Bonus at 150 stones
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Dragonstone, The Chamber of the Painted Table.
The great hall of Dragonstone lay steeped in a gloom of volcanic soot and sea salt.
Carved into the stone walls were reliefs of Aegon the Conqueror and his sisters, watching their descendants with stone eyes.
Rhaenyra Targaryen stood before the hearth, firelight dancing through her silver-gold hair.
"I said no."
Daemon Targaryen sat at the far end of the long table, toying with an empty wine cup.
"How long do you intend to stay stubborn?"
Bang.
He slammed the cup down.
"The King has lost all patience with you and is preparing to name a new Heir Apparent. Do nothing, and you will lose your place forever, Rhaenyra."
She spun around, furious.
"So you would send my sons to the Wall? Send Jacaerys, Lucerys, and Joffrey to freeze and die in the snows? Clothe them in black and bar them from the South for life?"
Daemon rose and rounded the table, his movements like a stalking panther.
"It is the only way left to settle this."
"Rhaenyra, open your eyes! Your father wavers. Alicent whispers in his ear day and night, and now she carries twins."
"Seven save us, my brother still gets his Queen with child at his age, and every noble in King's Landing calls it an omen!"
He seized her shoulders.
"While those three boys remain at your side, while you insist they are your lawful sons, the lords will never accept you. They sneer that a woman who has soiled her own blood has no right to rule the Seven Kingdoms."
Rhaenyra wrenched free, staggered back, and steadied herself against the mantel.
She lifted her gaze, trembling.
"All along… You courted me, married me, only for this, didn't you?"
"To set your blood on the Iron Throne? To make Aegon and Viserys, our children, the true heirs? Are my other three boys just obstacles to you? Stumbling blocks to be cleared away?"
Daemon stayed silent for a long moment.
"You think I did all this for the Iron Throne?"
"I won't deny the thought crossed my mind... but I never meant harm to Jacaerys or the others. What I do now, I do for you, Rhaenyra."
He gripped her shoulders again, looking straight into her eyes.
"I decided you would be my wife when you were still a girl. My brother, your father, was the self-important fool who brought us here. Had he let me wed you then, none of this would be happening."
"But now you would rob my children of their future!" she cried.
Daemon snorted.
"Do you know what follows a change of heir?"
"You lose your claim, your lords drift to neutrality, and you become meat for the sharks. All five children, yours and mine, will live under the Greens' sufferance."
"No," Rhaenyra said, shaking.
"We have more dragons… they won't dare."
"Dragons?" he sneered.
"Dragons are chairs that keep us aloft and them on their knees. Yet by yielding, you kneel to the Greens. And once you kneel, the realm's heart turns. The Greens gain the right and the law."
"You will have nothing; the Blacks' lords will desert you."
"I'll speak to Alicent," Rhaenyra said hotly.
"For old times' sake, "
"Alicent is about to be a mother to six!" Daemon cut in.
"Do you think past friendship outweighs her children?"
"Then I will fight them."
"Fool!" he roared.
"Dragons alone? Win no lords, and you cannot rule. After all these years as Heir Apparent, how can you still be so green?"
Tears spilled down her cheeks as she stared at him.
At last, he wiped them away, helpless. Perhaps Rhaenyra had never truly grown; the Heir Apparent still hid on Dragonstone, afraid to face King's Landing.
CRASH.
The heavy doors burst open.
Sea wind gusted in, snuffing the nearest candles. A tall figure stood framed in the doorway.
Corlys Velaryon stepped slowly into the hall.
Though seventy and battered by losses two years past, the "Sea Snake" stood straight as a mast.
He swept his gaze over them.
"It seems I come at an ill moment."
Daemon composed himself at once.
"Lord Corlys, what wind brings you from Driftmark?"
Rhaenyra forced calm. "My Lord, be seated."
Corlys sat, his eyes settling on the map of the Seven Kingdoms carved into the table.
"I hear you have borne another child? Named Viserys? Congratulations. House Targaryen needs more blood."
Whether toast or taunt, his smile was thin with contempt.
He blamed Daemon for part of the Blacks' plight; the Prince had staged Laenor's false death without his knowledge, leaving him bedridden with grief while Vaemond ran unchecked.
Only now had he mended the House Velaryon, torn apart by the scandal of the bastards, and rallied his kin beneath the Seahorse banner once more.
Rhaenyra answered, "Your blessing is welcome, my Lord."
Corlys turned to Daemon, his gaze suddenly sharp.
"Two years ago, you staged my son Laenor's death. You made him forsake duty and flee like a craven to Pentos, dallying with his paramours. And now Laenor can never return."
His smile iced over, anger barely leashed.
Silence filled the hall.
Daemon met his stare, knowing that without House Velaryon, the Blacks had no footing.
Corlys went on.
"Because of your schemes, my House is split over succession. While I lay fevered with gout, I had to calm my furious kin and keep them loyal to Rhaenyra."
He rose, palms flat on the table.
"Now you would dispose of my grandsons as well? Send them to the Wall and leave me without a line?"
Hearing this, Daemon realized Corlys had not abandoned the three boys.
Rhaenyra began, "Lord Corlys, Daemon merely."
"I am asking him," Corlys cut in without turning.
"Not you, Rhaenyra."
Daemon held the old man's gaze. "I seek to save Rhaenyra's throne."
"By a fool's method," Corlys said coldly.
"Pack them off to the Wall? So all the world may hear Rhaenyra admit her sons are bastards? You might as well bid her abdicate."
Hope flared again in Rhaenyra's eyes; clearly, Lord Corlys saw another way.
Daemon grated, "Then what would you have us do?"
Corlys settled back, drew a silver flask from his coat, and drank.
"Jacaerys, Lucerys, and Joffrey," he said at last, slamming the flask down, "will henceforth be true Velaryons."
Rhaenyra and Daemon stared, stunned.
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