Robert’s Second Chance: Dance of Dragons Rewritten

Jace

"I have not dismissed you, Daemon," Rhaenyra snarled as Jace's stepfather turned from her, heading for the main door to lead him out of Dragonstone's castle.

"Whether you have dismissed me or not, it changes nothing," he called over his shoulder, pace not slowing. "If I do not return to Harrenhal immediately, the war is lost."

"I am your QUEEN!" she said icily, charging after him with her Queensguard clanging along behind her.

"You shall be Queen of the Seven Hells if I do not stop the Tullys from taking Harrenhal!" he spat, yanking open the door and beckoning Jace to follow him.

For a moment, Jace feared his legs would not obey, rooted to the spot as he desperately tried to force his mind to absorb the implications of what Daemon had told them.

Luke is dead. Joffrey is dead. Aegon is a hostage. And now Baela is dead too…

Baela. His cousin. His friend…

He'd never been in love with her, not truly. But he did love her. After her mother died, she was warded on Driftmark, but it was a short flight, and she visited often. Together, all of them had taken the journey from childhood into adolescence, and he had many fond memories of their adventures. A happy, peaceful, wonderful childhood, so unlike the one that he'd known in King's Landing. Romance or no romance, he was happy at the prospect of marrying Baela.

And now she was dead. Not merely dead, but…

Jace had to bring a hand to his mouth to force back another rush of nausea before he could vomit. Crabs…they fed her to the crabs…alive…

But although horror dominated his mind, the grief and sadness over her loss was indiscernible, blended seamlessly into the grief that already drowned him from losing Joffrey and Luke.

I'm failing her even in this. She deserves to be grieved independently, he thought weakly. Grieved for who she was. Not just as one more wonderful person who was stolen from me.

At least she had her grandmother to award her that. Rhaenys had fled the Great Hall the instant Daemon delivered the news, refusing all attempts at consolation, even as Corlys chased after her. Jace could not begin to imagine the thoughts circulating her mind. Baela and Rhaena were all she had left of her own children.

As for Daemon…if Jace thought he'd been lost to madness before, it was nothing compared to now. The things he threatened to do to the Greens…And not just the threats themselves, but the horrifying smile on his face when he said them…

But I refuse to believe that Little Aegon is dead, Jace thought. They made sure we knew that Baela was dead. They would have done the same with Aegon if they killed him. And the fact that they haven't killed him yet means they might just be hoping for an ending more peaceful than total annihilation.

There had to be something Jace could do to get his brother back. But what? He'd offered to take Aegon's place and serve as a hostage instead, but everyone refused. They needed Vermax.

The shouting continued, and Jace forced himself to finally walk, chasing after his parents as they left the Great Hall and began to descend Dragonstone's steps.

"SEVEN HELLS WITH HARRENHAL!" Rhaenyra screamed at Daemon's back. "They have our son! OUR SON! You read the raven same as me; he's alive!"

"Lies," Daemon spat, not turning to look at her. "They know we actually love our family, unlike them, and so they're trying another trick to try to lure us into a trap. That fucking cunt from Oldtown damn near succeeded."

Daeron. Jace frowned. This had been coordinated far too well; it couldn't possibly be a coincidence. They had known exactly when Baela and Addam would be on Driftmark. Exactly when Aegon's ship would be passing through the blockade on its way to Pentos.

It has to be the spy…

"With what they did to Baela, they are not going to spare our son. She was far more valuable a hostage; the Greens could have used her as leverage to force the Velaryons to withdraw from the war. Instead, they killed her, burned the fleet and sacked High Tide. They mean to exterminate us. Exterminate the true Targaryen line and supplant it with the spawn of House Hightower!"

"He's our son!" Rhaenyra reached out and grabbed him by the arm, halting his progress. "And I will not accept that he is dead until I see his body."

"Accept it or do not, it is of no relevance," Daemon said, ripping his arm out of her grasp. "If you are correct, then we will rescue him when we take King's Landing. If I am correct, then we need to focus our efforts on saving our living son and my living daughter."

Jace tried not to flinch when his own name was excluded. Surely he only meant that I would be helping him to do the saving, which is why I need not be saved…

"Jace," Daemon called curtly. "With me to Harrenhal. Now. Rhaenys can…"

He stopped himself, cursing, then spoke again in High Valyrian…which to his shame, Jace could not properly decipher. But he got the overall idea. Even in High Valyrian, Daemon did not want to verbalize their plans, for fear of the spy.

Unless the Greens had learned the art of sorcery, their spy was masterful. Not only had the Greens uncovered carefully guarded secrets, but they uncovered them almost immediately, what with how quickly they acted.

There are only two possibilities, Jace thought. Dragonstone has secret passageways that we have not yet been able to find, or the Velaryons betrayed us, and then in turn got betrayed by the Greens…

Jace could not envision the latter. Rhaenys could have easily killed the lot of them by now were she secretly a Green. So it must be the former.

