Baela III

The walls of Maegor's Holdfast became more restrictive each day she spent inside them. Baela was quite certain she'd explored every inch of them in the past several weeks, and her recent confinement inside them threatened to drive her mad. She took solace in the fact that she was not alone in her struggles, as Joff was quite possibly the only person in the Red Keep more infuriated about his mother's 'precautionary measures' than Baela herself. Ever since word of the betrayal arrived, cos and her court have grown ever more wary of outsiders. When ravens had arrived detailing just how viciously Tumbleton had been put to the sack, the court had grown quiet with consternation. It had been bad enough knowing that Prince Daeron and a Hightower army of 20,000 men were approaching. The addition of two additional riders and the destruction of the only credible Black forces in the area had rendered the Queen's strategic situation precarious. Some, behind closed doors, would argue it has been rendered untenable.

Baela herself had been shocked by the news, but unlike her cousin, had been immediately in favor of gathering the rest of the riders that remained in the city and orchestrating a surprise attack on the Green army encamped just 50 leagues to the southwest. Between my Moondancer, Joff's Tyraxes, cos' Syrax, and Addam Velaryon's Seasmoke we could put their whole army to flight… it would be a second Field of Fire. As enticing as the prospect had been to her, the Queen had only paled when it had been raised in her presence, before insisting that they instead "gather what forces they had remaining to them and prepare for their foe's approach."

Soon after, Rhaenyra had ordered the gates to King's Landing shut, and ordered that the members of the Royal Family were to remain inside Maegor's Holdfast at all times. Baela wished that her cousin would exhibit some of her fiery wroth that she used to demonstrate with great frequency before the war, but it seemed the loss of two sons had put those flames out permanently. Instead of a righteous fury, the Queen often exhibited a paranoid cynicism. In the wake of the two betrayers, it seemed as though she expected most were waiting for the perfect opportunity to plant a knife in her back. I cannot blame her though, Baela thought to herself. I can only imagine the weight she bears upon her shoulders.

The Queen's paranoia was unsettling for other reasons as well. Baela often found herself terrified that the truth of her and Gaemon's nighttime excursion had been leaked. She had so far been able to calm herself by insisting that if her cousin had any such knowledge of their trip, she certainly would not have kept quiet about it. Gaemon could lose his head for our foolishness. Unbidden, a shiver ran down her spine. At a time like this, it was important that she gave no indication of any attachment. Nonetheless, I don't regret a moment of it, she thought triumphantly to herself. It was good to have someone to care for in that way again. She often found herself wondering what he might be doing, and whether he was enjoying his stay at Pinkmaiden. She wished she could be there in person to help with the search, but given the current atmosphere in the court, she privately accepted it was for the best she had stayed. Had we spent any more time together, the stakes of our bond would have only risen. The last thing cos needs is another scandal.

A knock at her door forced her mind to the present. Rising from her chair, she straightened her shirt (she had returned to wearing her traditional garb the moment she had been confined as a sign of protest) and pulled the oaken door open, its hinges rasping ever so slightly. Outside stood Ser Rayford Lothston, who nodded respectfully as a sign of greeting.

Clearing his throat, he began to speak: "My Lady, the Queen requests your presence in the Queen's Ballroom. She is assembling her advisors and lords to give her council. She has requested your attendance, as a member of the Royal Family and as a dragonrider."

Baela smiled. Finally, something to do. "Thank you for informing me, Ser Lothston. I will follow your lead."

Their trip through the Holdfast was quiet, as Ser Rayford showed little desire to exchange pleasantries. Torches burned in their sconces, casting their dancing light about the halls. The near total absence of windows within the Holdfast necessitated the burning of torches constantly, leaving its inhabitants with the eerie sensation of no idea of the time, as though they lived in a perpetual night. Making their way to the Queen's Ballroom, guards at the doors nodded in respect before opening them to reveal a great host of bickering lords and attendants. It seemed those deemed the most loyal to the Queen had evidently been asked to attend, both to give council and support. The silvered mirrors upon the walls gave the impression that the hall was even larger, and filled with even greater numbers, as their apprehensive or outraged reflections mimicked their counterparts in the real world.

