Dragonlance, Chapter 8: Corrections (Patreon)

Ninth Moon, 171 AC

Viserys

Viserys was suddenly jarred from his thoughts as the doors to the Small Council chambers slammed wide open and his eldest niece stomped in.

“How are the preparations for our war with Dorne proceeding?” Her voice was demanding, loud, and boisterous, and there was a determined glare in her eyes that made it clear she expected satisfactory answers and soon.

It was times like this that reminded Viserys exactly why he hadn’t wanted Daena to become Queen.

She rarely even attended most Small Council meetings, finding the usual monotony and tedium of governance boring and leaving them to handle all the work while she hunted and practiced with her bow and indulged in all the outdoor activities she had been denied in the Maidenvault. But then on certain occasions, she would storm into their meetings like a tempestuous whirlwind, interrupting their well-established routine and dynamic to demand they readjust their timelines and plans according to her whims.

It was aggravating. It reminded Viserys all too much of everything he had hated about being Hand to her brothers and father, and worse yet, it had somehow been combined into one. Somehow Daena had both the annoying apathy and disinterest in ruling Aegon had had combined with the overly meddling nature of Daeron and Baelor. How on earth was he supposed to work like this when he had such an irresponsible firebrand ruler constantly trampling over all of his carefully managed plans and timelines?

“Well enough Daena, though I must remind you again that it will be many years yet until we actually proceed with the invasion,” his grandson replied.

Viserys couldn’t help but sigh in relief that his grandson had volunteered to answer his irascible niece. If there was anyone Daena would listen to, it would be him.

The fact that Daeron was King in his own name and co-ruler alongside Daena was probably the only reason Viserys hadn’t torn his own hair out yet. Unlike his wife, his namesake, and Baelor, Daeron actually listened to Viserys. He gave him the respect he was due, acknowledged and appreciated all of his years of service and the wisdom that had given him.

Daeron actually heard his advice, even if he didn’t always heed it. It gave Viserys much peace and hope these days that despite proving to be all too much his father’s son with his seduction and impregnation of all three of his cousins, Daeron hadn’t actually followed in the rest of Aegon’s footsteps and was actually passable as a King.

More than passable in all honesty. Viserys was not alone in either the Small Council or the realm in seeing Daeron as the true ruler in every way and Daena as little more than a figurehead for legitimacy and stable succession.

Daeron had been the one to select or retain every member of this Small Council, Viserys thought, as he looked around the room. Not Daena.

Of the late Baelor’s Small Council, only three had really been kept. The Grand Maester, Munkun, his son Aemon as Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, and Viserys himself as Hand of the King. Daeron had appointed all the rest. He had mended bridges that Baelor had burnt, restoring Viserys’ good brother Alyn Oakenfist to his position as Master of Ships and naming Lord Jon Hightower as the Master of Laws.

Perhaps most controversially of all, Daeron had named Viserys’s sister, Rhaena and one of his wives Elaena to the Small Council as the Mistresses of Whisperers and Coin respectively, ignoring any protests and questions against it. While Viserys wished his grandson was a tad bit more diplomatic about it, he could admit that he was not opposed to those appointments.

Baelor had dismissed the last Master of Whisperers soon after he had become King and while Viserys had secretly rebuilt his own spy network to ensure House Targaryen was not left blind and deaf in the dark, his sister Rhaena was capable enough and certainly loyal. She might not be the most prodigious of spymasters but she made a capable enough one and her own network would complement Viserys’ own and serve as a red herring that distracted all of their house’s foes from their real spies.

Elaena meanwhile had a mind for numbers and figures that truly astounded Viserys. It wouldn’t surprise him if she was more than capable of becoming an Archmaester of Mathematics or Economics in the Citadel like the Old King’s son, Vaegon, had if not for already being married or being a woman. She was, by far, the cleverest and wisest of her three sisters and an excellent fit for the position of Mistress of Coin and a prodigious understanding of her duties.

