Daeron the Defiant: A Second Dance of Dragons

Joanna:

"You wanted to see me, mother?"

"I did," Joanna's hands still holding the letter from her husband.

The time has come, her husband's voice whispered to her. She was expecting this day for some time, but it didn't make it any easier.

Putting aside her own feelings on the matter, she turned to see her daughter standing before her, a curious hue in those bright green eyes. Cersei had flowered and was maturing into a beautiful young woman, golden hair cascading down past her shoulders, emerald colored eyes, fair skin, and a slender figure, that had entranced servants and visiting noblemen alike.

Far more beautiful than me, she thought wryly. It wasn't envy that came to her, but apprehension. Joanna knew what lurked in the hearts of men having experienced unwanted advances and fending them off when she was younger.

She had no doubt her daughter's beauty would entice many men, stirring their lusts and bringing with it unsolicited attention. They'd prey on her youth and ingratiate their way into her good graces with false charm and honeyed lies, before trying to worm their way between her legs.

The thought let alone the image of her daughter being victim to such vermin was enough for the Lioness of Casterly Rock to clench her fingers tightly around her husband's letter while a snarl threatened to slip past her lips. She smothered it, not wanting to show any frustration or concern in front of her daughter especially when she was about to send her off to the very place that bothered her so much.

She'll be safe, Joanna told herself, knowing Cersei's best shield from these men was the crimson and gold she wore, and of the roaring lion.

Only a fool would try to insult House Lannister. At that thought, relief and gratefulness filled her towards her husband, at their family's reputation that not only had he restored but had maintained. It was their family's unquestioned standing and power within the Seven Kingdoms that protected her and her children from those who would try to do them harm.

Built on the bodies of dead children, Joanna ignored the reminder, better theirs then mine . Not caring how cold that sounded, she loved her children and her family. She'd make no apology for that. Neither did her husband when he brought ruin to the rebellious Reynes and Tarbecks. They threatened their family's standing, and Tywin was bold and brave enough to answer-swiftly, and brutally. An answer that warned all that House Lannister was a family to be reckoned with.

She returned herself to the present to see she had her daughter's attention. Cersei's eyes drifted from hers and to the letter in her hand. A flicker of realization came to her face, lips parted as if to form a soft, oh, in understanding.

"Please, come sit," she gestured to the table, walking side by side with her daughter who already stood at her height, and was still growing. Joanna watched as Cersei gracefully slid into her seat, elegant in her movement, and poised in her posture, quietly waiting for her to continue.

"A letter from your father," Joanna didn't waste time, noticing how Cersei took to the simple sentence with unhidden interest, "He believes its time you come to court." She watched her daughter's eyes widened, a smile came to her lips, a bit of red to her cheeks, which Joanna suspected was due to certain thoughts on the Crown Prince.

"Truly?" Cersei breathed with unveiled excitement, eyes flashing, "When do I leave?" She sounded breathless with giddiness.

"In two days' time," Joanna ignored the slight pang in her chest at seeing her daughter's enthusiasm in leaving her and their home.

"Two days?" Cersei's smile which had been as bright as the sun suddenly dimmed. "Why can't I leave sooner?" Impatience seeped into her tone, and eyes darkened with annoyance.

"Your Uncle Tygett will be gathering a retinue of soldiers and knights to escort you."

Put out by the news, Cersei was smart enough to not further complain, and nodded her head in understanding, "Very well," she acquiesced, but with how her mouth curved, it was clear, she was doing it out of obedience and nothing else. "May I go pack?"

"You may," Joanna allowed, watching her daughter slip out of her seat and make a hasty, but still dignified retreat out of the chambers, it was at the door, that she stopped her daughter, "Cersei," she called, "You must tell Tyrion."

Cersei turned at that, elation discarded with a look of guilt flickering across her face, eyes downcast. "I-I had forgotten," she admitted sheepishly. She remained like that for a few more heartbeats, before Cersei raised her head, eyes determined, "I will tell him now." Her fingers fidgeting on the sleeves of her dress "Assure him that I'll write often," she continued, "and will insist to father that we visit when we can or he can visit us," her voice trembled at the last part. Knowing the challenge, it would be in convincing him to let Tyrion visit them in the capital.

"Good," Joanna comforted her daughter with a small smile, "He'll understand, but in time."

Cersei nodded, and left the chambers more burdened then elated.

