Rhaenyra Targaryen, Maegor’s Holdfast – The Red Keep

"Come on, Rhaenyra, hurry up!" Queen Aemma's voice echoed through the corridor as her hurried footsteps rang against the stone floor.

"I'm coming, Mother!" Rhaenyra replied as she followed behind, her mind still considerably distracted after the… revelations of the previous night. She knew perfectly well that the entire royal family was in a remarkably similar state.

And it was all because of one person, someone who had appeared in their lives so suddenly.

Viserra Targaryen, her very own twin sister.

"Do you think she slept well? I've ordered the servants to bring her a couple of your dresses. I wonder what her favorite food is?" the Queen wondered aloud, although the Princess wasn't entirely certain whether her mother was speaking to Rhaenyra or merely to herself.

Perhaps a little of both, she thought silently, still struggling with conflicting feelings regarding her sister.

"I hope Harry returns soon. There's a second lost princess out there, and I won't rest until she's here, safe with us," her mother declared determinedly, reminding Rhaenyra of that particular detail in the process.

She had an older sister, lost somewhere within this terrifying Magical World that had always remained hidden right beneath the Royal Family's noses. And if it hadn't been for Harry's presence in their lives…

Rhaenyra honestly didn't even want to imagine it.

"He'll return soon, Mother. I miss him too," Rhaenyra said softly, prompting her mother to look at her with a sorrowful smile before replying.

"He hasn't even married you yet, and you're already longing for him."

The amusement and gentle teasing in her mother's voice brought a smile to the Princess's face. However, before she could respond, the Queen and Princess, mother and daughter, arrived at the chambers assigned to her sister, where Ser Harold himself stood guard at the entrance.

"My Queen, Princess," he greeted them in his characteristic voice, although it was more than evident that he was considerably exhausted.

Understandable, considering that he had apparently spent the entire night awake.

"Ser Harold, is everything all right?" her mother asked, concern evident in her voice as she stared toward the door, sighing in relief when the knight nodded gently.

"Everything is in order, my Queen. Princess Viserra appears to be an early riser. She woke before dawn, and I haven't stopped hearing noises from inside," he explained softly.

Her mother nodded and, with determination, approached the door and knocked twice.

"Viserra, my daughter? Are you ready? Your sister and I would like to speak with you," the Queen called.

In response, and much to Rhaenyra's amusement, her sister let out a small squeak of surprise, followed by an awkward silence.

"Uhm… one moment! Yes, just a moment!" she stammered.

The noises inside the chamber intensified, much to the Queen's growing concern. Without waiting for confirmation, Aemma simply entered the room, worried about her lost daughter.

"Viserra! Are you all right?" the Queen asked anxiously.

Rhaenyra's sister let out another startled squeak, and the moment the young Princess entered the chamber, she understood why.

"Fuck," Rhaenyra whispered, utterly dumbfounded by what she was witnessing, scarcely believing her own eyes.

Her sister was standing in the middle of the room.

Viserra was wearing her undergarments, although not the traditional and rather boring smallclothes Rhaenyra was accustomed to. Instead, she wore an elegant and frankly scandalous white two-piece ensemble that embraced her exquisite figure perfectly. The garments were made from a white fabric that appeared extraordinarily light and comfortable.

However, the truly interesting thing wasn't her sister's enviable figure.

It was what she was doing.

Viserra held her staff in one hand, an elegant piece of white wood adorned with beautiful, delicate silver bands and crowned by a circular gemstone that glowed with a soft white radiance.

It was… very different from Harry's wand.

Her future husband's magical instrument was elegant and compact, considerably more refined than the magical artifact in her sister's hands. Nevertheless, that didn't mean Viserra's staff wasn't impressive in its own right.

Before her sister, the cloak and white dress she had worn upon arriving the previous night were levitating, completely soaked and being wrung out.

Viserra was washing her cloak and dress.

Although Rhaenyra couldn't understand why.

That was what servants were for.

Upon seeing them enter, Viserra froze for an instant, her concentration breaking so completely that both garments fell to the chamber floor with a wet thud.

"Uhm… I… I'm sorry," she murmured softly.

Then she shook her head and raised her staff again, lifting the garments into the air with elegant circular movements.

Rhaenyra quickly closed the door while her beloved mother hesitantly walked farther into the chamber, examining the disorder around her with a distracted expression.

The room was in complete chaos.

Books, scrolls, and several curious artifacts were scattered across the bed, everything hopelessly disorganized, allowing Rhaenyra a glimpse of her sister's belongings.

They were… modest.