Then the only way to escape this spy is…

"Mother," Jace declared, squaring his shoulders when she wheeled on him and glared, her expression so angry it bordered on hatred.

I may never have her forgiveness for getting Joffrey killed, but that will not stop me from protecting her. From protecting all that remains of my family.

"You must pack a satchel with what you need most," he said. "And then you and Viserys must leave Dragonstone."

She blinked at him, her gaze not softening. "Have you gone mad?" she whispered. "Dragonstone is…"

"No longer safe," Jace finished for her. "The Greens have the Cannibal, Vhagar, Dreamfyre, Sunfyre, and Tessarion. Seasmoke is dead. Moondancer is dead. Stormcloud is dead. Caraxes is leaving for Harrenhal, and now I must join him."

"We have…"

"I do not trust Hugh and Ulf enough to leave your protection to them," Jace continued. "They are rude and crass, and I have no way to discern if they are honorable men. Even I did trust them, they cannot stay here at all times because we need them to take Maidenpool. And even then, Vermithor and Silverwing are no match for The Cannibal and Vhagar combined."

Jace was trying very diligently not to let his thoughts wander to The Cannibal.

"Your only reliable protection is Syrax," Jace finished. "And what with their spy, the Greens will know it. It's not safe for you and Viserys to stay here a moment longer.

Fleeing was not in Rhaenyra's nature, and Jace could see traces of her old self re-emerging in the form of indignity…but undoubtedly, she remembered it was not merely her own safety that was in peril.

Her gaze flashed to Daemon, and he nodded. "So long a you and Syrax remain available as a last resort," he agreed.

Rhaenyra paused for several long seconds, then sighed reluctantly. "I will leave within the hour," she agreed. "I will fly for…"

"Don't speak it," Jace interrupted. "Let us know when you get there. To a trusted place, with no spies to overhear."

She nodded, and without another word, made her way back into the castle to collect the belongings she needed for the escape.

But although Daemon had agreed with the plan, Jace could tell he was seething. It was as though he could read his stepfather's thoughts; every one of them was etched on his face.

The Greens are killing us hand over fist.

The stole mother's throne and twisted the minds of the lords who swore to her.

Otto Hightower's grandson sits the throne.

They have forced us to abandon our ancestral seat. And now it will be infinitely harder to plan our counterattack.

But there was no room left in Jace's heart for rage or indignity. Only a desperate, aching need to prevent more pain. To keep from losing anyone else he loved. Nothing else mattered anymore. Not even the throne. Victory was not worth the price they had already paid. It certainly would not be worth the cost of even one more drop of blood spilt.

Surrender, however, was no longer an option. Jace had seen Aegon's letter, the same as the rest of them:

Your son has not been mistreated and is being kept in accordance with his station. I have no desire to see that change. For the sake of my people, I will still allow you to sue for peace, but if you will not, then understand that another murder like that of Gwayne Hightower will not go unanswered.

Allowing us to sue for peace could mean anything, Jace thought. He no longer guarantees our safety.

We must win. We must. Or more like than not, we will all share Baela's fate…

Rhaenys

He's controlling Vermithor much better today than yesterday, Rhaenys thought, tears streaming down her cheeks as she watched Hugh Hammer circling the rock formations around Dragonstone. A small consolation, but one she clung to for dear life.

The handful of small consolations she had were the only things keeping her from walking straight into the ocean and allowing the waves to take her. 

In the decades I have lived, I have seen the death of near everyone who has ever been dear to me, including my own children. And now Baela…

She choked a sob, shaking off Corlys's hand when he came in behind her to try to console her.

I raised her, just as I raised her mother. My Laena was still alive in her. She had her mother's spirit. Her fire. And now she's…

Her knees gave out, and it was only Corlys's arms that kept her from collapsing into the sand.

"I could have burned them!" she lamented. "Killed them all when I had the chance!"

And now, without her dragon, she could not even take justice. She would gladly have flown to King's Landing to claim their charred corpses as recompense, even at the cost of her own life.

But Daemon still has his dragon…

As if reading her mind, Corlys shook his head. "Enough, Rhaenys," he said softly. "I have borne all the consequences of my avarice that I can bear."

She stiffened, shaking his arms off of her so she could rise to her feet. "You mean to let this stand?" she whispered lethally. "She is your granddaughter!"

"Aye, she was," Corlys agreed. "And in one day, I lost her, 3/4ths of our ships, the Driftwood throne, and damn near everything I spent my life cultivating. I mean to conserve what little we have left."

"Rhaena is safe, in the Vale…"

"Safe for how long, Rhaenys?" He sighed. "The Greens have five adult dragons, and amongst them is the Cannibal. How long until they attack the Eyrie for not bending the knee? How long until they kill Rhaena or abduct her?"

"Corlys…"

"We've lost, Rhaenys," he insisted. Gesturing to Vermithor, he shook his head. "Vermithor and Silverwing or no, we have lost. If we bow out of the war and Rhaenyra wins, Rhaena is safe, because Daemon would never allow his daughter to be harmed."

