Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Rhaenyra Targaryen died in one of the most gruesomely horrifying ways a person could, eaten by her usurping cunt of a brother's dragon, her son being forced to watch. 

And yet, even as the pain and fury tore through every inch of her body, she felt something akin to relief at the thought of her life ending. Her grief and rage finally put to eternal rest, in which she would reunite with her beloved children, her mourned husband, and her darling Syrax. The Seven curse her so-called brothers, kinslaying monsters they were, and damn them to all of the Seven Hells, she thought, or maybe screamed, she wasn't certain, but one look at her sweet Aegon, and she knew. There was something, she couldn't articulate what exactly, about a child that knew they were about to lose their parent. A look in their eyes, perhaps, or a stiffening of the posture, maybe even the way they breathed, but Rhaenyra knew in that very instant that her life was over and done with, and her son would forever have to live with having witnessed her, ultimately undignified, demise.

Had she known how her children would end, how her uncle would end, how she herself would end, by the Gods of Old Valyria, she swore she would have done things differently. 

And then...she died. 

She awoke not with a gasp, but a scream, a curse, an expression of utmost, primal rage. Immediately, Ser Criston Cole burst into her chambers, worry plain on a face that was much too young and much too open to belong to a man that had never grown tired of hating her and the children she'd birthed. 

'My Princess, are you alright? Shall I fetch the Maester?' His voice was not frantic, but not calm, either, and he did not seem to be deceitful in his worry for her. But that couldn't be. She recalled, with perfect clarity, her dalliance with him, and how she'd broken his heart when she had refused to trade her crown for the simple life he'd envisioned for the both of them, a dream that Daemon had relentlessly mocked when she'd told him of it one night, not entirely without reason, she'd had to admit. 

Who does he think he is, her uncle had said, that you would throw away your life, your crown, your birthright for him? A fool, that's who. An obsessed, overreaching twat who thinks too highly of himself and too little of you, my sweet wife. And he had been right, on all accounts, Rhaenyra could admit that much. Just as she could admit that she'd been entirely selfish in her pursuit of Ser Cole, knowing full well that he felt more for her than a Sworn Shield ought to for the Princess he was sworn to protect. She'd seduced him, though he'd been not unwilling, eager even, and then used him, knowing that unlike her uncle, he Criston would not deny her. 

It had been admittedly unworthy of her, she thought, staring into his face now, free of the resentment and judgement that she'd come to associate with him in her later years, or the lust and wanting that had been there before. He simply looked... concerned. 

'Princess?' 

She realized she'd perhaps stared at him a tad too long, as he called her again. She shook her head. 'Thank you, Ser Criston,' Gods, her voice was hoarse, 'I simply had... a nightmare. I apologize for startling you. There is no need for a Maester, although if you could remind me of my duties for today, I would be grateful.' 

There, she thought, a perfectly reasonable request, which should help to clarify when exactly I am. For I am certainly not dead or dying any longer. 

Ser Criston eyed her a second more, before straightening himself, the picture of a chivalrous, honorable knight once more. 'Today, Your Highness, after breaking your fast, His Grace wishes for you to attend a meeting of the Small Council, the contents of which I am afraid I am not privy to. Afterwards, your presence is required at the Ladies' Hall, where you must oversee the education of the daughters of the ladies at court, as well as your own dance lessons. Then you will be served a small lunch, and afterwards, you will hear the weekly report of the Head Maidservant of the Royal Household, following which you must meet Septa Marlow, with whom you will be until supper.'

So Alicent is yet to be announced as Father's new wife. The Head Maidservant usually reported to the highest-ranking female of a House, and after Mother's passing, that had been Rhaenyra. Until there was a new Queen, she thought bitterly. Rhaenyra swallowed, the old hurt flaring up again, the betrayal she'd never gotten over even as her former companion's son fed her to his dragon. She shuddered. That would not be happening again. But how to best prevent it? By stopping her father from marrying Alicent, she supposed, she would at least assure that there would be no Aegon to feed anyone to a dragon. No male heir to usurp her own claim, and no one-eyed monstrosity to kill her son and start the war. No strange sister to give the usurper heirs of his own, and no Queen Dowager to be used as a puppet by a Hand who'd gotten too big for his britches. Unless things are already too far along, and she's swayed Father's heart with toys and trinkets. She cursed herself for not remembering how things had gone the first time - because she refused to believe that all this was simply a dying fever-dream - and wished she had kept a written record of all happenings at court, all the meetings she was required to attend as the lack of a Queen forced the Princess to take up some of her duties. But she hadn't, and had often shirked those duties, feeling too little like she had any right to them, when she could still clearly remember how her mother had performed them with grace and poise, despite her ever-weakening body.

'Unless my Princess once again decides that she would rather ride her dragon in the afternoon, as she is sometimes wont to.' Ser Criston's voice returned her to the present like a splash of cool water to the face, and, despite all, Rhaenyra couldn't help her chuckle. She'd missed this, the easy camaraderie she'd shared with the Dornishman, the friendship she'd forsaken, unaware that he'd taken their dalliance far more seriously than she had. 'Thank you, Ser. You may leave me now.' She gifted him a smile, and saw with satisfaction that he didn't attempt to contradict her. He bowed and turned, his white cloak swishing behind him, and exited her chambers, leaving her alone with her thoughts racing. 

Standing from her bed, she opened the windows, breathing in the air of King's Landing, as polluted as the minds of its inhabitants, unfamiliar to her after years spent on Dragonstone, her hand on her belly, lacking the tell-tale softness that all mothers had there, and took a moment to mourn the life that would never again be.

When the maids knocked on her chamber doors half a bell later to help her start her day, she was ready. 

Chapter Text

Looking into the mirror, Rhaenyra fought the urge to tear her dress off her body. It had been her favorite, once upon a time. 

No wonder no one took me seriously. I look like a child. With her hair in a simple braid, her jewelry almost non-existent, and her yellow dress plain, she hardly cut the image of the Heir to the Iron Throne. She would have to fix that, and soon. She'd underestimated the importance of appearances before, too assured of her birthright and her father's insistence that rumors were beneath them and of no consequence, and had paid the price. 

The Whore Queen, The Cunt of Dragonstone, they'd called her behind her back, taking every excuse to abandon their vows of fealty and support her drunkard brother and his oh-so pious mother. Traitors, all of them. But not yet, she reminded herself. I have not blundered yet, not given them what they would insist is reason to betray the Realm. And I shall not. Not this time. 

She gave her maids a warm smile. 'Thank you for your work, Roslyn, Sara.' The girls, one with rich auburn hair and the other with ebony tresses, blushed and curtsied, insisting it had been no trouble, they were pleased to have pleased her. Rhaenyra smiled once more, abruptly missing the maidservants she'd had on Dragonstone, and how she'd been able to rely on their loyalty and silence - something she could not yet do with these two. She would need servants she could depend on, both to witness what she wished them to and to turn a blind eye on what she commanded, as Jocelyn and Marigold had. 

Turning a critical eye on the mirror again, she commanded, 'Roslyn, I would like you to go to the Royal Seamstress and tell her to come to the Ladies' Hall before my dance lessons. It is well past time for me to have new gowns made, more fitting for my status. We shall also summon the best jewelers of King's Landing, as my own collection is sorely lacking. Bring Queen Aemma's jewelry -,' at this, she had to swallow, the pain fresh even after a whole life lived, the loss of her mother unforgotten. 'I wish to see them.' Roslyn chanced a quick glance at the princess' face in concern, but averted her eyes just as quickly, mindful of her station. Rhaenyra gave her a look of approval.

'Sara,' she addressed the other girl, 'you will go to my mother's former maidservants and tell them I wish to speak with them on the morrow.' Her mother's servants had come with her from the Vale, when she'd left to marry then-prince Viserys, and had been unfailingly loyal to her. They'd enjoyed the Queen's full confidence, but had been shuffled around various Ladies of the Court after her... untimely passing. They had hand-picked Rhaenyra's own maids, at her mother's behest, and she ought to have taken care of them, but last time around, she'd been too self-involved to think of them. 

She'd been pathetic. Not at all the Heir she should have been, she could admit that now. Too absorbed in her own grief to think of the consequences of her actions, insisting on her rank and blood when questioned, as the men around her had done all her life, and in doing so, she'd helped to lay the foundation of her own downfall, yet proclaimed herself infallible. How foolish. She'd had no idea of the alliances she could have forged, both for her own gain or the loss of others, the cards she could have played which she'd failed to realize she held, the favors she could have bestowed, debts to be collected at her leisure. That would change. 

'Once I return from my duties in the evening, I'd like you to have a hot bath waiting for me, as well as a light supper.' Both maids curtsied and left quietly and quickly, a quality she appreciated. She would need peace and quiet to work out a detailed plan, not only to marry Daemon early this time around, but to keep Otto Hightower from leeching on the King until he perished and the Kingdom until it burned for their sins, his as well as hers. She would see him removed either from power or this plane of existence, whichever was more advantageous, and in his place would push for Lord Strong, who had, as she recalled, been a trustworthy, steady Hand, focused on the good of the Realm rather than his own greed. She would sooner see Daemon with the Badge, yet she doubted that her father would make him Hand merely because she advised him to - rather, she figured, father would insist that Daemon had manipulated her into furthering his own ends, never seeing him for the loyal brother he was, only the Rogue Prince he wanted everyone to see and fear.   

But those were concerns for later. For now, she had a council meeting to attend. With one more look into the mirror, and a clearer plan than she'd had a mere bell before, she turned and left her chambers, Ser Criston following in her wake, the faithful protector he'd once been with her once more.

The Small Council had always seemed more of a bother to the King than a group of advisors, in her opinion. They performed their duties, some well, some less so, and some were only allowed to partake still because they'd been there since before her father had been chosen to take the throne. Rhaenyra had never cultivated any particularly close relationships with any of them, save for Lords Beesbury, the Master of Coin, and Westerling, the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, whom she'd been cordial with, and who'd been loyal to her even when it had been detrimental to them. Grandmaester Runciter had, as far as she knew, been loyal to the Realm, and after his death, been replaced first with Mellos and then Orwyle, both of whom had been Hightower men through and through, despite the Citadel's claims that all Maesters renounced their families and loyalties to such when they began to forge their chains. 

Lord Lyonel Strong, she would like to claim, was someone she could trust, but the truth of the matter was that as of now, she didn't truly know the man, or his son. Sons, she corrected herself. Not only her dearest gentle Harwin, but also his kinslaying cunt of a brother, Larys, were yet to become part of life at Court, and wouldn't for some time. The father of her three eldest sweet boys was still safe at Harrenhal. A pang went through her heart.

In order to claim the throne and keep it, I cannot beget children from anyone but my Lord Husband, Rhaenyra thought. And this time, I shall have Daemon by my side from the very beginning, as he always should have been. We were always meant to burn together. He had been her fiercest, craftiest, her most loyal and devoted supporter, and had died to avenge her unjustly murdered son, her darling Lucerys, whose sweet smile and shy demeanor she missed still. She would never have him back. 

His life, and Jacaerys', and Joffrey's, had been shaped by happenings far beyond their control and fault, and she'd always carried guilt for that. Not for having them, raising them, loving them, oh no, never for that. But for knowingly bringing them into a world full of hateful hypocrites who would attack her innocent children because they didn't dare to attack her, not under Father's nose. She wanted to burn them, and she had, later, when the war couldn't be stopped anymore, after Aemond, her so-called brother, had gone too far. 

But now, all of that could be avoided. 

Rhaenyra simply had to convince her father of what the entire Realm had known: Laena Velaryon was the worthier match, the match that would strenghten the throne. The Velaryons were priceless allies, especially in times during which dragons were in short supply. House Targaryen had two, Syrax and Caraxes, and House Velaryon, so far, matched that number with Seasmoke and Meleys, but soon enough, Rhaenyra knew, Vhagar would choose Laena as her rider, and the world's fiercest, oldest dragon would belong to them as well, and even though Caraxes had triumphed over Vhagar, he had died of the wounds sustained, and therefore it could not be risked to alienate them again.

She took her place a step behind her father's seat, Cupbearer to the King - another thing that would have to change. She was the Heir, now, and therefore needed to be treated as such, especially in front of a council which still only regarded her as an over-indulged girl. She was, in essence, only allowed to be in the council chamber as a servant, and so, knowingly or not, they saw her as such - as lesser. She hadn't understood that, back then, had thought that her father, clever and loving as he was, had outsmarted his advisors and found a way for his daughter to claim a space in an environment women were usually forbidden from. In truth, her father had, without meaning to, degraded her from Princess to servant, and never elevated her formally, as he should have done. 

So lost was she in her musings, she almost visibly startled when the chamber doors opened for Alicent Hightower, beautiful in one of her late mother's finest dresses, her auburn curls cascading down her back in the style she favored, hands clasped demurely in front of her, the sight as familiar to Rhaenyra as her own image, and yet just as foreign. 

'-as my wife.' The King announced, the same way he had the last time, to the shock of all gathered, but especially Corlys Velaryon, whose daughter had been the favored candidate of most of the other lords of the council. His eyes narrowed, and nostrils flared, and Rhaenyra saw the next few minutes play out before her inner eye - the indignant rage of a father whose daughter had been scorned for the daughter of a second branch of a family that was about as Valyrian as the Faith of the Seven, a husband whose wife had been snubbed of the throne that should have been hers, a Lord who had been insulted by his sovereign in front of the most influential men in the Realm. A man who, once again, saw his family, the ones he held most dear, be robbed of what ought to belong to them. A man who feared to be forgotten, his bloodline becoming unimportant, his name only a footnote in history, rather than a cornerstone. 

Should she allow things to proceed the way they had before? This was a turning point in history, a crossroads of sorts. One path, she'd already walked, and it had lead to isolation, a brothel, and a bloodied wedding to her cousin Laenor. The others, she had not seen, for she had not thought to look for them. Paths where she kept Alicent close, and with her, a piece in the Game she had tossed aside originally, unaware that the mummer that played her had been hoping for precisely that - a chance to sever their bond, and make Alicent his creature wholly, without allies of her own, easily manipulated and easily silenced.

So, before she had even fully realized it, the princess spoke. 'As His Grace's Heir, allow me to be the first to congratulate you both on the joining of your lives and our great Houses in holy matrimony, Father, Lady Alicent. May your union be blessed,' as I full well know it will be, 'and your joy unending.

My dear friend,' she addressed Alicent directly, pointedly ignoring both her obvious yet pleased surprise and Otto Hightower's disapproval with relish, 'I will admit I did not anticipate this,' and neither did anybody else save for your dearest father, 'but I am certain that you will make for a gentle, compassionate Queen, following my Mother's example.' You are sworn to me! Rang in her ears, the blade in Alicent's hand glinting mercilessly, itching for her son's blood. Bring me his eye! 

She looked Alicent straight in the eye, unflinching and secretly pleased by the hesitant, relieved smile that bloomed on her face at her words. Turning slightly, she faced Corlys Velaryon, and took another step on the unwalked path. 'I would also like to offer you my apologies, Lord Velaryon, and, if not an appeasement, an equitable compromise: I would betroth my firstborn child, male or female, who will inherit the throne after me, to one of your children's children of the appropriate sex and age,' she emphasized, 'so that their children may share, once again, our Valyrian ancestry between them. I would ask you to take this proposition into consideration, and continue to grace us with your presence, as I must confess, I have greatly benefited from the Princess Rhaenys' wise counsel these past few weeks, and would like to deepen my relationship not only with her but also you, and my cousins, whom I do not know as well as I should.' 

