"You are not with your wife?" King Jaehaerys asked his grandson, the Prince Viserys, who paced outside of his wife's birthing chambers, his brother, Prince Daemon, watching him.

"I am not wanted at her side," Viserys muttered, as the screams of Moira Dondarrion filled the air once more. This had been her twenty eighth hour of labour.

"She did call him a cunt," Daemon piped in with a humorous smile, but neither his brother or the King gave him so much as a glare. They knew something must've been wrong.

"Is everything all right?" King Jaehaerys asked his sister-wife, Queen Alysanne, who had exited the birthing chambers, her hands caked in blood. Viserys had noticed the screaming of his wife had stopped, and his grandmother wore a glum frown.

"A daughter, Viserys," Queen Alysanne told him. "And twin boys..." she added solemnly.

"Well? That's good news isn't it?" Viserys asked, a wide smile on his face as he looked between both of his grandparents and his brother. When none of them shared his excitement, he frowned. "What is it?"

"Moira and one of the boys died, sweetheart," Queen Alysanne said softly, trying to stop her own tears from falling. She had loved Moira Dondarrion if she was her own, and now the Gods had punished her. "Your daughter is perfectly healthy."

"What of my other boy?" Viserys asked.

"The Maesters think he won't survive the night," Queen Alysanne sniffed.

"I-I-" Viserys heart had fallen to the pit in his stomach and shattered into a tiny million pieces. He and his wife married out of duty, not love, but he had cared for her all the same. And his sons, his unnamed boys, stripped away from him before they had even met.

"I am sorry, brother," Daemon had said in a solemn tone. Truly, Daemon had never felt sorry for his brother before, but now it was different.

"Can I see them?" Viserys asked, his grandmother nodding through her silent tears. The midwives and the Maester bowed their heads when Viserys entered the birthing chamber.

One look at the baby boy who laid in his mother's arms sent him into a bawling mess. His legs gave way from underneath him and he fell at his wife's side, desperately clutching her hand and at her bloodied bed sheets as he cried. He cried and he cried until he fell silent, his throat dry and his eyes sore.

It was the cry's of another babe that broke Viserys from his trance. Standing on shaky legs, he walked towards a crib in the corner of the room covered in drapes of Targaryen colours. There, his son and his daughter laid, crying desperately for their father.

"Shush now, I have you," Viserys whispered as he rocked the babe gently in his arms, placing a tender kiss to her temple.

The babes had shown no qualities of a Dondarrion, but that of a true Targaryen. Silverly blonde locks, pale skin and Viserys almost gasped aloud when the babies opened their eyes to show those violet eyes thru shared with her other family members.

"Princess Visenya Targaryen," Viserys declared, staring down at his daughter with a smile. He placed her down and picked up his son. Viserys smiled, cradling the babes head with his large hand as warmth spread through him. He knew the babe would live. "Prince Maekar Targaryen."

—————

Maekar's and Visenya's fifth nameday celebrations had come and gone, as had their father's wedding to Aemma Arryn and his coronation as King after the late King Jaehaerys had passed a year prior, and things couldn't of gone worse.

Maekar hadn't been able to get on with his father's new wife, and his hatred for the new Queen only worsened when they announced to her that Aemma was pregnant again after several miscarriages and stillborn births, and although it seemed horrible, Maekar no longer cared if his half-brother of half-sister had died, as his tears for them dried up long ago.

Maekar was found in the training yard, a wooden sword in his hand, on the day Queen Aemma had her first labour pain, hacking mercilessly at a straw dummy.

"Is it dead yet?" A voice called from behind him, and the Prince turned to see Visenya and Declan Yarwyck, a girl their age, standing behind him with a grin. Declan was the daughter of the dead Master-at-Arms for House Velaryon, and now fostered by Lord Corlys Velaryon.

"Leave my alone, sister, Yarwyck," Maekar said harshly.

"Well, I can't," Declan said chirpily as she hops down the steps. "The King has sent for you, my Prince."