As she entered, the herald in attendance slammed his staff twice upon the floor, before announcing her as "the Lady Baela Targaryen."

The assembled parted before her to make way as she crossed the breadth of the hall to join her cousin, who sat at the Queen's high table and was currently working on finishing off the remnants of a lamprey pie. None are brave enough to tell her, but the burdens of rulership have greatly enhanced Rhaenyra's appetite, Baela thought as she approached. The Queen had grown a bit stouter since the days of her youth, and when she frowned (which was often), she often had two chins. Next to the Queen sat Joff, who upon noticing Baela, gave her a friendly grin. As she finished off the last piece, the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms gave her cousin a grave nod, before clapping in order to signal the assembled lords to take their seats. Those assembled represented the most powerful lords present in King's Landing, including the Manderly brothers, Torrhen and Medrick, her grandfather Corlys Velaryon, the heir to Runestone, Ser Willem Royce, the Lord Commander of the Queensguard, Ser Lorent Marbrand, the master of coin Lord Bartimos Celtigar, and the massive Ser Luthor Largent, commander of the Gold Cloaks. Those assembled quickly took their seats in a ring around the hall, its tables having been pushed to the sides.

After taking a sip of wine to clear her throat, the Queen stood to address the assembled Lords. "I thank each of you for attending me on this grim day. As many of you may already have known, a raven has arrived bearing news of a grim betrayal at Tumbleton. The Hightower army, escorted by my treasonous half-brother Prince Daeron, have not only taken the city and put it to the sack, but have also managed to convince two of my own dragonseeds to turn cloak. I know not what promises they made, but the fact remains that these traitors must be punished."

As Baela sat, she scanned the room and those assembled. Many of the faces were grim, evidently disturbed to hear the rumors of treason confirmed. A lord, or even an army defecting is one matter. Two dragonriders defecting is quite another. Despite her desire to go to battle, Baela harbored no illusions that such a fight would prove costly. Her own Moondancer was simply not yet large enough to fight evenly with the older, larger dragons, and even Prince Daeron's Tessarion was likely to be quite a bit larger by this point. If Prince Aemond were to somehow receive word of the events at Tumbleton and bring Vhagar to join their enemies, the situation in the capital would be untenable. An assembly of that many dragons would require nearly all of the Queen's own forces to destroy.

A gruff, rumbling voice brought her out of her thoughts: "Your Grace, the news from Tumbleton is indeed grim tidings. What news do we have from the Riverlands?" Medrick Manderly asked, his voice low and gruff.

Rhaenyra nodded to Maester Gerardys, who occupied his usual position standing behind her on the right. He raised two letters before those assembled, his chains jingling.

"Prince Daemon writes from Maidenpool, reporting little in the way of success. He and the girl Nettles have flown their dragons daily, and report signs of Aemond's devastation stretching from the Mountains of the Moon to the Green Fork. Despite her huge size, it seems Vhagar can be incredibly elusive when she wishes to be."

Gerardys then raised the other letter. "We received this message from Pinkmaiden yesterday, sent by Ser Gaemon. He relays that both he and Ser Maegor have scoured the Riverlands every day, but they too have only found ashes. Aemond's wroth has reached as far as Sallydance on the Red Fork, but he seems to strike at random, leaving only a few terrified survivors who cannot agree on which way he flew afterwards."

How is it possible that the largest dragon in Westeros is suddenly impossible to find? We have devoted four skilled riders to the search, and yet they turn up nothing.

Torrhen Manderly stood, dabbing at his sweaty forehead with a kerchief. "I had hoped for better news, your Grace. I fear that if the hunt for Aemond continues for much longer, Lord Cregan Stark may have to halt his march. We ought to assign dragons to provide adequate coverage for his host; if Aemond were to attack them from above, the results could be devastating."

Ser Willem Royce then stood. "The Lady Jeyne Arryn has written to me, begging for a dragon to be dispatched once more to defend the Vale, as was originally promised. She fears that Aemond may soon tire of his depredations in the Riverlands, and raid greener pastures in the Vale. If the Mountain clansmen were to receive word that our seats and knights were aflame, they might choose to step up their raids."