Try as he might to deny it, Rhaenyra had known her goodfather well. He was a proud, easily insulted man, but also a politically savvy Lord, who had enough support from not only his own House, but also a great many others, to rise armies in his wife's name, and a fleet any seasoned admiral would think twice of attacking. His was the greatest naval force in Westeros, the Ironborn's notwithstanding, and he was well aware of that. Just as he was aware that directly refusing her, the Heir, and as such, her father the King directly after she'd presented an equivalent offer, would not do anything for him but make him look as though he felt entitled to make the King's decisions for him.

She saw Corlys' eyes narrow, his gaze like a blade, and refused to be cowed. She kept her shoulders back and head high, every inch of her portraying certainty and poise. The future Queen. All the same, there was no way her former goodfather would accept her offer so quickly, too wary of seeming desperate, too used to being slighted, whether truly or imagined, but that was not her true aim. She wished to plant the seed of their future alliance in his mind, to embed in him the fact that when Viserys had given him nothing but empty promises, Rhaenyra had given him a concrete offer, a way for his blood to one day sit the Iron Throne, the only way it could be achieved by any Lord of the Realm: marrying one of their children into the House of the Dragon. 

For Rhaenyra would never wed Laenor, nor would Daemon wed Laena, but their firstborn child would marry Leana's. She would ensure such, especially since Laenor wouldn't have any children, not trueborn ones at least, so it would be Laena's offspring who would carry the Velaryon bloodline one day. Perhaps Rhaenyra would even be able to make a match for one of her own daughters to become the future Lady of the Tides, as she was certain that Laenor would name one of his sister's children as Heir to Driftmark. Should he not decide that on his own, she could always nudge him to - at the very least - consider it. She would rather not think of her unborn children as bargaining chips, but that was a compromise she had to make, a change she had to chance, for the alternative was too terrible to bear. 

'I shall take your offer into consideration, Princess Rhaenyra.' The Lord of the Tides said, his voice as stormy as the shores of Driftmark. His eyes were alight with suspicion, but also calculation, clearly deciding to err on the side of caution as a new player emerged where before there had only been a piece. 'As for the King's choice in wife, I shall refrain from saying anything other than this: You have gravely insulted not only my daughter, but my whole House, King Viserys, and to choose your Hand's daughter rather than mine is a decision I cannot support.' Corlys' words were measured, weighed, now, not the angered bellow from her other life, tempered as he seemed to be by her proposal. But it was what he said next that could only be seen as a clear line in the sand, a declaration of support, almost: 'In deference to your wishes, Princess, I shall consult with my lady wife, and we shall see about obliging you, Lady Heir. I will inform the Crown of our decision by nightfall. Your Grace, my lords, Princess.' Taking his leave, Lord Corlys Velaryon gave her father a short bow, the lords a glance, and her - a nod, more acknowledgement than he had for the council members, including the Hand. 

Otto Hightower forced a smile, his triumph cut short, and bid the gathered lords to begin the preparations for the royal wedding. 

Rhaenyra met her father's eyes with a turn of her head, having stepped up to his side from her position a step behind his chair unconsciously. He looked as though he had not truly seen her before this day, and silently, she conceded he hadn't. Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen had risen from the ashes of King Viserys, and she found that she could not regress to the little girl that had been so easily hurt by her best friend's betrayal, her father's lies, her uncle's abandonment.

She was the Heir to the Iron Throne, and it was time for every member of the Court to not only know, but to respect that.

Chapter Text

The council meeting went on as boringly as always following Corlys Velaryon's dramatic exit, save for the long looks her father kept casting her, the long looks Alicent kept casting her, and the long looks Otto fucking Hightower kept casting her. Each gaze was heavy with intent, each caster pulling her attention, and each look was met with calm serenity, which satisfied her father, mystified her so-called friend, and infuriated the cunt of a Hand. 

All in all, it pleased Rhaenyra. Just as it pleased her when the deluge of congratulations to King Viserys and soon-to-be-Queen Alicent finally gave way to the actual upkeep of the Realm, a field that she would need to give her whole attention to. The politics of governing had not drawn her interest much, too preoccupied was she with matters of the heart, both familial and romantic. Her father had been right, to call her a child still, though in not so many words, when she'd first refused to marry at all, and then refused to marry any of the potential, worthy suitors who'd wished to win her hand, each of them bringing, if not admirable qualities or a noble character, impeccable breeding and potential alliances. 

Still, few Houses were actually likely to strengthen her claim, as most would simply seek to control the throne through her, or put her firstborn on the throne instead of her and claim regency until the child was old enough to rule on their own, doing away with her quietly, or killing her for a son, like her mother had been killed. Queen, commoner, or whore, every woman was the same in the birthing bed: vulnerable, and closer to death than life, utterly dependent on the mercy and skill of the midwives and maester around her. 

They hadn't saved her mother. No, they had held her down and cut her open, on her father's command, to save the precious male babe he'd so desperately wanted, desired so very intensely that he'd murdered the woman he claimed to love over it. And the Gods had punished him for that, by taking the babe from him, and yet, here he was, about to marry another, a child at that. Because, at a mere ten-and-five, Alicent was just as much a girl, physically at least, as Rhaenyra herself was. And her father was going to get her with child. 

Unless Rhaenyra prevented it.

In her past life, she'd underestimated just how far Viserys was willing to go for her, how voraciously he'd defend her, until he'd more crawled than walked to the Iron Throne when Luke's claim to the Driftmark Throne was questioned by Vaemond Velaryon. Once that vermin had called Rhaenyra's children bastards, and her a whore, Viserys' strength had returned to his withered limbs, a dragon for once, and he'd been about to claim the traitor's tongue himself, had Daemon not ended his life then and there. She'd been awash with love and gratitude for the both of them, united in their desire to protect her, and had known her father's love was limitless and fierce, in that moment, when before she'd doubted its existence some days.

But the king had always been more receptive to gentle persuasion than blunt declarations. Force would do her no good in this circumstance. Luckily, she was not Daemon, and therefore, violence was neither her first, nor her only, answer. No, this required a more delicate touch. 

'Father, may we speak in private, after this?' She made sure to keep her voice soft, almost hesitant, her posture open and gaze non-challenging. The picture of the demure daughter she'd so rarely cut in her youth, and was as such unusual enough to warrant the king's full attention. 

'Of course, Rhaenyra. We have much to discuss.' He agreed quietly, not disturbing the Lords who were by now preparing to end the council session, kept merely by their curiosity in the princess' continued calm in face of Otto's oh-so triumphant smile, carefully understated though it was, anticipating some comment or reaction beyond what she'd offered so far. She understood. It wasn't her habit to control her emotions, to not let them overrule her reason, at least not yet. Soon enough, they would come to expect levelheadedness from their Named Heir, and look to her for guidance in turbulent times. 

She would dismantle Otto's hold on the Realm, bit by bit, and pry his grip from the King. She might not be able to do the same for Alicent, but the Hand would never gain as much influence over the Queen's children as he had in her past life. 

If they even come into being.

The thought came with startling clarity, and its own set of questions. For one: Would killing Alicent's children, in the womb or otherwise, have any positive effect on Rhaenyra, other than removing the threat of them? The Lords of the Realm had not hesitated to betray her for a drunkard raper, it was true, but she did not doubt that, should Alicent fail to bear children, her father wouldn't hesitate to bring every maester the citadel had to the Red Keep, most likely with full approval from the King, who would then report that the Queen had been prevented from carrying the fruits of her womb to term by the work of mortals, rather than the Gods', and with that, the accusations would start flying. Rhaenyra would be the first, most obvious suspect, and Otto would not hesitate to have her good name smeared once more, the King's protection be damned, and the Lords would, once more, have a convenient excuse to abandon their vows, for what righteous, honorable, gods-fearing man could, with a clear conscious, support a beast in human form, a murderer of children? A kinslayer? 

No, for now, she could not risk it. She could not allow any suspicion to be cast upon herself, not when she ultimately wielded very little power in truth. On paper, she was one of the most powerful people in Westeros: The first-born child of King Viserys, First of His Name, Named Heir to the Iron Throne, Princess of Dragonstone, Rider of Syrax. In reality, she was often brushed aside in favor of the second son of House Hightower, who'd been spreading his influence through the Court and Realm like poison, and would have to be removed the same way: Quietly, slowly, almost without being noticed. 

Just like Alicent's future children. 

It was either that, or making certain they were more loyal to their older sister than their Grandsire, more Black than Green.  

She needed time. Time to think, to plan, to get her things in order. Alicent had fallen pregnant quickly after her wedding and birthed a healthy son, to which the Realm rejoiced. Rhaenyra would need to delay the conception of her dearest half-sibling for as long as possible, ideally until she herself was wedded and bedded, continuing the Royal Bloodline with her lord husband, properly this time. 

Daemon would give her that, she was certain of it. 

Of course, she had always known her Uncle wasn't some dashing knight come to solve all her problems for her - though he did solve some of them by sheer force of personality alone. His loyalty to her claim and defense of her birthright had never been in question, not as far as she was concerned. Time had proven her right, and had she listened to him sooner, she may have had her throne rather than her children's corpses. 

He'd always been her staunchest ally, though it had taken him some time to come to grips with that. He'd been determined to wed her, even when the only way to ensure it would happen had been through ruining her reputation so that no other would have her. She'd understood that later, after years and years and explanation after explanation, after they'd both been married to others and lost them in different ways, permanent though they were. 

Had Father simply married them like Daemon had asked, so much pain could have been avoided. 

It will be avoided, she resolved. One way or the other, Rhaenyra and Daemon would be wed, though he would have to take care of his Bronze Bitch once more. But that was a sacrifice both of them were willing to make, she was sure. 

The Lords left, bowing to the King, and Alicent stood to follow after her father. 

'Alicent, would you join me later in the Ladies' Hall? I wish for your opinion on something, only if it is no trouble, of course,' Rhaenyra called. A golden opportunity to get the future Queen alone, but witnessed, by the Ladies of the Court or their daughters, the Princess' and her childhood companion's friendship unbroken in their minds, their public closeness perused with keen but complaisant eyes. 

Another move on the board. 

Alicent gave her another wide-eyed look, most likely utterly bewildered by her uncharacteristic calm. 'Y-yes, of course, I'll be there, don't worry. I'm happy to help,' she was quick to assure, and Rhaenyra graced her with a slight smile in answer. 

Otto Hightower shot her a calculating look, far colder than Corlys' had been, and guided his daughter out the door. 

Her father settled back in his chair, exhaling heavily. 'Well then, go on.' He waved his hand. 'I must admit I didn't expect your support, welcomed though it of course is, but I am not yet foolish enough to mistake it for approval. Out with it.' 

Rhaenyra stared at him, able-bodied and healthy, and fought back the urge to throw herself into his arms and cry. Although perhaps a few tears wouldn't go amiss. 

'She is' - was - 'my best friend. This wasn't a spur of the moment decision. How long have you been seeing her? Why are you marrying her and not Laena, or literally any other noble Lady the kingdom has to offer? Why her?!' It burst out of her unexpectedly, her control over her emotions perhaps not quite as impeccable as she'd wanted to believe. 'There were so many other options, but you choose her, weeks after my mother, your wife, died giving birth to the son you so wanted! You barely gave me time to mourn before telling me you needed more children, spares to the throne in case some ill befell me, but father, did it have to be Alicent?' 

'Rhaenyra-,' he tried, but she kept on, unable to stop now that she had started. Unplanned or not, there was an opportunity here, she thought, one she would exploit mercilessly, even if she had to make her father look upon that which he did not wish to see. No one had asked her whether she wanted to see her best friend grow round with her father's children, but she'd had to look all the same.

'She's my age, father! Would you see me wed now, growing heavy with child, when even the maesters agree that carrying safely before six-and-ten is almost impossible? When mother miscarried for the first time, she was only two-and-ten, and she never recovered from it! But why do I tell you that,' she asked, tears glistening in her eyes, the shock and hurt on her father's face bringing her pain and a sick, twisted satisfaction in equal measure, 'when you cut her open for Bealor, and celebrated his birth at the cost of her death?!' 

'Enough!' His face was ashen, his grip on the armrests of his chair so tight that his knuckles were white. 'That is enough, Rhaenyra.' He took a deep breath. 'I am aware you are furious, but this-'

'No,' she whispered, interrupting him as she knelt next to him, putting her hand over his. She squeezed it softly, and went for the jugular. 'It is not fury I feel. It is fear, father. For my friend, for your heart, and for the siblings I may one day have. I do not wish for them to bear the guilt of knowing their lives came at the expense of their mother's.' She looked him in the eye, allowing him to see the naked vulnerability, the sheer pain the admission caused her, all the self-loathing she felt for her mother's demise. 'Like mine did.' 

Viserys took her by the shoulders, grip firm but not bruising. 'Never, Rhaenyra. You are not responsible for you mother's death. She loved you with every fiber of her being, you have to know that. She was just as grateful that you lived as I was.' 

'If I had been a son, you would have let her rest,' she admitted in a whisper. 'I always carried shame for that. Had I been born a son, mother would still be with us, and you would not need to wed a child, one who is' - was - 'so very dear to me.' Rhaenyra closed her eyes, her father's clear anguish over her confession bearing down on her like a dragon's flame. 'I do not wish for Alicent to share mother's fate, father. Please don't make it so.' 

He looked at her helplessly, his weeping daughter, the Father warring with the King, and said in a choked voice, 'The announcement has been made, and the realm needs a new queen, Rhaenyra, you know this-' 

'Yes, I do,' she interrupted, not allowing him to end their conversation with meaningless excuses, as she so often had, 'and I do not deny the need, but father, I am asking, I will beg if you wish me to, wait for a while, a year, at least, until Alicent is of age. Not with the wedding, but the consummation, until she can safely carry my younger siblings to term, and not perish from doing so. Until she can fight her way out of the birthing bed, and stand beside us without either of us having to fear for her life, like we did with mother. Please, father, I beg of you. Wait just a little while.' 

Viserys looked down on her silently for a long while, the echoes of her impassioned plea in his ears. She looked back, trying to clear her lashes of the tears that still clung to them until he lifted his hands to wipe her face dry as he'd not done since she was a small child. 'A year, then. Until it is safe.' 

She grabbed his hands and kissed them. 'Thank you, Father.'

Alicent had bleeding fingers again. 

The sight was so familiar, such a clear indication of her guilt, that Rhaenyra had to grit her teeth and remind herself of sweet Aegon's tear-stained face as to not grab her by the hair and scream into her face You should feel guilty, you fucking traitor! Because of you, my children were murdered! in front of Ser Criston, who was shielding Rhaenyra and blocking Alicent from her at the same time. 

Good man. 

'Rhaenyra, I-,' their gracious future Queen Consort began, but Rhaenyra cut her off with a wave of the hand. 

'Could we perhaps have this conversation in private, Alicent? The weirwood tree, maybe? The walls of the Keep have ears, after all.' Her voice was lowered conspiratorially, but there wasn't even the hint of a smile on her face, giving Alicent pause. Her so-called friend's eyes darted around suspiciously, as though she believed a spy would jump out from behind one of the many tapestries decorating the Keep's walls, and she nodded her acquiescence. 'We could have our luncheon there together, I am needed in the Ladies' Hall. You could join me,' she gave Alicent her best uncertain look, 'if you wish.' 

Her friend seemed caught between her want to give in quickly and not ire her, and her caution which bid her hesitate. 'Yes, you had mentioned that. Although you've never been particularly keen on the Ladies' company.' She settled for a confirmation paired with a reminder of their shared memories. Ever the diplomat, her dearest friend. I remember when we were innocent, Rhaenyra, and you always shirked your duties. Well, two could play that game, and Rhaenyra held better cards. 