Far more modest than anything a maiden of pure Targaryen blood ought to possess.

Nevertheless, their quality was excellent. They had clearly been designed to last.

Rhaenyra examined a couple of peculiar books bearing extravagant titles such as Legacy of the First Men: An Introduction to Advanced Runes and The Secrets of Household Magic: A Good Witch's Guide.

There were certainly interesting things here.

However, before Rhaenyra could comment on any of them, her mother, Queen Aemma, spoke in a warm, radiant voice, undoubtedly filled with anticipation.

"We've come so that we can all have breakfast together as a family. Are you ready?" she asked with a brilliant smile, completely ignoring everything Rhaenyra had noticed around them.

The Princess watched as her twin's eyes widened in surprise, her mouth opening and closing without producing a single word, as though she were confused.

"Oh… yes, Your Grace. I just… need to finish cleaning my robe," she replied timidly, sounding like a little mouse.

Those words caused both the Queen and Rhaenyra to frown, although for very different reasons.

"Are the dresses we provided not to your liking? They're only temporary. The seamstress who makes Rhaenyra's gowns will come this afternoon to prepare an entire wardrobe tailored specifically for you," the Queen declared determinedly.

Viserra's eyes widened enormously, visibly shocked by those words.

"Uhm… I appreciate the gesture, but I must wait for Lord Black's approval and his next instructions," Viserra replied softly.

Her mother's expression darkened, and she was evidently beginning to lose patience.

Consequently, Rhaenyra decided to intervene, redirecting the increasingly tense conversation.

"What is all this, Sister?" the Princess asked curiously.

Viserra blushed and gestured toward an elegant leather bag resting upon her bed.

It was… simple and somewhat ugly.

There was no beautiful embroidery or jeweled decoration, merely an ordinary but well-crafted leather bag.

Rather quaint, in Rhaenyra's opinion.

"These… are the belongings I had with me yesterday when Lord Black claimed me as his own. I'm organizing everything before he returns so I can ask his permission to go back to my home and collect the rest," Viserra explained softly.

Rhaenyra nodded gently, examining the curious objects with interest.

Queen Aemma, however, frowned furiously and responded firmly.

"This is your home, the Red Keep. Living here is your right as the Targaryen Princess you are. Harry is an ally of House Targaryen, but he is not your owner or anything of the sort," the Queen declared.

Rhaenyra remained silent, watching the fascinating exchange.

Viserra shook her head and sighed before replying.

"No… you don't understand. But I suppose that's normal. You're Muggles," her sister remarked with what sounded like resignation.

The Queen frowned and took a step forward.

"Then help me understand, my daughter. I want to know everything about you and your sister. What are you like? Who took you away from me? And why shouldn't I order Viserys to summon every dragon in the realm and burn Oldtown to its foundations for daring to conceal two princesses of the realm?" her mother demanded, her voice rising with every sentence.

Viserra regarded the agitated Queen before taking a deep breath, preparing to answer.

"Rhaella and I grew up at Saint Harry's Academy, the school of witchcraft and wizardry in Westeros, where wizards and witches learn to use their magical gifts and prepare for adult life in service to the Council. Those are the best years in the life of any wizard or witch, the years when you forge alliances and bonds that last a lifetime," Viserra explained with a smile, evidently lost in her memories.

Rhaenyra noticed her mother calming considerably, so the young Princess continued the conversation.

"What was life like at this academy?" she asked curiously.

Her sister looked at her in surprise before shrugging and replying.

"Well… quite good and peaceful most of the time. The academy's nursemaids were always kind to us. We simply had to fulfill our duties at the academy, and we never had any problems. We always received an excellent education, and although we didn't have luxuries, I can't honestly say we lacked anything," Viserra explained gently.

Both Rhaenyra and Aemma sighed in relief.

"I'm very glad to hear that, darling. Judging by Harry's reaction last night, I was expecting them to have treated you like a slave or something of the sort," the Queen remarked.

Rhaenyra's sister grimaced uncomfortably.

"Well, Rhaella and I are Valyrians. The stigma and discrimination are quite pronounced. Generally speaking, the bloodlines of the First Men and the Rhoynar dominate the spheres of power in Westeros, although there are certain exceptions, such as Lord Sirius and Lady Alyssa," her sister explained resignedly, shrugging her shoulders.

Rhaenyra was preparing to ask another question when her mother intervened, furious as the dragoness she was.

"The First Men kneel before House Targaryen! By what damned right do they dare treat a princess of the realm that way?" she spat with venom and hatred.