Ser Lorent Marbrand then spoke up. "We cannot afford to divide our forces at such a critical time. Besides, the army at Tumbleton is a mere fifty leagues from the capital. It was easy to ignore Prince Daeron and the Hightowers when they were fighting in the extreme south, but they are now clearly the greatest threat to her Grace. We must needs send riders to address this new threat. We will have to dispatch some from the Riverlands, as the safety of the Queen and the Prince of Dragonstone must be our primary concern."

Rhaenyra gave Ser Marbrand a thankful pat on the arm as he spoke, before turning to those assembled. "While I agree that forces must needs be dispatched to deal with the threat, how are we to trust those we send to do as they are bid, as opposed to turning cloak as well? All of the seeds are either bastard-born or descended from bastards. Such blood is not to be trusted in times such as these."

Baela felt a cold chill run down her spine. Is she mad? The other seeds are loyal. Gaemon vouched for the girl Nettles and his friend Maegor personally. As agonizing as it was, she knew that if she spoke up she'd only condemn the remaining seeds further. The Queen had grown suspicious of Baela's intentions ever since her disobedient ride, and would be more likely to see Baela's support as a strike against them than a point in their favor.

Lord Celtigar was the first to speak, after scratching silvery stubble about his chin. "Bastards are treacherous by nature. It is in their blood. Betrayal comes as easily to a bastard as loyalty to trueborn men. I'd advise giving the order to seize all the remaining seeds immediately, before their nature can be allowed to bite the hand that feeds."

Ser Luthor Largent was quick to agree. "Even the chance that these men could betray you is a good enough cause to seize them, your Grace. If the Greens gain any more riders, our cause is lost. Best act now, and send them to the Stranger, before they decide to introduce us to him first."

Baela's knuckles were turning white beneath the table. She felt sick to her stomach. One of those seeds is your cousin, Rhaenyra, bastard or not. You are better than this. She felt she barely knew the woman sitting next to her at the table, whose purple eyes seemed to be perpetually searching the shadows for threats unseen.

Prince Joffrey was the next to speak up, his expression a mixture of guilt and anger. "Mother, Jace gave these men his word. It's not right to treat them so. To my knowledge, the others have not given us any cause to suspect them of disloyalty. We should trust them, as Jace did."

Rhaenyra's face twisted in rage at the mention of her fallen son. "Jace trusted them for naught. They couldn't save him during the Gullet, and now they've betrayed his very memory by betraying me."

Before she could continue, Ser Lorent spoke up. "Your Grace, I have had the opportunity to train two of these men. While they both have tempers when roused, they have given me no cause to doubt their loyalty. They are both fine young lads, eager to serve you, nothing like the two betrayers. Whilst I cannot speak for the other seeds, I will vouch personally for the honor of Ser Gaemon and Ser Maegor."

Lord Corlys appeared to be eager to speak next, but before he could do so, he was interrupted by a quiet voice emanating from beneath a blood-red silken hood.

"I know not of the two Ser Marbrand vouches for, but I can speak for the girl, Nettles. She already betrayed you, my Queen. Even now she shares your husband's bed, and soon enough she will have his bastard in her belly."

My father? With the gap-toothed common girl? Baela was stunned. She knew her father was… close… with Mysaria, but she had assumed his tastes were more exotically inclined. She found herself trying to recall any instance in which he had shown a particular fondness for the girl. To my knowledge, they never seemed particularly close. Then again, I can't have imagined the 'Lady' Mysaria approving of any other lovers. Baela's eyes narrowed. Could this be some sort of calumny on the part of the pale dancer?

Whether it was or was not, the hall had grown conspicuously silent and icily cold. Rhaenyra seemed ready to order the arrests of the remaining seeds immediately, and as Baela opened her mouth to plead against such a course, her grandfather interjected.

"My Queen, I myself knighted Sers Gaemon and Maegor for their deeds at the Gullet. I pray you have not forgotten that they returned young Prince Viserys to your embrace. As for my grandsons, Ser Addam and Alyn, they are true Velaryons, and worthy heirs to Driftmark! Do not allow them to suffer for the misdeeds of some common whore."

