Rhaenor stood in his chambers that resided on Dragonstone, his gaze locked onto his wife as she stood before him, she was also essentially his half-sister. Rhaenor's gaze searched her's, searching for hate or shame.

He didn't want her to hate him due to being the enemy of her full-blooded brother nor did he want her to be ashamed of herself.

"It was not your fault."

Rhaenor murmured, his words regarding his younger half-brother starting a war over the Throne even though Rhaenor was the eldest son. You'd think that since Rhaenor was a male that the Dance of The Dragons would not happen, but the greed of man still ran strong.

"You did not know."

Rhaenor assured, or so he had hoped she did not know of her mother, and his step-mother's, plan to put her son on his Throne. Rhaenor was the eldest son, so he had the advantage, it was easier to rally bannermen. If he were a woman in this universe, it would not be so easy, unfortunately.

"This will be dealt with soon. The commons believe I may have been disinherited, but that is far from truth."

Rhaenor sighed, running his fingers through his silver hair. This whole thing was giving him a bloody headache, he was half-tempted to ride to Kings Landing on dragonback and demand his Throne back, but he had to play the game with wit, something that Aegon lacked.