Robert’s Second Chance: Dance of Dragons Rewritten

I don't want you to go to Harrenhal…Rhaenyra thought sadly as she watched Daemon donning his armor, admiring her husband's body. Even now, she felt a girlish flutter in her belly as she gazed upon him, no different from the way she felt when she was fourteen. Back when Daemon would regale her with stories of his adventures. Oh, how she worshipped him then! Her strong, powerful Rogue Prince, a Targaryen dragon knight for the legends.

Much had changed since then. She left her childhood behind. Shared her bed with a few other lovers (one of whom she genuinely loved). Bore three children. Spent a great many years alone, fending off attacks from her once-friend. But with Daemon, nothing had changed, not even after six years of marriage. He was still her safety and her comfort. Her home.

Whatever disagreements they'd had over how to proceed, she wanted Daemon by her side now, during her darkest of days. Her body hurt fiercely. Her heart pained her more still, grieving both her father and her only daughter, her Visenya, born a month before her time, gone before she could draw a single breath.

Rhaenyra didn't want to be in council meetings, planning a war while Daemon rallied her loyalists. She wanted to be curled up in bed with a steaming mug of tea, her husband's arms wrapped around her while she rested her head on his chest. She wanted to mourn and shed her tears.

The Greens stole that from me as well, Rhaenyra thought bitterly, running her hands along her now-empty belly, still grieving that she no longer felt Visenya's little kicks. I should be relaxing in my royal suite at the Red Keep while I finish my pregnancy, a newly-crowned queen. But they stole my birthright. They stole my privilege of mourning my father. They stole my daughter…surely she would have been born on time, perfectly healthy, had it not been for them. And now they've even stolen the comfort I would have received from Daemon.

All so her undeserving brother, a lazy, drunken whoremonger, could have a throne that he didn't even want.

Daemon strapped on the last of his armor, then looked up at Rhaenyra, his expression softening when he saw her face.

"If you want a chance at resolving this peacefully, I have to go," he said, reaching up to stroke her cheek. "Unless you'd prefer doing it my way, having all their heads mounted on spikes within the fortnight…"

"No," she said, though she knew Daemon didn't believe her. Her Rogue Prince knew her too well for that.

What she wanted was to execute Otto Hightower. Surely, he had been the puppeteer behind all of this, the vulture perched atop her father's throne for so many years. She wanted to strip Aegon, Aemond, and Daeron of their titles and their dragons, banishing back to Oldtown with the rest of their Hightower kin. And Alicent…

For Alicent, Rhaenyra wasn't certain. Even now, Rhaenyra still dearly loved her once friend, but she also despised the stepmother who'd made her life a living hell for ten long years. But there was no way to spare her friend and execute her stepmother. So Rhaenyra was at a loss as to what she wanted.

However, she was no longer a princess. She was a Queen. A Queen who had no wish to rule over a kingdom of ash and bone. A Queen who wanted to spare as many innocent lives as possible. And so she would not be getting what she wanted. She needed to offer peace terms to the Greens. 

As for what those peace terms would be? She and her Council had yet to decide what would be fair, reasonable, or even possible.

Daemon cocked his head as he studied her. "I still what you truly want is fair. Fairer than my suggestion. We allow all of them to leave and go back to Oldtown unharmed. By ship. After leaving their dragons behind."

She shook her head. "They would never take it, Daemon. We need to offer them tangible terms."

And how much she had to give them would depend entirely on how much support she could reasonably rely on.

If she had a fair amount of support and it looked likely she would win a war? She would go with Bartimos Celtigar's suggestion: A quiet country estate in the Crownlands for them to share. If it looked like she wouldn't, she would go with Corlys's suggestion: letting them have Dragonstone, exactly as they had offered to her.

As for their dragons…again, it would depend on the amount of support she could rely on.

"Then I need to go," he said, leaning in to press a sweet kiss against her lips, until a tapping on their bedchamber door made him pull away with a scowl.