As Ser Lorent and Lord Corlys had spoken before him, Maester Gerardys spoke: "In matters such as these, my Queen, the path of wisdom is to seek proof of any disloyalty before making any rash judgements."

Despite the protestations of several of the members of the Small Council, it seemed Rhaenyra was not to be moved. That seemed the case, at least, until Ser Torrhen Manderly spoke.

"My Queen, if I may, does it even matter whether the seeds we have dispatched are innocent or otherwise? Any order to have them seized would be very difficult to implement while they are so far afield. We would be forced to rely on the Pipers and the Mootons to dispose of not one, but three dragonriders. Most importantly, however, if either of those families were to fail at such a task, we would have given the seeds the perfect justification to go over to the enemy. Our only choice at this point, realistically, would be to presume their innocence. As Ser Marbrand said, if we lose any more dragons we are lost."

For a few moments, the only sound in the hall was the sound of the Queen's fingernails tapping on the table. Baela thought she might be sick. Finally, the Queen drew a rasping breath, and issued her decree.

"The seeds Ser Maegor and Ser Gaemon will be assumed innocent, for the time-being. For the sake of the son they returned to my bosom, and their other services rendered. Ser Addam will also be presumed innocent, as he has remained at the Dragonpit since their departure without issue as per my orders."

Baela resisted the urge to sigh with relief, but she needn't have worried, as her grandfather visibly slumped in his seat, his features no longer contorted with the stress he had clearly felt a few moments before.

Rhaenyra spat out her next words with vitriol: "As for the common whore, she shall receive no such mercy. She is a common thing, with the stink of sorcery upon her. My prince would ne'er lay with such a low creature. You need only to look at her to know she has no drop of dragon's blood in her. It was with spells that she bound a dragon to her, and she has done the same with my lord husband. So long as he is in her thrall, Prince Daemon cannot be relied upon. Send word to Lord Mooton, let him take her at table or abed and strike her head off. Only then shall my prince be freed."

Baela resisted the urge to roll her eyes. My father, the Rogue Prince, ensorceled? I think not. Of the two of them, he's far more likely to have employed sorcery to bed another. I'm sorry, Gaemon. Your loyalty has been repaid with a death warrant for your friend.

"My Queen, word ought to be sent to the Mootons, in order to begin our work in freeing the Prince. I will begin preparing a message." With that, Maester Gerardys also took his leave. As he turned from the Queen, his expression hardened, and Baela was quite sure she'd never seen the kindly old man look so disappointed in all the years she'd known him. That… that is enough. Baela thought to herself. I can stay silent no longer.

"Maester Gerardys, might you wait a moment?" She asked, standing from her seat at the high table and turning to face her cousin. "My Queen, I beg of you. If my father is truly under the spell of that girl, might I go to break it? Perhaps his fatherly love will prove stronger than her sorceries. Allow me to fly to Maidenpool, in order to treat with him and convince him of the error of his ways. I promise, I will not fail you." Let me convince him to send her away, let me put this madness to rest. As she spoke, she saw the White Worm's eyes narrow beneath her blood-red hood.

Rhaenyra regarded her with a look of suspicion. It almost seems as though she'd forgotten I was seated in attendance.

"Baela, as your Queen, and as your kinswoman, I could not expose you in good conscience to the likes of that witch. Your father would never forgive me if something were to happen to you. Besides, as I told my own son, I need you here, with me, to protect the city."

Whilst the Queen's tone sounded caring, her eyes remained cold. Baela knew her appeal had little chance of succeeding, but its failure had nonetheless proven infuriating. She returned to her seat, willing herself to remain silent.

The Queen sat back in her seat, straightening her posture in order to deliver her next order. "Lord Corlys, inform your grandson that he shall be departing this city tomorrow. I order him to take his dragon to Pinkmaiden, in order to meet Sers Gaemon and Maegor. The three of them are to proceed from thence immediately to Tumbleton, in order to bring Fire and Blood to the Usurper's brother and the two betrayers. If they are all loyal, as many of you seem to believe, let them prove it by dealing with those who have turned cloak. They are either to return victorious or not at all."

