secured the future of House Targaryen and the future of the crown, and made sure that our family was safe - that my children were safe, that there were not those who would kill them for the sake of political positioning. I knew we’d done the right thing.

“It is for the best,” Helaena said in a solemn, but dreamy sort of way.

“The dreams have turned brighter. There is less green, less black, less red,” Valaenora confirmed. The words were not a mystery to any of the adults in the room.

“Right,” Alicent said quietly.

Rhaegon turned and walked over to his grandmother and snuggled into her side. He was a perceptive child, far more than I’d ever imagined possible of a boy so young, and he smiled up at her from where he leaned against her body.

“Grandmother, can I ask you a question?” he asked.

“Of course, my love,” Alicent said, immediately running a hand through his hair and offering him a smile.

“Will you ride on Halaxes with me when I am older?” he asked innocently. “I just know he’ll grow big and strong - big enough for two!” He offered her a grin, showing off a missing front tooth. “I’ll even wait ‘til Issaros is big enough too and have Theo take Ser Cole with us too!”

My lips curled up into a smile despite myself. I knew that Alicent loathed dragons and was petrified of riding them. Even more, though, I knew that she loved her grandchildren. And beyond just that, I knew that his words had struck a chord with her. Had struck a chord with all of us, really. The unfortunate reality of our actions, the unfortunate actions that we needed to take against that whom we should have been able to call family openly and warmly, were exactly what guaranteed that Rhaegon was right. With the death of a mere few, Halaxes would grow to be a massive, powerful dragon-like he should - and his rider would do just the same. Jaehaerys’s own Shrykos would age and become strong, just as Jaehaerys himself would. On and on, the benefits of our actions went. It was undeniable, even if it remained painful.

Alicent stared at her grandchild, a strange, mystified sort of look in her eyes. As if his words didn’t really register with her. Then, surprisingly, she burst into laughter, a bright smile curling on her face - brighter than any I had seen on her ever. And she laughed until tears streamed down her face. We began with worry for how long she laughed, until we all, one by one succumbed and started laughing along with her, not quite sure why we were. So, within a minute of Alicent’s raucous laughter beginning, the rest of us were hunched over, holding our stomachs from laughing so hard it hurt, with tears streaming down our faces, unable to stop without another bout of laughter kicking back up.

Once the nervous laughter had chased enough stress and tension away the room was tolerable and…lighter even. I leaned against Daeron, and my daughters tangled their hands in my hair as he held them. I clutched a still giggling Theo to my leg and Rhaegon laid his head in his grandmother’s lap, laughing like it was the only thing that could save us all - and hey, maybe he was right in that assertion. He smiled up at his grandmother, eyes sparkling. 

“Yes,” she said after a few moments, smoothing his hair from his face again. “If I am still alive, I will ride Halaxes with you one day when he is big enough.”

Rhaegon beamed and sat up, both his small hands making his way to his grandmother’s shoulders, as if this were the most important moment - most important information he’d ever heard in his young life. 

“Really?” he asked squeakily.

“Really,” she confirmed, nodding. She pressed a kiss to his forehead. Daeron inhaled slowly, shoulders unwinding, and he leaned his head against mine. I leaned into him just as much for comfort. “I think that it’s about time that I ride a dragon.” She grinned at him, pinched his cheek lightly. “Just don’t tell your Aunt Rhaenyra, it’ll be our secret.”

“Won’t tell anyone,” he vowed, serious. Then, he pouted. “Just don’t forget, grandmother.”

“I shan’t forget, Rhaegon,” she said in reply. “I could hardly dream to forget you.”

He frowned. “You don’t ever have to,” he said, brow furrowed in sweet, childlike confusion. My breath nearly caught in my throat, but I forced myself to instead melt more into Daeron’s embrace just as he did. “You don’t ever have to because you won’t even lose me, grandmother. Don’t be silly. You won’t lose me ever.”

Surprise colored Alicent’s eyes, clear as day. “You’re right, sweetheart. Of course you are,” she said quietly.

I looked over and saw Aegon sitting beside Helaena now. Their legs were nearly touching and both looked almost like they could one day experience peace at each other’s sides. Their three kids bounced around their feet, Jaehaera still attached to her father for the most part, returning to him every few seconds. Helaena, too, seemed a bit more level after the laughter, the harshness of her frown softening. Even Ser Criston was more relaxed, the rigid line of his shoulders less severe even in the armor he donned. 

Then, I glanced up at Daeron, wincing at the slight tug that Wylla accidentally did to my hair. He looked down at me and offered me a small but genuine smile. I returned it. He bent down and pressed a gentle kiss to my lips, which I returned easily.

“We’re going to be okay,” he whispered, so quiet that not even the girls could hear it, practically a sigh into my mouth so slight it was.

“We will,” I confirmed, just as quietly. I leaned our foreheads together. “I have you. Have the kids. Have our families. We’re okay.”

“I love you,” Daeron muttered.

Gods be good, all gods old and new, I knew it. He told naught but the truth with those three simple devoted words. They melted the remaining harsh ice that I had used to freeze my heart for the day. Oh, but I not only knew it, but felt it. His love was something that had become so commonplace and regular to experience that I only realized how potent it was when I was not by his side for a day or longer. But I didn’t just feel his love. I reciprocated it. Deeply. I loved him immensely. I loved our children immensely. Somewhere along the line, all of this became a matter of not only the principle of things but, rather, a war for love - love of all kinds. Love that was found in all of us. Love made all of this worth it no matter how horrible it felt now.

And that was true. All of this work began solely to ensure that the future of the Seven Kingdoms was secure. Solely to make sure that Westeros would be stable for whatever - whoever - could possibly come next. Then, Aemond had managed to nearly ruin things. But, Daeron managed to not only repair them, but further them. And by the time I realized how deeply entrenched my soul became with Daeron’s, with our children, I realized that the undercurrent of everything I did had shifted to love. I cared less for the future of the Realm - more for that of my family and those who l loved. In the face of a cracked House, love had managed to remove the broken pieces, create stucco that filled the imperfections and smoothed them out into something that was not only salvageable but beautiful and worth salvaging. That alone put a soothing balm over the ache of the day. 

A promise, it seemed was made, by the sun shining through the window, illuminating us all in a light that felt warming from within. 

Our struggles, our pains, our problems…they would soon become a mere memory, not reality.

A promise that soon enough, like a mere muscle strain, our struggles, pain and problems would become memory rather than reality.

And as the victors, we would write the histories of those memories - no others. I shook my head, my brain catching up with me suddenly. “I love you too,” I replied easily. It was quite easy to smile at Daeron then, a sweet, syrupy sort of smile that was soft and bled into features across my whole face. I glanced at my children, my brother-, sister-, and mother-by-law, my niece, and my nephews. I smiled softly to myself. “Gods help me, I love all of you.”

i just realized everytime i read something with azriel i imagine him like jeon wonwoo from seventeen and it makes so much sense to me