She forced a slight chuckle past her lips. 'I wasn't Heir then. The Ladies were always Mother's metier, and I felt as though I was intruding upon her memory by attempting to take her place.' Self-depreciating enough that one might interpret it as a thoughtless dismissal, pointed enough to get her meaning across: Do not be so familiar just yet. I am cross with you, and for good reason. She saw the realization dawn in Alicent's eyes.

Alicent paled, despair clouding her features. She looked so much like the Alicent Rhaenyra remembered from her father's last days that she wanted to strangle her. She wondered how she ought to play this, contemplating the girl before her, so guilt-ridden, so unaware of the game she had been coerced into playing. A game she was a puppet in. But for whom? At this point in time, Alicent was not yet the embittered woman that hid behind piety whilst spreading vile lies about Rhaenyra, her sworn shield always backing her up. She was Otto's piece, yes, but she need not remain so. Given the guilt she carried all her life like a particularly well-loved necklace, the princess could not help but consider that she ought to use this to her advantage. She might never have Alicent as wholly as Otto had, but she could weaken his grip on her, and prevent one of her fiercest opponents from having a mouthpiece in the second wife of the King, the mother of his male children. 

Yes, Alicent's guilt would serve nicely for that. 

As long as Rhaenyra didn't rush. It was one thing with her father - he would listen to Otto Hightower only up to a point, especially when it involved her. She had made the right move by wrangling a promise from him when he'd been susceptible to it. Alicent, however, would need to be coaxed, rather than overwhelmed. She needed to believe that her childhood friend still bore her love, and wished for their bond to remain strong, and she only needed to be patient to be fully forgiven and embraced once more, by the only one who could still see her as Alicent, rather than The Queen. 

Rhaenyra offered her arm and smile. 'Shall we, my friend?'

Chapter Text

'You said you wanted my opinion on something,' Alicent stated, their arms linked and heads together, a common sight around the Red Keep. 'I wonder what for, exactly.'

If not the words themselves, then the intent behind them was certainly Otto's. So suspicious was their loyal Lord Hand, but what of, Rhaenyra simply could not fathom. 

'Dresses, actually.' As though she'd ask Alicent's opinion on anything of true import to her after what had, officially, just been revealed to her. Then again, to a girl of ten-and-five, dresses were important. 'I need to have new gowns made, and the Ladies would doubtlessly only titter about how well every single fabric suits me, regardless of whether or not they do, and I need an opinion I can trust.' The words tasted like ash in her mouth, but made Alicent's lips turn up with hope. 'You must tell me which designs are not appropriate any longer, or not appropriate just yet. I am not quite a woman grown, but I will be soon, and I cannot continue to dress like a child yet expect people to see me as an adult.' Which had been a perfectly acceptable, even desired image in the council chamber, but would no longer serve her as of now. She would need to get wed soon, and the quickest way of altering people's perception of her was to alter her appearance.

'An opinion you can trust, is it?' Of course, her dearest friend would focus on that part. She tried so very hard not to sound cheered by Rhaenyra's wording, but the princess knew her too well.

Gods, how had she ever thought Alicent to be a player of the Game? She'd never had the disposition for it, easily pulled this way and that, never uttering a word that wasn't at the behest of another, be it her father, her husband, or Rhaenyra, a long time ago. Except for that night at Driftmark, when she'd demanded sweet Lucerys' eye as compensation for her wretched son's. As though the boy had not intended to bash darling Jacaerys' head in with a rock.

'Naturally. We've been friends for as long as I can remember, and you've not led me astray so far. You've never shied away from telling me if I did something you thought inappropriate.' 

Like seducing one's father with toys when one's mother's ashes had barely scattered in the wind, for example. 

Rhaenyra's eyes widened, and she almost stopped dead in her tracks, the thought anchored in her head like the Velaryon Fleet's flagship at port. Alicent had called her a whore when she herself had been nothing but one, paid with a position and a crown rather than money, but a whore all the same. As far as anyone had known, she'd gone to her wedding night untouched, but that could have been merely because no-one dared to question saintly Alicent Hightower, frequent presence at the Sept, marrying so young and... sudden. 

Like her purity needed to remain unquestioned and indisputable.

Dearest Gods, it was the perfect reasoning. Why else would the King marry the daughter of a second branch of a Great House, who stood to inherit nothing, when he could have had the Lady Laena Velaryon? Her father was known to be an honorable man, one who took responsibility for his actions. In all the years he and Aemma had been married, he had not gotten a bastard on any woman, nor lain with one who wasn't his wife, save for a few follies in his youth, shared with his brother. 

But for a child, or even the possibility of one, even a King could be persuaded to take actions against his own best interest. 

Naturally, Rhaenyra knew better. Viserys would never have conceded to her plea had there been the slightest possibility Alicent was already in changed circumstances. Alicent had been as untouched as freshly fallen snow on her wedding night, and had not conceived Aegon until about three moons into her marriage. However, as far as the Court and Kingdom knew, their future Queen could be in waiting even now, and anxious for her marriage to be consummated officially. Which would neatly explain the oh-so-sudden, unforeseen announcement the King had made about his choice in second wife.

Rhaenyra wanted to laugh. 

'You must understand that I never wanted you to find out this way,' Alicent said, apropos of nothing, 'I wished to tell you so many times, but...'

'You were a coward?' Rhaenyra finished her sentence, her tongue sharp as always. She wanted to level her accusations immediately, but for fuck's sake, she knew she couldn't. Last time, her lack of restraint had torn her apart, quite literally she might add. She wouldn't be so foolish again. Being neither a craven nor a tongue-tied fool had served her well, but at times, she should have known that getting the last word in was not always worth its' consequences. So, she took a deep breathed, and feigned a contrite expression. 'Forgive me. That was unworthy of me, and of you. I know you are no coward, and merely wished to spare my feelings. But Alicent -,' at this, she came to a halt and wound her hands around Alicent's elbows, holding her secure, 'you had to know that not telling me would hurt me also, hurt me worse, arguably. I did not wish to jeopardize your position in the Court from the get-go, but by the Mother, I could have cried hearing the announcement. To know that you kept something so very important from me... I do not know why you didn't trust me with it. Was I such a bad friend to you, did you deem me so fickle, that my affection for you would cease to exist so suddenly, because you tried to take some control over your life?' 

By now, her grip must have hurt, but Alicent did not complain. If anything, she appeared to ground herself in the touch.

'I am not in control of my life.' She whispered. 'Not truly.' 

No, Otto is. He always has been. But he wouldn't always be. Truth be told, Rhaenyra couldn't trust Alicent to run her own life. But the princess would do a fine job of it. Not that the Queen would realize such. 

Rhaenyra moved her hands to engulf Alicent's. 'You can be. You are a formidable woman, Alicent, and you are not alone. You have me, remember?' She quirked her lips into a conspiring smile. 'The both of us have to stick together. Otherwise, the men of the realm will think themselves in control of us, and we cannot have that, can we?' 

Alicent gasped, scandalized. 'Rhaenyra!' 

The princess laughed, bright as the sun streaming through the grand windows of the Keep, and led her dearest friend down the final corridor towards the Ladies' Hall. As the guards at the doors announced them, Rhaenyra turned her head and bid Ser Cole to wait outside. 

'The Ladies' Hall is, I am afraid, the only place in the Red Keep where men are not simply allowed to enter. I must ask that you guard us from behind the door, Ser Criston.' 

Her knight looked distraught at the prospect, but bowed his head, as he ought to when given an order. 'As my Princess commands. No-one shall enter without my Lady's permission.' 

Such loyalty. Come to think of it, until she had drawn him into her bed, he had never entertained a thought above his station, or looked at her in a way that could be construed as inappropriate. 'I am relying on you then, Ser.' He brightened with her words, and she left him standing at his post, Alicent in tow.

The Ladies all stopped their doings the moment the doors closed behind the two of them, dipping into curtsies, bowing their heads, murmuring 'Your Highness' or 'Princess' with varying levels of surprise, clearly not having expected her presence. Understandable, as she'd nary been seen interacting with any courtier save the Lady Alicent for years. 

'My Ladies. It has been a while, but I hope you will forgive me my unsteadiness these past few weeks. I have been remiss in my duties towards you, and for this, I offer you my sincerest apologies. Our Queen's death has shaken me to my core, and while that is an explanation, there is no excuse for my lack of focus and attention to you. I am your Princess, and for now, the Highest Lady of Court, until my father the King marries once more. As such, I hereby assume my responsibilities, and swear to uphold the standard of care and education provided for every noble girl at court, as well as maintaining my mother's good relations with your own highborn selves. I hope we can all, rather than simply maintain the status quo, grow beyond it, and pull from this bleak time a glimmer of a brighter future, for all of us and our Houses.' She looked into each and every face in the hall, and carefully cataloged which of them looked only politely interested in her short speech, and which of them truly understood the meaning behind her words: I have come to make alliances, and you are all invited to plead your cases. None here is unworthy, and stand to gain the first Ruling Queen's favor. And yet, all stand to lose it, should you blunder. She saw the realization behind many eyes, and gave them a regal nod. 'You may continue your doings, do not let me disturb you.'

They took it for the dismissal it was, though many shot her shrewd looks. She fought not to preen under them, pulling Alicent along with her onto the dance floor. 

The Ladies' Hall was designed to be both a place of education as well as socializing. As such, it boasted not only elegantly carved tables, cushions of the finest silk, and laces from across the Narrow Sea, but also a small library, a perfectly polished dance floor, and its own female staff to offer all education on their subject of interest. Often, bards would beg to be allowed into the Hall to entertain the ladies with their songs, but the only music heard here was played by the ladies themselves.

Every noble girl and woman at court was welcome, and no man save an announcer was allowed entry. Even the King could not simply walk in, Queen Visenya had seen to that, and as such, the Hall was in essence a council chamber for the women in all but name. They could freely discuss their husbands, lands, and estates, trade gossip and favors. A vipers nest, for those who recognized it for what it was, a respite for those who did not. Aemma hadn't wanted Rhaenyra there, and she understood why. Her personality and disregard for some social norms would not have served her well here, and while the women themselves would not have said anything to their princess or queen, they would have influenced their husbands, the Lords of the Realm, away from her. She had never even thought about such the last time. 

She would meet her dance instructor in the Ballroom later, but for now, she pulled Alicent close, intent on swaying with her until the seamstress arrived, keeping her away from those that could have become her allies. 

She would have to give her maidservants a raise, she thought, as they served her and Alicent a lunch of fowl and roasted vegetables, pig braised in honey and mead, and a truly spectacular fruit platter along with rich Dornish wine right under the weirwood tree. It was a preference Rhaenyra had cultivated under Daemon's tutelage on Dragonstone after they'd married. She also quite enjoyed sweet Arbour gold, but indulged herself with this reminder of better times. 

'Thank you both, you may leave us for now.' They dipped into curtsies and left quietly to await being called upon once more. At least, that's what Rhaenyra thought they did. She had no actual idea what servants did when they weren't serving, though it probably wasn't a bad idea to find out.

Ser Cole, although standing a few paces from them with his hand on the hilt of his sword, was, just so, close enough to hear their conversation, should he strain his ears. Not that Rhaenyra would ever expect a Knight of the Kingsguard, her sworn Shield at that, to do such a disrespectable thing. 

They chatted politely about Rhaenyra's fitting - which had been accompanied by precisely the titters she'd despaired of - as well as her dance lessons - which had gone a whole lot better now that she had some experience with an actually talented dancer, Daemon was quite partial to a heated dance with her - until Alicent finally tired of inconsequential chatter. 

'We're not in the Keep anymore, Rhaenyra. And frankly, I cannot stand this false camaraderie.' Rhaenyra opened her mouth to protest, but was cut off by Alicent's agitated voice. 'No, do not deny it, I am no fool. You are cross with me, rightly so, I admit. Just...' She took a deep breath, visibly steeling herself. 'Tell me what I must do to earn back your trust.' Her eyes were wide and earnest, the wet sheen over them almost succeeding in inducing guilt in her. She could have slapped her. The open vulnerability Alicent wore like armor had long lost its effect on Rhaenyra, and would not sway her now.

She tilted her head slightly, sharpening her gaze, watching as Alicent squared her shoulders in preparation of an attack. 

Rhaenyra, as Alicent knew her, used her words as a battering ram, brutal and obvious. She would not be expecting them to be poison instead, almost unnoticeable yet impossible to escape.

'I am cross,' she admitted, 'but we already established that. More than, I am hurt. You lied to my face for weeks, Alicent. I confided in you my feelings towards my mother's horrific death, my fears of ending the same way, not to mention my distaste towards my father for searching for a new bride so soon, while all the while, you were the one he was seemingly intent on marrying! I do not understand why-'

She took a breath as if to gather herself, and looked at her dearest friend. 'Why you would both lie to me, when you claim to love me.' 

She could almost hear the sound of Alicent's heart breaking, and hoped fervently that it hurt. 'I do love you, Rhaenyra. You must know this.'

'Perhaps that is why this hurts so much, then. Because you love me, yet do not trust my love for you in turn. You thought I would turn away from you, did you not? Else, you would have come to me.' 

Rhaenyra widened her eyes and snapped her head up towards Alicent, startling her. 'Unless you couldn't. Unless you feared for more than our friendship.' She directed her gaze at Alicent's flat belly. 'Unless you were - are - protecting something... precious to you.' 

Alicent's mouth gaped open as she struggled to find words to deny her accusation. 

'Did my father... Ali, did my father-,' she lowered her voice as she leant forward, creating a false air of intimacy around them, 'did he... make you?' 

'No!' It burst out of her loud and unrestrained, and would have doubtlessly forced the attention of everyone in their proximity had they still been in the corridors of the Keep. Her eyes were wide and desperate as they bore into Rhaenyra's own. 'He would never do such a thing, Rhaenyra, that's your father we are talking about, our king!'

Rhaenyra wanted to laugh. Got you. 

'But then...why would he marry you instead of my cousin Laena? He is an honorable man, and would take responsibility for any of his wrongdoings.' As if. He'd done plenty of wrongs, and never apologized for any of them, much like herself. Like father like daughter, it seemed. 'If he did not force you, then-' She stared at Alicent's dress as if seeing it for the first time. 'You've never worn this dress before.' It had been the Lady Hightower's favorite gown, refitted to be worn by her child daughter. 'He did not come to you, did he? So you went to him instead.' 

The tears in Alicent's eyes spilled over. 'Rhaenyra-' 

But she again found she could not stop herself. 'Alicent, please tell me it's not true. Tell me I'm making things up, tell me I'm delusional. Tell me that my best friend did not seduce my father behind my back.' 

'That is- a - a vile accusation-' 

'Alicent,' she let her voice break deliberately, 'please. Be honest with me. If you are... in a compromised position I can aid you. I can procure tea, if necessary-' 

'He never touched me, this I swear on the Seven, Rhaenyra, how could you believe that he would... that I would-?'

She grabbed Alicent's hands over the table. 'I don't, can't you see that? I know you, Alicent, I've known you all my life. You would never do anything to sully your virtue, I know that. But at the same time... I love you, but why would he marry you instead of Laena otherwise?' 

'I-' Alicent's voice choked off into a sob.

Just a little more, Rhaenyra thought. She's dying to confess her sin. Don't be shy, tell your best friend. 

'I don't understand, Ali. Help me understand. I do not wish to bear sorrow in my heart over this. Not toward you.' For it was rage she carried there, and it would not be snuffed out. 

'Father bid me,' she whispered, defeated, yet relief colored her voice. 'He said that the realm needed a new queen, and that I would fit the role. He did not dishonor me, Rhaenyra, you must believe that. I did go to his chambers, I did speak with him for hours, but that is all. We only ever talked, I promise. On my mother's memory, I swear it.' 

