Red Keep ― Maegor's Holdfast…
Ser Harwin knelt before the two boys, watching them, ensuring they behaved properly while waiting for their mother to return. Ten years into his tenure as Commander of the City Watch had not dampened his mood nor affected his philosophy on his stern interpretation of enforcing the king's laws, but whenever the Bonebreaker was around Prince Jacaerys and Prince Lucerys, the sharp edges of his personality had worn away. Having been named Princess Rhaenyra's sworn protector by his father Lord Lyonel and Prince Aeonar's enforcer, Harwin fiercely guarded the royal family as a member of the Blacks… but overall, he enjoyed spending time with the children.
"And he sees, a big scary dragon!" Jacaerys played with his toys.
Lucerys sat next to his brother. "'Run, men! Run before the dragon burns us!'" he played along.
Harwin was amused by the boys' playtime activities. However, he had to be cautious of how close he was and how emotionally invested he was in Jace and Luke. Rumors were already circulating the Red Keep about the boys' parentage. Lacking the traditional Velaryon or Targaryen features, whispers had already implied Ser Harwin was their biological father; so, he begrudgingly kept his distance from them to avoid suspicion and potential execution. Once he heard the doors to Rhaenyra's private chambers open, Harwin stood in acknowledgment of Rhaenyra and Laenor.
Having been given proper time to recover from the birth, Rhaenyra was well-rested and adjusted.
"Mother," Jacaerys got to his feet. "Look," he showed his mother a brazier. Lifting the lid, it was revealed to carry a dragon egg with brown coloring and gold scales, with the burning hot coals of the brazier to keep the temperature stable.
"We chose an egg for the baby," Lucerys told her.
"Ahh, that looks like the perfect one," Rhaenyra observed.
"I let Luke choose."
"Thank you, Jace."
Harwin approached. "Not every day an egg leaves the Dragonpit, princess. I thought it best to escort the lads," he informed them.
"Laenor and I thank you, Commander," Rhaenyra replied.
"Another boy, I heard," Harwin noticed the sleeping newborn Joffrey. Rhaenyra nodded in confirmation.
Laenor gently bounced the baby in his arms. "What a fine knight you are going to make, eh?" he said softly to not wake him up.
"Might I?"
Rhaenyra looked up at him. She knew what Harwin wanted. "Ser Harwin wishes to be introduced to Joffrey," she told her husband.
"Oh, of course," Laenor complied. He had no problem with allowing Harwin to hold the newborn at all. As members of the Blacks, they were cordial and trusted each other. Both were aware of the growing political tension between the queen and the king's heir. Plus, the more time spent in proximity, both the heir to Driftmark and the Bonebreaker grew to form a camaraderie.
"Joffrey, is it?"
"Mm-hmm."
Laenor passed Joffrey to Harwin, watching as the Bonebreaker again softened. Harwin held the baby in his arms, gently bouncing him – never taking his eyes off him. Like with Jace and Luke, the Bonebreaker knew Joffrey was his son as well. Bastard or not, he was still their father and a fierce, loyal protector of those he cared about. Legally, Harwin had no responsibility for any of the three boys – but morally, he couldn't simply abandon them, even if they remained blissfully unaware of their true parentage.
"Father, please may I hold Joffrey?" Lucerys requested.
"No, no. No," Laenor refused, moving to separate the two boys, and pushing them out the door.
"Oh, come on!"
"Luke, I said no. Now back to the Dragonpit for you two before they send out a search party." Laenor closes the door behind him, giving one last nod to Harwin and Rhaenyra.
Once they were alone, Harwin hummed silently to Joffrey – who quickly dozed off in his arms. "You're asleep in front of the Commander of the City Watch," he teased. "Terrible lack of respect."
Rhaenyra chortled. "A certain insolence runs in the family, I'm afraid," she confessed.
Harwin didn't mind. Now that they were alone, he could spend quality time with his lover and their newborn son. For a brief time, the Bonebreaker could finally be the father to his children… but at what cost to his career? The future of House Strong? Or his standing in the Blacks?
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Lucerys grumbled at being sent away, not being allowed to at least get to hold his baby brother. Following behind his elder sibling, the two slinked their way to the Dragonpit. "It's not fair. I wanted to hold him," he complained.
"It can't be helped," Jacaerys replied. "You heard what father said. We've got to go to the Dragonpit and train our dragons if we're to be true riders one day."
