Chapter Text
(Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen. Heir to the Iron Throne)
The ceiling was carefully and so skillfully painted that they looked like the purest of starry nights. Staring at the masterpiece that, according to Amanda, Princess Daella had commissioned for her first and only child, Rhaenyra could almost pretend to be in her mother’s solar, where she also had insisted on a bit of Arryn blue to be displayed here and there.
For the most part, Aemma Arryn had left her birth House behind. It made sense, Rhaenyra reflected. Her mother was one and ten when she was basically summoned to the Red Keep and betrothed and then married to the then Prince Viserys. She had spent longer at King’s Landing than at the Eyrie, at most she had a couple of blue dresses and accessories, but far more often she had dressed and adorned herself with the colors and symbols of her own mother’s birth House, the one she married back into.
Rhaenyra ran her hand on the comforter she was laying on. It was a visibly old style but the softness and rich details told her all she needed to know that no expenses were spared for the only child of Daella Targaryen in her youth.
“You can take it with you if you wish.” Jeyne offered from where she was seated closer to the balcony.
They started to talk casually enough. More about what Rhaenyra took the most interest in while in the North and the Riverlands and gossiping like two girls about the new and almost official betrothal between Ser Rymun Mallister and Lady Lyra Hayford than anything that demanded much attention or skill in politics.
Rhaenyra truly appreciated the few days Jeyne had given her to rest. In reality, Rhaenyra appreciated everything Jeyne had done for her. She knew that it could not have been easy, for many reasons.
“I do not even know if this is the same comforter my mother slept with.”
“It is.” Rhaenyra raised an eyebrow at the surety in Jeyne’s voice. “Our grandfather had demanded that we changed nothing of it, my father honored the request and so did I. At most the maids come once every few days to air the room and dust it.”
Rhaenyra gave a half-smile. “I heard the tales… the stories. How Lord Rodrik treated Princess Daella as if she was the finest of all crystals.”
Jeyne gave an amused huff. “There are still whispers of Lord Rodrik’s Precious Princess about.” She recalled the little endearment Lord Rodrick bestowed on his wife.
“I… sometimes could not help but compare them.”
“Who?” Jeyne asked curiously.
“Daella and Viserra. They were both promised to men much older than them, already widowed and with previous issue. It did not seem fair that… nothing of it sounded fair. But Daella was luckier.” Rhaenyra admitted.
Jeyne was silent for so long that Rhaenyra raised herself off the bed to look at her cousin. Jeyne had laid down on the many cushions spread about between the balcony doors and the hearth and was staring at the painted ceiling in silent reflection.
“Princess Daella was luckier. There are some parallels,” it was said very grudgingly, “but what Princess Viserra… Whatever the reasoning behind promising Princess Viserra’s hand to House Manderly, their lord’s history of many wives spoke against him, particularly when King Jaehaerys and Queen Alysanne have known our own grandfather for a great many years, they knew the kind of person and man he was before giving him Princess Daella’s hand, unlike what happened to her sister.”
Rhaenyra almost laughed. As well educated and trained in politics as Jeyne was, she seemed to find no problem in cursing Viserys Targaryen, whose daughter was right in front of her, but held her tongue on Jaehaerys and Alysanne, both dead for many years. It made sense, however. Jeyne did not really have to live and endure the previous monarchs as she had to do with the current one.
“I did not know that Princess Daella and Lord Rodrick’s tale was something worth repeating.” She commented instead.
“It is no romantic ballad,” Jeyne warned, “just… something to comfort and to tell little girls. As wrong as trying to convince them that their own marriages shall be similar is.”
Rhaenyra shook her head, trying to rid it of the girlhood dream of having ballads and songs of her own. “I admit my contradiction about the subject. On one hand I never felt more awkward than when introducing Lyra to Ser Rymun, but…”
“The thought is nice?” Jeyne completed, half teasingly, half understanding. She looked more serious as she raised herself to a sitting position. “I have to thank you for renewing the trading agreements between the Vale and the North. While the taxes are not hurting our coffers, the other realms’ scrutiny is…”
“A burden.” It was Rhaenyra’s turn to complete Jeyne’s phrase even as she frowned in consternation. “The King has yet to lift those ridiculous taxes?”