Daeron had done very well indeed to truly grasp her talent and skill and now the Crown’s coffers were in no safer hands. Viserys had even heard musing from Daeron, Elaena, and Jon Hightower about the possibility of founding a royal bank, utilizing the latter’s connections to the Bank of Oldtown to help get it started.

Perhaps that was Daeron’s true talent. A good ruler was capable of doing many things, a truly great ruler understood that others were capable of doing it better than them and had the wisdom and humility to choose his advisors wisely for both loyalty and skill and delegate accordingly to them.

The fact his grandson had effectively stacked the Small Council with his own appointees who were loyal to him personally and not anyone else had not been lost on Viserys. It showed clearly now as the council subtly rallied behind their king whilst Daena’s brows furrowed in annoyance.

“I don’t see why it’s taking so long,” she complained angrily. “We have dragons, we have the whole realm north of the Red Mountains united behind us! What is the purpose of waiting any longer? Every day that passes while Dorne lives freely is an insult to the memory of my brother and everyone else who died because of their treachery!”

“Our dragons are young Daena. Not even large enough to properly ride and certainly not fit for battle. Would you have us risk suffering the fate of Rhaenys? Or Jacaerys?” Daeron countered.

“Even if the dragons aren’t large enough, we have armies do we not? Let the lords prove their loyalty as we give them their vengeance,” Daena fired back.

“The realm’s coffers are still drained from our brothers’ wars and charities. They need time to recover, for the realm itself to heal from all our losses in the previous war and let a new generation grow to adulthood before they are sent off to war. Especially since we are already spending so much money rebuilding the Dragonpit and building another at Dragonstone along with all the Dragonkeepers needed to adequately man and defend those pits. Those things aren’t exactly cheap you know,” Elaena interjected.

“We have not been idle, Your Grace. Work has already begun on paving and expanding the Kingsroad and Roseroad towards the Dornish Marches. When the war inevitably begins, our armies will have an easier time getting into Dorne and our logistics will be greatly simplified, removing one of the key challenges your brother faced in his conquest,” Jon Hightower said reassuringly.

Daena looked unsatisfied with their arguments and Viserys couldn’t even wholly blame her. A part of him longed for vengeance on Dorne himself and he knew that Daeron, Elaena, Aemon, and Aegon all felt the same even if Naerys and Rhaena just wanted them all to stay at home in peace and safety.

But they had to think of the realm first. They had to plan accordingly and ensure that things did not end in disaster like they had the last time a Daeron had tried to conquer Dorne. The realm had bled dearly from his nephew’s wars and then suffered under Baelor’s misrule. Viserys knew that if they tried to move against Dorne now, it would surely fail and they would have gained nothing but even more lives lost for nothing.

The dragons may have returned (and Viserys would always be amazed by that and secretly envious that even to this day his own egg still would not hatch) but as the others had already said, they simply weren’t ready. They were not even two years old yet, they were no Syrax or Caraxes, let alone the ferocious war beasts that had been Vermithor or Vhagar or even Balerion the Black Dread.

They needed time to grow large and strong, for the Dragonpits and Dragonkeepers necessary for their safety to be ready. Ensuring that they never lost their dragons again was far more important than anything else right now. And while they waited for the dragons to grow, they could prepare everything else accordingly. 

“Things are happening, Daena. My father is doing very well in his diplomatic mission in the Free Cities and we have secured many of those cities’ neutrality or implicit support for our planned campaigns,” Daeron said.

He could say that again, Viserys thought. It was almost disturbing just how well Aegon was doing in Essos. He had already written back saying that he had taken a new wife from his mother’s family by the name of Serenei, and they already had a daughter by the name of Shiera who had been born whilst they had been treating with the Archon in Tyrosh.

It made him wonder if it had been a mistake to marry Aegon to Naerys to begin with. Neither of them had ever wanted to marry each other and they had both been deeply unhappy with their marriage. Naerys would have been far happier with Aemon or even with just joining the Faith as she had now.