For a moment, Rhaenyra felt the ground under her tilt. She had used almost those exact same words a lifetime ago, when she'd lied about her virginity to Alicent. Oh how the tables have turned. She forced herself to exhale calmly. This was progress, she reminded herself. As long as Alicent was on the back foot, but not backed into a corner, she was not a threat, but a pawn. There was no need to feel guilty for the anguish in her voice or the tears on her cheeks. 

There wasn't.

Chapter Text

Her skirts swished behind her as she briskly walked through the various hallways in the Keep, Alicent's tear-strained voice echoing in the back of her head, rage and dismay warring over her heart.

Rage over the fact that Alicent dared to plead her forgiveness when Rhaenyra herself had never received any such thing from her, for things that truly hadn't been any of the Queen's business. Dismay over the fact that, for a brief second, she'd contemplated granting it to her. 

Your children died because of that girl and her father. You died because of that girl and her father.

The sheer audacity that girl had. Father bid me. While Rhaenyra did not doubt for even an instant that Otto had, indeed, set his daughter on the desperate king, that alone did not absolve Alicent of guilt. No matter how often she went to the sept, no matter how many candles she lit, no matter how fervently she prayed, the simple facts remained the same: She had been the one to don her dresses and jewelry, to walk across the Keep, to knock on Rhaeynra's father's doors and talk with him for hours, day after day, until he'd decided to wed her. It was Alicent who had decided not to tell Rhaenyra about it, and while her father was guilty of the same, he at least had the excuse of grief clouding his mind. 

She had done horrible things when she'd grieved the losses of her children.

Then again, the circumstances were quite different. She couldn't keep on excusing her father's bad decisions simply because she bore him love. It would be their ruin.

'My Princess,' Ser Cole interrupted her thoughts, hesitance coloring his voice as it came from a respectful half-step behind her, 'are you...well?'

Well, Ser Criston, I lost my children, my dragon, and my husband. I lost my allies, crown, and throne. I was murdered by my drunk of a brother. I am in the middle of reliving one of the worst days of my life. I am surrounded by vipers, and there is no one I can confide in, you least of all. I am making one change after the other, yet am afraid to not be changing anything of consequence. From the moment I have woken up, I've done nothing but lie, and to top it all off, I had to listen to dearest Alicent sob her heart out to me as though she has any right to my compassion. Also, I'm missing my appointment with the Head Maidservant.

'I am adequate. I will not lie, today has been trying, but I believe that no matter what, the House of the Dragon must remain united. Seeing as that House will soon include Alicent, and she is already my friend, I see no reason to be unhappy.' Her tone may have been a little subdued, but anything else and Criston would have known her to be lying. He knew her well, damn him. 

'It may not be my place, but Rhaenyra,' the use of her name was, indeed, too familiar to be his place, 'I do not wish to see you so disheartened. If there is anything I can do to aid you, you need only say the word, and it will be done.' 

She wanted to scoff. She'd trusted him once, and he'd betrayed her, turning from her champion to the Hightowers' lapdog, always a barb on the tip of his tongue that would have cost any other their life, only for the Queen and Hand to protect him. How quickly he'd gone from swearing her his loyalty and devotion to cursing her name. She had no more trust to spare, and definitely not for him. 

Of course, no Princess would ever say such a vile thing to her Sworn Sword and Shield, especially since, so far, Ser Cole had been nothing but devoted to his duty. Which is all I shall ever be to him. 

'There is something, now that I think about it,' she said. 'You are diligent in your duty, which has always been a source of great comfort for me. To know that I can rely on you, no matter what, has eased my mind since you were appointed to the Kingsguard. Yet, as all Knights and Guards, you at times hear or witness things that you must keep silent about, as is your duty. Your place is to protect me, not judge my actions, to keep my confidence and obey my orders. Which are the following: You will inquire - delicately - among the Kingsguard which guard my father's chambers about the matters you heard me discuss with the Lady Alicent.'

His eyes widened, clearly understanding what she was asking of him. 'Princess, I assure you, I heard nothing-'

'Of course you did not. But you will inquire all the same.' She gave him a pointed look. 'In doing so, you will aid me.' 

He looked at her, reluctance briefly flashing in his eyes, before his handsome face settled into acceptance, a rueful smile on his lips. He knew she had him. 'I live to serve you, Princess.' 

You do. And you will die serving me.

She graced him with a smile. 'And you do it well, Ser.' 

The Head Maidservant was a dignified woman at least thirty years her senior, accompanied by a worn-out looking assistant holding several scrolls. She was responsible for every single female servant in the Red Keep, from scullery maids to the handmaidens of the Queen herself, and as such, reported directly to Rhaenyra, as she was the highest ranking woman of her House. 

Until the wedding, that is.

But Alicent was not Queen yet and her engagement, suspiciously short though it would be, had not been announced to the Realm as a whole. No ravens had been sent to the High Lords, no proclamation was made by the King to the people. For now, only the small council knew... and Ser Criston Cole, who must have a rather poor impression of darling Alicent after what he couldn't have helped overhear when he'd guarded them during lunch. 

Being the concerned friend she was, Rhaenyra wished to ascertain the truth of Alicent's claims, lest she begin to swell too early counting back from the wedding night, the Crown besmirched. No one wanted an impure whore for a Queen, not that Rhaenyra would ever insinuate such about dearest Alicent, who had taught her how to pray to the Mother while seducing her grieving father.

She raked her gaze over the women in front of her, both dressed in the manner befitting their stations, which was to say: cleanly but not expensively. The assistant had short, clean nails and all her teeth, her hair in a tight braid, while the Head Maidservant wore hers in a low, no-nonsense bun. Their curtsies were flawless, and neither looked her in the eye until she bid them rise.

As far as Rhaenyra was concerned, any time she did not spend securing her claim was time she wasted, and any potential ally she neglected to acknowledge or court was a missed opportunity. The mistake she, and most of the nobles in Westeros, really, save for Daemon, had made, was disregarding the common people. Be they whores, innkeepers, castle guards, or servants - they talked. The only thing that would keep them from doing so was coin, or, ideally, personal loyalty. 

The Head Maidservant was most likely ambivalent about her employers. Aside from the expected integrity of a senior member of the Household Staff, she probably didn't feel any particular way towards who she reported to, doing her job day in and day out regardless of which face greeted her at these weekly meetings. Rhaenyra aimed to change that. Having this woman on her side may not seem like much to most lords in the castle or the realm as a whole, but if she'd learned anything, it was that it was better to have allies you would never need than needing allies you did not have. 

Of course, actually knowing the woman's name would've been helpful. She'd have to ask her mother's handmaidens later.

'My Princess,' the woman began, 'I'm pleased to report that there is nothing specific I must trouble you with. Aside from the matter of budget for the Royal Household for the next month, all is handled.' 

Rhaenyra narrowed her eyes. Something about the almost dismissive way the woman addressed her rankled. She was no longer used to being treated like a child, no expectations of understanding laid at her feet, only a vague sense of being brushed off as inconsequential. She wanted to hiss at the woman to know her place, to treat her Princess and future Queen with the respect those titles commanded, yet forced herself to calm. 

She was no longer that hot-headed woman, who insisted on her rights without thinking of her duties. She would not fault the servant for considering her a child, when, in that woman's mind, Rhaenyra could not be anything but.

Despite her resolve, she frowned at the maidservant's words. The budget for the royal household, as most budgets, wasn't something that Rhaenyra could decide on a whim. She could go over the general expenses -  such as wages - with the other woman, but the approval of the budget was in the hands of the Master of Coin, not hers. Any additional expenses could only be approved by him, the Lord Hand, or the King. Named Heir or not, her influence in this matter was, as of yet, limited. 

Then again, if one was trying to gauge the Princess' steadfastness of support for, say, one's soon-to-be-married daughter using one of aforementioned usually disregarded commoners, bringing up the budget for the month additional expenses in form of feasts thrown in honor of said daughter might arise was a clever move. 

Well played, Lord Hand. And so quick you were about it, too. But don't go toasting yourself just yet. 

'But of course, my trust in you on the matters of the Household is absolute. All the same, I wish to familiarize myself with the proper upkeep of a household so large, and therefore need you to provide me with your lists of general matters of upkeep, such as worker's wages, sleeping arrangements, family situations, complaints and suggestions, any and all quarrels or other issues, and, of course, schedules and results of inspections, as well as inventory. Not every minute detail, of course, but certainly a general summary of all your duties and how you fulfill them. As for the budget, have you brought the lists of usual spendings?' 

The Head Maidservant, to her credit, did not let her irritation at Rhaenyra's demands show. Most of them were nothing but her way of hobbling the woman and keeping her busy. If she worked for Otto, she would need to be replaced by someone more trustworthy. 

Luckily for Rhaenyra, she was meeting with two very trustworthy maidservants this very evening. Ones who held no love for Otto fucking Hightower. 

'Now, shall we begin? I understand that the budget for our household is always kept a bit more generous, but we ought to plan in more this month. As my father the king is considering remarrying, we must be prepared to welcome the new Queen accordingly, and stinting on this matter will simply not do. Should we not need to make use of the additional allotment, we shall distribute the money among the servants and guards evenly.' She fixed her gaze on the assistant, whose eyes noticeably brightened upon her words. 

How unfortunate for you that the King will announce his wedding soon, and the money will be spent on the new Queen. It could drive one to resentment. 

As Princess, she'd had an annual income that had only increased when she'd been made heir. She may give some of her coin to the good servants of the Red Keep, whose loyalty she could... rely on. Otto was not known for his decent treatment of the servants, rather, he was considered one of the worse lords to serve. Not because he raped serving girls, as some did, but rather because he demanded perfection from those serving him. And woe to those who did not meet his exacting standards. Rumor had it he'd crippled a servant for life once, but the Lord Hand had compensated the man generously in return for his quiet resignation from his services.

Rhaenyra herself had often dismissed servants as unimportant, but Daemon had taught her differently. She'd come to appreciate and emulate his way with the people, whose loyalty to him remained long after he had gone from their presence. It had won them King's Landing, and allowed her to finally behead that disloyal cunt of a Hand that had crowned an usurper for no reason other than that he carried Hightower blood. 

She would do it again in time. One way or the other, she would see Otto dead. 

Chapter Text

As her day came to a blessed end, she had her maids prepare tea and cakes in her solar. Her mother's former maids had sometimes had tea with her when she'd been small, indulging their princess with make-believe of a proper gathering of ladies, to gossip and gripe, while she'd been too young to be allowed in the Ladies' Hall. 

It had been all she'd wanted, for a time. To be considered mature enough to walk among the grown-up ladies, yet when she'd finally reached the age where spending time in the Ladies' Hall would've been appropriate, she had developed a distaste for what she'd deemed little more than vapid women wasting their lives stitching and complaining about matters they had no say in. And her mother, wonderful as she'd been, had made no effort to change her mind on the matter, content in leaving her with few companions, and thus, essentially on her own once Alicent had betrayed her, leaving the new Queen in a prime position to usurp her place at Court.

She sighed. It really was no wonder the Hightowers had had such an easy time pitting half the realm against her.

No matter. What was done once must not be repeated unless it benefited her cause. Her choices, small and big, were certain to tear apart the tapestries of fate. She dared the Gods to try and stop her.

Nothing was set in stone, she resolved sitting by her desk as she stared down at the parchment in front of her, ink dripping back into its jar from the tip of her quill while she contemplated the exact wording of the letter she'd been trying to write for the past quarter bell. Writing had never come easily to her, preferring face-to-face conversations where she could steer her interlocutor in the direction she wanted their talk to go, where she could deny or embellish aspects of their encounter for absence of the evidence a letter provided. She did not have to be as careful when talking. 

All the same, she began writing.

Lady Rhea, 

I write to you regarding the wedding announcement, which, I am certain, you are rejoiced to hear. The wedding will take place in the Red Keep, and half the Kingdom has been invited. As my uncle's wife, your presence is both expected and not - the Court is aware of your mutual distaste for one another. However, I wish to personally invite you, and hope you will not meet my query with disregard. I look forward to both your answer and to meeting you in person. 

Sincerely,

Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen, Heir to the Iron Throne

Biting her lip, she reread the letter and wondered whether it was too short. Lackluster, perhaps. Many of the lords she'd exchanged letters with in the past had needed at least half a page of mindless, semi-flattering drivel and embellishments to not feel offence at her bluntness, but from what she recalled of the Lady Rhea - which, admittedly, was little - the woman did not enjoy beating around the bush herself, and as such, was certain to, at the very least, not take offence to the brevity of her missive. 

Not that she would send it immediately, of course, but she wanted to be ready once the announcement was made. She had matters of great import to discuss with the Lady Rhea, especially regarding her dearest lord husband. Depending entirely on the good Lady herself, Rhaenyra would either attempt to get her marriage annulled, or end her uncle's wedded bliss more... permanently. 

Technically, there was no need to widow her uncle. Should she be able to persuade her father to see reason, her uncle would be free to marry another, and so would the Lady Rhea. Thinking back on it, she simply could not understand why her father had been so adamant Daemon stay married - it wasn't as though the vows he'd taken before the Seven had kept him faithful. Arguably, not even the vows he'd taken before the Old Gods of Valyria had kept him faithful to her, at least not in the marriage bed. Not that she had any actual proof of his betrayal - and many had tried to discredit the Rogue Prince, deservedly or not. But Daemon had never faltered in his devotion to seeing her sit the Iron Throne. He'd taken her children as his own and loved them the same, he'd raised them, trained them, protected them, and in the end, had died for them. 

There was no ally that could compare. 

He had been her fiercest champion, her most loyal companion, her ardent lover. The blood of the dragon ran thick, and he had protected and served her in any way he could, long before she had been his wife, long before he'd had any obligation to her children. He had seen the enemy from miles away, while her father had closed his eyes and pretended they were all a happy family. As if there was any relation between vipers and dragons. 

This time, there would be no Battle Above the Gods Eye. If she had her way, Vhagar would never be claimed by any of Alicent's runts, and Laena Velaryon would live a long life as Lady of Driftmark.

She could not force Corlys into making Laena his heir, but she would do her utmost to place Laena into a position at Court where taking over High Tide would be like slipping on a glove. Laenor had no taste for duty, though he relished battle, be it for the bloodshed or that keeping the comapny of men that went unquestioned. In Lord Corlys' absence, Princess Rhaenys had effectively ruled from the Driftwood Throne, and she had done a remarkable job, her suitability undeniable.

She wondered if Rhaenys already suspected Laenor, but berated herself for the thought moments later. Laenor was younger than his sister, and therefore must have little interest in the matters of the flesh of yet. But she knew Laenor, and if he ever married, the union would only produce children the way her own with him had: Cheating on one another whenever the need arose, either fully aware of the other's doings or furtively in dark nooks and whispers, both participants trapped, withering away in quiet despair. Perhaps this time around, she could help Laenor spare himself the heartache - once she actually spent a reasonable amount of time with him, in this past-and-present, provided he stayed in King's Landing a while longer. 

'Princess?' Roslyn's voice cut through her musings. 'Your mother's former attendants, Jeyne and Sonia. Shall I lead them to the solar?' Roslyn awaited her answer with a bowed head, once she came up from her curtsy. Which explained why Rhaenyra's quick nod had gone unacknowledged.

'Thank you, I will see to them myself. You may leave for now.' She kept her voice even, not warm, but also not dismissive. 

Another curtsy, and the maidservant took her leave. Roslyn was, generally, quick to obey, and seldom fumbled on the tasks given to her. In time, she would be the servant Rhaenyra relied on most when she needed discreet service - Sara would either be her main source of castle gossip, or become the main provider of such. Rhaenyra would have to get more familiar with the girl's personality first.

