" Did you read it?"

" Of course, I read it."

" When Princess Nymeria arrived in Dorne, who did she take to husband?"

" A man."

" What was his name?"

" Lord Something."

Lady Alicent Hightower sits beneath the Godswoods atop of blanket. Countless pillows surround her with a book in her hand and Princess Rhaenyra's head on her lap.

" If you answer with Lord Something, Septa Marlow will be furious," Alicent recalls.

" She's funny when she's furious," Rhaenyra chuckles as she plays with the ends of her hair.

But alas, her partner can read her as well as the open book in her lap.

" You're always like this when you're worried," Alicent states.

" Like what?" Rhaenyra ponders.

" Disagreeable," The Lady utters as they lock eyes for just a moment, " You're worried your father is about to overshadow you with a son."

" I only worry for my mother," The Princess declares as she fiddles with a leaf from the ground, " I hope for my father he gets a son. As long as I can recall, that's all he's ever wanted."

" You want him to have a son?"

" I want to fly with you on dragonback, see the great wonders across the Narrow Sea and eat only cake."

" I'm being serious."

" I never jest about cake."

But the Lady continues on. She continues pushing and pushing till she gets to the bottom of it. She knows that Rhaenyra, a girl she holds near and dear to her heart, is suffering. She knows Rhaenyra has a great deal of anxiety and worry, yet she prays for her mother to birth a son so her father will no longer be disappointed in his only daughter.

" Where are you going?" Rhaenyra sighs as her partner stands up to walk away.

" Home, the hour is late," Alicent recalls as she holds the large book in her hands.

" Princess Nymeria led her Rhoynar across the Narrow Sea on 10,000 ships to flee their Valyrian pursuers," The Princess lists off with ease, holding her hands behind her back as she watches the redhead open the book to check if the words are true, " She took Lord Mors Martell of Dorne to husband and burned her own fleet off Sunspear to show her people that they were finished running."

But then the Princess grabs the book from the page and tears it out, much to the Lady's horror.

" What are you doing?" Alicent gasps.

" So you remember," Rhaenyra says as she hands over the page.

" If the Septa sees this book--"

" Fuck the Septa."

The hour grows later and later till the sun goes down and disappears till the morrow. The air is chilly as the winds stay soft and gentle. The Red Keep lay quiet as the patrons inside of it prepare for bed.

Saerra is housed separately from House Velaryon. She is not on the same floor of the castle. She is nearly down with the servants. Her chambers are smaller and much less decorated than those of royal blood. She has a simple bed with simple covers. She has small windows and a small vanity. Her stone floors are covered in a thin layer of dust, with tiny pawprints from when the rats scatter about.

She sighs as she tries to occupy her mind. Her bare feet step across the dust-ridden floor as she approaches the window, in which she hears the faint sound of screams coming from the city down below.

Daemon and his gold cloaks are running amuck through King's Landing. They pound on their shields. They cry out as if in battle. They light fire to buildings. They murder anyone in sight. Anyone who they believe deserves death. Men are beheaded. Men are taken from their wives and children and killed in the street.

It's a parade of death.

It's am ambush.

A bloodbath.

Yet the screams provide an odd comfort to the bastard girl. She leans against the window, bent over and chin resting on her hands as her ears take notice of every yell and scream. Her head bobbles from side to side and her teeth gently nip down on her fingers.

In the early hours of morning, the Rogue Prince is present for a Small Council meeting, one specifically about his impunity and abuse of the City Watch.

" Nobles from every corner of the realm are descending upon King's Landing for my brother's tourney. Do you want them mugged, raped, murdered?" Daemon ponders as he address the Hand, " You mightn't know this unless you leave the safety of the Red Keep, but much of King's Landing is seen by the smallfolk as lawless and terrifying. Our city should be safe for all its people."

" I agree," The King nods, " I just hope you don't have to maim half of my city to achieve this."

But Otto cannot simply let the Prince go on without delivering a snide remark, to which gets a prompt response.

" I think my bronze bitch is happier with my absence," Daemon retorts.

" Lady Rhea is your wife, a good and honorable Lady of the Vale," Otto states.

" In the Vale, men are said to fuck sheep instead of women. I can assure you, the sheep are prettier."

The Hand of the King and the Prince have never been known to get along. They butt heads at nearly every occasion. The green ser and the black prince. Once the Small Council meeting has been dissolved, Daemon goes to the one person who can help him clear his head.

Mysaria.

He fucks the forgein whore from behind, using her body to please his cock. He goes at it for hours, not even caring if her cunt gets tired. He hears faint giggles from the women who watch from behind a partition, but finds himself unable to fully release himself. Daemon grunts as he pulls himself away, but Mysaria only follows.

" What troubles you, my Prince? I could bring in another. Perhaps even one with silver hair."

Daemon's tastes are well known to the forgein woman. She knows what he likes, and while he expected the comment about silver hair... the comment about bringing in another woman seems to have struck a nerve. It tightens up a coil inside, one he truly fucking hates.

King's Landing prepares itself for the tourneys to come, all in celebration for the babe that has not yet born. Lords and Lady's all stay within the walls of the Keep, each house presenting a fine young man to fight and perhaps gain knighthood. And while it may be days of celebration to most, it is days of agony to Saerra.

" You are not to talk to anyone. Do not approach any lords or any ladies. You are to sit in the back of the box and watch the joust. Do not speak up, and do not run away. There are guards posted on every corner, they will find you," Lord Corlys lists off, " Am I understood?"

" Yes, my lord," Saerra meekly responds, standing with her hands behind her back within her own chambers.

" Good. Now all you have to do is not fuck it up."

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[ ik ik, corlys is an asshole ]