Chương 10: Rhaenyra I

Author's Note: So just for clarification, Laenor is dead. One of the very few things I didn't like about HoTD was the whole 'Rhaenyra didn't kill Laenor' routine. It felt like an attempt to make her look good, but my mind just couldn't relate the "Maegor with Tits" to that certain act of mercy.

As for the lateness of this chapter, this is mostly due to the fact that it was exam season, and that I really struggled with writing from a female perspective, especially the lovey-dovey scenes, since I'm deprived of it also.

I spent a lot of time thinking about where to take the story, and I've got some great ideas that will make it much more exciting.

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She stood at the bow of the ship, stroking her older son's hair as they watched the island of Dragonstone approach.

"Mother, why are we going back to Dragonstone and not to Kingslanding?" Asked Jace.

"I don't know, my sweet. The King ordered us to do so, and so we follow the King's orders."

"That's alright, I always wanted to see Dragonstone anyways! I heard the painted table is there!"

She gave a slight smile back to Jace, he looks so innocent and happy, she thought.

"Yes it is, I'm sure you'll be able to see it."

It didn't take long for Jace to get bored, as he ran back towards his brother and cousins to play with them.

She was glad Laenor's death didn't diminish their spirits for long, their last couple of days in Driftmark were very... Exciting.

Especially since the hectic events coincided with Baelon's.... spectacular feat.

A hand sneakily sled over hers, she looked back to see Daemon looking at her.

"You look despondent, what is it?" He asked.

"Just thinking."

"About what?"

She moved her hand and held his in return.

"The future."

Daemon just hummed back.

"How about a small valyrian ceremony, on Dragonstone, we may as well take advantage of this... visit."

She mused for a while.

"Yes, let us do that."

They stood in content silence for a while, enjoying each other's presence.

"Your graces, we are about to reach the harbor." The captain interrupts their moment.

She doesn't answer, while Daemon nods towards the captain.

"It has been a while..." She says.

"Yes, I believe the last time was after I was exiled by Viserys."

She lets out a light chuckle.

"Yes, I remember looking down at you from dragonback in the steps leading to the castle, you looked quite insignificant." She responded in High Valyrian.

"Really? I seem to remember the incident differently, all I remember is holding off my laugh as I looked up at you, hiding beneath a mask of confidence." He answers in High Valyrian.

She fully turns towards him, a slight smirk on her face.

"The thing I remember the most though is the Lord Hand's shocked expression, which was quite uncharacteristic."

"Why yes, the sight of that snake's gaping mouth was very much... delightful?" Daemon's sentence sported a questioning tone as his gaze shifted behind her, or more specifically, Dragonstone.

She turned at an opportune time, as the wind blew her hair upwards, Dragons batting their wings above her.

Is... is this Dragonstone?!

"He... changed it." Daemon exclaimed.

Dragonstone was a dreary island, it was damp and bleak, with the Dragonmont filling its skies with smoke and giving it the smell of sulfur.

The castle that shared its namesake was a grim keep made of stone fused through magic and Dragonfire, built right under the Dragonmont at the mouth of the Blackwater, its menacing Dragon statues and dark scheme usually invoked feelings of sadness and depression.

The castle was built atop a cliff, so there was not much space to build at its proximity, or at least there wasn't.

"How did he do this in such a short time ?"

The place looked considerably different from the last time she visited, the ground around the castle was somehow flattened, allowing a significant amount of whitish smooth homes to be built around, enough to be called a large town.

There was a newly built dock, made of the same whitish liquid rock, receiving a sizable amount of ships that seemed to store a great amount of merchandise.

The castle was mostly the same, except for the banners, the depressing statues were replaced with more acceptable ones, and one very flattering and huge banner of House Targaryen's three-headed Dragon hung over the walls. And when the castle was previously a lonely grim symbol, it seemed now like an obsidian jewel amidst a sea of white.

As their ship approached the dock, she was able to see the market, a veritable melting pot of different wares, it was situated on a main road that lead straight to the keep, a road large and spacious enough for five carriages to traverse it. Filled with people from all around Westeros and Essos, and for every score yard, there was one of her Brother's purple mantled soldiers taking guard.

She wasn't self-aware as the boat shuddered gently against the stony exterior of the port, it seems they arrived, she thought.