She scoffed. "If we bow out, Lady Jeyne's soldiers will remain in the Vale. Daemon will have no reinforcements at Harrenhal. Rhaenyra will lose the war, and the Greens will execute us as traitors."

"Not if we make a deal with the Greens."

"The Greens can't be reasoned with!" she snapped, but even as the words escaped her, she knew it was her anger talking.

The Greens have done nothing but try to reason with us since this began. How many attempts had Aegon made at peace negotiations?

So instead, she said, "Of course they desire peace. They stole the throne, and now they want us to peacefully let them have it."

Corlys sighed again. "Rhaenys, you cannot possibly believe Rhaenyra still has a chance at victory."

"I don't give a shit if she ends up on the Iron Throne or not," she spat bitterly, surprising even herself with the crassness. "I don't give a shit if Maegor himself rises from the Seven Hells and claims it. All that matters to me is that the Greens pay for what they did to Baela."

He flinched, stepping back away from her. "And what of Rhaena?"

Rhaenys set her jaw, then jerked her head towards where Silverwing was flying out to meet Vermithor.

"Tomorrow, you will take what is left of our ships, retrieve Lady Jeyne's soldiers, and ferry them to help Ulf the White claim Maidenpool," she said. "One dragon will suffice. I am sending Vermithor to the Eyrie to guard Rhaena. Daemon won't dare say a word against it. Not if we threaten to withhold our support."

"It's not just Rhaena, they have…" He stopped himself, eyes flashing guiltily as he looked away from her.

It didn't matter. Drawing back her hand, she slapped him across the face.

"They have Alyn of Hull?" she whispered lethally. "Your bastard son?"

Corlys swallowed, not saying a word, even when Rhaenys slapped him again.

"You would sacrifice your chance to avenge your granddaughter for the safety of your bastard?" she sobbed. "I wanted you to name Baela your heir years ago, but you named Rhaenyra's bastard instead. Do the descendants I've given to you mean nothing?"

"They mean everything to me!" he said. "And if I believed there was a chance to avenge Baela, I would take it, but there isn't. I will lose Rhaena, I will lose Alyn the way I lost his brother, I will lose what's left of my ships, and I will lose you as well!"

A soft crunching of sand echoed behind them, followed by, "We don't expect you to take the risk for no reward, Grandfather."

They turned to see Jace standing before them, wearing a somber expression.

"I lost her too," he whispered. "She was supposed to be my wife. I loved her."

We may not be fighting this war if your mother had children by Laenor rather than by Harwin Strong. But she swallowed those words. Jace's bastardy was not his fault.

"But it's not about avenging Baela. It's not even about the throne. It's about preserving what we have left," Jace insisted.

"And we cannot do that if we continue this farce of a war," Corlys said defeatedly, but Jace shook his head.

"Mother and Daemon will never bend the knee," Jace said somberly. "Not after the Greens killed so many of their children. And I will not abandon my mother. There are many in the realm who would still fight for their Queen. We have a chance, but we need to change our strategy, lest they keep picking us off one-by-one."

"Jacaerys…" Corlys sighed, but Jace ignored him.

"In exchange for your continued aid," Jace said, "Her Grace agrees to legitimize Alyn of Hull once we rescue him from Green custody. You may name him the next Lord of Driftmark, and we will marry him to Rhaena."

Rhaenys gnashed her teeth. Corlys's bastard inheriting Driftmark? But what choice was left? Rhaenys loved Rhaena deeply, but she was not fit to be Lady of the Tides. She was dragonless, knew nothing about sailing, and lacked her sister's strength. She could never command a fleet of ships. However, she could manage Driftmark itself while her husband managed the fleet. Though it pained her to admit it, Alyn of Hull was a capable sailor.

And I suppose Driftmark would still pass through my bloodline. But what mattered most is that it might be enough to convince Corlys to remain a participant in the war.

"You are asking me to gamble…"

"With what you will lose anyway," Jace countered. "You've seen how the Greens have treated myself and my brothers over the mere suspicion that we may be illegitimate."

Rhaenys smothered the urge to roll her eyes. Whom exactly do you think you're deceiving, Jace?

"Surely you don't believe they will agree to legitimize Alyn. Not after you've gone to battle against them. Even if they spare you, Driftmark will not pass through your line. He will likely choose to take Driftmark away from House Velaryon altogether and give it to his own loyalists."

They proved to be exactly the words Corlys needed to hear. Eyes flashing, Rhaenys saw a glimmer of the fearsome Sea Snake pierce through her husband's cloud of grief.

"If I treat with them…"

"You have nothing they want, Grandfather," Jace reminded him. "A fourth of your fleet is valuable to us, but Aegon already has four fleets of ships in the area, and he has the Lannister fleet on reserve as well. He's already stolen your wealth. You have no value to him. But you do have value to us. And once we win and reclaim your gold from the Greens, we can start helping you rebuild your fleet so that your son has something of substance to inherit." 