"I told everyone we were not to be disturbed!" he spat, charging towards the door like an angry dragon, yanking it open to glower at the servant. "WHAT?"

"Daemon," Rhaenyra started to rebuke him, until she saw the servant's eyes were red-rimmed, her cheeks still wet with tears. "Jenny, what is it?" Rhaenyra said, pushing forward and elbowing Daemon out of the way. "What's happened?"

"Y-Your Grace," she choked, more tears flowing as she held up a rolled letter with a shaky hand. "A m-m-messenger has just arrived from Storm's End by sh-sh-ship."

A messenger? But Luke should be at Storm's End now. Why would he send back a messenger rather than returning by dragon? But as she went to take the letter from Massie, the servant's hand tightened.

"Your Grace, the messenger…" she said. "He delivered…he delivered…"

"Delivered what?" Daemon snapped, grabbing Massie by the shoulders and shaking her. "Delivered what?"

"The body…"

********

Rhaenyra thought she understood grief.

She'd watched her mother grieve her unborn children. She herself grieved Aemma and her newborn brother, Baelon. She grieved her father growing distant with her after Aemma's death. She grieved the loss of Alicent's friendship. She grieved for Harwin. She still grieved Viserys, and Visenya.

And yet until the moment she saw Lucerys's body delivered to Dragonstone's throne room, wrapped up in the linens of the Silent Sisters, she had no idea what grief truly was.

Her boy. Her wonderful, sweet, funny, kindhearted boy…her secondborn son…Dead.

She collapsed to the stone floor, grabbing her hair and screaming like a wounded animal as Daemon ordered everyone out of the room and held her. As she punched her hands bloody against the floor. As she clawed her face and screamed, screamed, screamed her throat raw.

He's gone… Tears streamed from her eyes, and she sobbed so hard she couldn't draw breath. He's gone…

Daemon picked her up and carried her to their bedchamber, holding her and wrapping her in blankets, but it made not a damn bit of difference. Not until the maester came in with a vial and Daemon forced her to drink it. She had no idea what it was, nor did she care, even as the edges of her vision faded to black and she collapsed into a deep, dreamless sleep.

When she woke up a full twelve hours later, a warm hand gripped hers tightly. A hand not calloused enough to be Daemon's.

Who…

She struggled with her heavy eyelids for only a moment, cracking them open to see Jace sitting by her bedside, his eyes red and swollen, handsome face streaked with tears. 

"Mother…" he said weakly, his voice cracking, sounding far younger than he truly was. "Luke…"

No… She sat up in bed, grabbing hold of him and pulling him close, crying into his shoulder and letting him cry into hers.

"I found out by raven…" Jace sobbed. "I was in the Vale, and Lord Borros sent a raven to me…"

"Borros?" Daemon asked him sharply, and Rhaenyra looked up to see her husband standing in the corner of the room, arms folded. "How did Borros Baratheon know you were in the Vale?"

Jace pulled away from Rhaenyra, wiping the tears from his eyes as he answered. "I don't know…spies maybe?"

Daemon shook his head. "There's no way spies could trade ravens that quickly."

"It doesn't matter, Daemon!" Rhaenyra said weakly, rubbing the tears from her own eyes. "Luke is dead…"

"It matters because we need to know how he died," Daemon said, stepping in closer. "Sending a letter to the Vale makes no sense."

Rhaenyra hadn't read Borros's letter herself, too distraught by the sight of her son's body. Even now, she only half-listened as Daemon told her what they said.

Both letters were very similar. Borros explained that as soon as Lucerys arrived, he refused his request, but he had offered to allow Luke to spend the night. Luke declined, not wanting to spend a night under the same roof as Aemond, and he elected to fly back to Dragonstone. The powerful storm overwhelmed tiny Arrax, and both he and Luke crashed into the sea. His body washed up on the shores early the next morning.