Jeyne’s brown eyes were dark even as the rest of her face revealed nothing. “According to the Lord Hand I should feel thankful to keep my life.”
Sneering, Rhaenyra huffed to herself. “He ought to follow his own words.”
Rhaenyra’s lips twisted, aware that she just gave Jeyne the perfect opening for the conversation that, so far, her cousin has been sparing her from.
Jeyne was three years older than Rhaenyra, but unlike Rhaenyra, Jeyne had been heir of her own seat and became lady of it at the age of three. Ironically, the same year that Rhaenyra was born and just as Jeyne lost her father and brothers she also had to be protected from her cousin who tried to usurp her. And then twice more in the subsequent years.
At Jeyne’s own orders, Arnold Arryn was imprisoned in the sky cells. Rhaenyra had often heard of them. Whereas the Red Keep had its black cells where absolutely no light ever intruded, the sky cells in the Eyrie had three walls and an open space to a fall of thousands of meters. The walls of the mountains were smooth and had not one vine or greenery in sight, nothing to hold on to, not to mention the inclination inward that made the climb impossible. Up or down.
Morbid curiosity at times made Rhaenyra wonder which one was worse. The terror of falling if they moved too much in their mere sleep or the complete deprivation of any source of light.
Whatever the case may be, Rhaenyra had been impressed by the cousin she never met. She was barely eight and certainly deemed too young to understand or hear about the power struggle in the Vale by the maesters and septas. Jeyne was one and ten and already taking decisions and making prisoners of dissenters.
This was the kind of strength that was now facing Rhaenyra.
Jeyne was not screaming, she was not even glaring at her. It was maybe worse than if she was.
Rhaenyra had expected something of the treatment Jeyne bestowed on her father all those moons before.
“And how… pray tell,” Jeyne almost spat the words, “shall the King repay the Vale for the insults leveled against us? Your Grace, send us away from court, it matters very little to the Vale to instill our presence where me and mine are so unwelcomed that we are replaced mere moons after our meetings with the Stranger. Sending us away from court? From your court? I shall thank His Grace for his mercy for if we stay, who knows who among the daughters and sons from my House will be slaughtered LIKE A PIG!?”
Rhaenyra had not felt much of anything in almost a sun turn. Everything was muted, everything was blurred. But the same sensation of warmth spread then as it was doing at that moment. It was true that Jeyne’s words, her confrontation with King and his council was done so crudely said that Rhaenyra could not help but remember the sheets completely soaked in blood, glimpses of her mother’s body being carried out that made Rhaenyra feel faint, it was equally true, however, that she had never seen anyone defending her mother so fiercely.
She would never have seen anyone defending her mother so fiercely. Rhaenyra corrected herself, too tired to feel anger. Nothing in the Dreams ever indicated that Aemma Arryn was at any point honored.
In life or in death.
But it was not Jeyne’s anger that Rhaenyra truly feared.
There was a great deal of it in her brown eyes, it was true, but when she spoke, her voice was controlled and even. Rhaenyra expected nothing else from the woman that, so young, led Vale so fiercely.
“I understand that King Viserys would never have consented to an annulment. Twelve years of unsuccessful and bitter marriage were not enough to convince the man. I knew Rhea, perhaps not well, certainly not well enough to ask or hear about whether she was satisfied with the arrangement, but she was still an amazing Lady for her House.” Jeyne groaned as she stretched herself.
Rhaenyra felt guilt slowly creeping into her chest. Jeyne sounded… and looked exhausted. She had never thought beyond her admiration for everything Jeyne was and did and for the first time she was thinking about the effort it took her to get there. It could not be that unlike what Rhaenyra herself was going through. Sure, Jeyne had more support and better learning, her enemies were more overt and operated in the light. But she was also much younger than Rhaenyra when the fight for her life srtarted and it has yet to over as well.
