Chapter Text
Aemma survived the bloody bed of childbirth. Her son did not.
When she felt a bit better, she wished she had also died with Baelon.
Looking at Viserys was hard. For all the love that they had proclaimed for each other, Aemma could not understand where it soured. Perhaps when he became the Prince of Dragonstone. Perhaps when she realized that she would need to sacrifice her entire being to protect her position and that of her daughter by giving birth to a prince.
But the fact that her husband would kill her himself for a child not born yet...
The reality was always harsh.
Aemma had a lot of experience with recovering after facing the birthing bed. This time too, she mustered her power and tried to move on. The only difference was that she would never return back to it.
In hindsight, that could be considered mercy, that is, if her bitter thoughts let her rest over her inabilities.
When Viserys proclaimed Rhaenyra as his heir, Aemma could do nothing but smile and nod toward the nobles. She allowed herself to break down only when she reached her chambers' privacy.
If Rhaenyra was enough, why had she killed herself slowly over the years? Why had she and Viserys allowed herself to become a shell of what she was over nothing?
"The men would sooner putt the realm to torch before they allow a woman to sit on the throne."
Rhaenys might have said this to her out of bitterness, but that doesn't mean that Aemma should not take it as what it was. A warning.
She was a Queen, yet she had never felt like one except for those earlier days after her husband's coronation. Thus, sitting on the Small Council felt like a dream. Or a nightmare. Because every day reminded her of her inadequacy to provide an heir every time the men opened their mouths. And she could say nothing against it because they were right.
Rhaenyra was a woman. The Seven would not allow her on the Throne. The Realm would not let her sit on the Throne.
No matter how much of a blind eye Viserys turned towards the entire matter, Aemma could not do the same.
It was only after Rhaenyra returned after confronting her uncle, face jubilant with her first victory, Aemma realized that perhaps, she could do this. Her daughter may become the first Queen of the Seven Kingdoms.
But the path would be long, and Rhaenyra was still a child, naive to the ways of their world. Thus, it fell to Aemma to prepare her and become her shadow and protector.
She had failed her husband and the Gods by not giving birth to a son. She would not fail her daughter.
"I will not take another woman to be my wife when my Queen is still alive and by my side!"
These words should have filled her with satisfaction and love had Viserys been able to look at her without guilt. All it did was fill her with dread, which turned her paranoid.
That feeling persisted until she survived the first assassination attempt.
Aemma had never hated anyone with such passion in her life. She was a woman educated in the ways of Seven, being taught that her duty was to her husband and family. But all those thoughts flew out of her head when she saw the man for the first time after surviving. All that was stopping her was Viserys's presence and her maintained decorum; otherwise, she would have gouged the beady eyes of that Hightower cunt.
As it was, she had to satisfy herself by having that gray rat of Maester, and his toadies killed off by assassins she had hired. Aemma did not regret the amount of coin she spent on that particular transaction.
"Are you sure about this, Mother?"
Aemma could do nothing but smile lovingly at her child. Even after all the unintentional neglect she dealt to her daughter, she still loved her as if her mother could do no wrong. Indeed, the Gods blessed her when Rhaenyra was born.
"Yes, my lovely child." She kissed her head, wishing nothing more than to hide her precious darling in her arms. "You need all the power you can get, Rhaenyra. You may not realize it yet, but this is a deadly game we are playing. We should do whatever we can to ensure your safe ascension to the Throne."
Rhaenyra bit her lip. "You never liked dragons, mother. Claiming one against your own desires is a deadly thing."
Aemma's smile was nothing but sad in return. "You forget, daughter, that I am a Targaryen too. The dragon blood runs through me. At least in this, I will not fail you."
This was a sore point between the pair, Aemma's habit of blaming herself for her perceived inadequacies and Rhaenyra's anger at her having such feelings. But she must have realized that it was useless to argue right now as she guided Aemma silently to her dragon's back and mounted Syrax in front of her. Both were soaring through the air a moment later, heading toward Dragonstone.