Yet at the time, Viserys had convinced himself that he had been right. Their family had still been small and recovering after the Dance and he had told himself that marrying Aegon and Naerys was for the best, that in time they would grow to love each other, that it would make Naerys give up on her foolish dreams of joining the Faith and make Aegon settle down and stop fucking his way through every woman at court.

Neither of that had happened and it had only made all of his children deeply unhappy. Yet if he hadn’t done it, the grandson that was his last hope for a true legacy would never have existed. The very same grandson that was now enduring Daena Targaryen’s withering glare without even a flinch as half the Small Council cowered before her.

“In addition, I have already begun drafting plans to expand the royal fleet into a proper Royal Navy with Lord Alyn and this council. One that we can use to press our claim to the Stepstones and properly incorporate them into the realm, giving us a foothold with which we can blockade and weaken Dorne, starving it of trade, food, and wealth until it is weak enough to crush. Perhaps we could even form a proper Royal Army as the hammer smashing Dorne against the anvil that is our Navy,” Daeron continued.

“We must also secure our flanks first before we move against either the Stepstones or Dorne,” Viserys’ sister Rhaena added to the conversation. The former rider of Morning lacked any fear at all as she stared down their young niece.

“I have been hearing whispers of dissent and unrest on the Iron Islands. The Drowned Men and their priests are far from happy with the renewed presence of the Faith of the Seven on their isles and word has reached my ears that the ironmen nobility and smallfolk are becoming radicalized by their presence as well.

“Many of us remember well the rampage of the Red Kraken. It would be the height of folly to commit to a drawn-out campaign in Dorne while the Iron Islands are on the brink,” Rhaena concluded.

Jon Hightower concurred with Rhaena. “I have been hearing similar reports from Oldtown traders and Starry Sept clergy. The ironmen are on a knife’s edge. They were already unhappy enough with the Faith’s renewed presence in the isles and now the septons there have intensified preaching against reaving and the taking of thralls and salt wives even more. Rumors have even begun spreading that the Iron Throne might move to ban those practices entirely, even beyond the Seven Kingdoms.”

Though he did not say it aloud, Viserys’ own network of informants had told him pretty much the same things as well.

It had always been a gamble letting the Faith return to the Iron Islands, but Daeron had convinced him that it would be the easiest way to bribe the Faith into accepting his polygamous marriage and approving his rather loose interpretation of Exceptionalism. Otherwise, they might risk unrest from the Faith that they simply could not afford, like the uprisings of old against Maegor the Cruel.

Viserys had agreed with his logic but he had been troubled by the possibility that the Iron Islands would be provoked to revolt in the process. Daeron had simply countered that they hadn’t truly rebelled the last time the Faith had been on the isles (Lodos the Twice-Drowned didn’t really count) and they would be foolish to do so now that dragons had returned to House Targaryen.

If the ironmen truly were stupid enough to rise up over something so meager, Daeron had said, then it would be the perfect opportunity to remove that threat forever, rallying the rest of the realm and the Faith firmly behind House Targaryen in the process.  ‘Killing two birds with one stone,’ as he had called it.

Viserys had never really considered himself a warmonger, and he had in fact advised Daeron’s namesake against his war with Dorne, but in this scenario he couldn’t deny that his grandson’s plan had merit. And so, in the end, he had relented and decided to follow his lead, just as he had his namesake all those years ago. What else could the King’s Hand do but obey the King’s command?

“Keep monitoring the situation, Lady Rhaena. I want to know immediately if it escalates,” Daeron ordered as Rhaena nodded.

“The entire western coast must be placed on high alert. Lord Alyn, I want you to prepare the Royal Navy and coordinate mobilization plans with the Redwynes and other naval houses in the Sunset Sea. If the ironmen dare to revolt, we must be ready to move at a moment’s notice to ensure that they never rise again. The crucible of war will blood our expanding fleets and armies and unite the realm like never before, ensuring we are ready and prepared when the time comes to move against the Stepstones and Dorne,” Daeron said to the council’s unanimous acclaim before he turned his gaze back to Daena.