"Tell my father I don't care," Maekar hissed back, swinging his wooden sword at the dummy. Maekar had been learning to fight since he was three years of age, he had demanded he learnt to fight like Maegor the Cruel, one of the best fighters of all time.

"He'll have my head," Declan laughed.

"And I will have your head if you are not careful!" Maekar hissed, pointing the wooden sword and inch from Declan's throat.

"Se olvie ao would gaomagon iksis ōdres ñuha irosh," Visenya said in perfect High Valyrian, having had the same lessons as Maekar and Declan. "Se olvie ao would gaomagon iksis ōdres ñuha irosh."

(The most you would do is damage her throat, besides, you know you love her.)

"Nyke jorrāelagon daorys," Maekar replied back, dropping the sword at his feet and stepping closer to Declan. "Kesan qūvy aōha bartos hen ao se ivestragī ñuha zaldrīzes ipradagon aōha puatta laehurlion."

(I love no one, I will tear your head from you and let my dragon eat your rotten face.)

"You honour me, my Prince," Declan bowed lowly, talking the common tongue now.

"Fine, show me to my father," Maekar huffed, rubbing his temple. His sister and Declan had never failed to give him a headache. Even as he followed them through the long, twisting hallways of the Red Keep, she had managed to go on and on about Lord Corlys teaching her how to sail. The Prince was thankful when they finally reached the Queen's birthing chambers, nodding to the Kingsguard who let them pass.

"It lived then?" Maekar asked bitterly, watching his father, sister and Queen Aemma coo over the babe.

"It is your sister," Visenya reminded him, nudging his arm.

"It is our half-sister," Maekar corrected her. He folded his hands in front of him, his purple eyes cast towards the ground. "I am going flying on Aegar, I will be back for supper," Viserys went to call after him, but was stopped by Aemma grasping his hand.

"Leave him be," Aemma said softly, stroking her thumb over his knuckles. "Besides, we both know that he won't be back."

"I worry about him, that is all," Viserys smiled, trying to ease his worries. "He disappears for days on end, covered head to toe in mud and blood and smelling of dragon."

"Aegar and Maekar have bonded better than any dragon rider of the last century," Aemma reminded him. "Aegar will protect Maekar from any harm, as for the blood..."

"Hunting, perhaps," Viserys offered his thoughts. "The guards tell me Maekar and Declan have exceeded their expectations with a knives, swords and bows."

"A true warrior," Aemma laughed, looking down at Rhaenyra with a fond smile. "I can already tell his little sister will follow Visenya."

—————

For another year the Council had gathered to discuss the future for the kingdom. After two unsuccessful years of stilborn children and struggles in the royal family, Viserys felt this one would be a healthy, and most importantly- another boy.

That was the only thing but he wanted from his dear wife, a son. Another son who is strong, wise, powerful and gallant like Aegon himself.

"I hope the preparations for my son's tournament are ready," the King called from his seat, excited, even impatient, for his son's appearance.

"Your Grace, may I remind you that the gender of the child will not be known until birth," Lord Corlys called first, fidgeting the ring on his thumb. The other members of the Council looked on in confusion, the King was now certain of his heir's fate, nothing good came out of contradicting him. "Queen Aemma may grant you another daughter, a daughter worthy to sit on the throne, unlike my dear wife."

The last part of the sentence came off as sneer from the mouth of the Seasnake, still disappointed and bitter because of the choice of their newest ruler. The neglected the rightful ruler because of her gender now the gods are punishing them.

"Or perhaps you'll leave the throne to your dear brother?" Ser Otto Hightower slammed first into the table standing abruptly.

"This is an absurd, Daemon is a menace, danger for the Realm. The people shall not see peace if he rules."

"Then what are you offering, my Lord Hand?

"Enough both of you!" Viserys called, both the two lords bending their head murmuring not-so- genuine apology. "Even if my wife gifts me with another daughter, may I remind you I do have my heir."

"You Grace, while Prince Maekar may be your son, he is unstable, he would be another Maegor the Cruel," Ser Otto said sternly. "And you cannot really consider your daughter Visenya to claim the Iron Throne," the Hand called immediately, "the Realm will never accept a woman as a ruler, especially Princess Visenya with her unhinged character."

