The Arryn Queen

The Hand of the King looked displeased, his wine untouched. "I must insist otherwise, Your Grace," he said. "The matter of Prince Aegon's claiming of the she-dragon Dreamfyre is not at an end, but merely the beginning." His eyes were on the king and the king alone. "There will be felt for many decades the results of the decision made today."

"Yes," said Viserys. "And I thought my decision was quite clear, Otto. My nephew will keep his dragon when he returns to Runestone after the tourney's end. What more is there to say?"

"The precedent being set will have far reaching consequences. Prince Aegon will succeed Lady Rhea Royce as the next Lord of Runestone, taking the name Royce when he does so. The rest of his line will be Royces of Runestone as well, and many of them will no doubt be dragonriders. This would mean that not one, but two noble houses other than the royal house, will soon possess dragons. With three families of dragonriders, Your Grace, I fear that conflict will be inevitable."

"Only if we assume the worst in our descendants," Aemma said, shifting in her seat. The later turns of pregnancy left her uncomfortable most days, and even the feather pillows she sat upon did not alleviate her discomfort for long. Talk of politics did nothing to help. "From what I've gathered, Aegon is a man of his word, and a true knight if there ever was one."

He had come to her yesterday, after flying around King's Landing with Rhaenyra and Syrax for some time. Kind and courteous, Aegon had gone to knee before her, begging her pardon for not seeking an audience upon his arrival to the city. "Jeyne speaks fondly of you and your letters," her nephew had said. "They are a comfort to her in the Eyrie's Falcon Court." That the queen knew, for she treasured all of her niece's letters, and most of all the more recent correspondents. Jeyne was strong, loving who she loved, but she was not blind to those around her, and so too, it seemed, was Aegon.

They would make a great match, she knew, but the game of thrones was never so simple as that.

"Be that as it may, Your Grace," said Lord Otto. "How honorable Prince Aegon is will matter not to the other houses great and small of the Seven Kingdoms. Some have voiced discontent at House Velaryon becoming a house of dragonriders with the marriage of Princess Rhaenys to Lord Corlys, and I've heard more of it when young Laenor Velaryon claimed the dragon Seasmoke. But that is nothing to Prince Aegon's claiming of Dreamfyre. The Royces of Runestone hail from the First Men, not of Old Valyria like the Targaryens and Velaryons. For them to be a noble house also possessing dragons upsets the delicate balance King Jaehaerys established so many years ago."

"So, you would have me take Dreamfyre away from Aegon?" Viserys shook his head. "Dragons are not fickle beasts to do with as we please, especially one so large as Dreamfyre. Let the other lords wag their tongues and stew in their jealousy. It matters not to me. My nephew will keep his dragon. Mayhaps in the years to come, his daughter might marry my son, putting all this to an end."

Aemma touched the swell of her belly, thinking of the children lost before their time. The birth of Rhaenyra had been a blessing, but a painful ordeal that had left her bedridden for weeks. Would this one be different? My duty as queen is to bring forth an heir, and I've failed so far. Daemon was still the heir in all but name, and the realm would burn if he ever ascended the Iron Throne. Her good-brother and cousin could never sit still for long, and politics never did fancy him.

"As you say, Your Grace," Lord Otto said, and Viserys rose from his seat with a pleased smile. He went off after kissing Aemma on the cheek and reassuring Otto once more, Ser Steffon Darklyn and Ser Clarence Crabb of the Kingsguard following close behind. Then they were alone, and the Hand of the King returned to his seat with a sigh. "The king will never change his mind on this matter, will he?"

Aemma shook her head, knowing the man she loved. "Viserys can be blind to what he does not wish to see."

The Hand of the King was a stern-faced man, taller than most, and the years were starting to pull at him. The grey was creeping into his hair and the lines of his face grew more numerous by the year. He offered her a small nod and took a sip of his wine. "Did the family dinner go well? I've heard tell from some of the castle stewards and servants that it was a rather… tense affair."