She gestured for a servant to approach.

"Yes, your Grace."

"Where is Joffrey?"

"Sleeping, your Grace. The wetnurses are taking good care of him, your Grace."

"Good, make sure he doesn't get disturbed and bring him to me if he wakes. Go call the other children, we're disembarking."

"Of course, your Grace."

She stepped out of the gangway followed by her excitable children, and as she stood next to Daemon, she found her Father, Baelon, and the rest waiting for them.

This was clearly a private area of the docks, reserved for important guests and any such things that require either privacy or safety.

Standing at the front of an impressive retinue of mantled guards and servants were two people.

One was an aging man in clothes typical of a steward and he weighed more stones than average, his hair was an ashy grey but his face was almost free of wrinkles, he wore a disarming smile on his face, and if she wasn't used to spotting such signs, then she was sure that she would have missed the way he discreetly sized up every person on his sight.

The other was a thin man in his twenties, he had clearly Valyrian traits, notably silver-golden hair and purple eyes bordering on blue, his face sported a sharp goatee and his face had a gentle air about it. But what was most impressive, is that over his worn-out Maester robe was an impressively long chain -rolled over itself at least two times- of a respectable variety of metals, she could even spot the smoky tint of Valyrian steel.

The steward, or castellan, in this case, bowed deeply towards the king, followed in an almost rehearsed manner by every person behind him.

"Your Grace! Welcome to Dragonstone, my name is Robert Quince, the castellan of this keep in the name of Prince Baelor! Dragonstone is yours. Please! Please have some bread and salt."

One of the many servants silently approached the King holding a plate of bread and salt, but before she could answer, Lord Commander Criston stopped her with his hand.

Just as he opened his mouth, her Father spoke.

"No need for any of that, Lord Commander. I'm sure my son's servants aren't stupid or disloyal enough to attempt any foolhardy business in the middle of Dragonstone."

He then proceeded to eat a piece of bread dipped in salt.

And while the rest of us ate the bread, Baelon approached the two men.

"Robert, Vaelar, how are things."

"Everything is going well your Grace, all according to your predictions. The workers had to fend off some thieves back at the mines, but nothing a few of the Amethyst Guard couldn't fix." Replies Robert.

"Yes, there were also some... interesting discoveries, your Grace." Continues the Maester.

"Good, I will need your written reports for later, but for now, just help me to show our guests around, Robert. You can go to your usual duties Vaelar."

""Of course.""

Baelon turns around and claps his hand, turning everyone's attention towards himself.

"Alright!"

He stood with the gigantic road on his back, the black silhouette of the Dragonstone castle over his back.

"Welcome, to Dragonstone!" He began.

"It has been a while since I took over as Lord of Dragonstone, and I am proud to say that this place has undergone a pleasant transformation, won't you say? So, on the way to the castle, where a scrumptious banquet is being prepared, how about we show you around, eh?"

"Haha, of course, Son, lead the way."

"Good, If you would please get on the carriages, it wouldn't do to let our guests walk all the way, wouldn't it?"

"Of course not, my lord." Followed Robert, the castellan.

We followed towards a group of open carriages, they were made from sturdy wood and were wide enough to need four horses to carry, while the seats were a particular shade of red she wasn't familiar with.

The King, the Hand, Baelon, and Corlys opted to seat themselves on one carriage, while she and the kids were on another, Daemon opted to take a horse instead, keeping in line with both her carriage and his twins.

The castellan, Robert, did the same, as his chubby body looked comical atop his horse.

By signal from Baelon, the whole group moved at once, the spacious road enough for them to pass easily.

And as they passed by the crowded areas, the people would part way while looking back at them, and while in Kingslanding she would see mothers holding their children close, and looks of fear directed towards them, here she only saw joy and respect on their faces.

Which were promptly followed by shouts.

"Long Live the King!" "Hail House Targaryen!" "Glory to the Prince!"

Surprised by the new treatment, she looked towards the castellan for clarification.

Noticing her gaze, the portly man smiled gently.

"As you can see, Princess. A lot of the people who lived on the island were given better wages and conditions due to the prince's reforms. And over the last 2 years, the Prince even had an agreement with Braavos for them to send any of the slaves they liberate here instead of unloading them in their own slums.

