Serpent and Blood

Two weeks had passed since Aemond’s injury. Although the wounds were healing, Alicent could barely bring herself to look at her son’s scarred face without a pang of anger and a bit of disgust. She sat at his bedside, her fingers tracing the edge of his blanket while he rested. His face was marred by pink scars that trailed from his jaw to his brow. Her heart ached at the sight. She felt not just sorrow but frustration. Frustration that the cost of their—no his ambition had been so high. Frustration that the court whispered about it behind their backs.

Rumors had begun to circulate. They whispered that Aemond’s failure to bond with a dragon was a sign of weakness in his blood. The rumor-mongering of the court had spread effectively. It could only be Rhaenyra’s people casting doubt on the strength of her children’s Targaryen lineage. Alicent bit her lip, seething as she considered the whispers. How dare they call her son’s blood “weak”?

Leaving Aemond’s room, she turned into an empty corridor. There Larys Strong waited, as usual his deference gave way to a glint of calculation once her back was turned.

“Larys,” she murmured, her voice tight with anger. “The rumors are spreading like wildfire. They dare to suggest my children are less than true dragons because Aemond was scarred.”

Larys offered a faint smile. “The court thrives on gossip, my queen. But sometimes… gossip can be guided. Perhaps I could arrange for certain tales to circulate. Stories that remind people of your children’s rightful place.”

Alicent nodded, her anger receding and giving way to renewed determination. “Do so. And quickly. We cannot allow these lies to spread any further.”

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Otto Hightower’s arrival weeks later marked a subtle shift in the atmosphere of the Red Keep. He arrived under the guise of concern, citing his grandson’s injury. Yet everyone knew, from the lords to the cooks, that there were deeper motivations for his journey. In truth, he used Aemond’s accident as a means to return to King’s Landing. Attempting a reconciliation with Viserys being his main goal.

Viserys sat in the Great Hall when Otto was announced, Viserys was already in the throne room seated upon the Iron Throne. He wore a guarded expression as the former Hand entered. The Queen consort stood beside her father. Relief and anticipation evident in her eyes as she awaited their reception.

“Your Grace,” Otto said with a bow, his voice soft, almost contrite. “I have come not only out of concern for Aemond but also to make amends. My actions in the past were driven by loyalty. Though over time I have realized that I may have overstepped.”

Viserys studied him, his face still guarded with a hint of suspicion in his eyes. “Your loyalty was never been in question, Otto. It’s to whom that loyalty has been given that I wonder…,” he stated. There was a tone of regret that could be heard by those in the room. “But you’re here now, and the past, as much as we wish it, cannot be undone.”

Otto glanced at his daughter, then back to the king. “Then perhaps, Your Grace, we can attempt to look forward. Aemond’s injury, as bad as it is, should bring us together as family.”

Alicent gave her father a grateful look. She hoped his return would help solidify her children’s claim to the throne. This was the only way to bring stability back to the realm.

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Meanwhile, in his chamber in Dragonstone, Lucerys sat writing a letter to his grandfather. His correspondence with King Viserys had become frequent. Their bond would be a bridge that he used carefully with the goal of supporting his mother’s interests. Lucerys chose his words carefully. Draco’s influence on each turn of phrase intending to sway Viserys subtly toward his mother’s cause.

In this letter, Lucerys wrote, “Dragonstone could serve the Crown even more effectively if it were equipped with a fleet of its own. The seas are our natural domain. A fleet stationed here would help with trade significantly. It could even secure the waters near King’s Landing.”

His letter arrived at the Red Keep within days. Viserys read it with a thoughtful expressions. He shifted forward to share its contents with Lord Beesbury and Lyonel Strong.

“A sound suggestion,” Lord Beesbury mused. “A fleet stationed on Dragonstone would not only bolster our trade but also protect the crown’s waters.”

Lyonel Strong nodded in agreement. “It could be framed as a move to benefit the realm rather than a gift to the crown Princess .”

Viserys’s face softened. The pride he felt at his grandson’s initiative was clearly evident. “Lucerys has a keen mind. He’s always been perceptive of the needs of others.” He swiftly signed the decree to begin construction on the fleet.

When word reached Alicent, she was beyond furious. “How could he decide this without consulting me?” she fumed to Otto and Larys. The order had already gone out to shipbuilders in Pentos. There was nothing she could do to reverse it. Rhaenyra’s side had won this round.

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Back on Dragonstone, Lucerys and Jacaerys were busy preparing to welcome several new guests to the island. Young nobles from House Baratheon and Arryn had arrived to foster at Dragonstone. Further strengthening alliances that would hopefully secure Rhaenyra’s position. Two of Boremund Baratheon’s granddaughters, Cassandra and Maris, arrived as ladies of the court. Their young cousin Renly was sent as a squire to Laenor. From Highgarden, Rhaenyra’s aunt had sent her young daughter, Jocelyn Tyrell. She would serve in Rhaenyra’s court while bonding with Baela and Rhaena.