Another flash appeared in Corlys's eyes.

You must agree, husband. Our cause is lost without you…

"I will…" He gritted his teeth, drawing a deep, hissing breath. "I will ready what is left of my men. But for transportation purposes only. I will not be engaging in any further battles. I will not risk what is left of my ships."

Jace sighed in relief. "Transportation is all we need," he agreed. "I'll send word to Gulltown today."

And I will tell Ulf the White and Hugh Hammer to prepare to fly for the Vale, Rhaenys thought, her jaw set in determination.

The Next Day

Cregan

Winterfell's hall overflowed with men and with ale. Fortunately, on this day, it overflowed with meat as well, thanks to a successful hunt the day before. The elk meant Cregan's bannermen could all eat well today. Yet another blessing. It was difficult enough to feed the assembled men-at-arms outside of Winterfell's gates, all of whom were waiting for the Lords to make their decision. The North had a poor harvest, and feeding thousands of soldiers was forcing Cregan to dip into Winterfell's limited food supply.

A factor that had already been discussed at their conclave.

The Reach and Riverlands had bountiful harvests this autumn, Lord Bolton had pointed out. Far more than they need. The Greens have promised to feed us while we are south of the Neck, which will leave more food available for our people here. Furthermore, they have offered to allow us to take several wagonloads of grain back with us when we return.

True.

Not if the Greens don't win the war, Lord Dustin had countered. If they lose and we've backed them, the Blacks will rightfully deem us traitors to the realm and ensure we never see a crumb.

Also true.

So you want us to support a faction who would leave us to starve, and possibly burn us as well, solely out of spite?

And on and on it went as issues in support of each side were debated. Until, of course, the raven arrived from King's Landing, and Cregan read Otto Hightower's letter aloud to his bannermen, starting the debate anew:

In his wisdom, our King has recommitted to correcting past errors, however well-intentioned those errors may have been.

His Grace's great-grandmother, the Good Queen Alysanne, is responsible for a great many wonderful advancements, of which House Targaryen takes pride. However, in her well-intentioned effort to aid the Night's Watch…

That part of Otto Hightower's letter had the entire hall tomb-silent, each and every bannerman hanging on Cregan's words.

Eighty years ago, Queen Alysanne had convinced her husband that the Night's Watch needed more land for farming and taxation, and the King had agreed, ordering Brandon's Gift, a stretch of land ranging twenty-five leagues south of the wall, to be doubled, taking the land away from Northern Lords who rightfully owned it. The "official" story stated that the lovable Queen charmed Alaric Stark into agreeing to the New Gift. The true story was that the Starks tried everything in their power to resist what they considered to be a theft from their bannermen, but to no avail. For what power did they have to fight against the Targaryen dragons?

But now…

Whether the Lords of Winter choose to lend their support to the Crown or not, this error will be rectified. Not only was the land wrongfully taken, but the Night's Watch is too thinly stretched to properly maintain it or protect it from Wildling invasions. 

His Grace has ordered an evaluation to determine how much of that land truly is critical for the Watch's farming needs. Any land that is not deemed of critical importance will be returned to the Northern Lords from which it was taken. Any land that is deemed of critical importance will remain in the possession of the Night's Watch, but the House from which it was taken will be compensated from the Crown's own coffers. Any land that solely benefits the Night's Watch with taxation income will be returned as well, as it is the duty of the Crown to provide the Night's Watch with the coin needed to fund its operations.

We also pledge to you the support of our dragon riders in ridding the North of any Wildling invaders who have taken advantage of the Watch's inability to maintain The New Gift. Once again, this support will be given regardless of whether or not the North supports the Crown in ending the rebellion of Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen. We would not presume to bribe you by giving back something that never should have been taken in the first place.

While bribery may not have been Otto's intention, it had the same effect. The instant Cregan's bannermen (particularly the northernmost Houses) heard that they might be getting some of their historic land back, the hall erupted in a cacophony of voices.

It was Lord Glover who seemed to sum up their opinions the most eloquently: "I don't give a single wet shit WHAT silver-haired inbred sits their royal ass on some metal chair a thousand leagues away! I want my family's land back, and I'll fight for whoever gives it to me!"

A sentiment most of the northern-most lords were happy to echo. 

The Lords from the more southern part of the Kingdom, however…

"And how do we know that King Viserys's named heir would not offer us the same if we asked?" Lord Dustin said gruffly. "You would have us abandon our oaths without giving her a chance to match their offer?"

Umber snorted. "Why should we bother asking the Blacks when we already have a promise in hand from the Greens?"

Dustin balled his fists. "Perhaps it has escaped your memory, but more than twenty-years ago, I myself bent the knee to the then-Princess Rhaenyra. I swore an oath to her and her father. An oath I was never asked to retract!"

"Because it when you swore that oath, King Viserys didn't have a male heir," Bolton reminded him. "It goes without saying that when he did have one, his firstborn son would be his heir!"