Joanna had not meant to hamper her daughter's good mood, but Tyrion needed to be told. She remembered how poorly Tyrion had taken to Jaime leaving. An offer that had been sprung on them unexpectedly, a hasty decision being made that had Jaime suddenly leaving the Rock. Having only time to tell his younger brother, an hour or so before he left.

The reminder of what happened was enough for Joanna's heart to ache. Tyrion had cried, pleaded for his brother to stay with him, grasping his leg, begging and believing that if he did something differently than Jaime would stay with him. She remembered the anguish look on her son's face at seeing his brother in such a state, and knew that he was regretting the choice in that moment to leave Tyrion.

Tywin had not been pleased by their youngest's outburst. However, he was calm and almost gentle in his reprimand of Tyrion, taking him to the side, and quietly reminding him that as a pride, lions had to be strong for one another and that what Jaime was doing was to help make their family stronger. Tyrion always wanting to please him quickly wiped away his tears, absorbing everything that he said, before readily agreeing to do the same for the family when the time had come.

Joanna wouldn't forget her husband's response to that. A small smile before he then gently patted Tyrion on the back before telling him to hug his brother and wish him well in the capital. Which Tyrion promptly did. Tywin had then told Tyrion to continue with his studies and that he was expecting the reports by Maester Desmond to remain glowing even after Jaime's departure.

And they do, Joanna thought with pride, having been given similar reports each week by the maester. Her happiness towards her youngest curdled slightly when her thoughts returned to how Tyrion would take to Cersei leaving. They had always been close, a tight bond that only strengthened and grew when Jaime left for the capital, and she wondered and feared how Tyrion would react…

"Is this necessary?"

"It is," Joanna chose to ignore her daughter's sharp tone. She understood that Cersei was in a vulnerable and taxing state after having to tell Tyrion of her leaving for the capital. It did not go well, but regardless, Joanna had requested her daughter's presence after supper. The two had much to discuss and plan for Cersei's time in King's Landing.

Joanna had chosen to use the solar to hold this important meeting. She sat at the end of the table with her daughter sitting to her immediate right, candles flickered with light, and glowing embers burned from the hearth providing warmth. A glass of wine within reach of her while her daughter had to settle for lemon water, something she didn't care for if Cersei's envious glances towards Joanna's wine was any indication.

"You may be a lioness, but you walk into a viper's den," Joanna observed, "A rat's nest of intrigue and schemes."

"What does a lion fear of snakes or rats?" Cersei scoffed.

"Even a mighty lion can fall if pricked by a poisonous fang," Joanna sipped from her wine glass, "or have its pride lead it towards its own doom."

Cersei ducked her head.

"Your confidence is admirable, my dear," She said soothingly towards her daughter, placing a finger beneath her chin, and gently pushing up so that she could meet Cersei's eyes. "You have made us proud," She noticed the swell in Cersei's chest at the praise, "But do not mistake cautiousness for cowardice."

"I won't," Cersei assured her, determination shimmering beneath her green eyes.

"Good," she removed her hand from her daughter's chin, "Only a fool goes into battle without a plan, and I assure you darling, this is our battle."

"I'll get the betrothal," Cersei promised, "I can make Rhaegar love me."

"I do not doubt it," She agreed, "But the King has sent his friend across the Narrow Sea to look for a Valyrian bride for his son and heir." That had been in the most recent letter from her husband, informing her of Steffon Baratheon and his wife traveling in search for a bride for Rhaegar. That had prompted Tywin to decide it was time to bring Cersei to court.

"Across the sea?" Cersei sniffed derisively at that, "Foreigners?" Her tone haughty and dismissive.

"The Targaryens have married outside of Westerosi families before."

"It will not matter," confidence filled her daughter's tone, "The Crown Prince will not want some stranger once he sees and speaks with me." She straightened up in her seat, her poise assured, her eyes gleaming with images conjured in her mind, no doubt, of her successful betrothal between herself and Rhaegar.

"Is that so?" Joanna admired her daughter's confidence and could not fault it, but she did not like to see it lean too closely towards foolishness. A slip that needed to be corrected.

"There are other potential suitors already in the capital." She saw Cersei's confidence slip. "They've been around the Crown Prince for weeks if not months." Joanna didn't like to puncture her daughter's hopes, but she needed Cersei to understand the task ahead of them, and accept it may be more daunting then she envisioned.