“Jeyne, I am so sorry for everything.” Rhaenyra knew that her words were nowhere near enough of what her cousin deserved but they also needed to be said. “My mother, the taxes… Rhea… I am so sorry.”
Jeyne’s jaw clenched the second she started to talk about Rhea and had yet to relax. “Rhaenyra, I’m not about to shout at you,” she seemed to have read her mind, “poor Jessamyn was gracious and unfortunate enough to offer to hear that part. But I need you to understand the position your uncle put me in, put all of us in.”
It was Rhaenyra’s turn to grit her teeth.
It was not fair!
A childish part of her longed to yell it through the open balcony doors, longed to yell it until the whole of the Vale, until the entire Known World heard it. Just how many times did Rhaenyra have to do this? Someone in her family did something and she was the one stuck hearing about it.
The way Jeyne was staring at her already told Rhaenyra that her cousin knew what was likely in her mind. Whether that was because Rhaenyra was just that easy to read - which she knew for a fact that it… did not used to be the case - or because Jeyne had already got to know her enough for it, Rhaenyra did not know.
“I know it is unjust,” Jeyne started again, confirming what was on Rhaenyra’s mind, “and I know that, even that not being my intention, this will come as a punishment to you.”
It was only when Rhaenyra was certain that her voice would not sound accusatory that she asked, “What is the intention?”
“Teaching… and making sure we all have the same story. I may tell one version, you may tell another and your uncle may tell yet another version. Soon enough we will be facing uncomfortable questions we have no way of answering without implicating him… and you… and myself.”
It made sense. And it was smart. And not something that Rhaenyra had considered. Daemon certainly hadn’t. Rhaenyra thought with no small amount of exasperation.
“The best lies are the ones based on truth. Otto Hightower has employed this tact for decades now with a lot of success. He twists the narrative, not the facts.” Rhaenyra was almost proud of herself for not feeling sick as she said as much.
Jeyne’s eyebrow jumped up. “Smart if the only way to go about in court.”
Rhaenyra made a motion with her head. “What has House Royce said so far?”
“Rhea’s cousin, Gerold Royce has been… grieving very violently. Unlike mine own ascension, Rhea’s was less contested. Her family was very united and her father had made sure that her succession was ironclad.” If Jeyne felt any sort of bitterness or resentment she did not show it in words or expression.
Jeyne had been very forthcoming and blunt with Rhaenyra so far, so Rhaenyra decided to return the favor and not insult her with flowery words.
“That is no good news for me.”
“For us.” Jeyne corrected. “I defended you… and Daemon.”
That shocked Rhaenyra. “Why?”
The look Jeyne sent her made Rhaenyra feel how very little she knew, how little she was allowed to learn and, as consequence, how little she knew what to even ask.
“When your father made you heir, Daemon Targaryen became the only man that should be your consort. Some would argue for Laenor Velaryon but he is still a Velaryon and the heir to his House besides.”
Rhaenyra calmly raised her hand. Tired beyond words. “All those reasons… we have thought of them as well. I cannot marry an heir that would always put his House first, a second son does not give me the same privileges and power as an heir either. Daemon is a Targaryen with the Targaryen name, a dragonrider. We understand it all.”
Jeyne raised an eyebrow but did not look surprised although there was a great deal of confusion in her eyes. “The second the King made you heir he should have annulled Rhea’s marriage and betrothed you to your uncle.”
“The King should have done a lot of things he did not.” Rhaenyra almost wished she had snapped if only to avoid Jeyne’s worried glance at her clear exhaustion.
“I do expect your help in return as well, Rhaenyra.” Jeyne went back to the topic at hand. “If only to corroborate the story.”
“What is to be said?” Rhaenyra sat as close to the hearth as she dared, suddenly feeling very cold.
“There are some indisputable facts that cannot be argued with. Before House Royce ever said anything there were accounts of a dragon flying over the Vale. And here is where it gets… misleading. They insist that the dragon was not red. It is true that the sundown gives other hues, but the Blood Wyrm has a very distinctive body shape as well that they insist was not what they saw.” Jeyne eyed her curiously and Rhaenyra closed her eyes, there was a dull throbbing at her temples.