An unqueenly snort escaped her. Lord Otto covered the twitch of a grin with his glass. "It went as well as expected given those in attendance," Aemma said. The night had started out pleasantly enough. Aegon had been courteous and unintimidated by the famed Master of Driftmark. Rhaenyra spoke and japed with Laena and Laenor Velaryon, though Aemma had watched her daughter try to catch Aegon's eye throughout the night, never managing it for more than a momentary glance. It had her wondering about the pair, and Aemma did not doubt that she was the only one who had that night. Cousin Rhaenys had said little and less, whispering quiet words to her husband. For once, Daemon had proved calm and agreeable, but the enmity was clear between father and son. Viserys had smiled and jested all throughout the night, blind to the fading tension. That was her husband's way. He wanted everyone to be happy. But the world they lived in was not so agreeable to that, and it was only by some miracle that the night had ended with only some veiled insults said. "Once this tourney is over and my son is born, you'll no longer need to hold your breath about the succession."

"I pray it so."

After the Hand of the King took his leave, Aemma busied herself with what she could. Pregnancy kept most things from her, and the maesters cautioned that it was unwise to travel much so close to the birth. She wanted what was best for the babe like they did, but there was only so much sitting she could do. The Heir's Tourney had brought much and many to King's Landing, and among the knights and lords were their wives and daughters. Aemma sent her ladies to invite those wives and daughters who had come for a lunch, to hear what they had to say. And to see what they will not. A lady's armor is her courtesy, and words are her sword.

At the lunch Aemma's own ladies, Meredyth Cargyll and Theodora Darklyn, made the introductions. First was Lady Alysanne Tyrell, the daughter of Lord Matthos of Highgarden. She was a beauty to behold, with long brown hair and doe-eyes, and many opinions of the lords and knights and princes to compete. There were three Tyrell cousins who had accompanied her, Leonette and Jeyne and Ellyn, all close to her age. Slender Lady Ella was a Peake by birth, and a Costayne by marriage to Ser Jon Costayne, the one called the Knight of Cups. Lady Johanna Reyne had a sharp face and hair black like midnight, unlike the golden curls of her elder sister Jocelyn. Short, buxom Lady Darry was with child, and young Melesa Strong was a child of seven, the younger daughter of the king's master of laws, Lord Lyonel Strong.

The last to join them was the youngest son of Lord Lyonel, Larys, accompanying his sister. All that the gods had given the stronger elder brother Harwin Breakbones, they had not for the young Larys. Called the Clubfoot, Larys had a malformed right foot, so twisted at birth it was useless. He walked with a cane, and when he bid them permission to join the ladies as he had no place on the training grounds, Aemma allowed him to do so. The gods were cruel when shaping this one.

Lunch was chicken and roast boar from the kitchens, fresh bread from the bakeries, lemon and orange cakes with sweet Arbor Reds, cheeses and grapes and sliced apples. Aemma chose first, taking a bite of the boar with some bread, a cup of honied tea, the babe in her belly wanting nothing else. Then the rest followed, and the queen's solar filled with conversation. She invited Lady Alysanne to her side first, the three cousins engrossed by Lady Ella Costayne's tale, and listened to the many things she had to say. "It is a shame Old Lord Oakheart left with all his company. I had so hoped to see his sons ride in the joust. Gwayne had a handsome suit of plate special made for the tourney, Your Grace."

"A renowned tourney knight, is he?" Aemma asked.

"He rode well in Lord Fossoway's name day tourney. Named me his queen of love and beauty, and he said he would do the same in front of the realm after winning the Heir's Tourney. No doubt he thought to win the glory and ask my lord father for my hand." Lady Alysanne blushed prettily, but Aemma was not fooled. She had seen her own daughter do the same to whatever passing handsome knight took her fancy. "But he would not have triumphed in the lists now, not with so many great knights to contend with. They say Ser Edmund Toyne is amongst the favorites to win."

"I've not heard of Ser Edmund's great deeds in the lists. He'll have to best the likes of Ser Gedmund Peake and the young Cargyll twins, Ser Arryk and Ser Erryk."

"Mayhaps… and I've heard tell from Alys Roxton that it will be Prince Daemon to win. But her sister said that it would be his son, Prince Aegon. Your Grace, is it true that he has claimed a dragon? I saw two flying yesterday above the Red Keep, one was blue and the other yellow, and I know that Prince Daemon's dragon is red."

