For a moment, no one spoke.

Before Oberyn could react, Brynhildr commanded her shield-maidens, "Seize them." They all leapt to grab them, holding their arms behind their backs. "Bind them with rope and place hoods over their faces before you bring them to the great hall."

"Please!" begged Jon Connington. "We are here to do no harm–"

"You harm my children with this lie," said Brynhildr coldly. "Your boy is rightful heir of nothing." To her shield-maidens, "Gerðu eins og ég sagði. Við hittumst í stóra salnum um leið og ég hef sagt börnunum mínum frá því." (T: Do as I said. We will meet in the great hall as soon as I've told my children.)

Only when they were led away did Oberyn question, "Ef þetta er satt, hvers vegna hefði Varys falið það?" (T: If this is true, why would Varys have hidden it?)

Brynhildr sneered, "Ég veit það ekki. En ég er að hugsa um að skera hann á háls fyrir það." (T: I don't know. But I am thinking I'd like to cut his throat for it.)

They returned to the courtyard, where the children and Daario were eagerly awaiting an explanation. Brynhildr did not enjoy giving it. It only brought them more questions and more confusion, none of which could clearly be answered since Varys himself was not here. That irked her deeply.

In the end, she decided the last thing they needed to hear was her growing upset. She asked Daenerys and Viserys to see the dragons and themselves put to bed. They'd reconvene to discuss this matter once truths had been determined. This could all just be a ploy and there was no need to give them all the details until it was confirmed to be relevant.

Both Daario and Oberyn could see how much it upset her. She wasn't sure if the threat to Daenerys's up-and-coming rule was what bothered her, or if it was only the fact that she could have raised another child and that was taken from her. She shouldn't have been bitter about it, but in a sense, it was an insult that Varys seemingly hadn't wanted it to happen.

The Valkyries placed Jon Connington and the apparent 'Aegon' in chairs in the great hall, bound and with hoods over their heads as Daario, Oberyn, and Brynhildr stood over them. "I could torture you," said Brynhildr clearly at the start. "If I have even the slightest inkling that you are lying, I will use force. I'd rather we only heard truths here. So, let's start with you, Connington. Who is the boy beside you?"

"He is Aegon Targaryen," muttered Connington beneath the hood. "The boy killed during the Sack was a tanner's infant born at Pisswater Bend. That's a street in King's Landing, you foreign–" He stopped himself as Oberyn slammed down hard on his foot. Jon Connington recoiled and hissed, "I wasn't going to call her a bitch, Prince Oberyn."

"I don't know what you'd call her," said Oberyn flatly. "You said my sister was unworthy of Rhaegar. Whatever you felt for him, I don't care. But you should have never let your tongue wag insults at my sister."

He drew several deep breaths and continued, "The tanner's wife died during the birth. So, he sold the boy to Varys for a jug of wine. He had other sons, but had never tasted Arbor gold. Varys swapped them. Elia took the tanner's boy while Varys took the real Prince Aegon– the boy you see seated beside me."

"I don't believe you," said Oberyn venomously. "Elia would have ensured the same was done for Rhaenys."

"There wasn't time. It was easier to find a replacement for the babe that looked like any other. People knew what Rhaenys looked like, we never could have done it for a girl her age! Elia agreed–"

"Princess Elia," snapped Oberyn.

"Princess Elia agreed," said Connington sharply. "Varys sent the boy to Illyrio Mopatis. After my fifth year serving in the Golden Company, he came to find me. We made our plan to fake my death. Only Myles Toyne knew the truth. I went along with the scheme for the sake of Prince Aegon, but I thought it a dishonorable slight. I hated that my death was known to have happened that way. Still, I took the boy in. We dyed our hair, claimed it was to honor his mother, a woman in Tyrosh. I called myself 'Griff' and the boy 'Young Griff.'"

They were silent for a moment. "I swear this to be true," said Connington. "I failed his father and I knew I could not fail his son. I blame myself for Rhaegar's death. If I'd slain Robert there in Stoney Sept, the Battle of the Trident would have never happened. They called it the Battle of the Bells and the bells tolled for all of us that day. For Aerys and his queen, for Elia for Dorne and her little daughter, for every true man and honest woman in the Seven Kingdoms. And for my silver prince."

