Robert’s Second Chance: Dance of Dragons Rewritten

Larys

"Lord Strong," the guard inclined his head respectfully as he turned and left his post, leaving Larys alone in the Traitor's Walk. He seldom navigated the castle without at least his own guards, but for a matter this delicate, he dared not risk it. He'd even gone so far as to ensure he came when there was no chance of the jailor coming to feed the prisoners or swap out their chamber pots.

Opening the lower catflap, Larys sat down on the stool he'd left the last time he came to visit Alyn of Hull.

"We haven't much time to speak," he said. "They will begin to wonder why I have come to "interrogate" you without my supplies."

He let the silent threat hang in the air. I could come back with my 'supplies' if you are feeling less than cooperative.

"I don't see what value I could possibly have to you," Alyn said, tone uninflected. "My father is dead. My brother is dead. Baela is dead. There is no one else in this world who might care if I live or die. No one of importance, anyway."

Indeed. And under normal circumstances, Alyn would be kept in the dungeon with other lowborn criminals, but Aegon had ordered him kept here in the Traitor's Walk before he left, and he had not yet returned home to give alternate orders. And so here he would remain…for a time.

"No one?" Larys said innocently. "Your father's nephew, Daemion Velaryon, has just been named the new Lord of Driftmark. Might he not care for your safety? Perhaps ask for your safe return in the years to come?"

It had exactly the desired effect. Larys could practically feel Alyn's ill-concealed rage through the door.

"I know Daemion," he growled. "Entitled cunt. Vaemond's son. He was never meant to be more than a distant cousin to the main Velaryon line."

"Hmm," Larys agreed, nodding, even though Alyn wasn't facing him. "And yet he has usurped what is rightfully yours. For you and I both know that before he died, Corlys Velaryon whispered to you that he wished for you to be his heir. He was stripped of his lands and his titles, yes, but surely that should not mean that his eldest son, his only living son, is passed over in the line of succession in favor of a nephew."

Alyn's jaw trembled until he clenched it.

"My father did not name me as heir until he had nothing left to leave me," Alyn said sadly. "If he truly wished me to succeed him as the next Lord of the Tides, he would have named me after Joffrey died."

"Hmm," Larys said again. "It must burn you to think all that wealth might have been yours, if only…"

"I never wanted his wealth," Alyn spat. "Or his prestige. Or his power. I wanted him to be proud to call me is son, parentage be damned."

That never could have happened. It would have been the gravest of insults to Princess Rhaenys. But Larys kept that to himself.

"Alas, there is no way to make him proud in this life. Not any longer," Larys said. "But surely it would give him pride from beyond the grave to know that you succeeded him, as was his last wish. To know that you rebuilt Driftmark from the ashes and restored House Velaryon to what it was under your father's rule."

Alyn smiled, laughing deeply, though neither the smile nor the laughter reached his eyes.

"Certainly, Lord Strong," he said. "And whilst I am fantasizing, perhaps it would give him pride to see me take King's Landing single-handedly and declare myself King."

Larys, however, was not laughing.

"I'm afraid you will never sit the Iron Throne," he said softly. "But mayhaps you might build yourself a new one. Of Driftwood." Pointedly looking further down the walkway, he added, "Mayhaps with Lady Rhaena as your bride."

Alyn's laughter faded away, and he shook his head. "Lord Strong, as soon as this war is ended and King Aegon returns to the castle to command it, I am either to die or spend the rest of my life rotting in the dungeon. He will never let me go free, let alone name me lord of anything. Do not toy with me."

Once again, Larys did not laugh.

"I do not jest, Alyn," he said. "I am the King's Master of Whisperers. I have his ear. The Hand and the Dowager Queen have long trusted my advice. And I have no doubt I could persuade the Hand to rethink the rightful heir of Driftmark…in exchange for certain information."

"I have no information to give them," Alyn said. "None."

At last, Larys smiled, a toothy grin that reflected in the torchlight of the hall.