Contrary to her expectations, claiming a dragon for herself wasn't hard. What did surprise her and her daughter was the dragon she ended up bonding with.
Cannibal
Well, he was hers now, and she was his. And such an unseemly name for her mount would not fly anymore.
Shrykos
It was fitting, she supposes. This was the mark of a new beginning. Perhaps the Gods have not abandoned her yet.
"You might feel slighted over being replaced by a girl of few moons."
"Not more than you coming to the realization that you would not be standing here if the baby hadn't come out on its own."
Aemma flinched. Daemon was right. She and Viserys could never go back to what they had. What was left of their relationship was a broken thing, its shards cutting both of them each and every single day.
"But we have to move forward. If we remained like this, our enemies would not hesitate to tear us apart."
His eyes gleamed. "Your enemies, my Queen. I couldn't care less what happens to you."
"And my fate is connected to your brother and niece. Will you abandon Viserys? What about Rhaenyra?"
This time, it was her good brother's turn to fall silent.
She had an antagonistic relationship with him. Aemma couldn't call herself blameless, though. She knew that Daemon did not want to marry Rhae Royce, yet she had advocated Viserys that, with time, he might be able to have a relationship with his wife. His pleadings on the day of his marriage had not affected anyone in their family, and Daemon grew extremely apathetic to his grandparents. For Aemma, though, he had not needed to do much, as the knowledge that he was Viserys's heir was enough of revenge on her.
But times had changed. Daemon may not love her, but he loved his brother and niece and would do anything for them, at least.
"I need your help." She struggled to say those words, swallowing the bitter bile back. "Rhaenyra needs your help. All of you might be content that the Lords of the Realms took an oath to swear her as their future Queen, but I am not that naive. Otherwise, I would not have slaved away over the years to produce a son."
"Even if I help you, there is nothing for me in it."
"There is. I can give you what you want."
He agreed. People might think that Daemon Targaryen lusted after the Throne, and would not wish for anything else. Aemma digressed. The throne could be considered to be his birthright in a way. Thus that wish was nothing but natural. No, he wanted freedom from his wretched marriage, and she could arrange that. It was the least she could do.
Returning to Kings Landing on top of her dragon was a surreal experience. For the first time in her life, she truly felt like a Queen.
And the expression on Otto's face was too delightful.
Aemma had grown vigilant to any possible attempts on her life. It helped that Shrykos loomed over her like a metaphorical shadow, warding many assassins from the fear that the dragon may go insane with her death and burn the city to the ground.
But that would not deter anyone attempting to access the King. That was a surprise Aemma had never had to fear from before.
Well, best to deal with this before it escalated from minor annoyance to a proper threat to her existence.
"I hope my daughter does not give you much trouble, Lady Alicent."
"It’s a pleasure to serve Princess Rhaenyra, my Queen."
Aemma hummed.
"Tell me then. Do you serve the King with the same delight and passion?"
All the color drained from the girl's face. She wanted to slap the shit out of that chit, but humiliating her would be enough.
"I am a merciful woman, Lady Alicent. Alas, the constant occurrences have leached out all of that from me. Were it not for your father constantly trying to kill me and the King dismissing my fears, I admit that there is not much mercy left in me for others. You understand, right?"
The girl trembled. She continued.
"I will not ask your reasons behind your visits to a married man, my husband, in question. I am not my daughter, interested in your explanations. The fact that a member of my daughter's household has the sheer audacity to overreach in such a manner is enough for me to have your head taken off."
This time, tears started to fall.
"Alas, I cannot do that. Even if Viserys would eventually forgive me, I do not want to give your cunt of a father even an inch in terms of power if I killed you. So a simple punishment would have to suffice."
That finally loosened the tongue of the girl. "Punishment? For what crime?"
Aemma stared at her, thoroughly unamused. She started to speak slowly as if talking to a child.