"That's… true. But still…"
"Chin up, Luke. You'll get your chance someday. Maybe once we're done here?"
"Hey! Jace, Luke!"
Lucerys and Jacaerys turned their heads up to see their cousins – the twins Aegon and Viserys, as well as Daeron – waving them down. "Aegon! Viserys! Daeron," they acknowledged.
"Hey, you're on your way to the Dragonpit too?" Aegon inquired.
Jacaerys nodded. "Yeah," he answered. "I've got to train with Vermax some more. The Dragonkeepers said he's been getting pretty antsy."
"I hear you. Corxes is rather reckless being cooped up like that. What about Arrax?"
"Mm. I guess he's been needing some room as well," Lucerys suggested.
"Same here," Viserys replied. "Maelyx's been tearing up his cage… more than usual lately. Father said each of our dragons needs space to fly around and get some exercise if they're to grow bigger one day."
"Why the long face, Luke?" Aegon asked.
"Oh um, well, father wouldn't let me hold Joffrey and kicked us out."
"Aunt Alicent said mother needs a moment to herself after giving birth, right?"
"Yeah, it's best that way," Viserys replied. "Mother said a woman isn't at her best once she has a baby and all. Glad we're not one. But chin up, Luke. Things will look up for you."
Aegon grinned wickedly. "Before that, though, wait until you see what the rest of us have in store," he said.
That got Jacaerys's attention. "Wait, so you guys got it?" he implied.
"Oh, we got it all right. Me, Viserys, Daeron, uncle Aegon… it's ready. You want in on the details?"
Sensing another prank in the making, Lucerys eagerly nodded. This helped to lift his spirits. He was now excited to be part of having fun with his cousins.
"Well, since someone else is without a dragon…"
Pentos ― Prince Reggio's manse…
Across the Narrow Sea, in the Free City of Pentos, Caraxes glided across the ocean – tracing his tail above the surface – before raising himself higher into the air. Beating his wings, the Blood Wyrm ascended into the skies, passing by Pentoshi aristocrats.
"Wow! Yaaay!" the foreign nobles cheered.
Daemon Targaryen, having married Laena Velaryon, was more than content with his new life in Pentos as an honored guest in the mansion of Prince Reggio Haratis with a family of his own. In the past decade, he has sired two daughters – Baela (10) and Rhaena (8). Both his daughters inherited the Valyrian silver-white hair, had purple eyes, the darker skin of their Velaryon mother, had fine features, and were inseparable. Whereas Baela was more like her father: wild, willing, and fearless, Laena was shyer and more ladylike. The Rogue Prince had no son of his own, but with a third child currently on the way a part of him believed the next one to finally be a boy. Still, even if he didn't express it, Daemon loved his girls more than anything else. Since leaving Westeros, he has had no contact with his brother King Viserys, his nephew Aeonar, or his niece Rhaenyra. They all had their own lives to live, now he has his.
"*Reeeeee!*" Caraxes screeched.
Daemon remained in his saddle, gripping his harness when a large shadow loomed over him. Looking up, the Rogue Prince was beneath Vhagar as she completely eclipsed them both, racing him along the coast entertaining Pentoshi aristocrats and magisters.
"*Wuuuuuuuurrr!*" Vhagar growled a draconic grumble. The Queen of All Dragons was slower due to her advanced age but was still strong enough to carry herself and fly.
Laena glanced over her shoulder, smirking as she rode her mount. Caraxes squealed as he at last caught up with Vhagar, closing in alongside her left flank. She looked at her husband who then laid back with his arms off his handle. Oh, so you want to show off, huh? Well, Daemon, two can play this game. Patting her dragon three times, Laena held on tight as Vhagar turned upward with Caraxes close behind her. Good. He's close enough. All right, let's see how you like this. "Dracarys!" she commanded.
Vhagar's jaws opened, and a bright orangish hue glowed from the two small tubes in her throat before blasting a jet of conflagration into the clouds before ducking down.
Daemon narrowed his eyes as he and Caraxes blazed through unfazed.
"*Grrrrrr! Roooooaaaaa!*" Caraxes hissed, roaring as he spotted Vhagar descending. Following the Queen of All Dragons, both she and the Blood Wyrm swept over the gathered assembly.
After a long flight around the coast, Caraxes and Vhagar landed with a thunderous stomp several leagues away from the Prince of Pentos' manse. Daemon was among the first to dismount, though Laena was struggling to get down due to her pregnancy and her ancient dragon's sheer size. Soon enough, the Rogue Prince helped his young wife to the ground once she was close enough. Caraxes screeched a vocalization, and Vhagar snorted and groaned before finding a place to lie down to rest.