"Not information for you to give them, Ser Alyn," Larys amended. "Information for you to relay to them…"

Daemon

This was far easier when I was far younger, he groused, rubbing his knee to soothe some of the ache. The knee had never been quite the same after he was wounded in the Stepstones, and to this day, it still pained him when it rained, or was too cold, or when he exerted himself too much. Like he was now, climbing the sides of the Dragonmount in search of Sheepstealer's lair.

It seemed to be a fool's quest to undertake alone. Sheepstealer was never tended to by the Keepers and thus had no permanent nest, moving from place to place as he hunted for livestock to steal and animals to hunt. After two days of searching from dawn until dusk, Daemon was growing anxious.

Rhaenyra is fighting alone, he thought, gritting his teeth as he climbed higher. She can't manage the Greyjoys and fight the Greens alone. I've already been gone from her side far too long. She needs me. I'm all she has left. 

His beautiful dragon queen. Not so long ago, Daemon had the life he always craved but never dreamt would actually be his. Married to a beautiful Valyrian woman, raising their children together in their family's ancestral castle, teaching them the songs and stories of their ancestors. Riding their dragons together. Making plans for how they would lead Westeros together one day as the King and Queen…

But in my heart, I knew it was always a fantasy, he chided himself. Even as I shared her bed. Even as I played with my children. Twas always a fantasy. We don't live in a world of happy endings. Not for men like me.

There would be no happiness for him now either, even once Sheepstealer was his and the Greens were suffering his wrath. The closest he would ever hope to come to joy again was the expression on the usurper's face when he watched his children die.

Another cave. Another disappointment. So much so that Daemon sunk to the floor and buried his face in his hands as he took a moment to collect himself and recover before moving on.

I thought surely it would be this cave. It's the largest one. His size…

He might have no choice but to descend the Dragonmount and re-enter though the hidden passage at the base. The on the Keepers did not know about. He'd used it when he first arrived just to reassure himself that none of the hatchlings were viable prospects. To his pleasant surprise, two of them were far larger than he feared. One was nearly as large as Stormcloud had been before he died.

He'd decided not to approach because even that dragon was far too young to be of any use. Stormcloud had been too small to even carry a child properly; it would be impossible for a smaller dragon to carry an adult. But mayhaps he could bond with it, then command it from the ground until it was old enough to ride. He'd done so with Caraxes a handful of times.

But that was because Caraxes was as much a part of me as my own beating heart…

No. The hatchling would be a last resort. It would scarcely be able to inflict any damage before getting picked off by a larger dragon, and he would not disrespect a dragon by forcing it to play the role of sacrificial lamb. Not when his family owed everything to them.

Just as he was about to move on, a foul scent caught his nose, making his face scrunch, but only for a second. He recognized that scent. Dragon dung. Fresh dragon dung.

Vile as the task was, Daemon searched for the droppings, grabbing a stick to prod at them…and discovering they were laden with wool.

This is Sheepstealer's lair! He smiled, aching knee trembling. His lair! Grey Ghost doesn't feed on sheep, only fish!

All he had to do was wait for the massive beast to return, and he and Rhaenyra would still have a chance to reclaim what was theirs. With Fire and Blood.

Rhaenyra

Two ships, Rhaenyra thought, smiling victoriously as three other Arbor vessels vanished beneath the waves, charred and blackened from Syrax's flames. They'd carefully chosen this small section of the blockade, scoping it from a distance to see that it was only five ships strong, and after the first three were burned, the remaining two surrendered and allowed themselves to be boarded.

Some good fortune at long last, even if it was only two ships. A few more days at sea, a few more ships pilfered from their enemies, and Dalton may yet be prepared to launch another attack against the Greens.

And by then, Daemon might have returned with his new dragon…

"DRAGON!" one of the Iron Born cried as the thought echoed through Rhaenyra's mind.

No…

Almost too afraid to look, she craned her head around and saw a small dot on the horizon. A small black dot…that was rapidly growing larger.

No…She knew they'd be patrolling, but she thought she'd have more time. And when last she scouted, she'd seen Tessarion patrolling the blockade near Lannisport. Tessarion and the Cannibal must be trading off.