"I examined his preserved body," Daemon explained. "Or what was left of it, anyway. And it's impossible to tell whether or not the damage was caused by the rocks on Shipbreaker Bay…"

Rhaenyra went stiff. "You touched his body?" she said, her voice hollow. "The Silent Sisters wrapped him!" They treated him with respect…

"Because Borros's story doesn't make sense!" Daemon snapped, picking up the letter and dropping it on Rhaenyra's lap as he turned to Jace. "You got back here hours after we got the news. That means Borros sent a raven to you at the same time he sent his ship messenger to us to deliver the body."

The body…Rhaenyra choked.

"But you would have only been at the Eyrie for a few hours at that point. Even if Borros has spies in the Eyrie, which in and of itself is suspicious, that's not enough time for them to tell him. The only way Borros could have known you were in the Eyrie that quickly is if he has spies here, on Dragonstone, who alerted him before you left."

Spies? Had one of Rhaenyra's inner circle betrayed her? But who? And why? Rhaenyra didn't know what unsettled her more, the idea that she'd been betrayed, or the fact that it didn't surprise her. Not after the Greens usurped my throne.

"And that same person would have alerted Borros that Luke was coming to Storm's End," Daemon finished dramatically.

Jace furrowed his brow, still rubbing at his swollen eyes. "So Borros knew that Luke would be there…but Daemon, I don't understand. Why does it matter? Arrax was a very young dragon, and…"

"And Luke was a fearful flier," Daemon said. "If Luke was offered guest right, I'm inclined to believe he would have stayed. So either Borros is lying about offering him guest right, or Aemond threatened him…" Eyes flashing, he added, "Or he was murdered."

Murdered…Rhaenyra's hand flew up to cover her face. Murdered? Her baby boy? An innocent fourteen-year-old who arrived only as a messenger?

No, surely not. It couldn't be…But now that the words were out of Daemon's mouth, the nagging possibility would never leave Rhaenyra at peace. She had to know. She had to know the entire story about what happened.

I need to know why he's not here anymore…

"Jace," Daemon said. "I don't suppose you were in the Vale long enough to ensure Lady Jeyne's support?"

He shook his head. "I left the minute I got the raven. She told me she'd be willing to negotiate with me after…" He swallowed. "After I came home…for the funeral…"

"Good," Daemon said. "That will give you some time then."

"Time for what?"

"Time to find whoever is selling our secrets," Daemon said, sitting down on the edge of Rhaenyra's bed and grabbing her hand. "We have to assume the Greens know everything that we've discussed in our Council meetings."

Jace's eyes widened. "Then that means…"

"That means I need to leave for Harrenhal now," Daemon said, grabbing his helm. "We only just make the plans, so the Greens wouldn't have had the chance to set up a trap for me yet. Jace, take two weeks before you return to the Vale. Investigate. See what you can uncover. Read every letter that leaves the rookery."

"Daemon," Rhaenyra stopped him, gripping his sleeve. "Leave for Harrenhal tomorrow."

"Rhaenyra…"

"Today," she finished, talking over him. "You and I will fly to Storm's End. To talk to Lord Borros, or to interview the villagers, or to…or to search the coast. I need to know…" She swallowed. "I need to know what happened to my son."

Robert

King's Landing looked different. The Great Sept of Baelor had not yet been built (and with luck, never would be). The Dragonpit was still imposing and magnificent, rather than a crumbling relic. But the Red Keep? That was the same. Or at least, it was the same as it was before Robert took over and removed every scrap of dragon heraldry.

I'll have to bear the dragon sigils, he reasoned as his carriage took him past the Red Keep's gates. As I have to bear what I'm about to do.

He just had to remember that he was not helping the Targaryens; he was changing the course of history. He was doing it for Lyanna. For Ned. For every life the Mad King destroyed. A Mad King who would never be born if Aegon II's line prevailed, his Targaryen blood tempered by the blood of House Hightower.

And so when he arrived at the entrance and he was formally announced and granted permission to enter, Robert walked into the throne room with his head held high, gaze fixed on the Iron Throne and the silver-haired young man sitting upon it, wearing the Valyrian steel crown of Aegon the Conqueror.

