— KINGS LANDING, 108 AC

Virion became a true Targaryen when he was three months old. Swaddled tightly to his mother's front, he rode with her atop Xadras across the Blackwater Bay. She kept one hand gripped on the saddle handle and allowed her child to fist his tiny fingers around one of hers on the other hand. His violet eyes remained open and curious the entire trip. They eagerly shifted between looking up at his mother and out in the distance at the other two glorious winged serpents flying with them.

The she-dragon sailed through the air steadily, while the he-dragons, much younger in age, darted in all directions. They twisted and turned around one another, partaking in playful fights as any other animals of nature did in youth, until the ash-green dragon swooped downwards. Gaelithox spent most of the flight skimming the sea, his slender body leaving foamy currents in his wake. Dieghar flanked them on the right, his magnificent amber scales catching the sunlight.

Gaelithox turned, heading in the direction in which they came from. He was going to circle around the small company of ships sailing back to Kings Landing with the princess and her son. She had ordered him to protect the fleet. He may be young, but his fire could reduce any navy to smoldering wooden planks, especially since there was nowhere for enemies to hide in the open water. Dieghar remained, providing a sense of security to the mother as he acted as extra protection for her child.

This flight pattern continued until Vaerya could spot Kings Landing in the distance. She ordered the amber dragon to return to the fleet and stay with them until they, too, reached their destination. He dropped downwards and flew in the opposite direction. Xadras continued on, her massive body casting a shadow that swallowed the city below them until she landed on the Hill of Rhaenys next to the Dragonpit.

The four Dragonkeepers waiting for Vaerya's arrival instinctively took a few steps back from the dragon. Even the most experienced handlers were still severely cautious about handling the giant beast. Though the Black Death now had a bonded rider, her reputation still preceded her. About the size of Vagahar with a temperament like that of the Cannibal, she was not one to be trifled with. She swung her great head from side to side, baring her razor teeth at the people before her. "Calm," her rider coaxed, hand caressing the warm scales of her back. Though it seemed so, she was not actively making a threat, but her defensive nature set the Dragonkeepers on edge.

The princess swung her right leg over the width of the saddle so she could maneuver down the ropes and dismount. The she-dragon tilted her expansive body as best she could, allowing the mother and child to reach the solid ground more easily. The Dragonkeepers hesitantly began to come closer to make preparations to lead Xadras into the caverns of the Dragonpit. "She will not be chained today," she informed the four in High Valaryian. After giving the beast considerable space, she gave the command. "Fly."

Xadras exhaled loudly before hefting her body around, her long tail almost hitting the keepers standing too close. The ground shook as she stomped heavily toward the edge of the hill. Picking up speed, her long wings unfurled and thrust her into the air. She let out a deafening roar as if to say goodbye to her rider, then soared into the distance.

Vaerya now held Virion at her hip, allowing him to watch in amazement as the dragon grew smaller. "Your egg will eventually hatch, and you, too, shall have a dragon," she smiled at him. She kissed his head before looking at the sky again to see her mount disappear into the horizon.

The moment ended with the rhythmic thumping of hooves. She turned to find a small herd of horses descending into the dragon corral. Ser Harrold Westerling, Commander of the Kingsguard, led the party of people, and two other members of the Kingsguard followed close behind. Next came King Viserys, surrounded by six knights, three on either side of him. Behind them were two men carrying the flag of the dragon, a royal wheelhouse, and a handful of more guards to protect the rear.

"Princess Vaerya," the commander welcomed her with a warm smile. He had always been kind and often went out of his way to fix any frowns during her childhood. "And Prince Virion," his gaze on the babe was just as warm as it was for the mother.

"Ser Harrold, you were missed on Dragonstone," she replied pleasantly, truly relieved to see him again.

"Aye, as you were missed here. I hope Stark served you well in my place."

"Ser Erock has never failed me. Though, I do hope you accompany us during our next return to Dragonstone." She nodded assuredly.

The conversation came to a stop due to the door of the wheelhouse being thrown open. The hinges creaked, and the wood vibrated violently as it smacked against the coach's side. Rhaenyra tumbled out in a flurry of raised skirts. She sprinted to her aunt, throwing her arms around the older girl and squeezing with all her might. The aunt let out a slight wheeze, unprepared to be met with such momentum and might.

"Rya, you've returned!" The young princess squealed with excitement. She had so dearly missed her aunt. Their visit had been too short, and their heartfelt letters far and few between. In a split second, Vaerya was forgotten, and her son became the subject of Rhaenyra's attention. "Vi, you've grown!" She reached for him, and her aunt gingerly placed him in the girl's arms.

"Be careful, Nyra," she warned.

"I know! I know!" Her niece dismissed her, holding the babe tightly to her chest. She left her aunt as quickly as she came, babbling at the boy all the way back to the wheelhouse. She slammed the door behind them, essentially sealing herself away from the world with her cousin to have the entirety of his attention.