"Interesting flight, wouldn't you say?" Daemon inquired.
Laena exhaled wearily. Her third pregnancy made her more tired than usual lately. Daemon, they're just using us. I don't want us to stay here any longer. I want us all to go home. You, me, and the girls. Massaging her stomach, she slowly nodded. "Still having a hard time keeping up?" she shot back.
"Oh, we're going there, are we? I would have won that race if you hadn't had Vhagar blast us with dragonflame."
"Why settle for something mediocre when we could spice things up?"
Prince Reggio watched with interest. Two large Targaryen dragons – the fearsome Caraxes and the legendary Vhagar, the Rogue Prince… He's hosted them for ten years, giving them a place to live and providing them with the highest Pentoshi luxury possible to convince Daemon to stay in the city-state for a while longer. As the Prince of Pentos, Reggio looked to protect the city-state from all its enemies. Following his recent converse with his close contact in Westeros, he had grown wary of the Triarchy; no matter how weakened they are, the combined might of Myr, Tyrosh, and Lys were still a formidable force among other city-states – even Volantis was wary of them. I must convince them to stay… permanently. Wealth, lands, titles, whatever it takes. The fate of my people is at stake.
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Later that night, a lavish feast was held to honor Prince Daemon and his family. At Prince Reggio's behest, Daemon, Laena, Baela, and Rhaena were invited to a seat and partake in the festivities. Laid across the table was a wide variety of food: pomegranates, pears, apricots, grapes, squash, turnips, horse meat, lamb, mutton, and deer; all the meats were served fresh and lightly seasoned to perfection.
"The lamb hearts are excellent," Reggio recommended.
"We are fortunate in our cook, Your Excellence," Laena replied. "There's a plum cake yet to be served, which will have us fighting over the crumbs."
"Then before we come to blows… a toast to Aegon the Conqueror, your exalted forebear, who joined our cause against Volantis in the Century of Blood. On the great dragon Balerion, he flew to our aid in Lys and burned a fleet of enemy ships, thus turning the tide."
Daemon raised his cup. "Aegon the Conqueror," he toasted.
"To Aegon," the Pentoshi nobles seconded.
Reggio drank. "This brings me to some business," he cleared his throat. "A proposal I wish to make in the spirit of honoring our storied alliance."
Laena scoffed. "If you aim to marry one of our daughters, Your Excellence, you might have said so in the first place and spared us the history lesson," she said.
"What?!" Baela protested. She wasn't told this! Her parents wouldn't marry her off to an old man… would they? No, no they wouldn't. Daemon would tear apart whoever sought his elder daughter's hand before letting that happen. She looked at her father and mother for support, but all she noticed was how amused everyone was, including her sister, at her expense.
"Uhh, hahaha… I would not count myself so deserving, my lady Laena," Reggio backed off. "I wish to offer you a permanent residence here in Pentos. This manse I would gift to you, outright, along with its farms and lands, the vineyard, and the wood. The tenants would pay their tributes annually to their new Targaryen lord. You would have your freedom of the city and the harbor, as befits your royal station."
Daemon contemplated the offer. It was tempting, having a palace of his own. There's more to it than that, isn't there? Of course, there is. "Continue," he beckoned.
Laena looked at her husband dispiritedly. She was hesitant; again, she didn't want to stay in a foreign country so far from home.
"I've just made contact with your nephew in Westeros, Prince Daemon," Reggio revealed. "Lys and its allies are on the move again. In time, the Triarchy will turn its sights north. Your family has dragons. Three now, maybe four in the future."
"Wait! Nephew?" Baela's ears perked up. "I-I have a cousin?" she sounded surprised.
"We have a cousin?" Rhaena was surprised too.
"Cousins," Daemon corrected his daughters. "Plural. You have more than one." He turned to Reggio. So… you're my nephew's contact here. Very deceptive of you, Your Excellence. "From my nephew. I see. And what exactly has Prince Aeonar told you, Your Excellence?" he inquired.