Had it been Tessarion, I could have fought…she thought, her heart sinking as Syrax roared beneath her and the black dot drew closer. Or Sunfyre…

She even would have risked it to fight Vhagar. The monstrous beast was far too great an opponent for Rhaenyra, but she would have tried. She would have tried to injure Vhagar and kill Aemond. For the sake of Luke, whose death she now blamed on the Greens. For the sake of hurting Aegon by killing a sibling he actually cared for.

But it was the Cannibal that approached her.

The Cannibal is deadlier than Vhagar, she thought, tears rolling down her cheeks, because he spent his life hunting and killing other dragons.

And if his rider had any value to Aegon, it was minimal. Surely no more than she had valued the dragon seeds who knelt to her.

She would die, here and now. The Iron Born would abandon their pursuit of victory in her name. Daemon would fight for her. Until the last breath left his lungs, he would fight for her, even after her death…

But what if he's dead already?

No Targaryen in history (here or in Old Valyria) had ever claimed two dragons. And Daemon had already been gone for three weeks. For all she knew, he never even made it to Dragonstone.

I shall never be Queen, she realized as the black dot grew larger still and the roar of a dragon filled the sky. I have lost…and my choices now are to flee or to die.

She chose to flee, turning Syrax and urging her to fly as fast as her wings would carry her. The movement irritated the raw flesh of her burn wound, making her cry out in pain as they escaped.

A cry that morphed into a shout…then a scream. A scream from the depths of her very soul that echoed over the horizon as she abandoned the ships of her last remaining ally, surely confirming that Dalton would never aide her again.

Visenya.

Luke.

Joffrey.

Jace. All dead.

Aegon and Viserys. Hostages who would surely be killed now that I am no longer a threat.

The few armies that supported me, burned or captured.

The Targaryen legacy that I was meant to carry, stolen.

Daemon.

My throne…

It was her throne. It was HER FUCKING THRONE! Viserys promised it to her before the eyes of all the Lords of Westeros! Those same Lords knelt to her and swore obeisance to her as heir. She married Laenor when she had no wish to for the sake of an alliance. She ruled Dragonstone for years to prepare herself. She had done everything she was asked to do and more.

All for naught. They usurped me. They were always going to usurp me. Because I am a woman and he is a man.

And because she had the audacity to fight for what was rightfully hers, now she had nothing left. Nothing but the dragon beneath her and the tears that yet may drown her. None of which would grant her justice.

I will return to Dragonstone; my men still fortify the island, she told herself. I will be safe there for a time. Mayhaps long enough for Aegon to think I've been broken. Long enough for him to grow smug and overconfident. And then I will strike yet again. Killing his supporters, or…

Or…

Beneath her, Syrax let out a soft grumble, and almost as if she were smelling it herself, Rhaenyra identified the scent of a dragon on the distant breeze. But it was not the scent of Vhagar, the Cannibal, Sunfyre, or even Tessarion. This was the scent of a dragon that Syrax had never smelled before and could not identify.

The scent of a very young dragon.

Frozen, too afraid to even dare hope, Rhaenyra guided Syrax higher into the sky. Under the protection of the clouds.

Johanna Lannister

What a beautiful creature, Johanna thought as Jaehaerys took Shrykos into the sky, cheering at his accomplishment.

The young she-dragon grew as voraciously as a weed. Only a few short months had passed since Prince Aemond had brought her and her young rider to Casterly Rock, and already she was visibly larger. Stronger as well. She could stay airborne with Jaehaerys on her back far longer than she could when she arrived, becoming more stable and sturdy with every flight. Jaehaerys liked to fly with her daily, proudly declaring he wanted to be ready next time his papa wanted to go flying with him.

His papa, Johanna thought, smiling whenever Jaehaerys spoke of his father. He only ever referred to King Aegon as 'papa' or sometimes 'father'. Queen Helaena was only ever referred to as 'mummy'. Johanna knew she was meant to be teaching Jaehaerys about manners and decorum whilst he was here as their guest, but she didn't have the heart to insist he refer to his parents by their titles whilst in a formal setting. Especially when she knew he missed his family so fiercely.