And on and on it went, another cycle of arguments starting anew.

Oaths vs. Implications.

Tradition vs. Orders.

And the one that gave Cregan the greatest pause of all: Honor vs. Practicality.

"We're not violating our duty to honor by supporting the Greens," Lord Ryswell argued. "Because what is honorable is unclear."

More unclear than you know, Lord Ryswell.

Because the Lord of the Rills, like all of Cregan's bannermen, had not seen the second message the raven had carried. One that Cregan had read silently whilst his men were arguing amongst themselves, then discreetly threw into the hearth before anyone could inquire about it.

A letter that Borros Baratheon had no business writing.

Lord Stark,

His Grace the King intends to keep his promises to the North. The revised tax agreement, the food from the Reach, the reclaimed land from the New Gift…and yet you and I both know that none of it will be worth a warm bucket of piss in the long term.

I know the truth, Lord Stark. I know the reason why there must always be a Stark in Winterfell. I know the reason why the Old Kings of Winter are so revered in the North. I know the reason why your bannermen will follow whatever you tell them, whether they agree with your ruling or not.

I know the reason why your ancestor, Bran the Builder, designed the Wall.

At that point, Cregan's hands started shaking. No Southerner could possibly know that…Cregan wasn't even sure he believed it himself, all the stories his wetnurse told him about what lurked beyond the Wall. The Others…

And Lord Stark, I know that the Wall shields the realm from more than mere Wildlings.

Fuck…How? Borros would have needed to be told the stories by someone of Northern Blood, which was unlikely because even many Northern Lords saw them as no more than ghost stories.

Rest assured, Lord Stark, between the Greens and the Blacks, it is the Greens who have more stake in honoring their promise to protect Westeros. The Greens are the blood of Old Valyria, but through our Queen Mother, King Aegon also has Westerosi roots going back thousands of years. And it will be the Greens who stand with the North should the Wall ever fail.

There was only one explanation. Viserys must have known about the promise that Aegon the Conqueror made to Torrhen Stark in exchange for his submission. The pact that one day, Fire and Ice would unite to save the realm from the threat beyond the Wall.

A pact that Aegon II, through Borros Baratheon, now promised to honor.

As the Lords of the North argued, Cregan's mind swam. For thousands of years, the Stark name has been synonymous with honor, and so Cregan must behave with honor as well. But was it honorable to keep his father's oath when doing so could potentially cost his bannermen the right to reclaim land that had been taken from them?

When doing so could cost his men the food and tax agreement that Aegon had promised?

When doing so could lead to thousands of innocent lives lost? The Greens were winning the war; that was undeniable. If the North sided with them, it would make the victory more decisive. But if they sided with the Blacks, even if they won, far more soldiers and smallfolk would die.

Was it honorable to (if the stories were true) cost future Northerners Targaryen support if the Wall ever fell? Cregan wasn't certain he believed in the Others, but if there was the slightest chance that they were truly real…

Do I even know if Viserys wanted Rhaenyra to remain heir after Aegon was born? Cregan thought, folding his arms. He never asked for the Lords to renew their oaths to her after Aegon was born. And the fact that Aegon knows about the pact between Torrhen and the Conqueror indicates that Viserys might have passed the knowledge to his son. It's entirely possible that Lord Bolton is right. That Viserys thought it went without saying that his firstborn son would succeed him.

Taking a deep breath, Cregan raised his hands, calling for silence in his hall.

"Honor…in this case…is too murky to discern," Cregan reluctantly admitted. "We can remain in this hall until three winters come and go, and we may never determine the truth of who is the 'rightful' heir. And so we must do what is best for our people. And what is best for our people…is to fight for the Greens."

Another chorus of voices erupted, some praising Cregan's decision, the odd few grumbling in dissent, but as Borros Baratheon predicted, none of them outright refused.

"All of you have brought your fighting men here to Winterfell," Cregan said. "Tell them what has been decided here today. For tomorrow, we march south."

One Day Later

Robert

"Maidenpool has fallen, your grace," Robert snarled in disgust as he read the raven from Lord Moonton aloud to the Small Council.

And after everything we did to wrest his support away from the Blacks.

"We received warnings from both Moonton and the Manderlys," Robert continued. "Corlys Velaryon used what few ships he had left to ferry the Knights of the Vale to Maidenpool. The Manderlys tried to intercept, but they only had a handful of ships within shouting distance, and the Velaryons were guarded by the dragon, Silverwing. The Manderlys had no choice but to retreat, and Maidenpool had no choice but to surrender."

At least the Manderlys and Sistermen have blockaded the Bay of Crabs. The Velaryon fleet is trapped. We can easily pick them off… But that would have to wait until after the Knights of the Vale were dealt with.

Aegon balled his fists, eyes flashing angrily, but surprisingly, his brother Aemond sat up straight in his chair, smirking.

"They mean to march the Knights of the Vale to Harrenhal to rendevouz with our uncle," Aemond said. "This is excellent. We know exactly where their reinforcements are and where they're going."