Rhaenyra stood and blew out the candles on her desk, leaving her letter in the dark. She would revisit it later. 

'Miss Jeyne, Miss Sonia. I thank you for accepting my invitation, especially since it was so sudden. I am glad you had the time to spare on such short notice.' She approached the servants calmly, her steps measured and quiet. The proper way for a Queen to walk.

Both maidservants, one with greying, braided hair, and the other with two brown buns, dipped into flawless, practiced curtsies. 'Princess, we are honored by your invitation.' It was the older one who spoke, Rhaenyra noted. How predictable. From what she remembered of Jeyne, the woman had a tongue like a rasp, or as much of one as she could have when addressing royalty. 'Still, while we would never deny you, I must admit that it is unheard of for a member of the royal house to invite two servants for tea. You could just as well have summoned us without the biscuits.' 

Rhaenyra allowed herself a genuine smile. Perhaps she had not become as toothless as she'd feared. 'You are just as honest as I remember, Miss Jeyne. You used to tell me that proper princesses put half a teaspoon of honey into their tea at most, and only as an indulgence. I believe you taught me more about etiquette than my septa.' 

Jeyne returned her smile with an uptick of the lip. 'My princess, you mother insisted on your proper education in such matters. She taught you many things herself.' 

'Indeed. Yet the both of you often kept me busy in her rooms when she was bedridden but indulged me in my desire for her company.' Which had happened often, back before Syrax was big enough to be ridden, and before she had fully understood what her mother's always rounded belly and sunken cheeks meant.

'Before you decided to ride your dragon instead of attending lessons.' Jeyne reminded her, recalling just as well as Rhaenyra did that she'd fled the castle as often as possible, and still did, to the best of anyone's knowledge. The woman's eyes were not unkind despite her chiding tone, yet Rhaenyra fought the urge to bristle. Jeyne had known her since birth. She had been unfailingly loyal to the queen. She hoarded a wealth of knowledge, not only of the inner workings of the court, but also of the Vale. Queen Aemma had often exchanged letters with her Arryn kin, and Rhaenyra knew that they had not been burned - she had to secure them before her mother's chambers were cleared out to be prepared for the new queen. House Arryn had supported the Blacks during the Dance, due to their kinship with her, and she intended to tighten those bonds. The Vale was not to be discounted. 

'Before that.' She agreed placidly, staring right into Jeyne's slate eyes. Where in the past, she would have sharply told the servant to mind her place, she now recognized the pain in the old woman's eyes. This was not a battle that needed to be fought.

'We also wish to offer you our condolences, Princess.' The younger maidservant interjected. 'Your mother was a wonderful, gentle woman. And a kind Queen. She will be greatly missed.' Sonia offered, eyes downcast. She shot a sharp look at her companion. 'It is much too late, I know.'

'Not at all. There are few who dare speak my mother's name or invoke her memory since her passing. We are mourning her still, and I believe we always will. Some wounds do not heal, no matter how much time passes.' She felt her throat beginning to close, her nose beginning to itch. Her eyes burned with unshed tears fighting to be spilled, but she refused to allow them. The time for crying was behind her. 'I am grateful to know that there are others who remember her with as much love as I do, and would speak about her with me, when I find myself missing her too much.' 

Sonia's eyes shone with compassion, her arms twitching by her sides as though she had to repress the urge to hug her princess. Rhaenyra felt the warmth of satisfaction curl in her stomach. Sonia would be quick to fold to her inquiries, eager to console her late mistress' grieving daughter, and would pull Jeyne right along. With a serene expression, Rhaenyra swept her hand toward the table. 'Join me in the solar. I would like to hear about your situations, now that my mother has passed. I wish to assure you that the both of you will not be left without recourse, and will be appropriately rewarded for your long and loyal service to the Queen.' 

The two of them followed, Sonia more eagerly than Jeyne, like a sign of things to come.

They would all follow her. From the lowest servant to the highest lord. And she would lead them just as well as any King before her. 

Chapter Text

Whenever Rhaenyra had imagined killing her brothers in the past, she'd fancied drowning Aegon in Dornish strongwine. She'd considered plucking out Aemond's other eye and making him walk through a room filled with wolf holes, and listening to his last gurgling breaths as he choked to death on his own blood. In the end, she'd even planned to make Helaena watch her other children's beheading. She'd wanted to strangle Alicent with that ghastly seven-pointed star necklace she'd taken to wearing in her later years. 

As she sat across from Rhaenys Targaryen, her former mother-in-law, the Queen That Never Was, she briefly wondered if the woman had had similar plans for Rhaenyra herself, back when she thought she and Daemon had murdered her only son. She wagered the answer was yes.

'It has come to my attention that you offered to betroth your firstborn child and heir to one of my as-yet unborn, unconceived grandchildren. A status which they share with your own firstborn. So tell me, Rhaenyra. How exactly did you think you'd convince my husband and myself of such an outlandish proposal?'

She bored her gaze into Rhaenys the same way she had done to Corlys weeks ago at the council, her back straight and chin high. She knew how to carry herself like a Queen, something she had seen others at Court begin to take notice of. Her hair was, while still in the simple styles she'd always favored, noticeably more elaborately done. Instead of wearing only the necklace Daemon had put around her neck, she wore matching earrings and adornments in her hair. Rather than skipping from one place to the next, she walked with measured steps, never too fast or too slow, neither hurrying nor dragging her feet. Rather than rushing past ladies she deemed uninteresting or shallow, she stopped when they curtsied to her and inquired about their welfare, their holdings, their husbands' and offsprings' health. She made it a point to know each and every last one of them by name, knowing full well that some of them wanted little more than the acknowledgement that they, in some small way, were memorable to the Royal House. She had, in a startlingly short amount of time, transformed almost her entire self, from her clothing to the way she behaved, and in turn, others had changed their behavior towards her.

It had also had the unforeseen side effect that Rhaenys had changed from an aloof distant relation that saw her as a naive child to the formidable woman who had once been a contestant for the Iron Throne. Rhaenyra knew that her wording, as well as her snide tone were but the markings of a trap waiting to snap shut around her and leave her bleeding to be pried apart further. Should Rhaenyra respond in kind, she would be deemed immature, her word worthless. Should she show herself to be unable to parry the Princess, she would be branded spineless. Should she respond too harshly, she would be considered hot-headed. But Rhaenyra was wise to Rhaenys' ways.

She took a breath, composing herself subtly, and relaxed her shoulders while keeping her spine straight, making herself appear nonthreatening but not shrinking in on herself. She consciously kept her hands folded, forcing herself not to tug on her fingers as was her wont when nervous, and let her brow smooth out. She kept her gaze firmly on Rhaenys and spoke in an even tone. 

'Your family has been slighted by the Iron Throne thrice now, Princess. First, you were refused the crown. Then, your son was passed over. Now, your daughter has been rejected by the King.' Rhaenys' eyes narrowed, and her nostrils flared, but Rhaenyra forged ahead. Hesitancy had cost her too much already.

'While none can challenge His Grace's decision, I will be honest with you. I did not expect him to announce Lady Alicent. Few did. All the same, the deed is done, and my father will wed her in a few weeks, leaving you, once again, with nothing but empty platitudes, as I'm certain you view them.' The Princess' head inclined slightly towards her, conceding her assessment. 'However, the blood of the dragon runs thick. My firstborn will rule Westeros after me, and I wish for them to keep the line as pure as we may. Your daughter, had King Jaehaerys made a different decision, would have been your heir, as your eldest child. She may not have become queen, but, should you and your husband wish for it, I would support her as Heir to the Driftwood Throne.' A risky play, to be sure, but Rhaenyra knew she couldn't only play it safe. Before long, Laenor's nature would become known to his parents, and they would have a solution, provided by none other than the Crown Princess, at hand. It would force them to closely ally themselves with her, or their line would die out for lack of proper heirs. For Corlys would rather sink High Tide below the waves than allow his brother or his sons to inherit the Driftwood Throne.

'I would join my children to hers without hesitation, and, in doing so, heal the chasm that has grown between not only House Velaryon and House Targaryen, but also between you and father. I wish to see us united, as we should be, Princess Rhaenys. My father may have rebuffed you, but I would not squander such an offer. In fact, I made my own, as you mentioned. Whichever of your children eventually succeeds Lord Corlys, I would wed my Heir to one of their own children, thus joining our Houses as they were in Old Valyria.' 

Rhaenys did not reply immediately, and Rhaenyra was content to allow the silence to settle between them, not hostile but contemplative. The Queen Who Wasn't was clearly mulling over her words, a good sign as far as Rhaenyra was concerned. She was not being dismissed out of hand, nor was her proposal being rejected. 

'Very well, let us say I take you by your word and believe you wish to join our Houses. Why not simply marry my son yourself and settle the matter now?' 

Rhaenys' tone was calm, but her eyes twinkled with triumph, believing she had called Rhaenyra on a bluff, thus allowing her to withdraw from court in an indignant huff and be entirely on the right to do so, having been insulted by King and Heir alike, leaving her and her husband in a prime position for later negotiations regarding political alliances, wielding the slights against them like weapons to force a quick surrender. 

Not today. 

'My father's wedding announcement has the Lords of Westeros scenting blood where there is none, and they come sniffing around the soon-to-be Queen and her father as though they believe it will gain them the King's favor. Already, the Hand is attempting discussion about my womb and who to sell it to, yet, so far, my father has staunchly refused to force me into a match, political or otherwise. I may be of childbearing age, but I have not yet spoken to one prospective husband, nor made any overtures to begin the search for one. Your son is not yet ten years of age, Princess Rhaenys, and Alicent Hightower is on her knees in the sept every day praying for a quick conception and a male babe to supplant my position. Her father is the same, believing that a living son will be enough to sway my father into denouncing me as his heir, and urging him to keep me from the marriage bed for fear of marrying me to a lesser prospect too rashly. The Lord Hand has already alluded that should Alicent bear a son, I should be betrothed to him, and while he has not openly suggested such to the King, I cannot for certain say that His Grace would reject the Hand's proposal.

'I, myself, do not have the freedom to decide who I marry. The King must approve of any match I might fancy to make, and I, as all others, must respect his decision. He may not approve of my own engagement to any Lord any time soon, but he has already agreed to the betrothal I have proposed to you.' 

She reached into her sleeve with a flourish and presented a document stamped with the Royal Seal. 'He has put his explicit agreement and approval of this in writing, should you require proof.'

Try as she might to appear detached from the matter at hand, Rhaenys' quick reach for the piece of parchment betrayed her. Rhaenyra wanted to grin, but forced herself to look expectant rather than certain. It would not do to derail this deal over lack of control.

She watched as Rhaenys scanned the document briefly, searching for obvious traps or loopholes, of which there were none. Rhaenyra had insisted to her father, over the Hand's protests, that adding in any such failsafes would only anger the Sea Snake and his wife more, and he had agreed and signed it without much fuss. The Hand had been miffed ever since. Obviously done and pleased with her inspection, if unwilling to show it, Rhaenys raised her gaze to meet Rhaenyra's, unyielding as the bronze of her armor had been. 'You've thought this through.' 

The Heir inclined her head. As with so many other things, Rhaenys seemingly said little, yet spoke volumes. 'I've had enough time to do so. I would offer my own hand, but despite my new title and position, it is not mine to offer. But this,' she gestured towards the paper, 'is not simply words in the wind, or a passing fancy. I am earnest in my desire, and I hope that you will put your faith in me.' 

Rhaenys' mouth twitched. 'You are expecting people to contest your claim already, even with your father holding his protective hand over you?' Rhaenyra stilled, heart beating wildly in her chest. If Rhaenys rejected her now, on account of her trying to use her House- 'Clever girl. The moment he is no longer with us, his support turns to dust, and all you will have is what you build yourself.'

Rhaenyra let out the breath she had been holding. It seemed the Queen Who Never Was did not feel offended by her actions. Quite the opposite; she looked at Rhaenyra with thinly veiled approval. It gave her the confidence to respond with more honesty than she'd planned on offering. 

'I will not lie to you, allying with the second most powerful House in Westeros does not appear to be a bad first step into the great unknown. For all that the nobles currently simper at me, I would rather have certain allies than uncertain friends.' 

Princess Rhaenys nodded. 'Better a knife in your hand than a sword at your back, as it were.'

'Ideally, I'd want both,' Rhaenyra retorted, and to her surprise, Rhaenys laughed. She looked beautiful when she did, the unfamiliar expression shaving years off her face. 

'One to defend yourself with and the other to command. I suppose that would, indeed, be ideal. I will keep hold of this agreement, Princess. And I will stay in King's Landing for the wedding. As will my children.'

Rhaenyra could've jumped for joy. Her plan had gone off without a hitch, and she had secured House Velaryon's support on her own terms, for her own purposes. They were not allied to the Iron Throne, but to Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen herself. This was her own victory, unannounced though it was. At the wedding, they would stand beside her for all the Realm to see. 

Despite her inner giddiness, she kept her composure, if barely. 'Thank you, Princess Rhaenys. House Targaryen is honored to host you and your family in Maegor's holdfast until then.'

Her formal words were met with a scoff. 'Oh, I'm certain.' 

She returned to her chambers with a certain lightness to her step, her eyes brighter than they had been before she'd met with the Lady of the Tides. She would not face Alicent's ascension alone, even if Daemon and Corlys started their war early. In the previous timeline, they had waited until after the wedding had commenced, both feeling slighted by the King... and to be fair, they had been utterly justified. It was only a pity than rather than a swift and certain victory, the War of the Stepstones had, on and off, dragged on over years, never quite finished, even when no blood was being spilled. Perhaps she could change that as well, this time. 

She had been uninterested in the war, truth be told, still hurt that her uncle had left her when she'd needed him most, all so he could go and slaughter others rather than stand by her. She understood him better, now. That need to prove yourself, to have others look at you with respect, either born of loyalty or fear. It was addictive. 

'My princess, a letter has arrived for you. It is from the Vale.' 

Rhaenyra gifted Sara a small smile. 'Thank you. I will read it in the solar. You have brought my meal and the chilled wine?'

The maid curtsied immediately. 'Yes, Your Highness. Everything is as you ordered.'

'Good. Now go and eat, you must also be hungry. I will need you again in the evening, until then, you are free to do as you wish.' The maid stared at her, before remembering that she was not supposed to look royalty or nobility in the eye. She curtsied again, apologizing, but Rhaenyra waved her off. 'I insist. Do as you like, you have earned it. Just don't be late with supper.' 

Amid assurances that she certainly would not be - late, that was - the maid left, still flabbergasted that she had been given a few hours of leisure time. Rhaenyra smiled. The other servants would begin to talk, and word would spread about her treatment of her maids. Fear, she knew, was a strong motivator. But loyalty born of love would triumph over bowing and scraping for scraps any time. 

Sinking into her favorite chair, she took the letter from the small table in the solar, eyeing the fawn before her with hunger. But it would keep. Once she identified the sigil pressed into the wax of the letter's seal, she couldn't control her curiosity.

It was the insignia of the House Royce.

She broke the wax. 

Princess Rhaenyra,

I appreciate the straightforwardness of your letter, and will afford you the same courtesy. As you are the Crown Princess, I cannot refuse you. I have no desire to see Prince Daemon, but I will attend the festivities. Do not expect me to interact with him. 

Rhea Royce, Lady of Runestone

Well. That was simply perfect. 

Chapter Text

The day of the King's wedding dawned bright and clear, with not a single cloud in sight to put a damper on the ceremony. 