At least Prince Daeron and Aethan are using Casterly Rock to sleep in between their patrol shifts, she thought. Seeing his uncle gave Jaehaerys some comfort, and Aethan (technically a cousin of sorts) was very sweet with the boy as well. But for now, Prince Daeron was sound asleep after a long day and night of patrolling, Tessarion sleeping off the large sheep she'd just consumed, and Aethan had left on his own patrol.

I pray this war may end soon, she thought sadly, her gaze wandering across the Sunset Sea. So that Jaehaerys might return home and learn at his father's side.

That…and she hoped the Iron Born might be eradicated once and for all. Pirates born without honor, she'd hoped for years that King Viserys might send his dragon riders to put an end to them. Mayhaps now that they took up arms against him and killed off the main line of a noble House, King Aegon would see fit to act.

Prince Daeron has declared that His Grace wants his to be a reign of peace and prosperity. Neither can truly exist while the Iron Born flourish. My Lord husband would happily aide him in his efforts…

But she would need to reflect upon that later. Jaehaerys had finished his third lap (for safety's sake, she would only let him circle the castle itself, and she insisted he fly low) and was bringing Shrykos in for a landing. The young she-dragon landed smoothly, and Jaehaerys cheered for himself, with Shrykos letting out an adorable, squeaky roar of her own, flapping her wings proudly.

"Well done, my Prince," Johanna said, smiling as she crossed the courtyard to collect him while the guards unfastened his riding chains. "You'll be as skilled a rider as your father one day."

But just as she reached out her hand to collect him…

"ENEMY DRAGON!"

NO!

She looked up with seconds to spare as Syrax descended from the sky, emerging from a thick patch of clouds and flying in a perfect dive towards the castle.

Without hesitation, Johanna grabbed Jaehaerys, held him close to her chest, and sprinted for the castle door as fast as her legs would carry her.

Below! she thought. I have to get him to the caverns below the castle. Dragonfire can't penetrate rock that thick… "AH!" she screamed, jumping backwards, her guards yanking her out of the way just as a wave of fire bathed the courtyard, creating a wall of flame between her and the door.

Scorpion bolts and arrows filled the sky, forcing Syrax to pivot out of the way, but Rhaenyra did not flee, circling back for another attack as arrows embedded in her dragon's wings.

Shrykos, the brave little hatchling, roared in outrage, flying to Johanna's side circling above them, as if she meant to protect them from Syrax. A sight that might have broken Johanna's heart had it not been pounding like a galloping stag. A sparrow trying to fend off an eagle.

They're both going to die if I don't get Jaehaerys inside.

The next wave of fire came closer still, singeing the back of Johanna's dress…

"HOLD THE SCORPIONS!" one of the guards screamed from the ramparts. "THERE'S ANOTHER ONE!"

Helaena

"DRACARYS!" Helaena cried, using the command for the first time in her life. Dreamfyre had not heard the command in years, not since the death of Queen Rhaena, but her beautiful dragon did not hesitate, breathing a massive wall of pale blue fire at Rhaenyra, leaving her seconds to dodge out of the way before she was incinerated on her dragon's back.

Dreamfyre was more than double the size of Syrax, and whilst she had spent much of her century of life confined to the Pit, she was still young enough to move nimbly through the skies. Especially when Helaena had been practice-flying with her every day for months.

If Rhaenyra saw her as a threat, though, she didn't show it, pivoting back around and diving towards Casterly Rock's courtyard again while Johanna Lannister fled, trying to navigate around the fire to get through the charred doorway.

But Helaena had flown through these skies before. Seen this battle unfold before. And she knew exactly where Rhaenyra was going to aim her next blast of fire.

And she knew Dreamfyre could flank her in time.

As if her dragon could hear her thoughts more than her words, Dreamfyre turned and dove, her massive weight causing her to fall faster than Syrax. And just as the younger dragon opened her mouth to rain fire upon Casterly Rock again, Dreamfyre's jaws clamped around Syrax's wing, severing the bone with an ear-shattering snap.

Syrax's screams of agony echoed across the horizon as she fell from the sky. But even before she hit the courtyard, Helaena knew the yellow dragon would survive the impact. She had not fallen far enough for the impact to be lethal.