"And that they're guarded by a dragon," Aegon added darkly.

"One dragon," Aemond corrected. "Silverwing. Lord Moonton made no mention of Vermithor in his letter. Likely because the Blacks do not have enough dragons to spare."

Aethan, granted a seat at the council by his status as a dragonrider, tentatively raised a hand, as if unsure if it was permissible for him to speak until Aegon gave him a nod.

"Your Grace," he said. "I agree with the Prince. I heard much about Silverwing and Vermithor while I was on Dragonstone with the other seeds. Those dragons are mates. They work as a team. If the Blacks have separated them because they don't have enough dragons to spare both, then both Silverwing AND Vermithor are going to be on uneven footing…um…wing-ing?"

Aegon raised a hand to stop him before he could make it worse. "I understand, Aethan," he assured him. "As old and large as Vermithor is, the Bronze Fury has only seen combat once. Silverwing has never fought at all. Jaehaerys and Alysanne used them for transportation and intimidation. Inexperienced dragons with inexperienced riders who are uncomfortable being apart from each other."

"Which will make Silverwing easy prey for Vhagar or the Cannibal…or both, if you send both of us," Aemond agreed.

Robert ground his teeth, pondering his words. He hated the thought of sending dragons to kill Vermithor or Silverwing. In the original timeline, both Hugh and Ulf had turned cloak on the Blacks, and Robert had hopes that they might do the same now. Especially since the Greens' position was much stronger than it was in the original timeline. But he obviously couldn't say that.

He let his eyes linger on Aethan. It had only been a few days, but Aegon was honoring his promise to treat the dragonseed with the respect due a Targaryen dragon rider. He was polished, richly dressed, and looked like he'd grown up a castle noble. Ulf might remember him from the Sowing. He might remember that he looked like a normal commoner the last time they met.

"If I may, your grace?" Robert said, waiting for Aegon to nod. "I believe it is reasonably safe to send both Aethan and Prince Aemond on missions for the crown, but only Aethan should go to Maidenpool."

When Aemond frowned, Robert quickly explained before the Prince could protest.

"Ulf the White is not a true Black loyalist. He has no loyalty towards Princess Rhaenyra…" he paused, nodding at Aethan, "or animosity towards us. There's no reason to think that he can't be swayed."

Aethan's eyebrows raised. "You want me to try to sway him to our side?" he asked.

Fortunately, Aegon seemed to like the idea as well, giving a half-smile. "You said it best, Aethan. Ulf the White is not going to get the lordship my half-sister promised him if she loses. Surely, he's smart enough to see that he's on the losing side. And if you try to sway him and fail…" He shrugged. "No harm done. The Cannibal is strong enough to annihilate Silverwing by herself."

The idea made Aethan smile, a dangerous flash in his eyes, and he nodded with determination. "I will not fail you, Your Grace," he swore. "I will either return to King's Landing with a powerful war asset, or I will return with Silverwing's skull."

Aemond's frown had deepened into a scowl, and it wasn't hard for Robert to discern why.

He went down a very dark path in the original timeline, but the motivation was always to fight and win for his faction. He's already done a great deal for us, but it must feel like he's sitting on his hands, despite being the rider of our greatest war asset.

Luckily, Robert had a plan for him.

"One last thing, Aethan," Robert said. "While stopping the Knights of the Vale is of critical importance, you must not venture too close to Harrenhal."

"But if I can…"

"No, Lord Borros is right," Aegon cut him off. "We will lay siege to Harrenhal. My uncle and his band of traitors will fall. But we will do it when every piece of the chessboard is properly in place. When we've weakened them sufficiently to crush them with our full strength."

Aethan seemed to like the sound of that, because he nodded submissively and obediently said, "Your grace."

"And as for that full strength, your grace," Otto said, getting up to gesture to the map. "The Northerners are on the march…"

Thank the Gods. Robert did not know if it was Otto's land offer or his own letter that swayed Cregan, and in truth, it didn't matter. The fact that the Greens had Northern support was the only important thing. But some small, sentimental part of Robert hoped that his letter helped.

Once again, it's you and your stories that may have saved the realm, Ned, Robert thought with a smile. All those tales you yourself believed were nonsense…and fuck, they might be nonsense. But they might have helped sway the North to our side. And if I succeed, then your stories may just have helped me save your father, brother, and sister.

"…but it is a long journey and will require time. They have over twenty-thousand men and are requesting dragon support," Otto finished, snapping Robert out of his musings.

Aegon opened his mouth, as if to answer, but then stopped himself, looking at Robert and quirking an eyebrow, silently asking his input.

The time has come for us to put our war assets to best use.

"The end goal," Robert said, gesturing to the map and waving his hand above Harrenhal, "is to surround them and box them in here. The Riverlanders, the Lannisters, and Criston Cole's men are on standby, half a day's march from the castle. Once Silverwing and the Knights of the Vale are dealt with, we can move Cole's men forward to box them in from the east. We'll split the Hightower army, leaving half here to defend the city just in case, and the other half will block the Blacks from the south of Harrenhal. Then, the Northern army will be in place to block them from the North."