"Lady Ashara Dayne has been there for a month," Joanna had heard stories of Lady Ashara's beauty which many considering her one of the fairest ladies in the Seven Kingdoms. Her brother and Lord of Starfall had already declined numerous requests for his sister's hand in marriage from suitors across Westeros. Trying to use his sister's famed beauty and his brother's friendship to the Crown Prince to secure a betrothal between his house and House Targaryen.

"A Dayne?" Cersei scoffed, but there was nervousness shimmering beneath her green eyes. She tried to mask it. "Our family has more wealth then they could dream of having!"

"True, but you forget that her brother is Rhaegar's closest friend and a sworn knight of the Kingsguard." She saw Cersei's pose falter, "The Daynes have also married into House Targaryen before. An advantage we do not have."

A bitter admission to make, and a disadvantage, they had to accept. Joanna put her dissatisfaction aside knowing it served as nothing more than a hindrance. She was determined to see her family not the Daynes win this pursuit of the crown prince. Despite her reservations on the match itself, Joanna understood her duty to husband and house.

This is the role we women play. Our duty to our fathers, husbands, families.

A role she taught her daughter, and a duty she imparted Cersei to embrace. Even when it meant that she'd have to endure the parting of her child. An acrimonious feeling that soured her stomach. Seeing Cersei leave for the capital was a difficult and a different farewell then the one Joanna had already experienced when Jaime left for King's Landing.

Jaime's future would bring him back to the Rock, to her. Even as a man and then a husband, and a father, and a lord, Jaime would still be a constant presence in her life for the remainder of her days, but not her Cersei.

Her daughter's departure from the Rock were the first steps down a different path that led away from Joanna. Cersei's duty would be to her husband, and to their new family. If it be with Rhaegar it would be Dragonstone and then King's Landing she'd call her home, no longer the Rock. She'd visit as is expected of a dutiful daughter, but they would be few and far between and only grow scarcer as they got older. A mother to her own children, with responsibilities that kept Cersei away from the Rock and towards her own family.

"Mother?"

"Hmm?" Joanna blinked back into the present, looking to see Cersei's inquisitive eyes on her. Chiding herself for letting such melancholy thoughts distract her. "My apologies dear," She smiled, hoping to temper her daughter's stare, "You were saying?"

If she was annoyed by having to repeat herself, Cersei didn't show it. "I was asking what else I needed to know."

"Oh?" That caught her off guard.

"Yes, mother," Cersei was earnest in her answer and in her expression, "I-I don't want to disappoint you and father."

"Darling," Joanna's heart ached for the fear she detected in her daughter's tone at the thought of disappointing them. Realizing Cersei's newfound concern must have stemmed from Joanna's talk of the Daynes and the other rivals for a betrothal with Rhaegar and of the very real possibility Cersei could fail to any one of these women.

Joanna moved her hands across the table and took Cersei's hands in her own. "Do not talk like that, not ever," She squeezed her daughter's hands, looking to see her words sinking in, "You understand?" she was pleased at the shaky nod she received.

"You will make us proud," her hands remained clasped with her daughter's, "especially if you listen to your dear mother," she saw a smile bloom on Cersei's face, a giggle followed that brought a matching smile to Joanna's lips.

"Now, where were we."

Rhaella:

"I'm a dragon!" Viserys padded across the floor on pale, chubby legs. Flapping his arms as if they were leathery wings and letting out roars.

Rhaella smiled from where she sat on the sofa. Where she had the perfect view of watching her youngest son's antics. Two years old and he was proving to be quite the handful. Viserys was temperamental and energetic in ways that his older brothers hadn't been. He left servants and guards scurrying after him when he was in the mood to play. While also having them endure his loud tantrums and protests when he was being willful.

He was quick to petulance when he wasn't given his way, complaining and crying, but he could smile and giggle with little provocation. It was with his older brother Daeron that Viserys was at his most well behaved, adoring his older brother, and following him around when he could and begging him to stay and play with him when he visited.

Daeron wasn't bothered at all by the attention or the affection of his younger brother. To Rhaella's pride and delight, Daeron had taken to the role of older brother with ease and enthusiasm, doting on Viserys whenever he could. Viserys seemed to soak it all up, and was quick to clamor for more, receiving little from his father or from Rhaegar, the former was a blessing as far as Rhaella was concerned. While the latter wasn't surprising, knowing how distant her Rhaegar could be.