For Lyanna, he thought. For Ned.

His love for them gave him the strength to do what he swore he would never do, sink to one knee, kneeling before a Targaryen king.

"I, Borros of House Baratheon," Robert started, "swear fealty to King Aegon Targaryen, Second of his Name, rightful king of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men. Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm."

As the throne room watched, Robert completed his oath, then accepted Aegon's command to rise.

"You honor both me and my House, Lord Borros," Aegon said, nodding respectfully. "And it pleases me that House Baratheon continues to keep the faith with House Targaryen. As it has for over a hundred years…"

As it always would have done, if your sister's great-whatever grandson wasn't a madman who fathered a rapist.

"As my brother promised," Aegon continued. "I offer you a seat on my Small Council as a trusted advisor."

Robert bowed his head. "And as I promised, Your Grace, the might of the Stormlands is behind you. Come what may."

Or perhaps it won't. Not if I can prevent it…

***********

Preventing the war, however, would only work if he could get Aegon to listen to him. And later that evening, he was not off to a good start.

Robert had always loved a good feast. He'd certainly thrown plenty during his tenure as King. But while this feast did feature many of Robert's favorite foods (and a few that he hadn't seen before; likely having fallen out of style in the coming 170 years), Robert couldn't enjoy any of them.

Perhaps that's for the best, he thought self-deprecatingly. Borros's body was not as powerful as Robert's had been in his prime (back when his strength was damn near godlike), but he was still a powerfully built man, muscular and strong. Robert didn't want to destroy Borros's body the way he had destroyed his own, with wine and gluttony.

It will be easy. I have a war to distract me.

Unlike in the original timeline, Daemon and Rhaenyra did not yet know that it was Aemond who killed Lucerys. Robert told them it was an accident, and because he treated the body with respect and gave Rhaenyra his sincerest condolences, she did not yet have evidence that he was lying. Regardless, if they found out the Greens were celebrating Lucerys's death, it wouldn't matter who killed him. They would still be blind with rage.

Daemon would still send Blood and Cheese.

Robert's attempt to get Aegon to cancel the feast had failed. He'd tried making the argument that Aegon should save a celebration feast until after his first victory on the battlefield. He tried (delicately) suggesting that the rest of the kingdom may think it in poor taste to celebrate the death of his own nephew. He even tried pointing out that he tried to cover up the death by framing it as a tragic accident caused by the storm; celebrating it might undo his work.

To Robert's surprise, both Otto and Alicent Hightower enthusiastically took his side, advising Aegon to listen to his newest council member. But unfortunately, the young king dug his heels in.

"It's not about celebrating Luke's death," Aegon explained. "It's about showing that I support my brother."

As a small victory, Aegon did relent and agreed to adjust his welcome speech. Instead, he announced they were celebrating Aemond's victory in bringing the Stormlands under the reign of the rightful monarch. And, at Robert's urging, he even added a somber toast to Lucerys:

"While I maintain that Lucerys was no true Targaryen, I am sorry to hear that his mother's treason lead to his death," Aegon announced. "It was my wish that my half-sister and her family would peacefully bend the knee and accept my succession so that we might move forward as a united House. And they still have that option! Even now, I am still amenable to peace! My offer to Princess Rhaenyra still stands, and if I am fortunate, Lucerys will be the first, last, and only one to die." 

At that, Aegon raised his cup and encouraged everyone in attendance to drink to Lucerys.

Good, Robert nodded as he sipped his own wine. At least that went better than it did in the original timeline.

"Well done, Lord Borros," a voice whispered from over his shoulder, and he turned to see Otto Hightower taking the seat next to him.

Robert nodded respectfully. "My Lord Hand."

Robert would be relying on Otto quite heavily in the coming months, utilizing assessments that Stannis, Jon Arryn, and Littlefinger had made throughout the years. Otto had been far from the perfect wartime hand. His approach had been too cautious, acting too slowly. But Otto had been an excellent politician. Without him, the Greens would not have had the Triarchy's support.