Oberyn took several deep breaths. "And why would Aegon have been entrusted to you? Varys knew I was smuggling Viserys and Daenerys here. Why wasn't Aegon brought to Valkyrie Keep?"

Connington scoffed, "I don't know how Varys's mind works. Look, he sent us to you rather than sending you a written explanation. No one knows the complete truth save for him. The most I can do is imagine... it was too dangerous to have all three children under the same roof. Robert has been sending assassins after the two you have here for years. And they are only Rhaegar's siblings. What would he have done to Rhaegar's son?"

Brynhildr supposed that made some sense; having all three of them here would have made the assassination attempts worse. Connington added, "And perhaps Varys wanted two different assurances. If something had gone wrong here, if... if the foreign girl hadn't proven a good mother to them... Aegon would still be here."

Oberyn's lips curled like a hound ready to bite the nearest hand. "That foreign girl is Commander of the most fearsome sellsword company in Essos. Numbers are nothing– most mercenary groups will steer as far from the Valkyries as they can. She's trained these women to be shipbuilders, blacksmiths, sailors, captains, and even still warriors who have done nothing but defend these children. For Varys to have thought such a thing is an insult to my paramour and I will not tolerate it."

Brynhildr placed her hand on his arm, motioning him to be at ease. It didn't bother her; why would Varys have been optimistic about her at all? He didn't know her. She was even more foreign than Varys was to Westeros. It seemed Aegon had been a backup in case the plan with Viserys and Daenerys hadn't worked. Varys had gotten them the eggs, after all. The only thing Brynhildr was sure of was that she would never fully trust Varys. She already hadn't, but this was truly pushing her to her limits.

Daario chose to change the subject. "Lord Connington, how has the boy been prepared?"

"He's been shaped for rule before he could walk," said Connington. "He's been trained in arms, as befits a knight to be. He reads and writes, he speaks several tongues, he has studied history and law and poetry. A septa has instructed him in the mysteries of the Faith since he was old enough to understand them. He has lived with fisherfolk, worked with his hands, swum in rivers and mended nets and learned to wash his own clothes at need. He can fish and cook and bind up a wound, he knows what it is like to be hungry, to be hunted, to be afraid. Aegon knows to put other people first."

"You called him the 'rightful' heir," said Brynhildr slowly. "Why? Is that what Varys led you to believe? That he is going to be king?"

"I was told to prepare him to be king," said Connington. "Nothing more. All of us did what we could to see it so."

"Then you've done all the same things we have," said Oberyn, still not very happy about this. Brynhildr understood why it upset him so. He could have been taking care of his nephew this whole time, he could have been grieving one less person, he could have focused his energy on the one part of Elia that remained alive, a part he thought no longer existed. He was slowly finding out how much Varys still managed to hide from him and he certainly wasn't liking Connington's confidence in having declared Aegon as rightful the moment he walked through the doors.

Connington gave a huff, "Is that so?"

"Yes. Both Viserys and Daenerys were taught to defend themselves. Viserys has learned all styles of combat, even those of the fighting pits in Meereen. He's studied all sorts of weapons and wields his sword like a Viking, which you ought to consider one of the most dangerous forms of combat, considering my paramour herself taught him and has proven her skill time and again against fighters who didn't even know such a style could exist."

Brynhildr offered him a small smile as he continued, "They both read, write, and speak in the majority of the tongues of Essos, given how varied this company is. They've studied High Valyrian texts, they've learned histories, politics, law, literature, poetry, and magic. They have read and understood texts about the Old Gods, the Seven, the faiths of Essos, and they especially appreciate the Viking and Valyrian gods.

"They've helped the company build ships and make weapons, they've learned to fish and swim, they can wash their own clothes, fetch their own meals, and cook. They know how to make healing balms and tonics as well as they know how to make poisons. They can bind wounds and cause them in the right places. They may not have known what it is to be hungry but they have been hunted and afraid and they have still been selfless. Just today, Viserys had decided that it is his sister, Daenerys Stormborn, who will be the face of our movement."

At last, Aegon gave a huff that sounded like a mocking laugh. "What's funny to you?" asked Brynhildr, narrowing her eyes.