“It was Saera’s dragon, Vermithor. She claimed him not long after you left Dragonstone.”
“The Bronze Fury… King Jaehaerys’ mount. That… is at the same time petty and marvelously well done.” Jeyne breathed, her eyes wide and then she frowned. “Saera was the one that killed Rhea?”
Rhaenyra had to bite her tongue not to say that Daemon likely wanted to do it with his own hands.
“I am fairly certain that it was Daemon.” Rhaenyra could not fault Jeyne for the flabbergasted look she sent her.
“... excuse me?”
Rhaenyra knew that Jeyne did not need to know every detail for them both to say the same story… but she did deserve to know. Rhaenyra rubbed her forehead.
“Daemon and Saera both came to the Vale. I admit I did not… ask for the particulars of their… plan,” if they had one, Rhaenyra wanted to roll her eyes, “but this is what I know.” and now she felt embarrassed for it.
A noble lady died and that was all Rhaenyra knew about it…
Jeyne seemed to be of the same thought but her cousin apparently decided to spare her the humiliation of pointing it out.
“This makes it simpler then. There was a dragon, that is undeniable thanks to the great quantity of smallfolk and nobles alike that sighted it. It was huge, orange, coppery in hue. It did not possess a long, thin neck nor did it… whistle… uh… shrill. Prince Daemon was fighting on the Stepstones and, therefore, nowhere near the Vale. Lady Rhea… happened,” Jeyne closed her eyes as if summoning patience, “to have a hunting accident. It is a most unfortunate… accident.” She repeated the word.
“Simple and straightforward.” Rhaenyra cleared her throat, uncomfortable.
Jeyne’s sympathy only ever stretched so far. She let Rhaenyra wait in an awkward silence just to increase her stress. It was petty, it was maybe warranted and it was highly effective. Rhaenyra will have to remember to do this to other people herself.
“I was too young when the Great Council of 101 happened. I… regret that I did not attend. My regent, Lord Yorbert Royce was wise, however, he knew that moving me would put me in a precarious position. A carriage is much more easily attacked than one of the most secure keeps in Westeros after all. But… I do regret that I could not meet you earlier. You attended, did you not?”
Rhaenyra nodded. “I just passed my fourth name day, however. I would hardly be a good conversationalist.” She tried to joke.
Jeyne’s lip tugged upwards for a brief moment. “Lord Yorbert was more subtle than Lord Corlys or Prince Daemon, but he did say that he supported Princess Rhaenys’ claim.”
Rhaenyra swallowed. “It makes sense,” she tried, “he was… elderly. His only child was Lady Rhea… to be passed over for a male claimant would put her in… danger.” She completed, almost feeling the sweat forming on her back.
It was not like Rhea was free of danger in any case. Already being married to Daemon at that point.
Jeyne smirked. “Some of it, I thought at the time, was that Lord Yorbert was thrilled with the possibility of making front against Prince Daemon’s own cause.”
Rhaenyra did not remember Lord Yorbert let alone know him for any amount of time that would give her insights, but she knew the temptation that Daemon gives people into disagreeing with him just because it was him.
“When Queen Rhaena and Aegon the Uncrowned’s line was overlooked none thought too much of it. It was times of… if not declared war then conflict. They had twin girls, one of which was sworn to the Starry Sept. But the Great Council… King Jaehaerys’ actions were taken with some surprise but very eagerly, both in the sense of being able to have their voices heard about who should be the next monarch and the fact that they could make their opinions on a woman leading them very well known.”
“You must know that the entire realm was shocked when the King made you heir. The Great Council of 101 had repercussions beyond King’s Landing. The Arryns for instance struggled with the precedent set, at least partially.” Lady Lyra’s words came back to her.
“If the King can ignore precedent, if the King gives voice and a choice to the lords… then the lords must have some power of their own as well.” Rhaenyra said without feeling.