"Trapped like the rats that they are," Aegon said, smiling.

Robert nodded. "And so, your grace, now is the time to start moving the dragons. Silverwing will be dealt with tomorrow. For better or for worse, I cannot predict, but she will be dealt with. That will leave the Blacks with Caraxes, Syrax, Vermax, and Vermithor. Daemon and Jacaerys cannot risk abandoning Harrenhal while we're surrounding it; their only allies would be destroyed. So as long as we keep both Sunfyre and Dreamfyre in King's Landing to defend it, the city will be safe."

Aegon's eye twitched at the mention of Dreamfyre, and Robert didn't blame him. He didn't like the thought of Helaena defending the city either. But she was the rider of a very large and very powerful dragon. If the city was attacked, not utilizing her simply wasn't an option.

"Dreamfyre will patrol the city as a deterrent only," Aegon countered darkly, his tone leaving no room for argument.

For now, Robert decided not to push. "I can't envision an attack on the city anyway, your grace," Robert conceded. "Not when they have no soldiers anywhere in the vicinity. Especially when we will have our allies fortifying our guard over Blackwater Bay."

"Hmm," Aegon agreed, turning his attention back to the map. "Daeron, you will accompany the half of the Hightower army that we send north to Harrenhal," he said.

Daeron nodded with determination. His victory over the Gullet had helped, but the young prince was still restless. Still determined to avenge his uncle. Eager to get back into battle.

"Your kin will not fail you, your grace," Ormund promised him. "All of our men are ready to fight for our King and avenge Gwayne."

Aegon nodded gratefully, smiling before looking at his other brother. "Aemond, you and Vhagar will fly North to escort Cregan Stark's army. The Northerners are going to be the largest portion of our army, and thus the most likely to be attacked. We need our most experienced war dragon guarding them."

Exactly what I would have chosen, Robert smiled gruffly. He's thinking strategically.

"And Aethan," Aegon said to his newest rider. "Silverwing is your primary objective. Once she's dealt with, I want you to fly west and protect the Westerland and Riverlander armies. If you are successful in swaying Ulf the White, then you may assign him to guard Criston Cole's men as they surround Harrenhal from the east. If you are unsuccessful, then we will wait until we are ready to make our final strike, and I will fly to guard them with Sunfyre."

The denials were almost immediate: Alicent, Otto, Ormund, Aemond, and Daeron all began talking at once, but Aegon stopped them with a firm glare, rising to his feet.

"Regardless of whether we secure Silverwing's support or not, I will be participating in the attack on Harrenhal when we are ready to make it."

Robert understood. Better than anyone in the room, he understood. You intend to win your war with your dragon, just as I won mine with my war hammer. And so when he opened his mouth, he only meant to voice his support, but Aegon shook his head before he could speak. Undoubtedly thinking Robet was going to try to talk him out of it.

"I understand the risks," Aegon said. "Just as I understood them when I flew to Rook's Rest. But if I am not willing to fight for my throne and my kingdom, then I don't deserve either. I have two sons; my succession is secured. I need to do my part in ensuring I have a kingdom to leave to them."

Robert smiled, a strange feeling of pride welling in his chest as he looked at the young king. Good for you, boy. Even in the original timeline, Aegon II had never lacked for courage or grit.

"Your grace," Otto urged. "You've already fought. You defended Rook's Rest from Vermax and Tyraxes, and…"

"And the war is not yet won, grandfather," Aegon said decisively. "This is not up for debate. I have made my decision." 

The room fell silent, no one willing to argue with their King's ruling, even if they didn't agree, until Robert finally broke it, his voice booming across the chamber.

"On the morrow, then!" he agreed, but before everyone could rise to their feet, he added. "Aethan, Prince Aemond, one last thing. Well, two last things."

Two last things that just might push us over the edge to victory…

Aemond

Bring out the damned dessert course, Aemond silently urged the servant. I want to get this over with so I can…

But he stopped the thought, chastising himself. Tomorrow morning, he was mounting Vhagar and flying off to war, this time, not returning until Harrenhal was reclaimed. Even if that meant he would be away for weeks…or permanently, if he died in combat.

Abby looked up at him, a smile on her lovely face as she daintily took a sip of wine from her cup. His betrothed deserved his full and undivided attention on this, his last night in the castle before going to war. She deserved better than a future husband who wanted to rush through the meal so he could enjoy a true farewell, sharing a bed with his brother and sister. She deserved a loving mate. It was his duty, and…

"So, dare I ask his name?" Abby asked him softly, catching him off guard.

"I'm…sorry?" he asked, but Abby only laughed.

"The boy who seems to occupy your thoughts," she said.