He rolled his head as if to roll his eyes in a way they could see beneath the hood. "Daenerys is Prince Rhaegar's sister, but I am Rhaegar's son. I am the only dragon you need. My claim is better than her own."

"There is no such thing as claims anymore," said Brynhildr. "All of you lost your claims the moment the throne was conquered. But if we are thinking about what came before the end of the Rebellion... your grandsire named Viserys his heir after Rhaegar died, even though you'd already been born. Upon Aerys's death, Rhaella crowned Viserys on Dragonstone. None of you are the rightful heirs. You are only three dragons who..." She faltered, an idea coming to mind.

She looked at Oberyn and Daario, hoping her pause and the look on her face could be sufficient to tell them what she was thinking. They needed a third dragonrider, and if he really was Rhaegar's son, he'd have the best chance of being able to mount one of them.

Oberyn didn't seem to be feeling the same, even though he must have understood her thoughts. Perhaps he worried the people would still flock to Aegon more easily than to Daenerys. Perhaps because Viserys stepped aside and offered the claim to Daenerys, it meant that Aegon would be seen as more important.

Brynhildr refused to believe that. No, she would not have this boy rob her daughter of this opportunity no matter who he was. He could join them, he could become part of their family, but he could not take her place on the Iron Throne. It would be either Daenerys or Viserys, never Aegon. She'd sooner risk killing him than seeing him take the seat from her children. She still wasn't entirely sure he was who they claimed him to be.

"I propose this," said Connington quietly. "Wed them. Daenerys and Aegon. She will be Queen of the Seven Kingdoms and he will be her King Consort. I was told by Varys that it was Doran's desire that Arianne rule beside Viserys– perhaps he'd want Quentyn at Daenerys's side now– but instead, Princess Elia's son will rule alongside his aunt."

That only served to make Oberyn angrier. "We'll consider it," said Brynhildr tightly. "Though I am inclined to decline only because we will need alliances. Having this... Aegon... now gives us another dragon to wed off to a prominent house."

"And what purpose will that serve you?" asked Connington. "It made sense to wed Viserys when he was going to be King and use his sister as an offering. The reverse will not be met so kindly. No one will want two boys who will not be king."

"With the rebirth of the dragons, many will once more wish to sire dragonrider children," said Brynhildr defensively. "I don't appreciate your implication that Daenerys is worth less as a woman, Lord Connington." She ripped the hood off of him, the man blinking several times as he adjusted to the blazing torches lit around him, angled towards his chair. "Look around you. You are inside the den of bloodthirsty Valkyries who choose which men live and die. Do not imply my daughter's worth is less because she does not possess a cock. Otherwise, I will take yours and offer it to her."

Connington breathed heavily, looking up at her. "Why her? Last we heard, Viserys was going to rule."

"Her brother made the decision," said Brynhildr. "Who is the Mother of Dragons? Daenerys. Who taught her to fight? The Valkyries. This is still a time where women do impossible things and are, time and again, doubted and questioned. I say no more. It is time Westeros had a Queen. Viserys chose her and we are endorsing her. If you do not wish to be a part of this, you are free to go. See if anyone will support a boy with no dragons and no army."

"I still don't see what you know about this matter," he said coldly. "You are not of these lands— you've seen but a piece of Westeros. And from what I hear, you were a Kingslayer in your lands."

"Yes," said Brynhildr, leaning over him. "I have been known as Bloody Brynhildr, the Killer of Kings, since I was sixteen years old. I have killed two Kings and a Queen and I won't stop killing rulers until I see my daughter on the Iron Throne. Try and stop me. I've killed lesser men since I was fifteen. And how old am I now? Oh, yes, that's right. Thirty-eight. Which means I've been turning lesser men into corpses for twenty-three years. I could kill you in two seconds or I could drag your death out for two decades. You choose, Jon. For I do not discriminate who my sword touches."

For a moment, no one spoke. Finally, Aegon mustered up the courage to say, "She's right. I don't have anything special to offer. I suppose if none of us have a true claim, then from the three heads, only the strongest can extend its neck above the others."