Some of them also originate from the Flea bottom of Kingslanding and are people who came looking for fair work and good pay, although we did receive news of some opposition on that front. And so most of the people of Dragonstone owe their livelihoods to the Prince, and by association to the King and House Targaryen."

As her mind registered what she heard, she looked back at the people celebrating their arrival. She thought that the new conquest of Dorne must have definitely helped things along.

She turned back to her kids, only to find them in an excited conversation with the castellan.

"... When he came here at first, I admit I was skeptical, Ser Alfred Broome, the previous castellan, even openly decried serving the prince, as he was of around 10 name-days at the time. This naturally forced the Prince to dismiss him from his post, so he was demoted to being Master-at-arms of the castle."

"That is astounding!" Exclaimed Jace, he then proceeded to turn towards her.

"Mother! Maybe I must also receive a castle of my own, surely like Uncle Baelon, I too can learn about Lordship and what it entails!" He requested.

She looked at his wide-eyed, hopeful eyes and winced. Her hand found itself gently atop his head while she gently kissed her son's forehead.

"I understand, but I cannot grant you a castle, the only reason your uncle did is due to the fact that he is the heir to the throne."

Upon seeing her son's dejected expression, she couldn't help but comfort him.

"But do not worry, son. There are many ways that can help you learn about lordship."

"Like what?"

"I will think of something." She rubbed his hair, letting out a pleasant chuckle at his pout.

"How did my nephew manage to flatten the land? The last time I was here, this place was naught but boulders and pitfalls." Interjected Daemon from atop his steed.

"Well, your grace, it was Dragonfire."

"Dragonfire?"

"Yes, Prince Baelon's Xyrax at the time of his arrival was large enough to burn through even metal, so he simply liquefied the boulders instead of moving them, which was his inspiration for creating the liquid rock that everyone heard about

Then he used the new invention to fill up any gaps and built on top of that. This took a couple of moons, of course. But we hadn't the gold to move so many smallfolk and build any houses until then anyways, so it eventually worked out, your Grace." Replied the castellan.

Daemon directed his attention elsewhere, his mind seemingly deep in thought, so Princess Rhaenys' asked her own question from the other carriage.

It has been enough time for both her and her husband to mourn the death of their children, but even so, it seemed like the fiery half-Baratheon princess that she had admired when she was a child had lost some of her fire, only her grandchildren ignited that spark again, but even with that, the grief has clearly gotten to the black-haired beauty.

Rhaenyra ruthlessly crushed the pang of guilt in her heart, she doesn't regret her decision.

She is happy now, she thought even as she realized the lie in that statement.

"I see quite a lot of interesting products sold, is that gold silk? I heard from my husband that it was only made in yi-ti, and even there, only the royal family was allowed to don the color."

"That is sea silk, your grace. Locally produced from local shells. Due to the Prince's direction and Maester Vaelar's hard work, Dragonstone is now also home to a number of new products, you can see new shades of Purple, blue, yellow, red, and pink dyes which are immensely popular with the free cities, along with new spirits, the island became a great stop from merchants for Essos and Westeros."

"Hmm... This is interesting, don't you think, husband?" Said Rhaenys.

"Yes, quite. While I managed to enrich Driftmark by journeying forth and bringing in new products distant from Westeros, Prince Baelon did so by exploiting the untapped natural resources of the island and experimenting with new uses of it. I think we may be able to attempt something of the same nature back home."

They spent the time on the carriages admiring and observing the island, it seems that her brother wasn't idle with his Lordship.

Her mind drifted back to a distant time, back when her mother used to tell her stories, mostly about dragons and Targaryens. One of her favorites was Daenys' the dreamer, and dragonstone.

She was happy then, content. She dreamt every day of coming back to those days when it was just her, Daemon, her father, and her mother. It was them against the world, she hadn't to think about any politicking or schemings.

Her gaze shifted to the foremost carriage, focusing on the silver mop of hair on top of purple, and had her hands tighten unknowingly.

If only those days would come back.

The carriages finally stopped around an obsidian fountain, with a sizeable dragon sculpture made of colored dragon stone belching the water out of its mouth.

"We're here." Said Daemon.

"Yes, we are."