Lucerys greeted them all politely with a bit of warmth, Slytherin mask in place. Each interaction was a part of his plan to build a circle of loyalty around his mother’s family. He and Jacaerys were careful to make their new allies feel welcome. They encouraged them to see Dragonstone as a place of strength and loyalty. A calculated move by the Velaryon boys. They planned to observe their new acquaintances, hoping to learn about their individual ambitions.

“Lady Cassandra,” Lucerys said with a polite bow, “we are honored to have you here. I hope you find Dragonstone to be welcoming.”

Cassandra returned his bow with a curtsy, a faint smile playing at her lips. “It’s certainly more mysterious than I expected. Yet I find it to be… compelling.”

Jacaerys grinned, clapping Renly on the back. “And you, Renly, will be sparring with us daily. We have dragons here, yes, but every prince should also be a warrior.”

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In the family wing of Dragonstone, the Velaryons and Targaryen’s gathered after supper. The fire crackled warmly in the hearth which casted a soft glow over everyone seated around it. The air was filled with a lightness that had rarely been seen in recent months. Rhaenyra, hands folded tightly in her lap, took a deep breath, and prepared herself. Across from her, Lucerys caught the unusual gleam in his mother’s eye which piqued his curiosity.

“You look like you have something to say, Mother.” Jaceerys said with a grin.

Rhaenyra returned his smile. “Indeed, I do.” She glanced at each of her sons, before she continued. “It has been confirmed that I am with child.”

A wave of excitement filled through the room. Jacaerys and Lucerys looked at each other with wide, astonished eyes. Baela and Rhaena clapped with delight. Lucerys, for his part, felt an odd mixture of wonder and intrigue. A younger sibling, he thought, the idea slowly sinking in. In his past life, he never had the chance to be a big brother. The prospect was both daunting and thrilling, a fierce protectiveness taking over.

Jacaerys grinned, his face alight with joy. “I hope it’s a little sister. She’d be very well-protected with all of us here.”

Rhaenyra’s face softened. “I confess, I hope for a girl too, Jace. Though any healthy child will be a blessing.” Her voice carried a warmth and tenderness, tempered by a touch of caution.

The family had just settled into celebrating this unexpected news when Laena cleared her throat loudly. She had been sitting quietly beside Daemon and shared a knowing glance with him. “Well,” she began with a smile, “it seems that Dragonstone will be home to more than one new life.” She looked around the room, gently placing a hand over her own abdomen. “I, too, am with child.”

The room fell silent for a heartbeat. Then erupted in a roar of even greater excitement. Rhaenyra looked at Laena, astonished yet overjoyed. “Truly?”

Laena nodded, a look of serene joy on her face. “Truly.” She leaned her head against Daemon’s shoulder. “And, while I, too, would be blessed by any child, I find myself hoping for a son.”

Daemon’s usual stoic expression softened as he wrapped his arm around Laena. “A son would be fitting,” he murmured with pride, “but any child of ours will be a treasure.”

Lucerys observed his family’s jubilation. He felt a strange warmth in his chest. Leaning closer to Baela, he whispered, “I never thought about having younger siblings before. I wonder what it’s like to be a big brother.”

Baela grinned. “It means you’ll have someone younger than you to protect. And maybe even teach a thing or two.”

Lucerys thought about this, the flicker of Draco’s memories mingling with his own. In his past life, he had always been an only child. Now, he might have a younger sibling to watch over, to guide, and to protect.

“Does this mean more dragon eggs, then?” Rhaena asked with excitement. “We’ll have to choose the best eggs for them when they’re old enough!”

“Perhaps,” Rhaenyra answered with a soft laugh, “though first, let’s make sure these little ones arrive safely.”

When informed later, Corlys and Rhaenys took the opportunity to suggest inviting healers from Essos. Those skilled in both conventional and mystical arts could attend to the births for an extra layer of protection. As eager as the family was to celebrate, they also grew even more protective.

Plans had already been made for a brief but secure visit to King’s Landing. Officially they would be there out of a polite familial concern for Aemond’s recovery. Though, the underlying purpose was to reinforce family ties with the king and secure alliances with the lords visiting the Red Keep. The Great Game, after all, was still in progress.

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In the throne room of the Red Keep, King Viserys sat listening to petitions. He was reviewing yet another boring document, longing to leave and work on his Valyrian model, when a royal messenger entered. Within his hands was a small, delicately wrapped box in red with a black ribbon.

“Your Grace,” the messenger said, his voice tentative and respectful. “A gift from Prince Lucerys currently on Dragonstone.”

Viserys’s eyes lit up at the mention of his grandson. “From Lucerys?” He accepted the box with a wide smile. The room watched with intense curiosity as he carefully undid the wrappings. Inside lay a striking bracelet of Valyrian steel and dragonglass. It was in the shape of a dragon, elegantly coiled and carved in the likeness of Balerion the Black Dread. Its eyes glinted with tiny shards of dark ruby. Its fierce and regal press captured the very essence of the legendary dragon.