His expression softened. “I promise you Daena. We will have our vengeance. I just need you to give us time. Time to be certain that the realm is fully united behind us, to ensure that when we finally move against Dorne again, it will be for the last time. There will be no miraculous comeback for them this time. No one in a million shot against our dragons’ eyes or treacherous backstabbing saving them.

Daena still didn’t look happy but almost miraculously, she backed down. “I told you at the start that I would trust in your judgement. So be it, Daeron. If you think this is the best way for us to proceed, then so shall it be,” she said before she stormed out of the room as furiously as she entered.

It was almost impossible for the Council to really work effectively after that and so Viserys ended up adjourning the meeting early before turning to Daeron once everyone else but the two of them, Elaena, and Aemon had left the room.

“I would appreciate it in the future if you rein in Daena more, Daeron. The council cannot work effectively if you say one thing and she another and she constantly interrupts our meetings and demands we readjust our timelines and priorities based on her whims. You wanted to make her your co-ruler, it is your responsibility to make sure that does not impede the governance of the realm,” Viserys lectured him.

Daeron might be his King, but Viserys was still his grandfather and, in this matter, he felt he had the right to act as such. 

Daeron seemed to agree, as he sighed. “I know, Grandfather. I’ll speak to her and make sure she understands the error of her ways.”

“See to it that you do,” Viserys said finally before he noticed the mischievous smirk that arose on Elaena’s face at Daeron’s words.

With a shudder, Viserys did his best to quash down his spiraling thoughts. He really didn’t want to know how Daeron corrected Daena as long as it happened.

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Rhaena

Rhaena would be honest in saying that she was glad to finally be home after a long day.

She loved what she did, glad that Daeron and Daena had made her the High Almoner and given her oversight over all almsgiving and charity in the capital, to carry on the work Baelor had begun in helping the smallfolk and others less fortunate than them. Her favorite part in particular was always whenever she worked at the Crown-funded orphanages, helping to distribute food and clothes and play games to entertain the little children.

There was always good company when she did her work too. Her goodmother and cousin, Naerys, whom she had always adored as another older sister, was now one of many septas working alongside the Royal Almonry that Rhaena headed and it was always a pleasant day when their duties coincided. Rhaena would admit that she had used her position to ensure they overlapped as often as possible.

She loved spending time with Naerys, and ever since her marriage to Aegon had dissolved, Naerys had thrived like never before. Her cousin was truly happy now and Rhaena couldn’t be happier for her. It helped to make her own work even more enjoyable whenever she got to work with her.

Yet as fulfilling as her work was, as unwilling as she was to quit any time soon, spending the whole day with other children always left her feeling tired and missing her own child.

As soon as she returned to the Red Keep, her feet carried her straight to the nursery. She paid no mind to the faithful retinue of guards shadowing behind her, led by the loyal Kingsguard, Ser Quentyn Ball. Her thoughts dwelt only on seeing her son.

She couldn’t help but smile once she entered the nursery. Her little Baelor was clumsily toddling around and playing with his brothers, her sister’s sons, Daemon and Maekar, while the poor nursemaids were chasing the rambunctious boys about the room making sure they didn’t hurt themselves whenever they fell.

It was a truly amusing sight, and it reminded her a lot of the orphanages she visited. Yet, while the Seven might judge her for being so biased, it was infinitely more special to Rhaena because one of the children in question was hers.

Time truly flew. It felt like only yesterday she’d held her newborn babe in her arms after a tiresome labor and now he was already one and a half years old! The Seven truly gave happiness as easily as they took it away. It was a privilege and a joy to see her boy growing up but part of her couldn’t help but feel bittersweet about how fast it was all going by.

A part of her wondered if maybe that was a sign it was time to think of having another. The thought of her belly swelling with another adorable babe, of holding a new sibling for Baelor in her arms, another piece of her and Daeron’s love, it just filled her heart to bursting with so much more joy than Rhaena ever thought she’d be lucky enough to have.