Brynhildr slowly peeled off his hood. The boy looked pensive. She still wouldn't be so quick to trust him. "We've questioned you both enough tonight," she decided. To her guards, "Show them to the guest chamber on the first floor; the bed is large enough to fit three. We'll shuffle some things around to get Prince Aegon his own chambers by tomorrow evening."

The Valkyries swept forward, untying them. "Thank you, Commander," muttered Connington. He didn't look very happy, but at least more relaxed now that she'd seemingly stopped marking them as prisoners. "I assure you... everything I do, I do for Rhaegar. If Daenerys is who Viserys and Aegon will have me support... then I will do so."

"You are mistaken, Jon," said Brynhildr. "It's not that the boys are telling you who to support. It is the world that shows you so. I think Rhaegar would have adored his little sister and as a man who believed so firmly in the prophecy of Azor Ahai... I think he, too, would have expected you to pledge allegiance to her without worrying that she is a woman."

He gave a small nod. She hoped he'd acknowledged the severity of his comments. She had no qualms about cutting his head off– he'd raised Aegon and gotten him here. As far as she knew, his purpose had been served.

Oberyn was still in a terrible mood as the night dragged on. Daario, sensing he should give him space, volunteered to go and update Daenerys and Viserys on what had been said; tomorrow, they'd meet their nephew.

Brynhildr had followed Oberyn to his room, hoping to offer comfort. She figured he was grieving his sister all over again, thinking that Elia had only just managed to see her son survive. Even then, he was probably still questioning the validity of it all. Some parts seemed not to make sense, or perhaps too good to be true. Brynhildr wasn't sure what to believe.

It became apparent quickly that Oberyn was less sad and more frustrated. As Brynhildr drew a bath for him, she saw him ripping his clothes off angrily; that probably meant he needed to let the anger out. There were two ways he did that– fights in the street or fights in the sheets. Daario would often accompany him to the first, but only Brynhildr could be there for the second, because he needed someone like her for a rough fuck. Someone who could fight him for control and channel her own frustrations. Daario would simply submit and that didn't help Oberyn much.

She stopped drawing the bath, leaving the tub half-full. She slid off her armor and used the warm water to wash the war paint off her face instead. Brynhildr undid her battle braid, sensing Oberyn's eyes were on her. He was waiting for her, and it was frustrating him that she was taking so long.

Brynhildr turned back to him once bare, hair flowing down her shoulders. She went to him, grabbing the back of his head and kissing him hard. He kissed back just as ferociously, tongue flicking into her mouth as if he intended to devour her. She dug her nails into his shoulders, raking them down his back as he gripped her bottom bruisingly tight, knowing no one would see the bruises, anyway.

She pushed him onto the bed, straddling him. He fought back, turning them around and pinning her beneath him. He kissed her hard again, hand placed between her legs and rubbing hard enough that she cried out in pleasure against his lips. When he started off like that, it usually meant he was going to push her to her limits.

He liked to see how many times he could bring forth an orgasm, wondering if there was a point where she'd lose consciousness or simply be unable to form words for more than a couple of minutes. Once, she'd almost fainted, her mind so perfectly clouded as she heard him laughing and telling her she'd done a wonderful job.

Brynhildr threw her head back, his lips attaching to her neck as his fingers drove into her. She didn't care if they were heard; perhaps Oberyn wanted them to be heard so that Jon Connington would know how infuriating his arrival had been. Perhaps in a way it would tease Connington as well, who could surely not deny Oberyn was probably the most attractive man he'd seen (second only to Rhaegar, if his love truly ran so deep).

In a brief moment that Oberyn drew back, Brynhildr turned him onto his back instead. She turned quick to sit over his face, letting him devour as he pleased while she leaned forward and gave him pleasure with her own mouth, gripping his hips to hold him down. Oberyn seemed to like this, but as usual, things had to go his way most of the time, otherwise, he didn't feel relief.

He moved her off of him once he grew bored, pushing her into the sheets and looming over her. He was like a dragon himself in many ways, if only because a dragon alone was capable of giving her that predatory gaze and filling her with fire. He began to fuck her harder than he ever had, rough enough that she imagined she wouldn't be able to sit comfortably the next day, his hips snapping against hers as if he wished to break her spine. It had her eyes rolling back, enough that she was tempted to shut them, if not for Oberyn holding her jaw to keep her face in his view, where he could enjoy seeing the effects of what he did to her.