From the moment the King had announced the wedding date, carriages had been arriving at the Capital, as everyone who was anyone came from all over the Realm to bear witness to the union between their King and his new Queen. Among the first, Rhaenyra had noted with great satisfaction, were the Lady of the Eyrie, Jeyne Arryn, who had brought her young son with her. Many of her lords bannermen had joined her, one of which, to the great surprise of most courtiers, was the Head of House Royce, the Lady Rhea. She had, as most of her fellow bannermen, arrived in armor, rising many eyebrows as well as Rhaenyra's opinion of her. She clearly didn't give a whit about the Court's impression of her. 

Prince Daemon had notably not been present to greet her. 

That responsibility had fallen  to - or, more honestly, been demanded by - Rhaenyra, who had insisted that Alicent should allow Rhaenyra to support her in this, and take the time to make certain she would be properly prepared for her wedding day, pampered and tended to by the maids who had been carefully selected for the task of ensuring that the new queen would meet her people with her hair and gown impeccable, so she would make the right first impression. 

Of course, some lords may take it as a slight against them that neither King or Queen would personally welcome them to the Red Keep, but that was entirely coincidental and would surely not reflect negatively on Alicent. 

Rhaenyra was lucky that Otto had been whisked away by Lord Beesbury regarding the costs of the wedding, the budget of which had mysteriously been exceeded despite the Princess' devised extra margin. He had not been pleased that the Lord Hand was spending the Crown's coin so frivolously, and had all but asked if Lord Hightower would have approved such expenses had the King made another match other than his own daughter. Otto had immediately gone to deal with the issue at Lord Beesbury's behest, so as to not fuel any rumors. 

It was almost too perfect. Without him whispering into Alicent's ear, she only had Rhaenyra to rely on, as the other Ladies at court would not dare tell the queen what to do, not that they knew themselves; royal protocol was quite different from that of nobles. Rhaenyra had assured Alicent that once the lords and ladies saw her on her wedding day, they would be so enchanted by her appearance and flawless manners that they would forget all about her absence from before. Also, she'd argued, as Heir, it was her responsibility to support the Crown in any way she could, and what could be more important to the Realm than the queen's health? It would do no good for Alicent to be exhausted on her wedding day.

As more and more guests had poured into the castle, Rhaenyra had been tempted to glue herself firmly to Rhaenys' side and let the lords come to her. Yet, under the scrutiny of the Hand, fleeting though it was forced to be, she had resolved not to let the opportunity pass her by. These lords would not gather again until her own wedding, she knew, so there truly was no better time to feel them out, and gauge who she might ally with. 

She had put a lot of thought into it and come to the conclusion that some lords, she wouldn't even bother with. House Hightower, as well as most of the lords sworn to them, were a lost cause. They would never betray the Queen that had come from their lands, but they would bow once they saw that war could not lead to their triumph.

House Stark would remain loyal to her, as the oath they had sworn to her demanded, their honor as certain and unwavering as their words. 

House Tyrell, which had not backed either side during the Dance, was unlikely to pledge support now, as long as there were no clear benefits to their House, despite the current Lady's affiliation with House Hightower as one of their scions.

House Greyjoy had joined her cause for little other reason than the Red Kraken's enjoyment of raiding, rejecting her half-brother's offer of a seat on the council in favor of guaranteed bloodshed. She would give him leave to raid and reap to his heart's content should the need arise. He was, after all, as loyal to his House's words as he could be. 

The Lannisters, ambitious as they were, would need to be reeled in quietly, and announced grandly - their riches matched by their arrogance and vanity. They had long been staunchly allied with House Hightower, but had been known to turn to greener pastures when given the opportunity. Always seeking to advance their own status, Lions and Roses as similar in this as wildly different in other matters. 

The Lords of Storm's End, as well, had been a cause of discontent for her. Lord Borros, turncloak traitor that he was, could not be trusted, and, unlike many of his forebears, could not be trusted to keep his word. He was looking for the most advantageous alliance, and Aemond's offer to marry one of his daughters had suited him well in that purpose. A Prince of the Realm as a son-in-law was a status boost most Lords could only dream of. 

Dorne was not yet part of the Seven Kingdoms, and, after supporting the Triarchy at the Stepstones, had remained neutral in the Dance. She still remembered how he'd justified his decision. Dorne has danced with dragons before. I'd sooner sleep with scorpions. Quoren Martell had chosen to not commit to either side, and neatly kept his hands clean. He was not in attendance today. 

She wondered whether or not the conflict at the Stepstones, which her uncle and Lord Corlys were about to escalate into a full-blown war within a few weeks, could be brought to an end early if she managed to treat with Prince Quoren and convince him to cease his support of the Triarchy. It was a thought worth exploring.

Those were the primary houses she had to worry about. Others, smaller but at times no less important, she had her pick of for the length of the festivities. 

'My Princess, the Lady Jeyne Arryn, Defender of the Vale, Regent of the Eyrie and Wardeness of the East, cousin to the late Queen Aemma.' Roslyn announced, voice quiet and respectful, curtsying quickly and precisely. Rather than following tradition and breaking her fast with the other ladies in the Ladies' Hall, the ruler of the Vale had requested a meeting with the Crown Princess, which Rhaenyra had only been too happy to accept, suggesting they meet in her solar so they may appraise each other. Naturally, that was not all that would happen, she was sure. 

'Lady Arryn, I wish you a good morrow. Please, take a seat. I hope the spread will be to your liking; I have asked the cooks to prepare honey cakes and candied dates. My mother greatly enjoyed them, and I wondered if you might share her tastes in this.' 

The table was laden with different kinds of breads, a platter of assorted meats, small jars of honeys and jams, decorated pies and several kinds of fruit and nuts, cream spreads, as well as a carafe of chilled Arbor Gold and a pitcher of fresh clear water.

Lady Jeyne dipped into a deep curtsy before her princess and future ruling queen, rising to take her place opposite of Rhaenyra. 'Thank you for the invitation, Princess. I appreciate the opportunity to talk to you in private, where we do not have to worry about unkind ears listening in.' 

Well, color her intrigued. 'Indeed, it is a blessing to talk freely. An indulgence persons of our standing cannot often enjoy.'

Lady Jeyne chuckled. 'Just so. As I am sure you've heard, many of my relatives, the male ones, of course, seek to oust me from my rule. They believe that this wedding is their opportunity to petition the King to transfer my titles and responsibilities to one of them. I will do my utmost to prevent them from succeeding, but they do not shy from enticing open rebellion against my rule. Already, I have crushed one such uprising, but I fear it will not be the last. I would like to enter into a mutually beneficial relationship with you as King Viserys' Named Heir.'

Rhaenyra contained her surprise, but barely. In her former life, no such offer had been extended to her, and certainly not so early after her installment. The Lady of the Eyrie had crushed three rebellions, if memory served, and all of them on her own, no help from King or Crown to aid her. It was strange that she would openly admit to such vulnerability. 

'I have indeed heard of such happenings, but as you have assured the Crown that you were in no need of support, my father laid the matter to rest. I am not opposed to your proposal, my lady, but may I ask what prompted you to come to me in this matter?'

Lady Jeyne licked her lower lip quickly, her hands stiff in her lap. She had not yet touched any of the food on the table. 'As you are well aware of, we are kin through your mother. While she was alive, dissent in my ranks was present, but not in any danger of growing out of bounds. When she passed, my relatives saw it as the moment to strike, and they almost succeeded in casting me down. I have not divulged such to the Council, but the truth is that they got as far as the Hall before my knights were able to subdue the dissenters. The Lady Rhea, who was in the Hall with me at the time, defended me admirably. We allowed them to leave as we do traitors - through the Moon Door. I will confess that the incident has shaken me, and had it not been for the Lady Rhea, I would be reluctant to share such with you. She told me you reached out to her, which surprised her greatly - other than Aemma, no member of House Targaryen ever felt the need to exchange letters with us. As both brothers were married to Vale women, the Crown forgot all about us. And in turn, we were content in handling our own affairs. But the attempt to remove me from my seat has reminded me that one of the reasons my rule has gone uncontested for so long was the fact that my cousin was the queen of Westeros. Now that she no longer is, I must remind them that the blood of the Eyrie is still close to the throne. And therefore, so am I.'

Rhaenyra sat in silence, letting the words wash over her, settle in her mind and fit into the plans she had made so far. It was as though the Gods were smiling at her.

My dear cousin does not want to admit to King and Council that she lied about the severity of her situation. So, in an attempt to circumvent doing so, she comes to me under the guise of kinship. Smart. How lucky for her that she has something I want. Fret not, cousin. I shall be the only ally in this court you will ever need.

'My Lady, I assure you that you have my full support. And to prove that, I would like for the Lady Rhea to remain at Court after the festivities are done. Her presence would remind the Realm that you are tied closely to the Throne - it is known that House Royce is a steadfast, undoubted ally of House Arryn. As Heir, while I will not have a tourney, I will have a tour of the Realm, and my first destination shall be the Eyrie. In doing so, I shall remind the people of the close ties we share. Is this, for now, acceptable to you?'

Lady Jeyne reached for the carafe of Arbor Gold and poured them each a goblet. 'I would welcome this show of support, my Princess.'

As expected, her reply was quick and without attempts at haggling. She knew she was getting even more than she had originally wanted. Which put her in Rhaenyra's debt, not that she figured that yet.

'By all means, Lady Arryn, call me Rhaenyra. We are kin, after all.' Call me by my name and continue to believe me naive and eager to please. It will be the beginning of a beautiful friendship for me.

The Wardeness of the East inclined her head. Her mouth did not smile, but her eyes beamed. 'Then you must call me Jeyne, cousin.'

After they had broken their fast, chatting about the beauty of the Eyrie interspersed with discussions of the rebellious Vale lords, the Royal Seamstress was announced to them. Lady Arryn had at first considered her arrival as her cue to leave, but Rhaenyra had quickly disabused her of that notion.

It would, after all, be a novel and longed for experience, to have her own cousin assist her in putting on her gown. At Rhaenyra's age, it was still customary for her mother to help her on formal occasions, but alas, in absence of the queen, it was often a job reserved for ladies-in-waiting and other high ranking courtiers to dress the princess for festive occasions, and as Alicent, who usually assisted her, was being prepared herself, it was only proper that Lady Arryn be offered the honor. 

She accepted with grace. 

The gown Rhaenyra had ordered for the celebrations was resplendent.

Dyed a rich, Targaryen red, the bodice was Myrish lace, embroidered with intricate patters of dragons intertwining along her torso, emphasizing the small waist their talons seemed to be clutching. Black opals cut into a shape resembling raindrops decorated the neckline, lower than most of the dresses she owned, and as she was cinched into it, her breasts pushed up against it, giving her the figure of a woman grown. The skirt was wide, made to give her the illusion of curves she did not possess in abundance yet, and made from brocade, gold and black threads running through it so it appeared as though she were constantly swaying to a song only she could hear. The necklace Daemon had gifted her adorned her neck, joined by hanging, ruby and opal encrusted earrings. As her hair was gathered into a formal updo, piled high on the back of her head in braids, only to gently fall back down to her exposed shoulders in loose waves, she truly looked like the Heir to the Iron Throne. She might even overshadow Alicent. How sad.

Lady Jeyne shook her head in astonishment. 'You look gorgeous, Rhaenyra. No head will remain unturned when you walk by.' 

Rhaenyra smiled broadly at her dear cousin. 'Thank you, Jeyne. When I commissioned this gown I was certain it would look splendid, yet I am overwhelmed by the final look.' She directed her next words to the woman anxiously wringing her hands behind her. 'It is a glorious work of art, Seamstress. I am deeply pleased with it.' 

The seamstress blushed and curtsied, relief clear in every line of her body. 'There is no need to thank me, my Princess. It is my honor and pleasure to serve you and your family.' 

Rhaenyra smiled blandly. She wondered if all servants rehearsed the same sentences over and over again until it was all they could say. 'All the same, I must express my gratitude. I expect great things from you in the future as well, and look forward to wearing your other works.'

The woman smiled profusely, a warm glow painting her cheeks still, and left with her assistants, leaving Jeyne and Rhaenyra in the relative quiet of her chambers once more. 

Taking one more long, approving look at her, Lady Arryn curtsied. 'I am afraid I must also take my leave. While I will certainly pale next to you, I must put in my best effort, regardless.'

A genuine compliment, mixed with self-depreciation. It created an air of familiarity where there was none yet. She is also adept at manipulation. Delightful. 'Nonsense, cousin. We shall shine together.' 

Lady Arryn inclined her head and took her leave as regally as Queen Aemma ever had, the similarity between them undeniable in this moment. For once, the memory of her mother, her absence, did not jab her in the heart like a needle piercing skin. Instead, she allowed the serenity of the moment to settle in her bones.

Rhaenyra turned back to her looking glass. She could not wait to be seen in this dress.  

Chapter Text

Ser Criston looked as though someone had brained him upside the head with a candelabra when he first laid eyes on her to escort her to the sept. His gaze roved over her, flitting from her exposed shoulders to her cleavage, to her waist, down her legs and back up again, and Rhaenyra's mouth tightened. Once, she would have reveled in his reaction. Now, she knew what lay under his veneer of dutiful servitude, the lustful, conflicted man that had betrayed her, and felt nothing but contempt.

'Ser Cole, it would do you well not to gaze at me so openly. It is unseemly for a knight as gallant yourself.' Her voice was light, she knew, but firm, unwilling to compromise on this. He would not be allowed to get any ideas that his desires were reciprocated. 

His eyes snapped to hers and a flush spread over his high cheekbones. He bowed low, and when he came back up, his gaze rested solely on her face. Inappropriate, still, but normal for them. She did not mind when people looked her in the eyes. 'Forgive me, my Princess. I was caught unprepared by your beauty, and the sight arrested me. It shan't happen again,' he swore, looking a tad chastised. Good.

'See that it doesn't.' She graced him with a quirk of her lips. 'But the compliment was lovely, thank you.' 

He smiled at her, white teeth almost blinding in his sun-kissed face, and stood at attention. His armor, she noticed, was polished to gleaming, and there was no speck of dirt or dust on his boots. It seemed all the Keep had resolved to present itself in the best possible light. 

She turned away from him, and made her way to the courtyard, where a carriage awaited her to bear her to the sept. He followed a respectful step behind her, and murmured so only she could hear: 'I have made the inquiries you asked of me. Ser Willis was the only one willing to answer my questions, and only to confirm which we already know: Lady Alicent was alone with His Grace for hours almost every evening for weeks. When I attempted to prod more, he refused further details. I cannot blame him, for I would do the same for you, my Princess, if anyone presumed to question you.' 

Rhaenyra smiled thinly. She knew from experience what a lie that was. Although it is not a lie yet, and it might never become one. 

She had known that no Knight of the Kingsguard would utter a word that could be considered treason against the new Queen, or, Gods forbid, her father their King. But that hadn't been her goal. Ser Criston valued duty, or at least his definition of it, a great deal. He had considered Alicent the very personification of the word, in the future that would never be, and as such, had been utterly devoted to her. 

To be fair, she had done her part in pushing him into her arms. Sleeping with him had been colossally stupid, even though it had seemed safe at the time; she'd had no inkling that he would turn against her so completely, that he would consider his so-called soiled honor more important than the oath he'd made her. She'd found what she had sought in Criston in Harwin Strong. Sleeping with him, having his children, had been stupid as well, but she'd loved their boys with all her heart - she still did. He would have died for her, and remained by her side loyally, married or not, unlike the Dornishman following after her now. 

Criston, in the end, had been motivated by his hatred of and lust for her, to the bitter end. He might have been loyal to Alicent, but Rhaenyra attributed that to the fact that she had rejected him. But as of now, he adored her, and was eager to please her. His honor warred with his lust, and she would not be the one to tip the scales. Let him torture himself with the knowledge that the person he most desired would forever be out of his reach. Let him drown himself in shameful fantasies that he would loathe himself for once he returned to his senses. 