If I can urge Otto to take a slightly more aggressive approach, there's a chance Aegon won't get impatient and replace him…and that could mean the difference between victory and defeat.

"The King's speech was perfect," Otto praised coolly. "Respectful to Lucerys, but at the same time, supportive of Aemond, because he transferred the blame to Rhaenyra. You have my gratitude for helping him write it…" Otto's gaze flickered over his shoulder, then he lowered his voice. "And for ensuring that the princess knows her son's death was an unfortunate accident. Caused by the storm."

"Hmm," Robert grunted, nodding. "Helps too, that you told him to add that his sister can still turn back at any time and accept peace. Makes her look doubly bad for not accepting while the King is being gracious. Did she ever send terms of her own?"

Robert already knew the answer. She hadn't. Stannis, her greatest critic, had lambasted her for it whenever the topic came up:

"One of the many ways she fired an arrow into her own foot," Stannis would say. "Aegon offered tangible peace terms; she never did. The best she did was promise not to kill her brother if he knelt and begged her forgiveness. That's not how you avoid a war. That's what you do if you want a war! Aegon II never even wanted the throne! If she actually offered him something, he might have taken it. One of the thousand reasons she would have been a shit queen."

"No, she never did," Otto confirmed. "Not that I expected her to. Not after she married Daemon. The Princess never had a keen political mind to begin with, and now with Daemon whispering in her ear?" Otto shivered. "I'm astonished they haven't tried to attack us with Dragonfire yet. If they knew Vhagar was out of the city, they might have."

Robert smiled. Thank you for the perfect lead-in…

"But Vhagar isn't the only dragon on our side," Robert said. "We still have three other adults, do we not?" 

Otto hesitated. "Tessarion will be here soon; she's guarding the host arriving from Oldtown. But as of right now, aside from Vhagar, we can only reasonably rely on Sunfyre."

Robert frowned. "But doesn't the Queen have a dragon as well? The mother dragon…what's her name?"

"Dreamfyre," Otto confirmed, shaking his head. "But Queen Helaena is no dragon knight. Dreamfyre remains in the Dragonpit."

Where she would remain all throughout the war, because Helaena was traumatized by Blood and Cheese. But if Robert could stop that from happening…

"But the Blacks don't need to know that," Robert conceded. "Perhaps if the King and Queen would be seen patrolling the city, it might serve as a deterrent. Dreamfyre was Queen Rhaena's dragon, so she's over a hundred years old, isn't she? She's got to be massive…"

Otto considered it thoughtfully. "Queen Helaena does talk about wanting to take Dreamfyre for more flights…" he mumbled. "And I suppose if she's just circling the city a few times as a deterrent…"

"Or, Gods forbid, if the Rogue Prince really is as unhinged as you claim, my Lord Hand, perhaps having Dreamfyre nearby could serve as an escape route to get the Queen and her children to safety," Robert added.

And there it was: a dart of fear in Otto's eye. Robert had him.

"That…is an excellent point, Lord Borros," Otto conceded. "Vhagar is too large for the Pit, so she nests near the cliffs…perhaps it would be best to keep all of the dragons there until this matter is settled. So they're more easily accessible."

Robert gave a grim nod, but inside, he was cheering. Dreamfyre was the Greens' second biggest dragon. The fact that she hadn't been utilized in the war was an appalling waste of resources. It would be hard to get Otto and Alicent to agree to let her do much, but Robert could work more on that later. For now, having Helaena circle the city every so often as a deterrent would be better than nothing.

And keeping Dreamfyre out of the dragon pit might save Prince Maelor's life if Robert failed and King's Landing still fell.

But a vitally important thing Robert had to do was prevent Blood and Cheese. If he could spare Helaena from that trauma, she would never sink into her despair, unable to fight in the war.

Otto smiled. "You may have a keener political mind than I was led to believe, Lord Borros."

Whatever gets you to listen to me. Because it's about to get worse. Far worse…