However, he would visit and play his harp for Viserys when he would settle down or be quiet long enough to listen, but those times came more out of Rhaella's prodding then Rhaegar volunteering. Not that she faulted her eldest. He had responsibilities that Daeron didn't have with much more on his mind and his schedule, that kept him busy throughout most of the day and into the night.

"Your Grace?"

Rhaella blinked to see the newest member of the Kingsguard and the one assigned to her for the day, Ser Alliser Thorne. He was standing by the doorway, a guard dressed in the Targaryen colors at his side. The Crownland knight had been hand selected by Aerys to replace Ser Harlan Grandison who had perished defending the King in the Duskendale Uprising.

Tywin had suggested several knights for the prestigious opening including Prince Lewyn Martell of Dorne, but each one was rebuffed by her husband. Aerys' time in Duskendale had frayed his senses and churned his paranoia. He would not be malleable to Tywin's suggestions instead relying on his new spymaster, a eunuch from the Free Cities, Varys. Aerys had come to select the Crownland knight, Ser Alliser Thorne to fill the coveted position.

"Yes, Ser Alliser?" Looking to the knight, just over thirty, garbed in the white of his order. He was slim and strong, with black hair and black eyes, that stuck out in his pale armor. He was dour, but diligent in his duties with a sharp voice. Regardless, he took his role seriously, and most importantly Rhaella never had cause to doubt his skill or his loyalty.

"Word from the gatehouse," he informed her, "Prince Daeron has returned from his hunt."

Viserys exploded with a loud cheer at the news, babbling happily and smiling at hearing the return of his brother who he had clearly missed these last few days.

"Thank you, Ser Alliser," Rhaella smiled towards the knight, "Could you have him sent here when he arrives."

"As you wish, Your Grace," Ser Alliser bowed his head and escorted the guard out of the room instructing him of the message and making sure it was delivered.

She was surprised by the news of her son's return, having not expected him to return for another few days. He had left less than a week ago with a small retinue of guards and servants as well as his closest friend, Jaime Lannister, his sworn shield, Ser Gwayne Gaunt, and his newest friends, Robert Baratheon and Eddard Stark. The two of them having arrived at the capital some weeks ago with Lord Jon Arryn to allow his ward, Robert to see and send off his parents who were embarking on a search to find a bride for Rhaegar across the Narrow Sea on Aerys' behalf.

Robert Baratheon and Eddard Stark hadn't been expected to stay in King's Landing for long once Robert's parents had departed, with Robert going back to Storm's End to act as Lord and Eddard to return to the north to visit his family back at Winterfell. However, an unanticipated friendship had been struck between the two wards of Lord Arryn with Daeron and Jaime with the four young men all being of a similar age.

A development that made Rhaella pleased, delighted at seeing Daeron with new friends and strong friendships. Before Jaime came to the capital, Daeron had few if any friends, having spent most of his time alone in the Red Keep, his companions or friends in the form of the knights and guards who protected him.

No boy should have that life, she thought, especially not her son.

It hadn't helped that while Daeron was alone, his older brother Rhaegar had a group of friends and admirers, squires and pages, who followed him around.

The arrival of Tywin's son and heir to the Red Keep had been an unexpected boon. Rhaella had been thrilled upon learning of the fast friendship that had formed between Jaime and Daeron while her son had been away at Casterly Rock to attend the tournament. Her gladness only deepening at seeing it firsthand and watching it grow these past two years.

In seeing them, it reminded her in some way of their fathers and the friendship they shared in their youth, along with Steffon Baratheon. Rhaella could still recall fondly of the times just after Aerys had been crowned King and had named his friend, Tywin to serve as his Hand. Back then, she, Aerys, and Tywin would get together for drinks either in Maegor's Holdfast or at the Tower of the Hand. There, Aerys would spin stories, entertaining and delightful that would bring laughter from her lips and smiles from the reserved Tywin. Her husband had a gift of charm once. He'd ply it well, and few if any were resistant to it.

How we've changed, she thought with a touch of sadness. Aerys friendship with Tywin fractured and seemingly damaged beyond repair. While her husband's time as a prisoner in Duskendale had leeched whatever charm and goodness that had once resided in him. Confinement had twisted him into a man who leapt at shadows, feared delusions, and cursed the whisperers whether real or imagined.