It was only fitting.

'As I know you would, Ser. I only wished to be certain that my dearest friend came to the king of her own will. I know my father to be an honorable man, and do not begrudge him her kind company. She consoled me as well, after all.' 

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw how Ser Criston's mouth twisted in faint distaste. 'My Princess, I do not mean to give offend your sensibilities, but in my experience, women comfort men differently than they would other women.' 

If breaking out in hysterical laughter wouldn't have made her look mad, she would have done so. Already, he was in not so many words branding Alicent as a harlot. All Rhaenyra had had to do was nudge him in the right direction. A bit of false concern to cast herself as the naive, worried friend, and he saw her as precisely that. A whispered suggestion that Alicent may no longer be as virtuous as she presented herself as, and he was ready to see her as a whore. An overheard conversation under a weirwood tree, and he made exactly the connections she'd wanted him to.

It was almost poetic. Now she was the dutiful princess, the faultless daughter who had to suffer an undeserving wench on the throne, and Alicent was the wanton who had crawled into  an honorable man's bed, seducing him when his defenses had been weak. 

Or at least, that was how Rhaenyra would spin it. Through Criston, that version of events would spread like poison through the Court, and before long, the Queen's reputation would be as tattered as her own had been, only held together by her title, rather than the truth. 

'Of course you don't, and I am certain you are not implying what I think you are. To speak such vile accusations out loud is tantamount to treason, after all. I do not wish for such a fine knight as yourself to be tarnished by such filth.' Their steps echoed off the walls, hers light and nimble, his heavy and precise. She sometimes wondered what would happen if he fell down a set of stairs in such heavy armor. Would it protect or crush him?

'Is it treason to speak truth?' The White Knight asked.

Rhaenyra gave him no answer.

The sept atop of Visenya's Hill was filled to overflowing with wedding attendants, one dressed more spectacularly than the other, filling the air with chatter that sounded as though a thousand bees had been set loose in the holy halls, heard even beyond its ornate doors as Rhaenyra exited her carriage, Ser Criston's hand gallantly helping her down. 

Ser Criston was a silent sentinel by her side until she dismissed him with a look, not wanting anyone to distract from her grand entrance, not even her own Sworn Shield. He would join the other knights of the Kingsguard, to enter after King Viserys.

Unwatched, for a brief moment, she took a deep breath to focus herself. She was about to descend into a viper's nest, filled to bursting with nobles from all the Realms, whose support or lack thereof could cement or ruin her eventual ascension. Not that any would approach her at the wedding itself, it was the feast afterwards which would be her battlefield. One she was determined to dominate.

The Game, however, would start the moment she crossed the threshold of the sept, and would not end until her death. The Hand would take one look at her dress and know it for the declaration of war it was, if he was half as clever as he liked to fashion himself. If he did not, it would only aid her. That was the wonderful thing about being underestimated.

She straightened her spine. There was no sense in delay. She would not back down, not now, not ever. She kept her head high as she stepped into the sept, leaving the fresh breeze and warming sun behind in favor of the cool shade and candlelight of the sept to bear witness to her father's wedding.

She was no stranger to scrutiny, aware that she was always watched, and yet, she had never felt as many pairs of eyes on her as in this moment. When she had commissioned the dress, she had known she would draw the covetous eye of many a man, the envious stares of the ladies that flitted about court. But as she stood at the top of the stairs, about to descend into this mass of people, she felt as though she would be swallowed up in their maw, never to return. 

As though he had felt her anxiety, he cut through the crowd like the Valyrian steel he carried on his hip wherever he went. His gaze almost burned her in its intensity, raw and unmasked by the veneer of civility he usually donned, and she cursed the fact that they were not yet married.

He came to a stop at the foot of the stairs and offered her his hand. Briefly, she wondered how he was so close, hadn't even realized she'd moved towards him, weightless as though she were floating, but before she knew it, she had put her hand in his, and offered him a breathless smile.

'Daemon.'

He gave her a roguish curl of the lips in turn. 'Dearest niece. How wonderful you look. How... ravishing.' The way he raked his eyes over her body was even more inappropriate than Cole's had been.

She'd been married to him for years, and been fucked by him for longer, and still, she blushed like the maiden she once again was. 'You look rather well yourself, uncle. A bit dour, perhaps, for such a joyous occasion.' She couldn't help but tease him. She enjoyed being the only person in the world he would tolerate it from. And to be fair, he did look rather dull, compared to the titillating display of color around them. Yet, considering her own style of dress, his black doublet and matching pants fit perfectly - wholly Targaryen, red and black, the heirs of the dragon, his blood in their veins. 

'Why, niece, and here I had thought you might perhaps be a tad upset, considering just who it is the realm has gathered for. I had been prepared to cheer you up,' his bright eyes traced over her exposed collarbones and shoulders, and she felt them like a caress, 'but it appears to not be necessary any longer.'

He smiled, then, a gentle, kind thing, so unusual for his face. 'Good for you, Rhaenyra.'

'Indeed, you look stunning, Princess. Quite a bold choice, I must admit, but it suits you well.' The Princess Rhaenys' voice cut through their intimate moment like a knife through butter. Perhaps it was for the best, Rhaenyra grudgingly thought. They were being quite inappropriate. 

She turned towards her and inclined her head, 'Thank you, Princess. You look lovely, as well.' 

The Lady of High Tide had chosen a dark blue dress with silver threaded seahorses on the bodice, with a pearl collier adorning her slim neck, and a matching ring on her left hand. Her hair was, instead of her usual fashion, gathered atop her head in a braided bun, giving the effect of a halo of silver behind her. She looked every inch Velaryon, the entire ensemble as much a statement as Rhaenyra's was. 

The woman gave Rhaenyra a regal nod, before turning her attention to Daemon. 'Cousin, how wonderful to see you. My lord husband wishes to speak with you. No doubt you will oblige him, seeing as you have nothing better to do than to accost your niece when your wife is but a few feet away.' 

Her tone was as sharp and cold as the icicles that hung from the castle's roof during winter. 

The prince's smile grew sharp in response. Rhaenyra could feel her stomach swoop, the air around them growing heavy. Things were about to take a turn for the worse, she could tell. 

'My wife could stand naked in front of me, cousin, and I would still rather gaze upon my lovely niece, even from afar.' He gave her another look, scorching her insides, and she thanked the Gods that the fabric of her gown was thick enough to conceal her hardening nipples. 'But seeing as you asked so very nicely, I shall oblige you.' 

His sudden levity threw her for a moment, but of course, her uncle hadn't earned the moniker Rogue Prince for his predictability. He took her hand once more, and dropped a feathery kiss on the back of her hand. His lips lingered a moment too long, before he seemingly caught himself.

'Niece.' 

'Uncle.' 

He turned, his black coat twirling dramatically, and left as swiftly as he'd arrived, undoubtedly planning to make Lord Corlys regret his summons.

'You must be more careful,' Rhaenys' voice interrupted her staring, and she blushed yet again. She had to get a hold of herself.

'I know not what you mean-'

'Do not play the fool with me, Rhaenyra. Were we but passing acquaintances, united by nothing but a distant relation, I would let it be, but your blood will join to mine soon enough. I do not want Daemon's reputation to stain yours.' The princess' voice was quiet, and Rhaenyra could almost fool herself into thinking it caring.

She could bluster, she thought, demand with childish ignorance why everyone was so mean to her uncle. She could dismiss, and insist that there was no need for concern because there was nothing of concern happening. She could mock, tell Rhaenys that she was imagining things. Or she could be the Queen she would be one day.

'I understand your concern, Princess. But perhaps you may come to change your view on my uncle. He has been steadfast in his support and protection of me, ever since I was born. He has never dismissed me on account of my sex, and he has taught me all the things that my father could not, since Balerion passed. He has taught me High Valyrian, and dragonriding. I trust him a great deal, and while many seem to think that a dangerous decision, for me, it is irrevocable. I hope that you will come to share my sentiment in time.' 

Rhaenys' eyes rested solely on her face as she replied. 'Do not misunderstand me, Rhaenyra. I do trust Daemon,' Lie, Rhaenyra thought, You only started trusting him when you saw him with his daughters, your granddaughters. Before that, you thought him a beast. 'but we both are aware that appearances matter.' She gave a pointed look at her dress. 'More so from now on than before. For both of us.' 

Rhaenyra inclined her head, yielding the matter for now. 'Of course, forgive me. I know you mean no harm.' Her eyes swept the crowd until she found who she was looking for. 'Speaking of trust, I have been meaning to introduce you to the Lady Arryn, my cousin from my mother's side. I do not believe you had the pleasure quite yet,' she offered Rhaenys her arm unthinkingly, and to her surprise, the princess took it after a moment of contemplation. She had never deigned to touch Rhaenyra this familiarly in her first life. 

Seizing the opportunity, she led her older cousin through the crowd to where Jeyne was standing, surrounded by her lords bannermen, as well as Lady Rhea, who, technically, was also a bannerman. Or bannerwoman? Lady bannerman? She would simply address her by name. Best not to flounder on titles. 

'Lady Jeyne, I wish to introduce you to the Princess Rhaenys, my cousin. I am not sure you have met before, and as you are both dear to my heart, I simply had to introduce you.' She let go of the Princess' arm, and watched with satisfaction as the Lady and the Princess seized each other up, clearly understanding the meaning of her innocent-sounding words. I am allied to both of you, perhaps you should also ally with each other. We have similar goals, after all. 

She was aware that the Velaryons felt slighted by the king, just like her uncle, and the Vale was not quite cross with anyone, but in time, she would turn those feelings of resentment for her father into loyalty to herself. Well, maybe they would have to coexist, but that was fine as well.

She leveled a brilliant smile at Rhea Royce. 'Lady Rhea.' She looked better than Rhaenyra had expected - in her bronze gown, which emphasized her breasts, and the tightly laced bodice, which showed off her trim waist, she looked far prettier than she would have thought she could, considering Daemon's descriptions of her. Her hair might be shorter than considered proper for a noble lady, but it suited her face, which, while not otherwordly captivating, was nonetheless pleasant enough.

She got what could be described as a smile if one was feeling generous and a curtsy in return. 'Princess Rhaenyra. We have not met before. I am pleased to make your acquaintance.' 

Oh dear, it seemed that her good-aunt was not very well versed in the art of feigned pleasantry. That was fine. Rhaenyra herself tired of such pretenses easily. It would be nice change of pace to have the Lady of Runestone at court - at least for her.

'Indeed, well met, Lady Royce. I am glad that you have joined your Lady, and are gracing us with your presence. I am looking forward to getting to know you, seeing as we haven't had much opportunity to spend time together before.' 

The woman grimaced slightly. 'I do apologize for my absence at your mother's funeral, princess. She was of the Vale, and either Lady Arryn or myself should have been present. But since neither of us were invited, we felt it was improper to intrude.'

Interesting. In her previous life, Rhaenyra hadn't cared much who had been at the Queen's funeral and who hadn't. She had been too deeply in mourning. But looking back, it was quite strange that no one from her mother's side of the family or a representative had been present. 

It was also interesting that Lady Royce was so familiar with Lady Arryn. Although it didn't come as too much of a surprise. Their families had always been close, historically speaking, and they were both women in positions of power that men would usurp gladly. It was only natural that they would have each other's backs.

She chanced a look toward the back of the spacious hall, where a septon was already waiting. Perhaps it wasn't that natural.

'It is no matter, my Lady, I assure you. You must have grieved as well, but I thank you for your words. I am glad you have not forgotten her.' 

'We never shall.' Lady Royce's voice was calm yet fierce, and Rhaenyra felt a lump in her throat. Her mother had not been to the Vale since she'd left to marry Viserys, yet it seemed that the Vale had never stopped considering her an Arryn, rather than a Targaryen, no matter how long she'd been gone. Her eyes burned unexpectedly. She looked down quickly, taking a second to blink rapidly, and looked back up to find Lady Royce's sympathetic gaze on her. She gave Rhaenyra a respectful nod and put a hand on her shoulder. 'We know our own, Princess. We are glad you know yours, as well.' 

Before Rhaenyra could answer, Princess Rhaenys and Lady Jeyne joined them once more. It seemed that the two of them had given one another no reason to become hostile. Rhaenys shot Rhaenyra a pointed look. 'Shall we? As the King's family, we ought to be in the front row, not all the way back here.' 

Both Vale women stiffened, and Rhaenyra could've slapped her. Why did Rhaenys feel the need to insult not only Lady Royce, who, by marriage, was the King's family, but also the Lady Arryn, a godsdamned ruling Lady, who had been family by marriage until a few short weeks ago? 

Except... Gods, she really needed to stop assuming the worst of Rhaenys. This was not the woman whose son she'd pretended to have murdered. This was a wholly different Rhaenys, who had just given her the perfect reason to parade both Vale Ladies in front of not only the King, but also Otto Hightower and their gracious new Queen. It was brilliant.Both 

Rhaenyra grasped the opportunity offered to her gratefully. 'Of course, Princess. Lady Jeyne, Lady Royce, if you care to join us? After all, you are my cousin and good-aunt respectively. It would only be right.' 

Rhaenyra could be imagining it, but she thought she saw a glimpse of approval in Rhaenys' purple eyes.

Jeyne and Rhea, meanwhile, seemed to have a whole conversation with only looks, understood only by them, and Rhaenyra had to tamp down her jealousy. To have such trust in one another, such knowledge of each other, must be liberating. 

Unsurprisingly, it was Jeyne who answered for both of them. 'You honor us. We gladly shall join you both.'

Together, the four of them made their way to the first row of pews, the crowd parting as though it were forced to by soldiers. 

It felt like triumph.

Chapter Text

Rhaenyra kept a close eye on the surrounding lords as Alicent walked down the aisle towards the stern-faced septon in her green cloak.

Many of them had donned their tried and true expressions of polite interest, their eyes empty and mouths unsmiling. Others gave blinding, approving smiles that were almost impolite in their obvious falseness, but would undoubtedly appeal to the Lord Hand, who was always on the lookout for sycophants to cow tow to him. Lord Corlys looked openly disgusted by the whole affair, but had kept his word and attended all the same, looking dignified and imposing next to his equally formidable wife, both standing to Rhaenyra's right side. Daemon looked utterly disinterested, the whole affair boring and pointless to him, the only reason he was even here being Otto's discomfort with him being anywhere near the King. 

At her left, Lady Jeyne and Lady Rhea stood, both of them appearing inscrutable, but sending a clear message anyway. Rhaenyra fought down her grin. She could feel the Lords of the Realm shooting them looks, clearly understanding what their configuration meant, and drawing their own conclusions. Lord Tyrell, in particular, was almost obvious in his staring, ambitious and calculating as he was. He had been married to a Hightower scion in her first life, she remembered, who had ruled in place of her young son, but had not declared for either side during the Dance. Highgarden and Oldtown were closer than Highgarden and the Vale, but perhaps a marriage between one of the noble houses of the Vale and Lord Tyrell could be arranged. Should push come to shove, that would ensure Rhaenyra had the support of four of the major Houses, and, of course, Daemon. Also, should Lord Hightower decide to aid his brother and niece, he would need to get around the Tyrell forces before he could march his army anywhere near King's Landing. 

Of course, those thoughts were, for now, nothing but idle imaginings. She would need to ruminate on the matter. 

The Lady Alicent had, by then, finally reached the septon. Some may call her walk dignified, but as far as Rhaenyra was concerned, she was dragging things out. Certainly, she made a picture with her thick auburn curls pinned intricately on the top of her head instead of the flowing hairstyle she usually favored, and the emerald dress matching her cloak showed just the right amount of skin, her jewelry befitting a queen.