My son is still in danger. She cried out in fear, bringing Dreamfyre in to land as Syrax whipped her head around, blasting approaching guards with fire and missing a retreating Johanna by inches.

"Angōs!" Helaena cried to Dreamfyre, and her beast obeyed immediately, lunging forward. To Helaena's horror, an innocent Lannister guard was crushed beneath Dreamfyre's foot, dying instantly, but she would need to mourn him later. Dreamfyre's jaws clamped around Syrax's neck, ceasing the flow of her fiery breath and severing her head from her body.

Rhaenyra scarcely had time to dismount, scrambling off Syrax's back as her dead dragon collapsed to the courtyard. Guards rushed forward to apprehend her, but she clearly intended to die fighting, drawing a dagger from her boot, stepping into an (admittedly crooked) fighting stance and brandishing it threateningly.

No, Helaeana decided, squaring her shoulders.

"Guards!" Helaena commanded from Dreamfyre's back, tugging her dragon's reigns around until her beast was facing Rhaenyra, snarling menacingly. "Stand down."

Only now did Rhaenyra look up at her, meeting her gaze directly…and with an odd feeling in her belly, Helaena realized that this was the first time her sister had ever looked her straight in the eyes.

You never spoke a single word to me my entire life, she thought as she looked down at her. Never looked at me. Distanced yourself from me as if I were a disease you wished to avoid. What is it that I did to you, sister, to make you revile me so, even when I was naught but a child? You are my only sister, and I yours. Why is it you had no wish to bond with me? With any of us?

"You tried to kill my son," Helaena said, not shouting but speaking loudly and clearly enough for Rhaenyra to hear.

Rhaenyra snarled at her, fire blazing in her blue-purple eyes, the color so similar to Helaena's own.

"As your drunken usurper husband murdered mine," she spat.

"His grace had no choice," Helaena said regally. "Joffrey engaged him on dragonback. Jace lead an army against his men…"

"Which never would have happened had he not STOLEN MY THRONE!" she roared.

It is not your throne. It is his. His birthright from the day he was born. And now I know without question that it is his descendant that is meant to lead Westeros against an army of monsters. His descendant…and my descendant.

"You and your husband have stolen EVERYTHING from me! Rhaenyra raged. "Your jealousy, your spite, your ambition, your GREED has robbed me of my family! My future. My…"

"It is not US that robbed you of those things," Helaena corrected. "We wished to allow you and your family to live a happy, peaceful life on Dragonstone. Wealthy and privileged. Free to live your life as you saw fit. An offer that still stood after you sent assassins after my babes. Tis not our greed that robbed you of anything, Rhaenyra. It was your own."

"Greed?" she spat. "GREED? I wanted only what was PROMISED to me! To guard the Song of Ice and Fire as our father wished since the day he showed me the Conqueror's dagger!"

What?

"I wished only to do my duty to protect the realm!" she continued. "My duty to lead into…"

"Explain yourself," Helaena commanded, Dreamfyre growling threateningly beneath her to punctuate her point. "The Song of Ice and Fire. Explain yourself."

Her sister paused, blinked, then smiled up at her sadistically. Helaena knew immediately that Rhaenyra was not going to tell her, even before a quickly-flickering Dream warned her of such.

"A secret passed from King to Heir," she said mockingly. "A secret Aegon will never learn. Because he is a usurper, whilst I am the rightful Queen."

"No," Helaena said coldly. "You are the Princess. I am the Queen."  

She hesitated for a long second. Even after the assassination attempt. Even after the attack on Oldtown. Even after this most recent attack on her son, her belly squirmed in horror at what she knew she must do.

I could allow the guards to imprison her, she thought, mind latching onto the excuse. Aegon should be the one to give the order…

But she knew it needed to be her. Aegon would lead Westeros into a new age. And if he was to succeed, he needed a strong Queen by his side. As Alysanne had been to Jaehaerys. Kind and compassionate when the situation allowed it…yet strong and fearless when the situation demanded it.

"I, Helaena Targaryen, Queen to Aegon Targaryen, Second of his Name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm, sentence you to die," she said, her voice far more confident than her heart.