Viserys was next to greet his sister. "I prayed to the Seven daily that your boy would grow strong. It seems the Gods have provided." The greeting was awkward at best, but it seemed to her that he was genuinely attempting to connect with her, so she returned the favor.

"Thank you, Your Grace. It pleases me to hear such things." She scanned the faces of the men upon horses only to (thankfully) find that Madwen was not among them. "Do you know the whereabouts of my lord husband?"

The king raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Your husband did not write to you? He left for Oldtown half a moon ago."

"Madwen..." she trailed off, taking a second to formulate her thoughts into a coherent sentence. "He does not concern himself with myself and our child very much. He believes himself better suited elsewhere, like court."

Her half-brother blinked a few times, his facial features doing nothing to hide the bewilderment he felt. He had never experienced such a thing, for him and his lady wife were very much in love. "Well, I cannot agree that his strengths are at court, but I can appreciate a man who is honest with himself. It seems he knew you would naturally be better suited to be with the child since you are his mother."

Vaerya so badly wanted to take Viserys by the ears and remove his head from so far up his own ass. She was confident he was stuck there after being ignorant for so long. The Seven Kingdoms had never had a more oblivious king. He truly believed she had finally become content with being married to the man and that motherhood had ceased her bouts of defiance. She said nothing more on the subject of her husband and chose not to berate the king for his stupidity.

"Yes, Madwen's duties to the Realm are much different than mine," she feigned agreement. "How lucky I am to have a husband that is so dedicated to the kingdom."

"Arwyn will have a fine father to look up to," Viserys smiled. With the seeming success of the marriage, he was beginning to forgive his sister for her scandalous pre-marriage transgressions.

The princess did her best to bite her tongue. Her fingernails sunk into her palms as she controlled her breathing. She had forgotten her husband decided to call the boy such an idiotic name. She also knew her brother could not be more wrong with the statement he had just made. There was nothing fine or fatherly about Madwen Hightower.

"Yes, he will." Vaerya thought only of Erock as she said so.

The Seven Kingdoms were wholly taken with Prince Arwyn. The maesters scrawled his name in their books, and bards sang it in taverns. There was not a person in all of the Realm who did not speak highly of the newest addition to the Targaryen family while in public. The smallfolk cheered when they caught glimpses of him on dragonback with his mother, and the nobles clapped when they saw him in court with her too. Arwyn Targaryen was currently the heart of the kingdoms and in the hearts of everyone who lived in the kingdoms.

There was much celebration to be had now that Vaerya had born her first child—the presumed Heir of Dragonstone. The small council ensured the final preparations for the said celebration were made. After reaching word of the prince's birth, they began planning for such. The festivities would include a grand tourney, seven days of feasts and frolics, and even a public dragon display.

The princess did not have any desire to participate in such festivities. Those events had always been deemed unnecessary to her. She felt it was a waste of resources. The small council described it to her as a way for the Crown to once again connect with the smallfolk; public celebration always did well in smoothing over peasant unrest. She did not want her child to be used as a medium in doing so. He was more than a tool to aid in solving their problems, just as she was not just a womb to produce royal children. But, as with many aspects of her life, she was given no choice.

In the week following her return from Dragonstone, the princess refused any company besides her closest companions and the staff essential in helping take care of her son and herself. Her lord husband was still nowhere to be found but said to still be in Oldtown taking care of family matters that needed to be sorted. During the day, she would take daily dragon rides, and no one could stop her from taking her child. In the evening, she would dine with her niece, who still refused to leave the baby be.

The first day of the official celebration forced the woman out of her selective isolation and into the world of court once more. She was awoken early, scrubbed from head to toe in a bath of warm water, dressed in a gown made of the finest material from the corners of the known world, primped and preened, and finally escorted to the private dining area inside the royal apartments.

There, King Viserys sat at the head of the table with Queen Aemma and Princess Rhaenyra on either side. Next to the young girl were Lady Laena and Lord Laenor. Across from the Velaryon children were their parents, Princess Rhaenys and Lord Corlys. Vaerya was quite surprised to find Lord Otto and Lady Alicent were not in attendance. She was also slightly shocked to find Prince Consort Madwen at the other end of the table, opposite the king.

"You have returned from Oldtown," she stated the obvious. "I am glad for your safe return." She gave him a polite nod and took her presumed seat to her husband's right.

"I have. It is a relief to be back in your company, my dear wife. I dreamed about you and our son every night."

Their cordiality with one another seemed to confuse the others around the table. Well, everyone except her half-brother. Their hospitable interaction showed progress and love in his ever-so-dopey mind. He truly believed his betrothal of the two to be a success. No one voiced their confusion, allowing the king to remain happy in his ignorance.

"It is so lovely to see the two of you getting along," Viserys commented. "Arwyn is sure to be raised in a loving family."