In a moment where he'd taken pause to catch his breath, Brynhildr turned them over once more, riding as hard as she could even with the feeling fading in her legs. Oberyn lifted his knees and grabbed at her bottom to pull her forward, her head falling onto his shoulders. She saw stars as he chose to buck his hips at his own rhythm, and all she heard for a moment were his heavy breaths and a loud curse before he finally stopped, a weak whine escaping her as she tried and failed to sit up.

"Do you feel better?" asked Brynhildr breathlessly, reaching a hand out to caress Oberyn's head. He hadn't moved and neither had she, the two of them still connected.

"Better," he agreed. "I hate that it came to this. I wish things were different. I hate the deaths that happened and I hate that I could do nothing about it."

"Until now," she said. "Now, we will avenge them. Real Aegon or fake Aegon, the boy will be useful to us. We simply cannot trust him too soon. At any rate, we may have our dragonrider."

"He may want to marry Dany," muttered Oberyn. "What do you say to that?"

"It'd have to be her choice, otherwise, I won't allow it. The boy seems noble but he if he is both a dragon and a Dornishman, then he is certainly quick to anger."

Oberyn began to smile, knowing she meant to tease him. "Do not pretend you are not."

"I definitely am," confirmed Brynhildr. "And I will not stop doing so. Whatever it takes to protect my children."

"Do you wish they'd brought him to you?"

"I would have done everything to take care of him if they had. He would've had no need to dye his hair or experience hunger on the streets. Varys... I'll never understand that man. I hope that soon, he will be no more than a distant memory. I don't care what he thinks. We are placing Dany on that throne. I believe in my heart she is the right candidate. Viserys is right– why else would the gods have allowed her to be raised by fierce Valkyries?"

Oberyn craned his neck sideways to kiss her. "I imagine the Dance of Dragons would have ended very differently if you'd been at Queen Rhaenyra's side. You'd have stopped at nothing to make her Queen."

Brynhildr smiled. "Dany said that Idun chose this time for me, and because of that, I could not have children. Had she chosen a different time, I would have been in love with a Prince and a Queen, and I would have given them many children. Perhaps that was the Queen she meant, for she did not say Queen Consort."

He began to laugh, bringing butterflies to her stomach. "Oh, certainly. If you'd been in love with both Queen Rhaenyra and Prince Daemon... of course you would have given them many children. Dragonrider children to oppose the Greens. You and Daemon alone would have made at least as many as Jaehaerys and Alysanne."

"Perhaps. Only, it wouldn't have stopped what is happening now. And so, Idun knew I had to come here instead. Still, I am happy." She used all her strength to hover her head over his, kissing his lips. "For I have you and Daario, and my two sweet children. In the end, it is enough for me."

Brynhildr finally wiggled off of him, settling beside him and laying her head on his chest. She stared out the window, watching the moon slowly hide behind a layer of clouds. She wondered what Idun and the gods were thinking, sending Jon Connington and Aegon to her. What was she going to do about them?

She was prepared to kill one or both if they proved a threat to her children.

_

A/N: In the initial planning for this story after I decided to make the one-shot a full fic, I considered placing Brynhildr in the HotD timeline. I thought of her being a sellsword still but aiding Daemon in the Stepstones, at which point they'd become lovers and she'd totally like Rhaenyra once she met her. That would have probably involved a genuinely insane amount of kids since these three would have been constantly on top of each other (Brynhildr for even longer with Daemon, like, she'd have at least 5 kids with him on top of the 2 he had with Laena and the 5 Rhaenyra had with him and Harwin. Too many). It would have driven home a harder point of Brynhildr fighting for a woman's right to rule and reconciling with her own anger at Lagertha for usurping the throne. But in the end I liked the idea of her being there for Dany and Viserys + being involved with Oberyn & Daario. So anyway, that's the lore for today! I hope you guys are liking this. I did not actualyl plan the Young Griff stuff to be included since I haven't read the books but I had the idea earlier today and was like you know, fuck it, let's do it! Comment for more :)