"Dae!" Viserys' excited greeting pulled her out of her thoughts in time to see Viserys running into the open arms of Daeron, who smiled and scooped him up.

"Hello, brother, miss me?"

"Yes!" He giggled when Daeron tickled him.

Rhaella watched her sons' interaction with a smile. Thankful at the affection between them. "You're back early."

"Aye, a rider tracked us down," Daeron revealed, all joviality he had just shared with his brother snuffed in an instant. "We were ordered to return."

This was the first she was hearing of this.

"Father summoned me."

Those simple words brought a shiver down her back. A testament to the man her husband has become. A tingling of pain bloomed from the bruises on her arms, another reminder of the cruel man her husband had shifted into. Rhaella brushed her hands across her sleeved arms, as if trying to soothe the pain that lingered, while also wanting to push down the memory that threaten to bubble up from Aerys' visit to her chambers the night before last.

"Ah, Your Grace, My Prince," the soft girlish voice of the Eunuch Varys brought her eyes to the door to see him standing in the doorway. Bald as an egg, dressed in rich, pale silks, his powdered hands clasped together in front of his bulging stomach, a smile on his smooth face, that curdled the Queen's stomach.

She had no love for her husband's newest member of his small council, Lord Varys, the Master of Whisperers, a eunuch from Lys. He boasted an impressive spy network throughout Essos that caught her husband's interest resulting him an invite to come to Westeros and to serve the king.

"Lord Varys," Rhaella made herself smile at the eunuch. "What a surprise."

"Your Grace," Varys bowed towards her before his eyes turned to Daeron who stood silent and sullen as he stared at the Eunuch, "My prince," he greeted smoothly, looking unbothered by Daeron's chilly reception, "I had heard you returned to the Red Keep, but I wasn't sure."

Daeron cut through Varys' poorly played humility, "Spare me, Lord Varys," Daeron had Viserys to his side, a protective hand on his brother's shoulder, while his eyes remained on the Eunuch. "We both know your birds sang to you of my progress throughout my return trip back to the capital."

Varys giggled, "your bluntness is refreshing, my prince," he ducked his head in deference, "You are right about my birds, but I'd be a poor spy master if they didn't sing to me."

"Lord Varys," Rhaella called to him, "is there something I can help you with?"

"Your Grace, such a helpful soul," his smile was sickly sweet when he turned to her, "I come with a message from the king. He has requested an audience with Prince Daeron and is awaiting him in the Great Hall."

"Then let us not keep him waiting."

"Ah, my son," Aerys greeted Daeron with a thin smile while his eyes held a suspicious hue to them as he took in the kneeling prince. The King of the Seven Kingdoms sat atop the infamous Iron Throne, a seat of steel and spikes, a skulking monstrosity that looked more like a beast than a chair.

It served as a testament to Targaryen dominion over Westeros, each blade that made the throne taken by Aegon the Conqueror and his sister/wives from their fallen and defeated foes. Forged by the dragonflame of Aegon's dragon, Balerion the Black Dread, it took nearly sixty days to hammer and carve the swords into the Iron Throne that stood before them. Steps of steel swords etched into it to make the incline up to the seat itself, with the Iron Throne resting atop a platform, it towered over anything or person in the Great Hall.

A king should never sit easy, those were the words of Aegon the Conqueror on his decision in making the Iron Throne. She couldn't help but find them fitting as Rhaella looked up at her husband, seeing him squirm in the seat knowing the Throne had pricked and poked him, drawing blood with its unflinching touch multiple times in his reign.

"Father," Daeron greeted the king cordially.

Upon arriving to the Great Hall, she noticed her eldest Rhaegar was already there, standing quietly off to the side with Ser Arthur Dayne at his side. He had greeted her with a nod and a small smile. Standing at the base of the Iron Throne were the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, Ser Gerold Hightower on one side and Ser Jonothor Derry on the other.

Rhaella had chosen a spot off to the side of the Iron Throne as it loomed above her. Choosing a position that would allow her to see the interactions between her husband and their children clearly. The Hall was empty, and she found herself grateful for that. Not having to be watched and judged as she listened or reacted to whatever reason her husband had decided to summon her sons. It was a small mercy, but one she savored all the same.

What is the meaning of this, husband? She wanted to ask of her brother, trepidation stewed in her stomach, a chilly finger of unease trailing down her back at trying to figure out what her husband was planning. A difficult task as it forced her to sort through his delusions and madness. Over the course of the past year, his reign was marred by cruelty and fear.