And the thought of how enjoyable the process of making that new little one would be set her cheeks ablaze as her loins burned and moistened with a lust she convinced herself wasn’t sinful. Was it not the command of the Seven to love your husband and bear his children? Had they not been fashioned by the gods as men and women for love?

But such philosophical ramblings had to be left for later. Baelor and his brothers had noticed her. With happy cries they ran up to her. “Muña, muña!” they called with cheer.

It had always been a curious linguistic trait of High Valyrian to Rhaena, that the word for ‘mother’ and ‘mother’s sister’ was one and the same. It certainly helped to make things amusing when three adorable little boys sometimes got confused between who was their mother and who was their aunt but Rhaena thought it was cute. They were all just one happy little family.

Rhaena knelt down to sit on her thighs as she hugged the boys and held them tightly to her chest before tickling them one after another.

“Baelor, my love. Have you been a good boy for all your maids? How about you Daemon? And you, Maekar?” she asked each of them in turn.

Young as they were, the boys struggled to really respond coherently, speaking in broken sentences and dramatic barely comprehensible retellings of their imaginary adventures. But even though she couldn’t understand much of what they were saying, Rhaena made sure to indulge them and ask more questions as if she did.

She had more than enough experience with children by now to know that was the best thing one could do for their development and good mood.

Before long, she had snatched Baelor up and began tossing him around and hugging him tightly, much to his protests while his brothers watched jealously. When she set her son down, she decided to take pity on her nephews and do the same for both of them as well.

Though she didn’t like making such comparisons, it was obvious that Rhaena loved her own son the most. Nonetheless she loved her nephews deeply as well, they were her own flesh and blood, pieces of her sisters and the husband they all loved. And most importantly of all, they were her son’s brothers.

It was truly a blessing that all three of them had been born so closely in age to each other. Rhaena foresaw many great things ahead for all of them as long as they stuck by each other’s side through thick and thin, just as she had with her sisters. And it eased some of Rhaena’s guilt about leaving her son to his own devices for her work so much when she knew he could more than entertain himself with two brothers of age with him.

As she continued playing and spending time with the boys, she noticed that they were all clingier to her than usual. Feeling curious, she turned to the head nursemaid.

“Has my husband or either of my sisters visited them yet today?” she asked.

The nursemaid nodded. “They came by in the morning but only briefly. The little princes haven’t had the chance to see any of them since.”

“I see,” Rhaena trailed off. She wondered what Daeron and her sisters were doing.

She was certain that they would come by to see their children again later, they always did, but she found herself wondering why they hadn’t come yet. The Small Council meeting couldn’t have lasted that long, could it?

Deciding to sate her curiosity, Rhaena said her goodbyes to the children for now, leaving them in the capable hands of their nursemaids before setting off in search of her husband and sisters.

Much to her confusion, the Small Council chambers were very much empty and her queries soon lead her to Daeron’s personal suite of apartments in Maegor’s Holdfast. As she neared the rooms, she felt her cheeks burn at the scandalous things she could hear through the doors.

She didn’t dare to meet her cousin Aemon’s eyes as he stood guard with another Kingsguard, Ser Terence Toyne. Both of them wordlessly stepped aside to let Rhaena push open the doors into the bedroom.

The sight she saw inside was somehow even more obscene than what she thought it would be.

TRIMMED - READ THE FULL SCENE ON WEBSITE/GOOGLE DOCS!

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Author’s Note: Hope y’all enjoy this chapter and it gave an adequate explanation for why it may be quite some time yet before we finally see Dorne pay for its crimes!

Was that spice scene good? It came from an idea brought up on QQ that each of Daeron’s girls should have his first in one hole lol. Classic QQ. Hope it was enjoyable.

Fun fact, details for the Royal Almonry and Rhaena’s position as High Almoner were based on England’s version of it. Do check it out! - https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Royal_Almonry

Please let me know your thoughts, suggestions, and questions in the comments below or over on Discord!