Although Rhaenyra agreed with her mother, Viserra shook her head before answering.

"Do you truly believe that? We studied this at the Academy. The subject was called History of Magic. The true noble families of the First Men, those possessing genuine magical power and heroic bloodlines, separated themselves from their Muggle counterparts during the Great Schism."

Her sister continued, speaking with the confidence of someone who had studied the subject extensively.

"The Casterlys, the Gardeners, the Mudds, the Hightowers… all those families with ties to the glorious Golden Age divided. Those possessing magical gifts separated themselves from their Muggle branches, erasing every trace of their existence and hiding from the Andal Invasions. Cities, palaces, and an entire magical society emerged throughout Westeros, while they watched impassively as history unfolded around them. At least until the arrival of Valyria."

At the mention of her family's ancestral homeland, Rhaenyra raised an eyebrow with interest, especially upon hearing the profound contempt and hatred with which Viserra spoke.

However, before she could ask anything further, Viserra shook her head and exclaimed.

"Oh, by Sirius! I'd better hurry. You must be hungry!"

Without waiting for an answer, she grasped her staff with both hands and began making elegant, rapid movements while chanting an unfamiliar word.

"Scourgify!"

Immediately, the cloak and elegant but simple white dress began cleaning themselves with increasing speed.

At the same time, Viserra performed another series of movements, chanting another unfamiliar word before Rhaenyra's incredulous eyes and her mother's delighted gaze.

The Princess watched with fascination as the peculiar garments began drying rapidly, courtesy of an intense, warm breeze that seemed to emanate from Viserra's staff.

More precisely, from the now brightly glowing spherical gemstone.

While the breeze continued drying her sister's clothes, Viserra looked around before grasping her staff with both hands and striking the chamber floor three times, her expression one of complete concentration.

The moment the wood struck the floor, white sparks erupted from the stone.

And to Rhaenyra's astonishment and considerable envy, extraordinary things began happening all around her.

Every one of Viserra's belongings, previously scattered throughout the entire chamber, began levitating of its own accord, flying elegantly toward her sister's suddenly not-so-innocent leather bag.

The bag swallowed an enormous quantity of objects that simply could not possibly fit inside such a small accessory.

"Shit," Rhaenyra whispered, her eyes widening enormously as she watched the chamber, which had been an utter disaster only moments earlier, become completely spotless.

"Rhaenyra! Language! You're a princess!" her mother scolded in a firm, authoritative tone, one the young Princess wasn't accustomed to hearing from her.

Although it was evident that the Queen herself was deeply impressed by what she had witnessed.

"That was… impressive, my daughter," her mother said, unmistakable pride filling her voice.

Viserra blushed furiously before stammering.

"Oh… I… thank you. They're… they're simple personal-care spells. Students at the Academy are required to keep their rooms and facilities clean, so mastering basic cleaning charms becomes second nature to us," Viserra explained with a gentle smile.

A smile so familiar to Rhaenyra that it was almost frightening.

Nevertheless, the Princess suppressed that feeling and regarded her twin with interest.

"You've mentioned this academy quite a few times. A place that important ought to be under the Crown's supervision, don't you think?" the Princess asked, expecting Viserra to agree with her.

Consequently, when the young witch looked at her in surprise before shaking her head emphatically, Rhaenyra felt somewhat indignant.

"Of course not! The Academy is a magical sanctuary! You wouldn't have the slightest idea how to administer it properly!" the young woman declared with firmness and conviction.

Both Rhaenyra and the Queen frowned.

"I'm certain that with Harry's help, we could…" the Realm's Delight attempted to say.

Only for Viserra to interrupt her.

"Lord Harald is the first Lord Black in two hundred years, ever since Sirius the Great disappeared. Believe me, he'll have to deal with more than forty magical families, as well as the Black family's finances and businesses. Not to mention that he's a permanent member of the Arcane Council of Westeros," Viserra declared firmly.

Rhaenyra raised an eyebrow, caught between indignation and amusement.

Perhaps there really was a dragoness within her sister, the Princess thought with a smile.

Her sister's words affected her mother, who nevertheless insisted.

"Harry won't betray us. You saw it yourself. He even claimed your brother Baelor as a ward of House Black. According to Lord Strong, that's extremely important," the Queen declared firmly.

At those words, her sister regarded the Queen shrewdly before answering.

"Of course he won't. The Black name is far too respected for anyone to dare move against Lord Harald or his ward. But… accidents happen. So although my brother Baelor now has the opportunity to ascend as Lord Targaryen within the Council, he must first survive long enough to reach adulthood," her sister explained softly.