"Mother!" Joffrey interjected. "Let me fly with Ser Addam. If I am to be King some day, let me earn that right by Fire and Blood, as my ancestors did. Tyraxes and I shall not disappoint you."

Rhaenyra paled at his protestation. "You will not. You are too young for battle." She paused, clearly recognizing that would not be enough to dissuade him. "Joff… I need you here. If Aemond were to somehow slip by Prince Daemon whilst he is ensorceled, I will need both you and the Lady Baela to help me defend the city."

Joff's face depicted a war of emotions, with anger, humiliation, and empathy waging a brutal war for supremacy. Eventually, he offered his mother a curt nod, whilst clearly still unhappy about her verdict.

After a few moments of silence, Ser Luthor Largent's gravelly baritone echoed across the room. "Your Grace, if I may be so bold as to offer some advice, the people of the city have grown discontented at the present state of affairs. Many fear that the city will be put to the sack by the Hightowers, and resent that you have barred the gates. In conjunction with the extremely high war taxes…" he eyed Lord Celtigar from under bushy eyebrows "... I fear that the discontent may grow disruptive. I believe it would do wonders for the people's morale if you were to organize a procession from the Red Keep to the Dragonpit, in order to officially see Ser Addam off. Let the people see you, and know that you are taking measures to protect the city. This could be an opportunity to win their hearts."

Rhaenyra scoffed. "And expose myself or my son to a well-placed dagger, or bolt? I think not. Only the Seven know just how many of the footpads and catspaws in the city are under my half-brother's pay. I will give them no such opportunities to strike. Besides, if the public grows truculent, as you seem to suggest they intend to, the Gold Cloaks will see to them." Her amethyst eyes regarded Ser Luthor coldly. "That is, after all, what I pay you for."

Ser Luthor met her gaze abashedly from under his caterpillar-like eyebrows. "Yes, your Grace. Speaking of which, I must attend to them. I will organize additional patrols to discourage any… problematic… sentiments amongst the masses."

With that, Ser Luthor Largent stood, drawing up to his full, nearly seven-foot height, and marched out of the hall.

Oh cos. What have you done? As Ser Luthor left the hall, those left assembled seemed unaware of what to do or say next.

Her grandfather broke the silence. "Your grace, I will send for my grandson. I understand your reasoning for ruling out a procession, but I do think it would be proper to arrange for a suitable send-off." He turned to Baela, and smiled. "Perhaps he'll be able to tell you just how much your Moondancer has grown since you last saw her."

Baela smiled back, but it was hard to feel truly at ease after the last hour. The Queen seems to be allowing fear to guide her every action. Internally, she was both sorry for her cousin and furious at her ruling regarding Nettles. Each new day of war and betrayal stripped Rhaenyra of a bit more of the woman she used to be.

Realising she had remained silent for too long, she spoke up: "I… would certainly like to hear of her progress, grandfather. I would appreciate any such news from Addam."

Her grandfather's eyes twinkled. "I'll make sure to inform him of your request, my sweet." With a wink, he turned back to the Queen, who nodded her assent to his request.

"Bring Ser Addam before the Iron Throne and I will see him off, Lord Velaryon. Be quick about it. Time is awasting, and the two betrayers must needs be brought to justice."

As Lord Corlys strode from the chamber, Baela begged the Queen's leave to return to her chambers. Prince Joffrey quickly chimed in, and they were able to secure her agreement together. As they exited the hall, the last thing Baela heard was Lord Celtigar bringing a new financial proposal to the Queen concerning "a tax on whores."

As they strode the hallways, Joffrey seemed unusually quiet. Baela decided she'd be the one to break the silence.

"Joff, I can see that you're troubled. You know that you can share whatever it is with me."

The Prince of Dragonstone raised his brown eyes to meet hers, and she could see tears in their corners.

"I feel like a coward, Baela. What use is a dragon when one's own mother prevents them from flying it? If I were truly brave, like Jace or Luke, I'd sneak into the city this very evening and fly to meet the enemy. How will I ever be worthy of sitting the Conqueror's throne if I cannot bring my own family's enemies to heel?"