Aemma rubbed her belly, seeing the wonder and excitement and want in Lady Alysanne's eyes for however well she tried to hide it. "He did," the queen said. "Dreamfyre was the dragon you saw. Former mount of Rhaena Targaryen."

"He must be very brave to claim such a large dragon. They say he's just like his father in that regard, daring, handsome, and dangerous."

"I wouldn't say dangerous." A great many people had opinions of Aegon of late, and very few had actually met with him to know truth from lie. Words can be as dangerous as daggers in the king's court, rumors even more so than most. "But enough about this tourney we've all gathered for. Tell me of the Reach, and of Highgarden. I've yet to have the pleasure of visiting."

"Oh, but you must visit soon, Your Grace," said Alysanne Tyrell, and Aemma listened for what details others would miss by that pretty smile and the way the young lady's green dress hugged her form. Lord Tarly and most of the Marcher knights had remained in their castles and holdfasts, while the rest of the Reach had come for the tourney and celebrations. The Dornishmen were growing bold since the death of King Jaehaerys. No doubt the Boneway and the Prince's Pass were rife with foolish bandits seeking to avenge Prince Morion Martell's legacy that was Dorne's defeat in the Fourth Dornish War. Bold enough to worry Lord Tarly. The Redwyne fleet remained patrolling the Shield Isles, Lord Redwyne sending only his brother and nephews to King's Landing. There had been no word of Ironborn raiders of late. Lord Hobert Hightower of the Hightower had petitioned a betrothal between the Hightowers and the Tyrells, but Lord Matthos had kindly refused any offer. "Ormund's only nine. I told father that I would never agree to a match like that, not when there are better ones to be had."

Aemma saw a serving girl enter the solar from over Alysanne's shoulder. "Has a gallant knight caught your eye, my lady? With so many in the city, there must be many who have clamored for your favor to wear in the lists." The serving girl whispered something to Meredyth Cargyll, and the queen's lady sent her on her way and stood.

"One or three," Alysanne said, smiling behind her wine glass, a hint of pink to her cheeks. "But there's one in particular who I had hoped would ask. 'A true knight,' they call him. But he–"

"Pardon me, Lady Alysanne, Your Grace." Meredyth was at her side. Aemma turned to her, holding up a hand to Alysanne Tyrell, minding the way the younger lady looked away. Meredyth leaned down to the queen's ear and whispered, "Prince Daemon has been seen on the Street of Silk with the gold cloaks."

"To patrol, or partake?"

"Ser Benedict says it started as a patrol, but the prince soon joined his men. He says the prince made a show of paying for all of the whores, loudly."

Damn you, Daemon. Aemma inclined her head, and Meredyth stepped away. Her cousin and good-brother was never one to easily forgive a slight, even if it was one committed against him by their grandmother, Queen Alysanne Targaryen. She had arranged the marriage, and for a second son set to inherit nothing, a marriage to Lady Rhea was a boon. But Daemon didn't hadn't seen it as that, but merely as King Jaehaerys and Prince Baelon casting him aside to the Vale, and still could not see. Blinded by your damn pride.

Lady Alysanne sipped her wine, and said, "Is something the matter, Your Grace?"

"Nothing you need be concerned with," Aemma said. "And now I must bid you farewell. The babe in my belly demands that I sleep." She stood with effort, and all those in her solar stood as well. Meredyth and Theodora both came to her, and Aemma inclined her head to the ladies' curtseys and Larys Strong's bow, making her way on soar feet to her chambers.

Ser Jeffory Norcross of the Kingsguard stood guard outside the queen's solar, and he fell into step behind them, silent but for the click of his white plate. For as much as she disliked it, her current state made moving any distance a chore, and Aemma needed Theodora by her side less she stumble over her own feet. "Anything of note from the young ladies and Lord Lyonel's youngest son?"