Viserys turned the bracelet in his hands, marveling at its craftsmanship. “Look at this,” he murmured, voice filled with admiration. “It’s a dragon—the very likeness of Balerion. Crafted with the help of my grandson, no less!” He could barely contain his pride at the gift. He slipped the bracelet onto his wrist letting its cool weight settle comfortably against his skin.

Several lords and courtiers had gathered around to see it with interest. Much to the king’s delight all seemed intrigued by the work of his grandson. Lord Beesbury, leaned in closer to examine the bracelet, his eyes widening at the delicate work.

“A gift worthy of a king and, dear I say, a loving grandfather,” Beesbury remarked with a nod. “Prince Lucerys has a remarkable talent indeed. I wonder if he and the jewelry makers are interested in taking commissions. My own family would love to be sent a gift such as this, though maybe on a smaller scale.”

Viserys smiled, extending his arm to admire the bracelet once more. The light would catch on the polished dragonglass and the shimmering steel. He paused, pride brightening his expression. “Though he will be the heir to Driftmark after his father, he honors his mother’s ancestors with this dragon. A mark of the strength of our family.”

The lords murmured their agreement. Alicent, who had entered quietly, caught sight of the bracelet on her husband’s wrist. She offered him a polite smile, though her eyes narrowed slightly at the open admiration being showered upon the gift from Lucerys.

“Lucerys is a thoughtful child,” she remarked, her voice smooth. “Such gifts are rare indeed.”

Viserys beamed, ignoring any hint of tension. “He has his mother’s cleverness and his father’s creativity, I daresay.” He glanced at the bracelet again, as though he could hardly bear to look away. “And what a generous spirit he has. He sends this to remind me of Balerion—the last dragon I rode. A gesture to show he understands his heritage and honors it.”

He raised his voice, addressing the lords and courtiers gathered. “Prince Lucerys, young as he is, carries the spirit of House Targaryen within him. May all of Westeros remember that.”

Viserys chuckled softly, enjoying the warmth that Lucerys’s thoughtfulness had kindled within him. He had something of his own to show off and admire now. Something all his own that spoke of both love and legacy. For just a moment, the king seemed unburdened, smiling proudly as he continued to admire his grandson’s gift.

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With tension radiating from her every step, Alicent paced the length of her chambers. Her efforts to gain an edge over Rhaenyra’s claim to the throne were crumbling. Every spy she sent to Dragonstone and even the Celtigar stronghold came back empty-handed. Some didn’t come back at all. She was anxious and on edge with the constant failures gnawing at her.
That evening, she summoned Larys and her father to her sitting room. “There must be something more that can be done,” she began, her voice tight. “Every attempt I’ve made to uncover Rhaenyra’s plans has been thwarted. My own spies can’t even get close.” She sat down with a huff, rubbing her temples in frustration.
The former Hand’s sharp gaze fixed on her, his voice cutting like a blade. “Perhaps you should consider that your failure may lie in your impatience. Spies and whispers are like delicate instruments, Alicent. They must be used carefully, not thrown about like blunt weapons.”
Alicent flinched under his admonishment. “And what would you have me do, Father?” she asked tiredly, a trace of defeat in her tone.
Otto leaned forward, his expression calculating. “Make a precise cut by targeting her allies. Harwin Strong in particular is a keystone in the foundation of her base power. Remove him from the board, and her support begins to crumble.”
Larys, who had been silent until this moment, tilted his head with an insidious smile. “Accidents happen, my queen,” he murmured, his tone oily. “Even to men as strong as my brother.”
The ominous words hung in the air. For a moment, no one spoke, absorbing what must be done. Then, with an unspoken agreement, a chilling understanding passed between them.

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Days later, in a dimly lit tavern in King’s Landing, Harwin Strong conducted his nightly patrol. Moving around the room after exchanging casual nods and greetings with those who respected his position. The mood was rowdy, and he sensed an underlying tension. All at once, a fight broke out at the back of the room with another argument growing at the bar quickly escalating from raised voices to shoving to thrown fists.

Harwin stepped forward to calm the commotion, when two men broke away from the developing brawl. They moved toward him with purposeful strides. Before he could fully shift focus to react, one of them grabbed his arm and pinned him in place. The other man drew a crude dagger from his waist.

“Lord Harwin,” the attacker hissed menacingly. “Even the Strong must fall.”

Harwin attempted to struggle just as the blade plunged into his side. Lurching back in pain and shock, he managed a half-turn while trying to push them away. Yet another stab found its mark near the first. Harwin's knees met the floor as they gave out beneath him. His vision began to darken as the two men slipped through the crowd. He was left to die in an obscure corner of the bar.

The news of Harwin’s murder circulated quickly throughout the kingdom. The significance of this one act would ripple across both sides of this impending war. Queen Alicent had made her move, the cost of which would soon be revealed.