The Prince of Pentos cleared his throat. "His agents sent word that General Racallio and Admiral Sharako Lohar have again invaded the Stepstones but are being met with fierce resistance in the south from your in-laws of House Velaryon. Many who fought them before flocked to answer Driftmark's call to arms in driving them out. So far, Qoren Martell of Dorne is staying neutral. You, who engaged them in battle before, Prince Daemon, should understand my concerns. I aim to protect Pentos from the lustful eye of the Triarchy. Aid Pentos in this, as Aegon the Conqueror once did for us… and my gratitude will fill your cup and overflow it."
He means to use us as a deterrent. Laena realized. "Your Excellence, we are travelers. We've already extended our visit here," she tried to decline.
Daemon placed his hand on his wife's, silencing her. "It's a most generous offer. And one we will certainly entertain," he told Reggio.
Laena pulled her hand away. Why? How could Daemon seriously be considering it without her input? What was going on in the Rogue Prince's head? Yes, both Baela and Rhaena were born in Pentos, but Laena felt her daughters didn't belong here – rather, she wanted them to grow up in Driftmark where she was born. Laena wanted to introduce them to their grandparents and let them know the rest of their family. But how could she if she and her entire family were to remain behind the gilded bars of Pentos luxury for the rest of their lives?
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Once the feast ended, Daemon retreated to his quarters with Baela to teach her how to speak, read, and translate High Valyrian languages. So far, the Rogue Prince was pleased with how quickly his daughter was progressing in her studies of their proud, Valyrian ancestry; ten years old and with a dragon of her own, Moondancer. She was the blood of the dragon just like him.
"Father? How come you never told us we had cousins? How come they never visit us?" Baela asked.
Daemon was silent. He hadn't spoken about his family for a long time. "We didn't… exactly part ways on the best of terms," he explained. "I'm not particularly welcome back in King's Landing. So, we've been estranged from each other ever since."
"Well… can you at least tell me what they were like?"
"Hmm. Rhaenyra was a lot like you. Always independent-minded, strong-willed, and adventurous; bold, daring at times. She preferred to ride her dragon, Syrax, across the Seven Kingdoms. Like you and Moondancer."
"Really?"
"Mm."
"What about the other one?"
"The other one… You mean Aeonar. Rode one of the fastest dragons in the world, Vaelor. Mostly did what he was told, what was… expected of him when he was your age. Once he got bigger, though, I guess you could say we saw each other as competition. Always fighting, always seeking to outdo each other."
"Why?"
"Looking back on it now, I felt as if my position as my brother's heir was somehow usurped by his young son. Did what I thought was best to take back my claim to the Iron Throne. But enough time passes, and you eventually lose interest once your place in the line of succession gets steeper… now that he has sons of his own."
"Can we see them one day?"
Daemon pondered. "Maybe… but not now," he added. Hearing footsteps, the Rogue Prince turned to see Laena approaching and staring at him. "That'll do. Make sure you and your sister are tucked in for the night."
"Yes, father. Goodnight," Baela kissed her father's cheek. "Goodnight, mother," she kissed her mother's cheek.
"Goodnight, sweet girl," Laena reciprocated. Once her daughter was out of earshot, she returned her attention to her husband. "Don't tell me you are considering Prince Reggio's offer."
Daemon scoffed. Here we go again. "We have a good life here," he rose from his seat and began piling books on each other before putting them away. "We're free to do as we please, welcomed, and feted," he explained.
"And eternally guests."
"Precisely. We are without responsibility. The political scheming, the endless shifting of loyalties, and succession is none of ours."
"They are using us."
"It's refreshing, isn't it? A simple transaction. We have dragons, they have gold," Daemon turned around and sat back down at his desk.
Laena turned around. "We are more than this, Daemon," she insisted. "We are not minstrels or mummers who play at the pleasure of an alien prince. We are the blood of Old Valyria. We don't belong here."
"Valyria is gone, Laena. We don't belong anywhere." Daemon turned at his young wife, placing a hand on her swollen belly.
Laena took his hand in hers. "I want my child to be born where I was born, on Driftmark, in my lord father's castle. I want my daughters to be raised in their homeland with the rest of their family according to their birthright. I want them to know they still have people back home who care about them. For them to get to know her kin. And at my end, I want to die a dragonrider's death. Not that of some fat country lord."
Daemon said nothing but could only watch as Laena walked away from him. Flipping the pages of his book, the Rogue Prince was left with his thoughts. Halfway through, he shook his head as the memories of his misspent youth came back. Always having to defend Viserys, getting into fights with Aeonar, grooming Rhaenyra, fighting in tournaments and on the battlefield… what more could be expected for a man of his reputation? Hasn't he done enough already?