Baela felt tears well in the corners of her own eyes. She quickly embraced him. "Oh Joff, you know that I feel the same. I would give anything to be out there, flying with my father and the seeds. Alas, we cannot." She thought for a moment about what to say next. "You know… maybe it takes a bit of bravery to stay behind. If you are to be King some day, then you'll need to protect your subjects as well as your family. Protecting the capital is brave, even if it is not as glorious as chasing the Kinslayer in the Riverlands."

Joff nodded, wiping his eyes with his sleeve. "I suppose you're right, Baela. I just… I just want to be remembered as brave, the way my brothers will be. I don't want to be the Prince that clung to his mother's skirts. When I was in the Vale, protecting Lady Jeyne and your sister, I felt like a true Prince. I felt worthy of Tyraxes. Ever since I've arrived here, I feel as though that has been stripped from me, as though I am but a child."

Baela smiled. "Joff, I'm going to say to you what someone very dear to me told me. You've got fire enough already, enough to burn your enemies to ash. Develop your bond with Tyraxes, learn to fight, and to rule. Take the few opportunities that remain to you within these walls to prepare yourself. When the war does reach us, as I am sure it will, you'll be ready, and all will rue the day that they left you behind."

Joffrey nodded gravely, clutching the sword at his waist. "I will do that Baela. When my time comes, I promise you, I will not hesitate. I will be ready."

Baela took his hands. "I believe that, wholeheartedly." She thought to herself for a moment. "You know… all the best Kings that I've known have been quite good at cyvasse."

A grin returned to Joffrey's face. "Then I suppose I'd better learn."

After completing the stroll back to her chambers, Baela had retrieved an ornately carved board from a trunk at the foot of her bed. Originally a gift to her father in Pentos, he had given it to her when he realized she had a passion for the game. Its finely carved, lacquered pieces brought back good memories of playing against her father, and against Rhaena. She quickly set up the screen between the two of them, and explained how they were to arrange their pieces. Joffrey listened intently, before eagerly arranging his pieces. He had picked the onyx pieces, leaving her with those of ivory.

The first few games went by fairly quickly, as she had the advantage of experience. At first, Joff grew wroth at the loss of his King to her dragon, but in time, he grew more fixated upon the board. In the fourth game, she narrowly avoided losing her king to one of his catapults, but was able to trap him between a trebuchet and elephant. He accepted defeat more graciously that time, clearly beginning to enjoy himself.

"Another?" He asked with a wry grin.

Before she could answer, there was a knock at the doors. Standing, she answered. Once more, she found Ser Rayford Lothston waiting outside.

"Ser Rayford, if you truly have been so taken by my beauty, you might as well say so, instead of devising paltry excuses to come knocking so often."

The knight snorted amusedly. "After serving this long at the Red Keep, I know far better than to get involved with the Blood of the Dragon. I do however, bring word from the Queen. She asks that both you and the Prince attend Ser Addam's departure ceremony.

Baela turned to Joffrey. "My apologies, but it appears our game must needs wait. Our presence is required in the Great Hall."

Joffrey had already arisen and nodded. "Only if you promise to play later. I will be victorious at some point."

Grinning, she nodded in the affirmative. "I'll owe you one afterwards. I cannot promise you a victory, however." Before they left, she took her 'King' piece, and handed it to him. "Keep this, until we play again. That way you can hold me to my promise."

They followed Ser Rayford through the winding, torchlit halls of Maegor's Holdfast, until they eventually arrived at its gate and drawbridge. The scent of fresh air was invigorating, and she drank it in deeply. They exited over the drawbridge, taking care not to tumble into the wickedly sharp iron spikes below. Walking through the courtyard, she gazed at the sky, where the moon was beginning to rise. The stars glowed like so many pinpricks in night's veil, and Baela recalled how her father had once told her that her mother might be watching through one. I wish I could play cyvasse with her, or show her how much Moondancer has grown, or tell her about Gaemon. She barely remembered her mother, but from everything she had heard, she believed they would have been close. She did tame Vhagar, after all. I can think of no greater testament to her character.

