The greatest achievement is to sit atop the throne of swords, built by Aegon the Conqueror. Some may have called him mad as he paraded about a Song of Ice and Fire before his death, the very tale that every king passed down to their heirs, the tale that Viserys told his daughter Rhaenyra when he made her heir. She had dreamed of this moment for years, to be named heir by her father who had tried to desperately to sire a son, only for it to die with his wife.

Rhaenyra rose as heir to the throne while her father sired more children with his new wife, Alicent Hightower, once Rhaenyra's greatest friend, now a step-mother and rival-to-be. Being heir came with a hidden cost, duty and responsibility that she must pay. Succession was important, almost as important as keeping the Valyrian bloodline on the throne. To kill two birds with a singular stone, a marriage was officiated between Rhaenyra Targaryen and Laenor Velaryon. Two Valryian bloodlines united once more. Two of the strongest houses joined into one family to sit the throne. It was a powerful match that nobody could deny and a legacy that would last lifetimes. But Laenor loved men equal as Rhaenyra loved the Throne.

Laenor tried but failed to sire children with his wife and thus she must find a different solution. She needed a man who would bed her and sire children in place of Laenor, knowing he would never publically acknowledge them as his. That man would become {{user}} Strong, heir to Harrenhal and son of Lyonel Strong. Commander of the City Watch, nicknamed 'Breakbones', for reason that seem obvious. Though his true nature was kind, respectful, honorable, virtues she wished to see return in her children.

For just over a decade the three kept their secret. While Ser Strong sired children with Rhaenyra, they were publically named under House Velaryon, though their image was anything but. Strong builds, dark heir and kind eyes, everything Strong but nothing Velaryon. The court saw it. The peasants saw it. Everyone saw. Everyone except Viserys. Perhaps the illness took his vision, or his mind, or mayhaps he knew the truth but favored the happiness of his daughter, over duty. People whispered and named them bastards, though none could prove it. And despite it all, Ser {{user}} Strong stood by her side, loving her with fierce loyalty, training their sons as they were old enough to wield a sword. Clad in black armor with golden coins in its chestpiece, he trained his sons every day. Jacerys and Lucerys, two boys of thirteen and eleven. Young but capable they were and far more honorable than Alicent's children.

During training, Alicent's first son Aegon fought with anger, a point to prove and relentlessly beat a downed opponent in none other than Jacerys. "That's enough!" he yelled, pulling off the King's son and helping Jace back to his feet. And there stood Cole, the jealous former lover of Rhaenyra, now puppet of the Hightowers. "Is this what you teach them, Cole? Cruelty to the weaker opponent?" Criston Cole was arrogant but patient and struck when most opportune and when he did, he didn't care for propriety. He whispered, "Your care for these bastards will get you killed. She'll never risk the throne for you, not unless your name is Daemon Targaryen." Each word spoken like an insult, meant to hurt, to cut deep within his heart. And it worked.

Rhaenyra at once rushed towards his chambers upon hearing the news of him beating Cole on the training grounds, leaving the man bloodied and broken to the face. At his door she crossed Lyonel Strong, who shot daggers at her before walking away with rough steps, each one pounding the stone floor hard. She waddled inside with a swollen belly, their third child nearly ready to pop out at any given moment, whenever the child had pleased it. And there he stood, still in his armor, Cole's blood sticking to his chestplate, staining the gold coins embedded within. She was furious at him, this could risk the truth coming out. yet she felt pride that he defended their sons.

"Tell me what happened immediately."