Jeyne sighed. “There was… an unfortunately unprecedented number of women falling into the category of only children in the Vale. Houses Arryn and Royce, Houses Belmore and Elesham and Hunter all with women leading them. Lord Sunderland is getting older and only has two daughters, the same with House Tollett. King Jaehaerys brought much unrest to the Vale in the worst possible time, he is not very beloved in my realm.”
“I cannot imagine he would be.” Was all that Rhaenyra could offer.
She never took the time to really think about the repercussions of the Old King’s decisions in the Great Council… to have a Great Council at all beyond what was affecting her and her family.
Rhaenyra took a deep breath. She could be blamed but not completely. Rhaenyra had other worries that were more pressing at the time.
Didn’t Jeyne have the same worries? Almost the exact same worries?
Yes and no. Unlike Rhaenyra, her cousin was raised knowing very well who she could trust and who to throw into the sky cells. She was properly taught and trained to be a leader… not a consort.
Still, if Jeyne could barely leave the Vale without whispers of unrest reaching all corners of Westeros, what possible help could Rhaenyra provide?
That is not the point. A part of her argued. It was one thing to stay their hands because they could not do anything, it was very different to stay their hands because they simply did not know, understand or even take the time to think about how it would affect others.
Rhaenyra almost winced.
“The situation with Rhea… at one point most of my anger started to be directed at the King instead of your uncle.” Jeyne admitted.
“Oh.” Rhaenyra could only say.
“Clear as day, Prince Daemon was not going to… settle or… whatever term is it that the King has used,” Jeyne rolled her eyes, “mayhap those first years there was some semblance of reason behind him denying the annulment. I am not quite sure of the… time frame I myself would have used as a basis, but at some point even the most stubborn of men had to admit that a marriage between Rhea Royce and Daemon Targaryen did more harm than good, if it ever did any good. Twelve years wasted in that marriage? Men can have children as long as they have the energy for it, but it is very different for women.”
Rhaenyra twisted her rings and then made a fist to stop herself when she noticed. Why was she the one hearing this? Rhaenyra bit her own tongue not to say it.
“I… understand as much.”
Jeyne shook her head. “In any case this is why I started to feel more anger towards the King than towards the Prince. Your uncle was not going to stop or change his behavior, the threshold for something to be done was long gone behind us all.”
Rhaenyra thought of the Greens and their own great losses during the war. Even after two thirds of the realm declared for Rhaenyra, after two thirds of all the residents of the Red Keep – from the lowest of the kitchen staff to nobles that made part of the court – refused to bend the knee for Aegon and lost their heads for it, they still went ahead with their plans.
“Sometimes… you spend so much effort and time for something that… you cannot fathom all that pain being for nothing. So… people delude themselves into thinking that just a bit more and they will… be rewarded.”
It could, maybe, describe her father’s actions towards Daemon’s first marriage. But Rhaenyra was hard pressed to do the same for the Greens. They usurped because of greed, but once that was done, they kept fighting for the same reasons Rhaenyra herself could not back down, if they did at that point, the other side would kill them.
Rhaenyra should have killed them. Or at least Alicent if only to have the taste of it, spared only Helaena and then tried to rebuild from there. Daemon and Rhaenys kept telling her that she was too soft, too naïve to think that the Greens would have given her the same treatment. They were right.
Jeyne did not look like she either agreed or disagreed, “From everything I have heard and seen of the King, it stands to reason that he would be the type of person to never admit he was wrong, not even in the privacy of his own mind. I mean no offense to you.”
Rhaenyra almost smiled at the specific detail and then remembered the small council meeting she participated in. “Some argued that, despite Daemon’s… uh…”
“Habit of disgracing his wife?” Jeyne offered without inflection.
“... yes,” Rhaenyra had to concede, “Lady Rhea benefited from the marriage. Daemon’s frequent absences meant that she could rule without the interference of a possibly too powerful husband and not many were keen to challenge her and risk knowing how much his disdain would stretch in that case.”
“The… some… you described are your father’s councilors, am I correct?”
“Yes.” Rhaenyra saw no need to lie.
Jeyne’s lips thinned. “They are not incorrect. But a few gains hardly compensate for everything else.”