"My daughter is the Princess of Dragonstone, the Heir to the Iron Throne. She should be above any and all approach. Her household should be a reflection of this fact. So tell me, what would it do to her reputation when it goes out that her personal lady, a devout follower of the Seven, had visited a married man in the darkness of night without supervision?"
Rhaenyra would not be that affected if Aemma was honest, other than her hurt feelings. But she would be damned if she let such an incident go. Anything to do away with Otto Hightower.
"My Queen, nothing untoward has happened between King and me! I was just supporting him through his grief-"
"What support could a girl of ten and seven give to a man in the darkness of night? He has his family to support him; you should not have concerned yourself."
Aemma was sure that if she gave the girl more chance, she would continue to give pathetic explanations.
"I care not what you do with your free time with my husband. But I will not let Rhaenyra's name be sullied by association. Marna," she gestured her personal maid forward. "Take the girl to the Septa Jeyne. Tell her that ten lashes would be enough for the infraction."
The girl protested, but Aemma paid no heed to her pleadings. When her maids had subdued the lady, the Queen stood up and walked towards her, hands clenched behind her.
"You will be stripped of your role of Princess Rhaenyra's lady-in-waiting. The announcement would go out in the midafternoon, along with the reason for your dismissal. Consider this my last warning." Aemma grabbed her face, digging her nails into the pale skin.
"You can continue visiting the King; I will not raise any objection. But you will drink the moon tea served to you every single day. If you try to temper with it, I will attend you personally and pour it down your throat." She roughly jerked the girl away from her and gestured her guards to drag the wretch out of her solar. She had to prepare for the inevitable visit of her errant husband.
"You are going too far."
"Going too far would be gelding you husband, and dragging that girl and treacherous father to the execution block. But you refuse to believe me, so I had to resort to such tactics."
"I am your King! You have been blaming my loyal Hand for an entire year for attempting to kill you, and now you have disgraced his daughter in such a horrific manner."
She bared her teeth. "Do not forget the reason you hold that Crown. If it weren't for Daemon and my region's support, you would have been just another dragon less Targaryen prince, doomed to fade away in obscurity."
He flinched at the reminder. They were not the only reason Viserys held the Crown. But she would be damned if she let her husband lord over his station over her.
"I am not stopping you from having an affair with the girl. By all means, continue as you should. But if I heard even a whisper of a bastard, annulment, or you taking a second spouse, I will slit her belly open just like you were going to do with me." She hissed, enjoying a cruel satisfaction at seeing her husband becoming paler and paler by the second. "I would set this Kingdom on fire, burning you and your Hand first to protect my daughter."
"So you would become a kinslayer??!!"
"Dead men tell no tales. After all of us die, no one will be able to threaten Rhaenyra's rule. Do not cross me, Husband. I do not have the patience your brother possesses."
Aemma had not punished the Hightower girl for enjoyment or cruelty. No, she had to create an example out of the first dissenter to any future traitors. Only then would she be able to secure Rhaneyra's rule.
And she was right. The girl served as an example to any prospective hanger ons, seeking a chance to birth a bastard. But Aemma had a solution even for that.
Essos was a marvelous place. Cutting the cock off a man was not the only way to geld a man. There were herbs, tinctures, potions, and even poisons.
This was a strange feeling, she thought. Viserys was just like her, incomplete, with none the wiser. Just like the court had taken to call her.
Rhaenyra had changed after she had experienced her first betrayal. Aemma had wished to protect her daughter from the world's ugliness, but she had to let her face her friend. The Princess had to learn. If she grew up with the naivety she had held before, she would not even survive before she could sit on the Throne. Rhaenyra had to harden herself; this was the first lesson she would face.
The confrontation between the two former friends could not even be called that. From what Aemma heard, Lady Alicent had not even a single rebuttal against her daughter's questions. Otto Hightower had become more of a thorn. Still, even he was starting to hesitate when facing her, waking up to the corpses of would-be assassins of Aemma and even Rhaenyra arranged in front of his residence in a gruesome manner. The servants whispered that the threshold of the Hand's Tower had become permanently red, seeped with blood.