When she glanced at Joffrey, he too gazed at the stars. The winter sky was incredibly clear, and more stars were visible than usual. Perhaps Jace and Luke are waving down at you, Joff. Despite what you might think, they are proud of you, I'm sure of it. She was forced from her recollections as they entered the Great Hall. The skulls of the dragons of old gazed down at them as they entered, and Balerion's onyx skull seemed to grin in the light from the braziers. Rhaenyra sat imperiously at the top of the Iron Throne, and Joffrey quickly took his seat on its steps. Baela took her place on its dais, and scanned the hall. The numbers in attendance were not as great as previous ceremonies, and she surmised it was due to the Queen's paranoia. Only the most trusted lords and knights of the Queen's court stood assembled before them.

Her grandfather stood with Ser Addam before the Iron Throne, his hands on his grandson's shoulders. Addam looked resolute in his Velaryon sea green and silver. When he noticed her gaze, his deep purple eyes met hers and he smiled, giving her a nod of recognition. He was a kind man, from the times she had spoken to him previously. Good luck on your task, Ser Addam, she thought to herself. Make sure that Gaemon doesn't do anything too stupid or daring on my behalf. She hoped that his friend Maegor would dissuade him from doing so, as he seemed to be a relatively level-headed fellow.

Rhaenyra's voice rang out from above. "Ser Addam Velaryon, I have called you before the Iron Throne this evening to charge you with a task of the utmost import. At first light tomorrow morning, you will fly for Pinkmaiden to fetch Sers Gaemon and Maegor. From thence, you will fly for Tumbleton, to give my treasonous half-brother and the two traitors their first real taste of Fire and Blood. I charge you to swear to fulfill this task to the best of your ability as a knight, and swear your obedience upon your sacred vows."

Ser Addam knelt before the throne. "I so swear it, my Queen. Upon my honor, I will not rest until your enemies are ashes. Let my actions henceforth be proof of my everlasting loyalty and gratefulness."

Baela turned to see Rhaenyra nod gravely, evidently satisfied. "Go then, Ser. And may your return bring news of victory."

The hall shook with cries of "Fire and Blood" and "Seven save the Queen". In the midst of the sendoff, Addam turned to his grandfather, who whispered a few words in his ear. He nodded, before turning to face her and make his way over to her.

Brushing some silver strands of hair from his eyes, Addam smiled. "My grandfather tells me that you eagerly await news of your Moondancer."

Baela nodded eagerly. "Indeed, I do. It has been far too long since I have been able to see her, let alone go for a ride."

Addam nodded. "You will be pleased to hear that she continues to grow. Soon, she'll be large enough to devour a whole ox."

Baela couldn't wait to see such things for herself. "I thank you for bringing me such tidings, Ser."

Addam looked at his feet before continuing. "My Lady, if I may be so bold, might I make a request of you?"

Baela couldn't help but be intrigued. "Go on, Ser."

"I will soon fly, to an uncertain fate. Over these last few weeks since your arrival, I can assure you I have been quite taken by your beauty. You would do me a great honor if you would allow me to carry your favor along with me for the duration of this task."

Baela's stomach lurched. "I…"

Glancing over Addam's shoulder, she saw her grandfather watching them with great interest. I could give much away by refusing, but I cannot in good conscience agree to such an act. Addam stared at her expectantly. Suddenly, her grandfather's behavior over the last several weeks began to make much more sense. He seeks to solidify Addam's claims to Driftmark with a marital alliance. And what better partner than his own granddaughter? Despite her misgivings, she knew what she had to do.

"I… cannot grant you such a boon in good faith Ser." She paused. "I hope you can forgive me?"

Addam's eyes widened in surprise. Evidently he was not prepared for this response. "I… suppose I can find forgiveness in my heart, my Lady."

As he turned from her, his face must have given away what had transpired to their grandfather. Corlys' eyes widened in surprise, before narrowing. Baela felt a chill run down her spine. Please, grandfather. Don't start asking too many questions.

A/N: So you've made it to the end of the chapter. Impressive! Thanks again for taking the time to read this. As you already know by now, Rhaenyra has just made some pretty fateful decisions that will have a dramatic effect as time goes on. Addam flies on his fateful journey, but this time, he will be stopping to rendezvous with two more dragon-riders. Tumbleton awaits!