"Dracarys."

Dragonfire burns hot, incinerating in an instant. If Rhaenyra felt pain, it did not last long. Not that it did anything to staunch the tears streaming from Helaena's eyes as she watched her sister's charred skeleton fall to the courtyard floor.

Why wouldn't you just kneel? she thought as her cries turned to whimpers. Why did so many need to die? So many innocent people who only thought they were loyally serving their faction?

"MUMMY!" Jaehaerys's cry filled the courtyard, and she whipped around to see him squirming free of Johanna's arms, running towards her. "Mummy!"

Relief replaced whatever pain and regret lingered in Helaena's heart, though she knew they'd return. But for now, her son was safe. That was all that mattered.

Dismounting quickly, she ran as fast as her legs would carry her, scooping him up in her arms and hugging him tightly, tears falling anew as she began to sob again. This time in relief.

So relieved was she that she scarcely paid attention when Dreamfyre gave a pleasant chirp of greeting as another dragon's roar echoed through the sky. Nor did she pay much mind when she felt a hand on her shoulder, rubbing her back lovingly. She knew without looking that it was Daeron and that the dragon come to join him was Tessarion.

"How did you know he would need you?" Daeron asked incredulously. "The guards got me out of bed, but by the time I got here…"

She shook her head, stopping him from saying it. Had she not come, Daeron would have killed Rhaenyra, but he would have been too late to save Jaehaerys. She'd already seen the worst possible nightmare unfolding in her Dream; she never wanted to think about it again.

Nor did she bother to look up when yet another dragon roared, the stone beneath her shaking when the massive beast landed in the courtyard. But for decorum's sake, she did set down Jaehaerys and turn to face Aethan as he dismounted the Cannibal. She couldn't help a morbid wince as the Cannibal started sniffing hopefully at Syrax's corpse, causing Aethan to tap him on the nose and remind him to wait. Whether he obeyed or not remained to be seen.

Aethan approached, then knelt before her, bowing his head. "My Queen, we arrived as quickly as we could. The Cannibal tracked Syrax through the skies, but she outpaced us. I'm relieved to find everyone here unharmed."

Not everyone…

Helaena turned to Lady Johanna. "I would like the name of the guard," she said softly. "The one who was crushed in the battle…"

The man I accidentally killed. Our own man. His death would haunt her every bit as much as Rhaenyra's would, accident or no.  

"I would like to make a tribute to his family," she said. "To ensure his wife and children want for nothing." 

Johanna nodded respectfully. "Yes, your grace."

"Will you stop that, you big greedy pig!" The sound of Aethan's voice had Helaena's head whipping back around to where the Cannibal was inching ever closer to Syrax's body.

Aethan winced, turning back to look at Helaena and bowing his head once again. "I apologize, your grace. Would you mind terribly if we allowed the Cannibal to, um…dispose of Syrax? He's hungry, and he was already grouchy that there was nothing left of Caraxes for him to eat after the seagulls and crabs finished with him."

The thought revolted her, and apparently it revolted Dreamfyre and Tessarion as well, because both dragons vacated the courtyard, presumably to nest in Casterly Rock's caves.

However…

"I suppose we do need to get the carcass out of the courtyard," she relented. "And I suppose it's more respectful to allow the Cannibal to do it than to allow her to get picked over by crows and vultures…"

Aethan nodded. "And it spares us from having to feed him livestock. He won't need to eat for a week or two after a meal that size."

Turning to the Cannibal, Aethan nodded, and the beast didn't hesitate, tearing into Syrax's corpse with gusto that made Helaena's gorge rise.

And apparently she wasn't the only one.

"My Queen," Lady Johanna said, looking more than a little ill. "Mayhaps we should leave the Cannibal to his…meal? It would be more comfortable for you and the little prince inside…"

Helaena did not need to be invited twice, following her host into Casterly Rock, still hugging her son tightly to her chest.

You're safe, my little prince, she promised, kissing his forehead lovingly. Your mother has at last learned that she is the blood of the dragon as well. And no one shall ever threaten you again whilst I still live and breathe.