Both Rhaenyra and Aemma froze instantly.

They recognized the warning in Viserra's voice.

"I see. I…" her mother attempted to reply.

But she fell silent when an intense crimson radiance suddenly illuminated the morning sky.

Powerful.

Brilliant.

And unmistakably magical.

A few moments after the light appeared, something materialized atop the immense and not-so-distant Hill of Visenya.

"By the Gods," Rhaenyra and Queen Aemma whispered simultaneously.

"By Sirius!" Viserra exclaimed.

All three stood utterly dumbfounded, incapable of processing what they were witnessing.

Slowly, near the outskirts of the city, a beautiful and elegant castle appeared upon the hill, surrounded by what seemed to be a small, exquisitely maintained godswood.

Its white trunks and blood-red leaves were so dazzling that Rhaenyra could distinguish their beauty even from such a considerable distance.

The castle was beautiful, although not excessively large.

It was completely unfamiliar to both the Princess and the Queen.

"Mother… did a castle just appear in the middle of Visenya's Hill?" Rhaenyra asked, swallowing with difficulty, incapable of thinking about anything else for the moment.

"That… that appears to be the case," Queen Aemma replied.

The three Targaryen women approached the chamber's balcony, watching as the castle became increasingly distinct.

Rhaenyra contemplated the imposing construction rising above Visenya's Hill with growing astonishment.

She had never seen anything like it in King's Landing.

Behind robust walls of gray stone, which appeared implacable even from such a distance, stood battlements and towers. Yet the architecture was entirely unlike anything the young Princess had encountered before.

"That architecture… it's familiar. It's the same as the Academy. Those roofs are unmistakable. That's Black architecture," Viserra murmured, swallowing as she narrowed her eyes, attempting to distinguish what was happening in the distance.

The castle's numerous towers, crowned with dark spires, seemed to challenge the heavens, while its steeply pitched roofs, enormous arched windows, and galleries of exquisitely carved stone revealed an architectural style completely unknown to the Princess.

Yet she was certain of one thing.

It was the most beautiful and luxurious castle she had ever seen.

Even Dragonstone, with its atmosphere of somber elegance and power, paled beside the impression this mysterious castle inspired within her.

However, before Rhaenyra could say anything further, the Queen's voice rang out, cold and decisive.

"Come, daughters. It's time to find your father," she ordered.

Without waiting for an answer, Aemma turned and strode determinedly out of the chamber.

Rhaenyra and Viserra merely exchanged a somewhat wary glance before hurrying to obey.

They wanted answers.

And they would obtain them, one way or another.

Daemon Targaryen, Council Chamber – The Red Keep

"So once again, we're sitting here with our damned hands tied, entirely dependent on Harry," Viserys declared heavily, rubbing his face in frustration.

It was a frustration Daemon understood perfectly.

The Rogue Prince paced the chamber like a caged beast, his mind utterly fucked after hearing the words of his mother, who, apparently, had never died…

Mind games.

Magic capable of altering memories themselves.

Those damned Martells had made his father, his brother, and Daemon himself believe that Princess Alyssa Targaryen, because Daemon absolutely refused to call her a Martell, had died more than a decade ago.

Viserys had demanded an explanation, displaying more backbone and determination than Daemon had ever witnessed from his brother.

And for better or worse, their mother had provided the painful answers they had requested.

"Bastards! ALL OF THEM! DAMN THAT FUCKING COUNCIL!" the Prince roared.

He seized one of the chamber's chairs and slammed it violently against the floor.

Never in his entire life had Daemon experienced the helplessness he felt at that moment.

Because for the first time in his life, the rules of the game had changed.

Daemon was accustomed to playing with an advantage, to believing that Caraxes granted him the freedom to do whatever the fuck he pleased without consequences.

It was a privilege Daemon had abused without the slightest remorse.

In his mind, he belonged to the superior race.

He was Valyrian, descended from a civilization that had ruled the skies!

Everyone ought to pay him homage and humble themselves before him.

And then…

Reality had struck.

Daemon had flown far too high, and the fall had been devastating.

The game had changed completely.

There was now an entire world invisible to his eyes, populated by men and women capable of bringing down Caraxes without so much as blinking.

For the first time, Daemon was playing on the losing side.

The advantage belonged to the Arcane Council of Wizards, who had apparently exterminated his Valyrian ancestors at the height of their power.

Daemon's enemy was more numerous, more powerful, and far more terrifying than he would ever willingly admit.

His mother spoke with certain restrictions, but she had described hidden magical cities and beasts so ferocious that they could challenge a dragon without the slightest difficulty.

