93 AC, Dragonstone.
Dragonstone lay northeast of King’s Landing, an island situated at the mouth of Blackwater Bay.
It had once been the westernmost territory of the Valyrian Freehold, an outpost of that mighty empire upon the continent of Westeros—an empire long since annihilated by catastrophe.
Among the countless castles of Westeros, the fortress on Dragonstone was perhaps the most unusual of them all.
Its towers had been shaped from stone through Valyrian sorcery, deliberately sculpted into the forms of dragons.
It was from these dragon-shaped towers and the island itself that Dragonstone took its name.
Traditionally, ever since Aegon’s Conquest, Dragonstone had been regarded as the seat of the heir to the Iron Throne, and the holder of the title was known as the Prince of Dragonstone.
Yet Baelon and his sons still resided in King’s Landing.
After her quarrel with Jaehaerys a year ago, Alysanne had taken Daeron with her to Dragonstone and made the ancient castle the Queen’s residence.
Alysanne climbed down from Silverwing’s back and laughingly kissed Daeron’s soft little cheek.
“Do you like flying?
Do you, my little grandson?”
Daeron grabbed one of Alysanne’s fingers.
“Fly!”
Alysanne giggled.
Still holding Daeron in her arms, she walked toward the castle.
Daeron was now a full year old.
Alysanne absolutely doted on this grandson of hers.
To celebrate his safe passage through the first year of his life, she had insisted on holding a nameday feast for him.
Calling it a feast, however, was perhaps being overly generous.
The gathering was pitifully small.
Almost shabby.
Only a handful of guests were present.
Aside from the cupbearers and servants, there were only Rhaenys, Laena, and several of the Queen’s ladies-in-waiting.
Rhaenys had already recovered from childbirth.
She had given birth to a beautiful baby girl who inherited her father’s silver hair and her mother’s purple eyes.
Rhaenys named her Laena.
Laena Velaryon.
Corlys adored his daughter.
Before his kinsmen, he proudly called Laena my little flower, and in private, he boldly declared that she would one day become Queen.
It was only after giving birth, when Rhaenys flew from High Tide to Dragonstone with her daughter to visit her grandmother, that she first learned of Daeron’s existence.
Now, holding Laena in her arms, Rhaenys smiled as she watched Alysanne play with Daeron.
Her thoughts drifted back to that day.
The first day she had seen him.
Rhaenys had noticed the infant boy staying beside Alysanne.
Soft platinum hair.
A high little nose.
And most striking of all, those clear, deep violet eyes that had stared at her with innocent curiosity.
Especially that little face.
It was practically a living copy of her father as a child.
Rhaenys had felt as though an invisible hand had suddenly closed around her heart.
“Daeron…
is Aemon’s bastard son.”
“He is your half-brother.”
“The same blood flows through both of you.”
Alysanne’s expression had been extraordinarily complicated.
Guilt.
Helplessness.
And a kind of brutal honesty that came from no longer caring how ugly the truth sounded.
Rhaenys’s expression underwent several violent changes in the span of a heartbeat.
In the end, it settled into something complicated.
“Men are all bastards, aren’t they?”
Alysanne gave a derisive snort.
She offered no empty comfort.
Nor did she attempt to defend Aemon.
Instead, she turned away and walked toward Daeron, who was awkwardly crawling across a thick carpet.
She picked him up and began teasing the child, using him to conceal the turmoil in her own heart.
“Baelon has always refused to tell me who his mother was.”
Alysanne spoke softly, her fingertips gently brushing through Daeron’s fine silver hair…
Rhaenys shook her head.
She looked toward her grandmother once again.
Alysanne had lifted Daeron from the floor and was guiding his gaze toward Rhaenys.
“Look.
That’s your sister.”
“Say sis-ter.”
“Sis—ter—”
Daeron nestled against Alysanne’s chest, his little arms wrapped around her neck.
His violet eyes turned toward the beautiful stranger standing before him—the young woman with black hair and purple eyes.
He seemed to be seriously contemplating the meaning of the word.
His tiny lips moved for several moments.
Then a soft, childish voice popped from his mouth.
“Sis—ter—”
No.
Half a sister.
Rhaenys immediately corrected herself in her heart.
Bastards often brought trouble.
Disputes.
Sometimes even bloodshed.
Reason told her that she should keep her distance.
That she should draw a clear line between herself and this child.
Yet the disgust and rejection she expected to feel never came.
Quite the opposite.
As she looked at the innocent child staring at her in confusion, a strange emotion rose within Rhaenys.
Something almost like kinship born from shared misfortune.
We have the same father.
The same blood flows through us.
We both lost our father.
And perhaps…
he has lost even more than I have.
After resigning from his positions as Master of Ships and Lord Admiral, Corlys had once again devoted himself almost entirely to his voyages.
He had long been planning his Tenth Great Voyage.
For the sake of his grand maritime ambitions, he intended to open a new sea route to the distant East.
As a result, he rarely remained at High Tide.
Rhaenys was more than happy to enjoy the peace.
She simply brought Laena with her and settled on Dragonstone for an extended stay, keeping company with the grieving Alysanne.
And perhaps…
With her bastard brother as well.
For a brief time, Daeron and Laena even shared the same wet nurse.
Whenever Laena’s wet nurse was temporarily unable to produce enough milk, Daeron’s nurse took responsibility for feeding and caring for both infants.
They lay together in the same cradle lined with soft wool.
Their tiny hands grasped unconsciously at the air. New chapters come out on g.com first.
Their breathing mingled.
As Daeron grew slightly older, he would curiously reach out and touch Laena’s smaller fingers.
Laena, meanwhile, would simply stare back at him with her innocent purple eyes.
Corlys was not entirely ignorant of the situation.
During brief intervals between his long voyages, he had returned several times to visit his wife.
When he first set foot on Dragonstone and saw the Queen, his wife, his daughter…
And a silver-haired little boy whose Targaryen features were impossible to miss…
Corlys had been deeply confused.
But the instincts of a seasoned navigator had never deserted him.
It did not take him long to understand.
In private, he voiced his strong objections to Rhaenys.
His brows were tightly furrowed, and his voice remained low as he struggled to suppress his displeasure.
“Rhaenys, he is a bastard.”
“And worse, he is your father’s male bastard.”
“Allowing him to remain this close to you and Laena is unwise.
It could invite unnecessary trouble.
Rumors.”
Corlys hesitated briefly.
“And have you forgotten?
Jaehaerys ignored your place in the succession.
Don’t you want to—”
Rhaenys’s reaction was far more intense than he had expected.
She raised her eyes.
The pale violet eyes inherited from her father instantly blazed with familiar fire.
It was the warning of a dragon whose territory had been trespassed upon.
For the briefest instant, even Corlys found himself intimidated by the sudden sharpness in his wife’s gaze.
“Yes.”
“He is a bastard, husband.”
Rhaenys’s voice was calm.
“But he is still my brother.”
Her gaze remained fixed upon Corlys.
“Remember that.”
“He is still a member of my family.”
Corlys closed his mouth.
He knew his wife.
And he knew that whenever she spoke in that tone, any further objection was pointless.
In the end, Corlys chose to yield.
He swallowed his displeasure.
Whenever he occasionally visited Dragonstone to see his wife and daughter, he focused his attention on spending time with them.
As for the silver-haired little boy…
Corlys treated him as part of the background.
An awkward existence.
One best ignored with care.
Almost unconsciously, Rhaenys reached out.
Her hand gently stroked Daeron’s head.
The silver strands beneath her fingers were warm.
Real.
Happy nameday, Daeron Waters.
My half-brother.
Rhaenys silently whispered the words in her heart.