"I adopted the methods I was forced to by an enemy willing to do far worse", Prince Aegon the Golden.
112 AC
Rhaenys Targaryen POV:
The frosty air tickled her skin. The breeze rushing past her thick raven hair a sign of her Baratheon heritage, one she often kept in the same style as her mother, a reminder of a love long past; the rays of the sun hit her just the right way to let her feel alive, to cherish this moment, to know what it was to be free, to be above everything, above petty human squabbles, to be above plots and schemes, to be above lordlings and septons, to be on par with the gods, to be where her ancestors were a few centuries ago, where they ruled the world, crafting it into their image of civilising Essos as Aegon and his sisters had done for Westeros.
Like her ancestors, with Essos, Aegon had hammered the seven kingdoms into a singular kingdom united under Targaryen authority as it should be, yet a division had reared its ugly head again, " A house divided amongst itself can not stand, and if we can't stand, we can't rule," the words of her grandfather echoed in her ears.
The same words he'd told her when he'd stripped her of the right her father had promised her, as he'd given her kingdom to her halfwit cousin. Yet he was right; he was always right, infuriatingly so. She and Corlys had stood down. Would the Hightowers stand down now that Viserys wanted to overturn the same precedent that had named him king, the same precedent her grandfather had set when he removed Maegor's heir? Men took thrones over women, yet he was trying to set the realm ablaze by setting aside a son for a daughter.
She knew the Hightowers would never stand down. Corlys may hate the comparison, but he and Otto were two sides of the same coin, self-made men who had taken power with sheer resourcefulness and ability, and both had ambitions unparalleled; both wanted to leave behind legacies befitting giants.
As much as she loved Corlys, she knew her house and her status very heavily contributed to her marriage to a man as accomplished as him. He wanted a dragon rider; he wanted to be king consort, yet he did not get the title, and if she had not stopped him after the council of 101 AC, she knew there would have been a civil war, but he had managed to get his grasp on the throne again, this time through their son, and she knew she wouldn't be able to stop his ambition this time. He had a straight path to be remembered through history as the most influential man of this era, to be remembered as the father of the next king, and he would not give that up, nor would House Velaryon and nor would she. Her son was in Camp Rheanyra, or Team Black, as the faction was being called. No matter her hesitation, she had to support her family.
Yet Corlys had gone even further, his ambition a sword dangling over her children, and she was livid he had been given coppers and had decided that he would turn into a sellsword for that, for the mere allowance of an Aemon and Leana marriage. What would that boy be worth if he weren't the king? Would he rule as Leana's consort on Driftmark? She couldn't help but snort. No, he wouldn't. That boy, she'd heard enough about from Corlys's spies. Alicent's vain attempt to name him after her father to win some good faith from her, as pitiful as it was, did intrigue her, and the stories about that child fascinated her.
He seemed to be crafted perfectly by the gods: a monstrous build for his age and a mind as sharp as Valyrian steel – almost the perfect heir. If he hadn't been so reckless and stupid to claim the cannibal, the death of a dragon and a King's guard had sullied his reputation. He'd gone from the perfect candidate to a wild card, yet Rhaenyra's own reputation was worse – a whore, they called her. The truth of the tale she did not know, but she did not care.
Both candidates were disastrous, but Corlys had seized the opportunity, trying to run both camps, and so she'd been sent off with her children to kill a dragon only smaller than Vhagar, all so Corlys could attach his name to what he saw as the next him. She knew he had a high assessment of the boy, and so he was willing to take this risk to get him and Leana together, and he didn't care about annoying the Lannisters, Hightowers or even Aemon himself. She had told him he'd become too detached and arrogant, but the deal had been struck, and she must do as she was bid; a united front was paramount. Three dragons against one was a trifling matter. She was sure even Balerion would fall to the three dragons assembled here. Hopefully, the boy inherited both his grandfather's wisdom and surrender without putting up a fight.
"I have told you, Mother, this is a mistake." Leana's voice drew her from her thoughts. The girl had been complaining about this from the moment she was made aware of the deal, and she could not blame her. The girl had grown up hearing of the fairy tale love between her and Corlys, but now she was expected to marry a man who may very well despise her. It wasn't a surprise that she wasn't thrilled at that.
"Your father and the king struck this deal, and your father has your benefit at heart; trust in his judgement, Leana," she said, slowing Meleys down to match Vhagar, the old queen of dragons, not being as fast as she once was.
"You're marrying me to a man who will despise me for what he won't even have a dragon after this? What is he worth without that?" she groaned.
"He is a Hightower and son of the king; the lineage matters even amongst dragons. The one you ride is the mother of most of the war dragons; you know Virmithor, Silverwing and Cannibal all descend from her, with Quick Silver, Dreamfyre and Sheep Stealer descending from Maraxes. Mine is a child of Dreamfyre; we gain certain traits from lineages, and the point is Aemon has a very decorated lineage, and it will only strengthen our house for you to marry him." I said as I adjusted myself to be more comfortable, my chains clinging as I did so.
"Pretty way to say you want me to marry a boy of 9 name days, a boy who is almost double my age," Leana roared as Vhagar seemed to grow agitated to match her rider, the old beast letting out a low growl. Melyes and Sea Smoke instinctively distanced themselves from Vhagar in fear.
"Your father and I had a larger age gap, and no one will have you marry him now. He will be fostered under your father after this to let him know you." I whipped Meleys to try and force her back into formation.
"You were a woman no man wants, a woman twice their age, and I very much doubt Aemon will be the first, especially after I kill his dragon," Leana said, leaning forward into her saddle lazily.
"Well, that's where your lineage comes into play. You're a Targaryen. You won't have to worry about your lord husband's wrath like other noble women. You have a dragon. Also, Queen Visenya and my own grandmother gave birth much later in life. You will be fine, and I will not discuss this any further, Leana. It is set in stone." I said as I sped up, taking my position at the head of the formation.
"What is the plan, Mother?" Leanor said, his voice a bit meek. This was his first type of real combat on a dragon; more so, his was the smallest dragon, and his fear was understandable. 9 out of 10 times, the larger dragon always wins.
"Leana and I will attack the beast together. Vhagar will hold it down as Meleys and I land strikes on it from a distance. You will remain in the back and be a distraction as well as try to take any opportunity you can to burn it." I said in a calm tone as we entered the Reach territory, finally crossing the riverlands.
"What if he's on the dragon?" Leana asked dryly.
"Then we tell him to get off or else it's treason", I replied in a cold tone.
"What if he doesn't?" Leana asked, a bit hopeful.
"Then you shall get your happy marriage after all and your father a big headache ache", I japed as we flew faster, the wind began to grow colder, and I could feel a few drops of water on my hands. Rain was coming.
-The END-
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