Aemond frowned. "The boy who…"

But Abby shook her head, laughing again. "No need to pretend, my prince," she said. "It's written all over your face. You wish to spend your last night before war with the boy who has lain claim to your heart. Or perhaps it's a girl. Either way, I know you have a lover."

Aemond's muscles snapped, frozen in place as a dart of fear crept down his spine. He couldn't even open his mouth to deny it, and Abby nodded, taking it as agreement.

"Yes, I thought so," she said. "At least it's out in the open now. It was getting a bit silly, and it would have gotten awkward as the years rolled on."

Finally finding his voice, Aemond shook his head vigorously. "Abby, I…"

"Be at peace, Aemond," she encouraged. "I'm not angry. I'm not even surprised. It was obvious that you had no romantic interest in me. And I saw a lover's kiss on your neck the other day, despite your attempts to hide it beneath your collar."

Godsdamnit, Aegon…

He still could have denied it, played it off as a bruise he'd gotten in the training yard, but Abby was speaking again before he could find his words.

"It's more common than you might believe, my prince," she said kindly. "Mine own cousin, Eleanor, is wed to a man who prefers the company of other men. I began to suspect it when you showed no physical interest in me. So formal. So respectful."

"I…I…"

Aemond didn't think he truly preferred the company of men. Aegon was the only one to whom he was drawn. Not only that, but he was also attracted to Helaena.

But saying that would make it worse, he fretted. The best thing to do is deny it altogether.

"Aemond, I'm not naïve," she said. "I know how the world works. You are not marrying me because you love me. How could you possibly love me? We were betrothed before we were properly introduced. It is a mutually beneficial political exchange. The Crown needs the support of the Riverlands, and my brother knows that one day, I will bear children for you. Dragon riders with Tully blood, who may marry into the royal bloodline. Quite the boon for my House."

Aemond swallowed weakly. "Love…develops over time…" But Abby stopped him with a gentle glower.

"Sometimes political marriages result in true love," she conceded. "They are rare, and they cannot be expected. My grandmother warned me of that when I was a little girl."

But it is my duty to love you…

"And love can come in many different forms," she continued. "My grandmother did indeed love my grandfather, but she never loved him romantically. They were partners. Very close friends. Family. And when he died, she grieved for him, as she would grieve for any member of her family. But throughout their entire marriage, he kept a mistress." She looked thoughtful. "Many Westerosi men keep mistresses or visit brothels. It's rare to find one who doesn't."

"Well, you have found one," Aemond insisted, his voice finally coming stronger. "I intend to honor you as my wife, and once the vows are said…"

I will never lie with Aegon or Helaena again. But he couldn't force himself to say them. The words tore at his heart, making his entire body tremble.

It is only the physical love I am sacrificing…the will both still love me deeply, and I will love them…just not physically…

"The vows we will recite," Abby continued, "bind us together as partners and as family. But I don't expect you to never enjoy physical pleasure again."

It's not right. It's adultery.

Sensing his anxiety, she reached over to rub his arm consolingly. "It is merely my wish to tell you that I will not begrudge you an indulgence," she said. "Regardless of what you decide, you will provide for me and treat me with respect, correct?"

"Of course, but…"

"You will defend me if I should ever need it? Both physically and my honor?"

"Yes, but…"

"And you are capable of lying with me often enough to provide me with children?" she continued. "Children who will be given dragon eggs, as promised?"

"Yes, I want my children to fly, but…"

"Then you will have done your duty as a husband," she assured him. "I like the life I am building here in King's Landing. I like my growing social group, and I like my soon-to-be sister and mother-in-law. And I am hopeful that you and I will grow to be close friends. As your wife, I will honor you by keeping your confidences, by always taking your side, and working in tandem with you to parent our children. We're going to be family, Aemond. That is both stronger and far more important to me than any silly notion of romance."

But…

"And in a way, it's a relief. Many wives are forced to submit to their husbands…desires, whether it is their wish to do so or not, because duty demands it. If you sate your desires elsewhere, then I receive all the benefits of a marriage and none of the costs."

Aemond eased back into his chair, blinking at her silently as the servants finally brought in the dessert course. Lemon tartlets that made Abby's eyes light up with delight as she picked up her fork.

This isn't at all what I intended when I agreed to marry her, he thought.

Aemond was never the romantic type. He knew he would have to marry politically, but he always thought that he would grow to have a loving relationship with the woman that he would one day marry.

But…

But he knew in his heart that he would never have any romantic affections for anyone but Aegon and Helaena. And she was right in that love could take multiple forms. 

Love or no love, it's adultery.

Aemond sighed, reaching up to rub at his temple.

Chuckling sweetly, she waited until the servants left before saying again, "The choice is yours, my prince. It won't pain me, I assure you. Neither one of us will get hurt if we have realistic expectations. And now I know where we stand before we are wed."

You can't possibly know where we stand. Even I don't know where we stand.

"Now eat your lemon tart," Abby said, "then go kiss the man you love for luck."

Aemond sat frozen for several long seconds…then slowly picked up his fork to obey.