“I agree.” Rhaenyra hurried to say and assure Jeyne that she only added the arguments from her father’s councilors for the sake of informing Jeyne and also… also to learn.
For the first time in her life, Rhaenyra saw her intentions being perfectly understood. In a way that not even Daemon had managed.
("For men marriage might be a political arrangement. For women it is like to be a death sentence.”)
("Would that it were. I would have been rid of my Bronze Bitch ages ago.")
Rhaenyra now could not help but question whether this is what gave Daemon the idea.
(“Your wife has been fortunate. You haven’t put a child in her.”)
(“I doubt a child could grow in such hostile environs.”)
(“My mother was made to produce heirs until it killed her. I won’t subject myself to the same fate.”)
(“What happened to your mother was a tragedy. But this is a tragic world. You cannot live your life in fear, or you’ll forsake the best parts of it.”)
(“I have no desire to live in fear. Only solitude.”)
It had to be a lie… it had to be. Rhaenyra could not think of the life she would have led… surrounded by enemies, alone with a husband that did everything except say he did not know what he was doing and a lover that did more than her husband but whose image she resented.
Besides which, that was not what hurt. Rhaenyra did not know what she… the she of the Dream thought about Daemon’s words. She only knew her own thoughts and that was… she had expected something different.
("Such a lonely prospect." Was said almost in jest, a smirk on his face.)
It used to be that Daemon was the only one that understood her without the need for words at all. He would look at her and immediately know what she was thinking, feeling and needing. When did that stop being true?
When her problems were no longer that of a girl’s… but a woman’s.
Her fears and sadness were no longer easily solved by stories of Old Valyria, flights on dragonback and exotic trinkets. There were no longer wraiths under her bed, now there were the looming shadows of a too heavy crown that she was never prepared to take and a husband that she will have to subject herself to.
Her biggest fear was to meet the same fate as her mother’s. And that was not something that Daemon could change or truly understand.
Jeyne left her to her thoughts as long as she could but eventually they needed to finish this discussion for Rhaenyra was not in the Vale for leisure or rest this time.
“I am not quite sure whether to believe or not that the union was never consummated and I did not know Lady Rhea long enough to guess let alone to ask if she saw more merit to her union with Prince Daemon that would compensate for his behavior.”
“She never asked for an annulment?”
“I can’t say. If she did, House Royce has not seen the need to inform me.”
Rhaenyra blinked. “On one hand, if both had pressured the King claiming that the marriage remained unconsummated, why wouldn’t the Royces at least warn you of their plans when they have been leal bannermen for generations? On the other hand, it is a… delicate situation.”
“Very good.” Jeyne praised. “As we mentioned, there are certainly disadvantages in staying married to your uncle beyond the obvious. If only in practical matters, Rhea had no heir of her own blood.” When Jeyne saw Rhaenyra briefly biting her lip, she was clearly curious, “What is it?”
“For one… over the years I had the thought that maybe Lady Rhea so despised my uncle that as much as she would like to be free of him, she would enjoy it more to make him miserable.”
That startled a laugh out of Jeyne. Genuinely amused if a little incredulous. “Well… I can’t say that your uncle would not have inspired such a thought.”
Rhaenyra couldn’t either, thus why it occurred to her as well.
“Either way it will not stop other lords from trying to benefit from this.” Rhaenyra understood then.
Jeyne hummed. “As they did when Princess Rhaenys’ claim was set aside for Prince Baelon, as they did when it happened again for the then Prince Viserys.”
“What can I do?” Rhaenyra sat up, as straight as she could.
“Nothing!” Jeyne took a deep breath, it was obvious she had not meant to raise her voice. “There is nothing to be done. I am…” she trailed off before meeting Rhaenyra’s eyes, “I am more angered at the repercussions to the Vale as a whole than I am of the act itself, Rhaenyra. I barely knew Rhea Royce and we have not really supported each other that much, if only due to lack of need. By the time she became Lady of House Royce there was no need for my interference and by the time I officially became lady paramount, my cousin was already rotting in my cells.”
“Then…?” Rhaenyra prompted.