Rhaenyra began to open her mouth to question the name they were calling her cousin, but a glare from her aunt quickly shut her up. She sealed her lips tightly and pouted. She wanted her questions answered, but she knew better than to go against her aunt's wishes. She would never betray Vaerya in such a way.

The conversation that was just beginning was abruptly halted as Daemon leisurely strode into the room. His white hair was tousled every which way, the braid in the top half of his hair doing nothing to contain it. Dark circles were under his violet eyes, and their whites were shot through with red blood vessels. It was evident to everyone that he had just returned from some whore house in the city and was still slightly drunk.

"How nice of you to finally join us," Viserys grimaced. His lips were in a straight, unimpressed line. His younger brother continued to disappoint him. Thankfully, their sister was doing well enough to counteract this. With her marriage and birth, she was cleaning the grime Daemon left behind on the Targaryen name.

The prince ignored his brother and sat in the empty seat between his sister and the Velaryon children. He pressed a kiss to Vaerya's cheek. "Good morning, my Rya."

King Viserys, Princess Rhaenys, and Lord Corlys were all baffled by Daemon's unabashed displays of affection and unfiltered words towards his half-sister and nephew. Thankfully, the three children in attendance were all animatedly talking with one another and did not appear to have heard him. The king was grateful his brother had at least spoken in High Valarian so Madwen could not understand them. However, he was still irked by the words themselves. Daemon would never stop vying for Vaerya's hand even though she was already married. To the king, it seemed his brother regarded it all as a game.

The woman's cheeks flushed, and she could do nothing but stare at her hands as she tried her best to calm the butterflies in her stomach. He had always had such an effect on her, even after seventeen years. "Hello, Daemon." She wanted to be bitter with him for not even attempting to hide the after-effects of his nightly escapades, but it would have been unfair for her to be, for she was in no position herself to feel such a way.

Madwen set down the golden cup he had been drinking from and focused his gaze on the man. "Are you flirting with my wife, Daemon?" He asked, tilting his head in an instigative manner. He knew the answer; it was apparent by the pair's tone of voice and his wife's reaction to whatever words were spoken. He simply wanted to push someone's buttons that morning.

"Do not feed in to him," the princess warned. "He only wishes to start a fight."

"You Targaryens have such odd traditions," the Hightower continued. "Wedding brother and sister is such an archaic practice, is it not? Not to mention unholy in the eyes of the Seven. Do you not care what the Gods think?"

The Targaryen prince unsheathed the dagger attached to his and placed it on the table for all to see. It was almost identical to the one the king had that formerly belonged to Aegon the Conquerer; this one, too, was made of Valaryian steel, and the dragonbone hilt was encrusted with a red gem. Vaerya recognized it to be Nightkiss, the ancestral blade of Rhaenys Targaryen, one of the sister-wives of Aegon the Conqueror.

"The Targaryens are the only dragonriders in the world, Madwen," the Rogue Prince countered. "We are by far closer to the Gods than we are men. Who are you to question the ancient customs of my family?"

Madwen leaned back in his chair and kicked his feet onto the table. Queen Aemma gasped at the blatant disrespect but kept her thoughts to herself, instead looking to her husband to determine his move. "Have you bedded him too, dear wife?" The man inquired, arms folded over his chest as if this were as casual a conversation as any.

Vaerya felt her blood go cold. "What?" She hissed. The serpent hiding inside her rib cage was uncoiling in preparation to strike. "Hold your tongue husband, before you say anything else you will later regret. You are surely just weary from travel."

"The babe certainly is not your brother's. No, Valarian genes are too strong. He would have had a head of white hair." He continued to string them all along, tapping his chin as if deep in thought. "That means the boy must be your hound's runt, yes?"

Rhaenys suddenly took to her feet and slammed her hand against the dining table. "Enough with your treasonous words!" She yelled. "I have regretfully turned my cheek to each injustice you have delivered to my daughter, but you have crossed the line! Your accusations are the highest of treasons!"

The man remained unmoved by the threat of death. He shrugged before leaning forward and grabbing the knife that had been placed in front of his empty plate for future use. "Tell me, Princess. Is it treason to kill a royal bastard?" He nonchalantly twirled the utensil in his fingers as if he were bored and awaiting some form of entertainment. "Or is that not providing justice in the eyes of the Seven?" His gaze bore into his wife's now. "I will have you know, I only serve the true Gods, not any Targaryen pretenders."

Vaerya quickly rose, sending her chair clattering backward onto the floor. Too fast for anyone to react, she picked up Nightkiss, firmly held it in her grasp, and drove it into the flesh of Madwen's thigh. He let out a beastly snarl and blindly thrust his knife in her direction. The pain, while sharp, was nothing compared to her rage. "What have you done?" She seethed, grabbing the blade's handle and pulling it from her shoulder. "What have you done to Virion?"