"I must agree with, right my King, the Prince is bitter of the loss of his mother, he is not fit for this big responsibility."

"My children are not unstable, my Lords, they simply lack the proper guidance," Viserys noted their blank faces. He knew that was a terrible excuse. He had taught them everything about ruling. "Then what are you telling me to do my lords," Viserys sighed, putting his face is his hands.

"Proclaim Rhaenyra as your successor, until you get one that shall be fit for the throne."

Viserys paused for moment, deep in thought. Viserys had never seen his son so angry than when he married Aemma Arryn. He loves his children , truly he loves unconditionally both of his girls and Maekar, but the state Maekar was now, would weaver his thinking into something selfish. Maekar had to serve the people, not the people to serve to him. Maekar was not ready for this in the King's eyes, he truly wondered if he would ever be.

"Very well then. Let it be this way. For the sake of the Realm."

"For the sake of the Realm" repeated the members nodding in acceptance. Certainly Ser Otto was glad, with the Prince out of his way, not even considering the importance of the younger daughter, he knew he will successfully turn the future heir to Iron Throne into another toy he could control. What is to kept a secret though, always gets exposed at some point. And that's what one little servant did, when she heard the whole conversation, running to her Prince to tell him everything.

"My Prince?" A voice shook eleven year old Maekar from his sleep. The Prince's eyes adjusted to the dawn breaking through his window to Talia, a five year old servant girl in his service.

"What is it, sweet girl?" Maekar whispered, unbelievably tired from his training the night before.

"T-the King and his council just met, my Prince," Talia trembled, the five year old reaching out and placing her hand over Maekar's. "The council has wanted to replace you with Princess Rhaenyra, they say you're unhinged."

Maekar breathed heavily through his nose at the revelation, reaching into his bedside table and handing the little girl five silver stags. "Go fetch my sister and Declan Yarwyck for me, sweet girl, you have done well, little dragon," the small girl beamed at Maekar before rushing out of the room.

Maekar had proceeded to dress into a pair of black knee length boots, black leather breeches and a black tunic that hung off his shoulder as he muttered to himself angrily, before grabbing a book that laid open on his desk and ripping the pages out angrily.

"Fuck!" The Prince shouted, his fist meeting his wooden bookshelf before throwing the chair at his desk across the room. "Mentally unhinged? Me?" Maekar chuckled to himself, stepping over torn pages from his books. "I'll show them fucking unhinged when I have their heads!" Maekar threw a small knife on his waist at the wall besides the door, the knife lodging itself there, narrowly missing someone's eye.

"Well hello to you too," eleven year old Visenya chuckled. "I heard the news," Visenya told her brother, smiling sympathetically. "What will you do?"

"I'm leaving," said Maekar, pointing at the black Targaryen armour and unnamed sword in the corner of the room. "I can't stay here while she and my uncle get to walk all over me now."

"So you're running away, not leaving."

"It's the same thing, Visenya," Maekar gritted his teeth. He pulled the throwing knife out of the wall and started putting on his armour. The Princess sighed, helping Maekar into his armour.

"We are meant to be wed next year," Visenya reminded him.

"Well at least now you will marry someone worthy of you, sweet sister," Maekar sighed, strapping his sword belt around his waist.

"So, you, your dragon, your sword and a bag of gold," Visenya broke the silence, doing up the strap of Maekar's shoulder plate. "Where will you go?"

"Dorne, the Free Cities," Maekar sighed, making sure he had all his small knives strapped to his waist and in his boots. He picked up his dragons head helm, carrying it under his arm. "You have been the best sister a brother could ask for to me, Visenya," Maekar said, smiling as he pulled the girl in for a hug. "I'll write to you."

"How will I write back?"

"You will not, I will not tell you where I am," Maekar said sternly. "I hope when I come back you will greet me with a child."

"I will," Visenya laughed, she watched Maekar push a stone statue of the mother into the wall and a secret tunnel appeared.

"Goodbye, Prince Maekar."

"Goodbye, Princess Visenya."