Viserys might have reprimanded her, but these days, he had become more afraid of starting a conflict with her than displeasing his sycophants. Aemma, in turn, had started to earn a reputation akin to her dragon, Shrykos. That suited her purpose, so she cared naught what the men were saying about her.
The time to find a groom for Rhaenyra had come. Aemma found herself hesitating.
There were many candidates, to be honest. Laenor, first and foremost. But from what Daemon told her, she would have to wait for a long time to have a legitimate grandchild. This, she bluntly refused Rhaenys and Corlys. The man had huffed and puffed while Rhaenys glared over the insult, but the reminder that she needed a legitimate grandchild was enough to silence them. It also helped that Daemon was now promised to Laena after the untimely death of his wife.
That...hadn't gone well. While Laena was a much better choice than Rhae Royce, her good brother was interested in Rhaenyra. And for all that they had become allies, they still disliked each other.
But what was done was done. Aemma had to strike a balance when choosing the groom for her daughter. The man had to be from a high station, yet not high enough to be a warden of a region to unevenly distribute the power among the Seven Kingdoms. Otto had started pushing his disfigured son, but Aemma had bluntly refused Viserys when the question arose. One Hightower was enough to entertain a Targaryen in the bed, she reminded her husband, who had the gall to look guilty enough yet still continued to entertain the advances of his disgraced, young mistress. Perhaps, Otto hoped that his daughter might quicken with a bastard, after which he could guilt the King into marrying his daughter. How that would occur, Aemma knew not because it had been made clear to the court by Rhaenyra that any attempt to set her mother aside would be met with fire and blood. The future spouse of the King and her entire household would be dead before the marriage could even occur.
It was in Harwin Strong that Aemma found the man she was looking for.
Handsome, charming, and much more honorable than that idiot shield of Rhaenyra. The Queen had made sure the man died screaming for his infractions.
It was not enough that the man had to lust after her daughter, their future Queen. No, the moron had to present his stupid proposal to the Princess and, when rejected, had to go to Alicent Hightower to spread his lies about Rhaenyra's purity. This might have caused a scandal had Aemma not reacted promptly and had the idiot killed excruciatingly in front of the girl in question. It helped to have the Hand dismissed for daring to spread such nonsense among the nobility.
Contrary to everyone's expectations, the girl also became a player in the game alongside her father. Perhaps, she had never been able to forget the humiliation she had endured from the Queen years ago, and Rhaenyra's constant disdain did not help. The girl refused to understand that her actions led to her disgrace, as she continued to blame them and tried to have the Princess's reputation sullied.
Aemma wasn't afraid. She had pounded it in Rhaenyra's head to never indulge in such vices until she married, lest she loses the Crown before it could sit on her head. More than that, Aemma had solidified her control over the capital, controlling all the gossip and flow of information through orphans, women, and whores. Even Otto Hightower had begun to struggle against her hold before his dismissal.
Harwin Strong was perfect for her daughter. He was capable enough to protect her, yet he was also aware enough of his position not to create a threat to Rhaenyra.
Aemma had not regretted her decision to marry Rhaenyra off to Harwin Strong. She had felt increasingly proud with the birth of her grandchildren, Jacaerys, Lucerys, and Arthur. All of them dragon riders.
There were more hiccups in the future, but Aemma dealt with them as she had. Swiftly and painlessly. She had learned to play game of thrones with relative efficiency.
Rhaenyra had given her three more grandchildren, two boys, and a girl. With each of her grandchild's birth, Aemma's wounds healed.
She had still not reconciled with Viserys, but it hadn't hurt her like before. Her husband wanted an Aegon as his son, forgetting that their daughter had given them that and much more.
She had long forgotten her wish to die of shame. If gods had heard her then, she would have never seen her daughter happy and her grandchildren growing up into excellent heirs of the Targaryen dynasty.
Her life was complete.
Seeing Rhaenyra wearing the Crown wiped out any grief she still might have felt with her dead children and husband.
She was finally happy.