Whatever it was, she knew her husband well enough to know this wouldn't be good. Masking her worry as she looked towards her silent sons, neither speaking or addressing the other as they stood below their father beneath the Iron Throne. She knew it was no accident this summons location was here, a chance for Aerys to remind them all of his position as their king and them his loyal subjects.

Aerys' silvery hair fell past his shoulders in a tangled, matted mess. The King having refused any bath or groom since he escaped Duskendale. His finger nails had grown long and dirty, an unkempt beard covered his face with the tip of his beard nearly reaching his chest. Pale sunken eyes looked out from his unwashed face, looking down at his son before him.

"Forgive my delay, father," Daeron apologized, still kneeling, "I rode as quickly as I could."

She could see her husband enjoyed holding this power over their son. "You may rise."

Daeron quietly obeyed, standing straight, his hands behind his back, his eyes staying on the Iron Throne after only a brief flicker in his brother's direction.

"I have a gift for my sons," Aerys snapped his fingers.

Duskendale should have been your grave, she thought darkly. Discovering nothing good had come from rescuing her husband from his prison within the walls of the crownland port. Rhaegar was ready to rule, he was fit and just and could guide Westeros to a brighter and prosperous future. Instead Aerys was saved and now he plagued and worried the capital and the Seven Kingdoms of his growing paranoia and obsession with delusion and flame.

The Gods mock my prayers, she thought bitterly. She had prayed for deliverance from her husband's clutches when he was taken prisoner. A selfish admission, but one she made freely. She sought peace and freedom, and knew she'd never feel such relief if her husband's shadow remained cast over her. She had prayed before to the Gods when she was freshly betrothed to her brother, hoping for a way out of her marriage, but one never came.

The Gods had been silent to her pleas. So Rhaella did what was expected of her, she did her duty to her parents and married her brother for the good of Westeros and of House Targaryen. Just like before, the Gods didn't answer her and after months of confinement Aerys returned to her. Another chance of separation snatched from her, and she believed herself punished by said quiet gods at the monster her husband became, and the treatment that followed by his hand.

Her finger gently brushing across a bruise that he left upon her arm, she had been sore and weak from his ravenous groping. The only solace she had was after he finished was that he left. There in the darkness, bruised and in tears, she understood she was receiving an answer to her prayers. This punishment for her sinful thoughts and hopes of a life away from her husband.

" Dark Sister," Daeron gasped in astonishment.

Rhaella looked to see a servant had walked out from the Small Council chambers, carrying a plush and velvet pillow, black and red stitching, with no doubt the Targaryen dragon emblazoned on it. Atop the pillow rested the famous valyrian steel sword of her ancestors, Dark Sister .

"That's right, my son," Aerys sounded pleased that he had correctly guessed it.

Upon hearing the sword's identity, Rhaegar looked to the famous valyrian steel sword of their ancestors with great interest.

"One sword," Aerys announced, "but two sons." He smiled through his silvery beard, showing his yellowing teeth. "That is why I have decided only the strongest, and most skilled of my sons will have the honor of being given Dark Sister."

No, Aerys, Rhaella wanted to scream at her husband. The cold creep of understanding crawling up her spine as she saw through her husband's schemes and what it meant for her beloved sons.

Aerys stood up, "A week from now, you my children will fight and prove your worth to me in a duel of single combat; with the victor being granted the right of this sword for it to remain with them and their heirs."

They want it, fear gripped her heart with icy claws. Neither of her boys protesting their father's decision. Her eyes darting to their faces first to her eldest, Rhaegar, whose expression was contemplative and then to Daeron, whose look was determined. It was Dark Sister they wanted. Neither looked to have any qualms with fighting each other to get the famous weapon, and in the process to earn some small amount of favor from their father.

What have you done? Her eyes moved to her husband, her stomach turned at seeing the look that passed across his face. The smile that curved from beneath his mangy beard or the way his eyes seemed to dance in the torchlight.

Instead of their sons coming together to challenge their father. He brought them into conflict with each other, strengthening his position while weakening theirs. A show of power. He was going to tear their family apart.

He was pitting their children against each other for his own gain and she hated him for it. But not as much as she hated herself unable to defy him or shield her sons from his poisonous machinations.

In that moment, all she could do was watch and it broke her heart.