“Some of it is ridiculous. Weak woman that died in a hunting accident, as if men never met their end the same way.” Jeyne huffed. “But some had… sounder argument. Rhea died without issue and the closest claimant is Gunthor Royce, her nephew. However, his line is that of the Royces of the Gates of the Moon and the Royces of Runestone are hesitating. And now Runestone is facing a succession crisis.” This time Jeyne was expressing her anger, no matter how hard she was trying to suppress it. “It is…” she groaned. “Rhea did not have a preferred heir which is the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard!”
Rhaenyra stopped herself short of biting her lip. “What… is your plan?”
As far as her father knew, she was on a tour through the realm to look for a suitor. And, despite the King’s clumsy idea of changing the name of her child once it was said child’s time to claim the throne, Rhaenyra had never considered how women in the position of lady of their own House would go about naming their heirs. Be them from their own womb or not.
“I have a distant cousin, Joffrey Arryn, he is fifteen summers younger than myself. I have been grooming and teaching him to become Warden of the East for a few moons already now.” Jeyne answered easily and readily, surprising Rhaenyra.
Rhaenyra knew that, at the age of seven and thirty, Jeryne remained unmarried and childless. Whereas Rhaenyra already had two husbands and six pregnancies… five sons by four and thirty. She felt faint but tried to focus. Never being married was one of the reasons Jeyne acquired the moniker of “The Maiden of the Vale”. While the rumors surrounding Laenor and his squires and knights were much, much more ill-hidden than the ones surrounding Jeyne, word of it still reached Rhaenyra from time to time… about Jeyne’s dear companion, Jessamyn Redfort.
Rhaenyra felt the familiar admiration… the familiar incredulity the more she stared at her cousin.
“Before I… completely lose myself. What about the other ladies that inherit from their fathers?” she frowned.
“There are some ways to circumvent the names aside from a cousin as was my choice. Usually we try to look for reputable second sons making sure to let them know that their children would inherit their mother’s name instead but that is also a Dornish practice and we know that Westeros as a whole can be wholly impractical if it means to naysay someone they dislike. Maybe a cousin from the same House although that is less desirable as there can be some… undue confusion about who is truly leading the family as is being the case with the Royces. Truly there is no ideal solution. Even declaring my heir might not be enough, the son of mine uncle that is now rotting in the sky cells has a son that can challenge Joffrey and the threat of the Arryns of Gulltown is always present.”
Rhaenyra refrained from rubbing her temples. “My father once gave the solution of my children inheriting their father’s name and then changing it once they themselves ascended the throne so the name of the ruling family would still be Targaryen.”
Jeyne’s brown eyes widened. “What in the…” she trailed off, making a noise in the back of her throat. “I would not take the chance. Most men would be displeased to have their children simply… changing their names, if not the husband then certainly their House. Better they get used to the name since birth, agreeing to it since birth.”
Nothing that Rhaenyra herself had not thought of. Still, if now she had absolutely no interest in even thinking about marrying Laenor Velaryon, she could estimate how she felt in those Dreams. Likely she would have raised no protest for pure lack of care. It sounded awful, especially when considering that it was about a child, and stupid when considering it was about her succession but it was what it was.
Rhaenyra sighed at her naivete which brought her to…
“How do you do this?”
“Pardon me?” Jeyne’s eyebrows jumped up at her whisper.
It was full of shock and… maybe amazement, for certain envy. Rhaenyra saw no reason to hide any of it. And while she didn’t think they knew each other well enough to ask about Jessamyn, but this she could ask.
“You are older than I am… you remain unmarried and without heirs from your own body… mayhap that did not help but… it did not hinder, at least not as… as much… uh…”
“As much as it would do with you?” Jeyne completed, understanding coloring her expression. “Indeed. But you have to remember that leading the Vale is very different than leading Westeros, Rhaenyra. The challenges may be the same in nature but not the same in scale. It is easier to control a few dozen Houses than it is to control hundreds of them. There is no secret, Rhaenyra. As unfair as it is, it is as it is.”
Unfair. Rhaenyra almost laughed at the word.