An enemy he could neither see, hear, nor touch.

An enemy capable of slipping into his castle on any fucking day, while he remained completely powerless to do anything about it.

All of this was revealing, to be honest.

As much as he fucking hated it.

"Your greatest ally is Lord Black, Viserys. He considers you a friend. He respects you, and that is what gave us the opportunity to defend ourselves. Baelor is the key. As a ward of House Black, he is eligible to be nominated as Lord Targaryen within the Council, possessing genuine political power that could allow us to begin correcting the Council's injustices," their mother declared with determination and ferocity, every bit the dragoness she was.

Viserys merely nodded heavily before replying.

"I understand. Harry will marry Rhaenyra. I want a swift ceremony the next time he comes to the city. As cold as it might sound, the sooner an heir is growing inside Rhaenyra, the better for our alliance."

His brother leaned over the table, evidently lost in thought, before continuing.

"I'll allocate every possible resource to ensure the war in the Stepstones ends as quickly as possible. Our priority is getting Harry's allies to Westeros. The moment he returns, I'll place every resource at our disposal at his command."

Daemon couldn't help snorting before replying.

"The fighting in the Stepstones will be a fucking stroll. With Tanaris, Meleys, and Caraxes, we'll roast those filthy Essosi in a matter of days. I have no intention of wasting any more time than necessary on those islands," Daemon declared seriously.

His brother nodded, but their mother shook her head before responding.

"It won't be as easy as you expect, Daemon. Sirius received a message from the Council this morning. Harald Potter has been assigned to hunt down a Dragon Lord who has made the Stepstones his lair. Rickon Stark will assist him as his second, so I want you to be extremely careful," Princess Alyssa explained.

She rose to her feet and approached Daemon, who still couldn't bring himself to look her in the eyes.

His feelings were an absolute fucking mess.

One part of him rejoiced that she was alive.

But another…

Another part blamed her.

He wanted to throw all those years of absence in her face, to demand why she had remained separated from her family throughout their most difficult moments.

Daemon thought of his father, Prince Baelon, who had died with his beloved wife's name upon his lips…

Happy in the belief that he would finally see her again.

Oh, the Prince's heart was overflowing with hatred, and he desperately wanted to find a damned excuse to unleash all that fury once and for all.

His mother attempted to touch his face, but Daemon wouldn't allow it.

He simply turned his head away gently before turning his back on her, focusing his gaze upon his brother's ruthless and exhausted expression.

"Lord Stark should arrive at any moment. I only hope Harry is present so we can finally tear these fucking masks from our faces…" his brother spat, rising to his feet and gazing toward the city from the balcony.

Daemon did the same, moving to stand beside him before replying.

"Give the order, and I'll burn Winterfell to its fucking foundations," Daemon snarled, completely beside himself.

Even though he knew perfectly well that such an action would be a death sentence.

"You wouldn't even make it past Moat Cailin. The harsh truth is that we have no fucking idea what's happening, and we're nothing but damned burdens to our only ally. Harry is our bridge between magic and the mundane world, but I won't rest easy until our alliance is sealed by blood," Viserys declared.

Daemon snorted to himself.

"You do realize Harry has already bedded Rhaenyra, don't you?" Daemon asked incredulously.

Viserys snorted before answering.

"Of course I do, Daemon. Harry has never hidden it, and Rhaenyra couldn't conceal it if she tried. But fucking isn't marriage. I'll be able to breathe easily when the Potter cloak rests upon my daughter's shoulders and our alliance is formally established," his brother declared.

Daemon nodded.

However, before he could respond, a crimson flash illuminated the city's horizon, directly above Visenya's Hill.

And to the Rogue Prince's utter disbelief, a fucking castle, completely unlike anything he had ever seen before, appeared out of absolutely fucking nowhere.

"What the fuck…?" he muttered.

At the same moment, Princess Alyssa approached the balcony, joining her two sons, her eyes wide with shock and astonishment.

But unlike Viserys, Daemon managed to identify something in his mother's gaze.

Something that filled him with curiosity.

Recognition.

"What the fuck is that?" Viserys demanded.

It was a question Daemon shared.

And their mother provided the answer.

"That… is a blessing, Viserys. In more ways than you could possibly imagine. Come, we must get there as quickly as possible," their mother declared.

Without waiting for a response, Princess Alyssa turned and began making her way toward the exit.

Viserys and Daemon exchanged worried, curious glances.

They hadn't the slightest fucking idea what the hell this was.

But they would find out.

One way or another.