"They seem harmless enough, Your Grace." Lady Theodora Darklyn knew King's Landing better than most. She knew the game they all played and how to discern real players from pawns. Aemma was glad to call her friend for so many years. She and Meredyth both. "Lady Johanna Reyne enjoys hawking and horse riding. Her sister Jocelyn claims that Johanna was born to ride. Lady Ella Costayne believes her lord husband will triumph in the melee and has even placed wagers. Lady Alysanne's cousins proved to be pretty little blushing maidens and nothing more. They blushed at all that Lady Ella had to say, and more so when Lady Darry described what a lover her lord husband was."

"Well, Lady Alysanne did not prove so innocent as them. She plays with the Reach knights who catch her fancy, and now has her eyes set on Aegon."

"Shall I discourage her of such?"

Aemma shook her head, patting Theodora's hand. "There is no need. My nephew is not so easily tempted by a pretty smile and fashionable dresses."

The royal apartments were at the center of Maegor's Holdfast, the castle within a castle, not far from the queen's solar. Ser Jeffory took his post before the doors, and Aemma bid the servants to shutter the windows and snuff the candles. Meredyth and Theodora helped her change into her bedclothes, and then into bed. The babe gave a little kick, and Aemma rubbed her belly as she yawned. "You'll be amongst us soon enough." Sleep came hard, as it had for a month past, and it was not a dreamless sleep.

This time she was a knight, riding to that great ruin of a castle. Men rode beside her, but their warhelms hid their faces, and their surcoats bore devices she didn't know. In the distance, the burnt towers and spires reached for the sky like fingers, clawing at the clouds… and the dragons. She saw a blue one first, soaring above her and the knights both, and close behind was a dragon made of gold. Then came the red one, and the three dragons danced about each other in the air, until she realized that it was no dance, but death. More joined them, green, black, pink, red, bronze, silver, white, they all roared above her. Fighting. Dying.

"Dancing," said a voice, and she saw it was a knight beside her. His helm had wings flanking his sides, like those of the dragons above, and he wore red and black. "They dance because of him, for him." She didn't understand, and the dragons roared above them. Some small part of her knew that it was just a dream, but she wanted to know, needed to know. "For whom?" she asked. "Why?" What does this all mean?

She woke suddenly, her coverlets and bedclothes atangle. There was a knocking at the door, a voice calling to her, and Aemma bid them enter. She sat up as Meredyth stepped in, with two knights armored in black bearing a steel warmer, and her nephew. Aegon had a smile on his face, but he quickly looked away. "Apologies, Your Grace. I did not mean to disturb your sleep."

"All is well," she said, as Meredyth helped her into a robe and a more dignified position. The cushioned seat by the windows was well enough, and the fading light when they were opened proved a warm glow. "Sleep is not often routine for me these days. What did you need, Aegon?"

"I've just returned from the Dragonpit," Aegon said, smiling to himself. "Rhaenyra is proving a true taskmaster when it comes to the art of dragonriding. I believe she means for me to be proficient by the time this tourney is at an end."

"One of the few matters she takes seriously."

"Yes, and I've come bearing a gift." Aegon gestured, and the two knights – Dragonkeepers, she realized – stepped forth with the steel warmer in hand. They set it down before her and opened the lid, steam and smoke escaping with a hiss. "Dreamfyre laid an egg mere hours ago. I thought it prudent that her first egg in so many years should be offered to our future king."

For my son. Aemma covered her belly with a hand as she peered into the steel warmer. The dragon egg was huge, its tiny scales seeming to twinkle like jewels in the light, colored so white that it nearly matched the cloak that Ser Jeffory wore. She felt the heat of the egg in her hand when she touched it, and something more. Aemma took her hand away.

"This is very kind of you, Aegon," she said. "I shall send for it when–"

"They said to keep it close," Aegon insisted. "So that the bond would be truer, for both mother and son. Please, Your Grace, keep the egg with you until the birth."

Aemma looked to Meredyth, and then the two Dragonkeepers, to her nephew, and then the egg itself. "If it will assuage your worries, I shall keep the egg close." Aegon smiled, looking similar to Daemon in the light, and that had her thinking. "Come and sit with me a while, nephew. It has been many years since I've graced the Falcon Court and the Eyrie's High Hall. How fares my niece?"