Otto Hightower was the very picture of fatherly pride on the other side of the aisle, gazing at his daughter as though she had single-handedly given him sovereignty over the Seven Kingdoms, which, for all intents and purposes, she had, in a live gone by and snatched violently. Rhaenyra could not wait for that look to turn to disappointment and reproach when she failed to grow round with child moon after moon, when the court would start whispering that her womb was cursed. When all would turn against her, slowly but surely, this pretender queen who couldn't do the one thing required of her. Whose belly would not swell soon enough. 

The girl in question stood with her back to her people, her back straight as it ought to be, looking for all the world as though she was right where she should be.

However, when she turned her head to cast a look over the crowd gathered in her honor, her face betrayed anxiety rather than regal pride. Her eyes darted across the sea of people behind her, flickering with something akin to despair as she searched for a familiar face, a supportive friend, for Rhaenyra. The princess waited patiently until Alicent found her, fear melting into relief as they made eye contact. She sent her an encouraging smile, watching Alicent steel herself, and gave her a small nod for good measure. 

Alicent's own expression turned more joyous at Rhaenyra's show of support, just as she had hoped it would. It would not do for her dearest friend to marry her father with anything but joy in her heart, after all. The brief joy faded fast as she saw the company Rhaenyra was keeping, face pale as though a dragon had just roared in her face. 

Rhaenyra did her best not to show her mirth openly, and knew she succeeded when not a flicker of suspicion crossed dearest Alicent's face when she looked back at her. The Heir to the Iron Throne was the picture of regal austerity, her face serene and posture straight, as immaculate as could be. 

The women by her side were family, after all, and who could fault them for taking their rightful places?

Daemon, off to the side, watching the entire hall, curled his lips at her. He knew full well that she was putting on airs. She prayed he wouldn't put her on the spot, and tried to convey that to him with looks alone. His grin widened, and he put a finger to his lips, alleviating her fears. 

When King Viserys appeared, flanked by the White Knights of the Kingsguard to place a cloak of red-and-black on Alicent's shoulders, bringing her under his protection and taking her to wife, only Rhaenyra's mouth smiled. Her eyes were cold.

The feast was of course magnificent. 

Rhaenyra sat to the King's right, his Queen to his left. Daemon, who, by rights, should sit next to Rhaenyra, had all but disappeared after the wedding, alongside Corlys Velaryon, and she had the sneaking suspicion that despite everything she had done to assure House Velaryon of her appreciation and support, they were plotting the War for the Stepstones at this very moment, in some dark alcove or other, creating for themselves the perfect reason to not be seen at Court for years. 

How utterly ridiculous. 

The threat the Triarchy posed could not be underestimated, yet all the same, escalating the conflict to all-out war was not the way to handle things. Some issues, she was fully aware, could only be handled with the utmost violence and cruelty, but this one, she believed not to be one of them. She doubted she would have any success in convincing her uncle and former good father of this.

If she could not prevent the war, she would help end it. In her past life, the Triarchy had continued to press them for a long time after the conflict was declared settled. It had cost her darling Jacaerys' life, and for that alone, she would take any chance she could get to destroy them once and for all. 

Roslyn quietly stepped up to her side to refill her goblet, summer wine from across the Narrow Sea filling her nose with the flowery aroma of Essos. 

'I have spoken with Lady Arryn's servants, my Princess,' she whispered in her ear. 'She enjoys quail over duck, and deeply dislikes roast pig as well as salmon, and will drink the Vale's own wine over any other.' 

Rhaenyra gave no indication that she had heard her, yet Roslyn stepped back all the same. It was what she had asked of her, after all, to inquire about her cousin's tastes, and so she selected the appropriate dishes from the King's table to send to her. A show of favor, one she had not given much of in her past life, deeming it beneath her, uncaring of appearances until it was too late, until they did nothing for her any longer but remind her of the station she had fallen, no, been pushed from.

Not this time.

She rose with all the grace her royal upbringing afforded her, the attention of the hall on her almost instantly. She still remembered how to command a room, how to be The Queen. 

'My Lords, my Ladies, my King, my Queen. I wish to take this opportunity to thank you all for being here, to share this joy with our family. Alicent,' she addressed her directly, startling her, 'the pain I felt in the wake of my mother's death was a wound in my side, one I could not mend on my own. You have tended to that wound with your kindness, your gentility, and your devotion. I wish to thank you for your steadfast support through the years, and I am certain you will devote yourself to the Realm just as loyally. To you, my dearest friend. Let us raise our cups for the Queen!' 

Cheers filled the hall, the nobles following her example and raising their wine to Alicent, who flushed gently under the attention. Rhaenyra's father smiled indulgently at her, pleased with her short speech, or at least pretending to be. 

She had spent quite some time wondering how to best play this, how to convince Alicent that she was, while not forgiven, still her best friend. That she could confide in Rhaenyra, share her troubles and hopes, while also at the same time not daring to expect the same of Rhaenyra. It would not do to have her believe herself entitled to Rhaenyra's trust, rather, it was imperative to keep her desperate for forgiveness and approval, at least in private, which in turn would ensure that Alicent would not move against Rhaenyra in public. If she was convinced that patience and trust would afford her Rhaenyra's forgiveness and friendship, she would be pliable. 

Especially since Rhaenyra had ensured that the Ladies of the Court would treat her as the Queen. Coldly and unfailingly polite, without a hint of familiarity beyond their station. Always tolerated and respected, yet never welcome or appreciated. Mere courtesy instead of companionship.

Isolated and alone, with only Rhaenyra to lean on to help alleviate the sudden burden of the Crown on her narrow, young shoulders. 

The duties of the Queen were many, but the most pressing, the most important, the highest of them all was to provide the King with what Queen Aemma had failed: to produce spares to the Throne. All of Westeros would be watching Alicent eagle-eyed for signs of pregnancy, and when she failed to show them, even the most amicable spectators would turn away. 

No matter her ultimate fate, Queen Aemma had been pregnant regularly, her failure not in fertility but delivery. With this irrefutable proof of the King's ability to sire children, the fault would fall on Alicent for failing to make the seed quicken. Her position would be weak, prone to challenge, when she could not do the one thing that was expected of her. No amount of time spent in the sept, no prayer and no pleading would enable her to grow a child when her husband refused her bed. 

Not that dearest Alicent would be able to tell anyone such a thing and be believed. Why else would the King marry her if not to produce children? No one was fool enough to believe love to be the answer. 

It would be Alicent at whose feet the blame would be laid, and Rhaenyra had every intention to be wedded and bedded by the time her father would be able to get Alicent with child without breaking his promise to her. 

Speaking of which, her father laid his hand on hers when she sat back down, and she offered him a brilliant smile, one she also graced Alicent with as she met her eyes with a startlingly grateful look. 

It was strange to see Alicent look at her without accusation, hate or fear. It was even stranger to see her for who she truly was: A puppet whose mummer had no idea that his position was about to be usurped. 

'Father, I have a gift for our new queen. I would like to present it now, if that is agreeable to you?' 

Viserys squeezed her fingers as he'd often done when she was smaller, a benevolent smile on his face. It was the most honestly pleased expression he'd worn all day. 'Of course, Rhaenyra.'

Rhaenyra looked behind herself towards Roslyn, who bobbed a curtsy and went to retrieve her Princess' gift. 

'I had this made for you.  I hope you will wear it often, and remember whenever you put it on that you not only have a friend in me, but now, also family.' She took the small box from Roslyn and presented it to Alicent with a flourish. 'It was made by the metalsmiths of Qarth, and is inlaid with red diamonds. I  hope you find it as beautiful as I do.'

The necklace was, indeed, an exquisite piece of jewelry, delicate strips of gleaming silver woven into an intricate pattern that wound around several red diamonds cut into the shape of tears, buffed and polished and shining like droplets of blood, each one dangling on a thin chain and getting progressively longer before becoming shorter once more, akin to a waterfall. 

Alicent, for all her courtly upbringing, couldn't stifle a small gasp when she beheld it. 

'Rhaenyra, I- I don't know how to thank you. I have never seen something like this before!' She sounded like a little girl that had just been gifted her first doll.

The Princess allowed herself a pleased smile. 'You could thank me by wearing it.' 

Alicent gave her a look so heartrendingly thankful that Rhaenyra almost shuddered to be subjected to it, and nodded firmly. 'As often as possible.' 

'Daughter, I daresay none of the other courtiers will be able to match your gift. It is most pleasing to see you supporting Alicent this way, and I am gladdened that you have maintained your friendship, strengthened it even. Your mother would be proud.'

For a moment, the smile froze on Rhaenyra's lips, and Alicent stiffened tellingly.

'Yes,' Rhaenyra forced out. 'But mother is not with us.' The King, she could tell, must have realized just what he'd said. She understood, it had just slipped out. All the same, it would not do. 'I will defer to your judgement on the subject.' 

How lucky that as a princess yet without engagement and many interested lords, she always had an excuse to leave an uncomfortable environment. 'If you would excuse me, I would like to dance a bit.' 

She stood without waiting for permission and left the dais with her head held high, knowing full well that no unwed lord in the hall would ignore the opportunity to endear himself to the Heir of Westeros. 

Just as expected, it took no time at all for Lord Jason Lannister to approach her, a smile he surely thought to be charming on his face, eyes firmly on her cleavage as he sketched a quick, barely acceptable bow. 'My Princess, would you honor me with a dance?' 

While he was not her first choice in dance partner, he was the Lord of a Great House, unwed, and as such precisely the sort of man she wanted to draw in. As long as they thought they stood a chance, she could ply them easily. 

'Very well, lead on.' She took his offered hand firmly, feeling his surprise at her self-assured grip in his tightening muscles, the lines around his mouth. He was just as much of a pompous ass as he had been before, and she couldn't wait to be rid of him. 

Rhaenyra allowed him to lead her around the dancefloor in a display of flaring skirts and swooping movements, a choreography of dramatics rather than elegance, which she found herself enjoying in spite of her reservations about her partner. He was a skilled dancer, and for all his arrogance, did not cross any lines of propriety, his hands always respectfully away from any areas that might be construed as inappropriate. 

When their dance came to its natural end, Lord Lannister attempted to lure her into another, but thankfully, Lord Tyrell'd had the same idea, and she accepted his hand easily. He did not dance quite as well, but he was far less annoying to talk to. She stoked the glimmer of ambition she saw in his eyes, and assured him of her delight at his suggestion they take a stroll through the garden while he was at the Keep. It would not hurt to have such a mighty House in her corner, though she was under no illusions that she would have to offer something they considered worth standing against their ancient ally for to secure that support. 

After him, she danced with one of the Bracken boys, a thick fellow she recognized from her engagement tour, and did her utmost to get out of his sweaty grip quickly. Old Lord Stark came to her rescue, their dance as polite as a dinner conversation which was a welcome break from the downright haggling of her previous partners who all attempted to use the short time they had with her to extol their virtues. Lord Stark gave a respectful bow, and she remembered at once why she liked the Northern lord so well. There was no such thing as an empty promise for him, nor fake politeness for politeness' sake. She would not have to woo him or his son into loyalty. They had sworn the oath and would stand by it.

So invested was she in her silent scheming, she did not notice Lord Grover Tully until he stood almost right in front of her. She kept her reflexive frown off her face as best she could, recalling vividly that during the Dance, it had been Elmo and Kermit who had stood by her while Grover, that traitorous bit of human scum, had declared for the Greens. Luckily for her, most of the Riverrun bannermen had rallied behind Elmo.

'Princess Rhaenyra. I am pleased to make your acquaintance.' He had a short, stocked way of speaking, and was obviously lying through his teeth. But he did have a son of marriageable age, and what better time remind the crown of such than at a wedding? Especially since the bride was so close to the princess' age? 

'Indeed. We have not yet had the pleasure, Lord Tully. How fare you?' As if she cared. She did not believe she could gain his support, not unless she married his son - whose name, for the life of her, she could not recall.

'Quite well. It has been a while since I have been to court. Not much has changed. You have grown, however.' His eyes wandered to her breasts as if he wanted to make sure she took his meaning.

Her face froze, as for a brief moment, she wished for a wine goblet she could upend over his head. She'd had such urges in the past, not that she ever acted on them, but had foolishly thought that in her mature age they had gone. She was better than this. 

'It is nature taking its course. We are born, grow, and die. In between, we do something meaningful, or not. There is nothing particularly remarkable about it.' 

It was harsh, yes, but the good Lord obviously needed a reminder that he was not speaking to some random noblewoman, but a Princess of the Realm. Not only that, but the Heir to the Iron Throne. 

It was such an annoyance. Yes, she had sat out with the intention of not-so-subtly announcing her readiness for marriage, but to be regarded as though she was a broodmare to be purchased still made her blood boil, same as it had happened the first time around, when her father had pretended that her choice of husband would be respected, only to marry heroff to Laenor when her choice had displeased him. 

He'd had no faith in her then, and he didn't have any faith in her now. Or perhaps he did have faith. Perhaps it was trust he lacked. Whichever it was, she would see it changed. 

'Princess, I only meant to say-'

'That my niece has become a woman whose beauty cannot be described by your fool's tongue? We had noticed. You will excuse us.' 

The Rogue Prince swept in akin to a storm, unpredictable yet dependably chaos-inducing. Rhaenyra didn't bother to hide her smile. 'Lord Tully.' 

She allowed Daemon to take her by the arm, his gentle hold contrasting his brisk pace as he brought them to the middle of the room, in perfect view, she noticed, of both the King and his own wife. Both of which, she was certain, he intended. 

She couldn't say she minded, especially once his hands settled on her hips to draw her close. They were so warm, and fit so perfectly around her. She settled her own hands on his broad shoulders.

'If your intent was to stir this boring farce of a wedding into something more exciting, let me assure you, Rhaenyra, that you have succeeded.' His tone was, irritatingly enough, scolding rather than appreciative, not that you would know it by looking at him. He rather appeared to be enjoying himself, dancing with his niece in front of the whole realm. 

'And what was your intent, uncle? What with quite rudely interrupting me and Lord Tully.' She couldn't help but heckle him. He must have been watching, she realized, only waiting for the opportune moment to steal her away. 

Perhaps he was beginning to see her as a woman he desired, rather than merely a child he was fond of. 

'My intent is the same as it has always been. To protect you, darling niece. That old lech was staring at you quite rudely.' He had been watching. He could call her niece all he liked, she decided, for it did not change the fact that no uncle would ever dance so intimately with his niece unless they were Targaryen. No adult danced this way with a child. 

She laughed. Gods, it was so refreshing to be close to him again, unencumbered by society's rules. She felt free by his side, even surrounded by the duplicitous members of the court, in front of which she could never be who she truly was.

'He was, wasn't he? Although to be fair, so are most of the men.' He twirled her around abruptly, only to bring her back in with his arm wrapped tightly around her middle. Her back was to his front, and his mouth was hot against her ear. Her breathing grew shallow. 

'They may look, Rhaenyra, but if they dare to attempt to lay so much as a finger on you, they will pay most dearly for it.' 

'Yet here you are, laying much more than a finger on our princess. How shall you pay, pray tell?'

Rhea Royce's accusing voice cut through their flirtatious back-and-forth, and it felt like being doused in ice water. Rhaenyra blinked at her, utterly befuddled for a second, before twisting and craning her neck to look up at Daemon.

Daemon, whose eyes grew cold, and whose hands tightened. 

Daemon, who despised the woman who was unnecessarily trying to protect Rhaenyra. 

Daemon, who had murdered his first wife in the previous timeline. 

Oh no.

Chapter Text

Rhaenyra could have slapped herself. To have been so very careless, and in front of so many people as well! 

She had let herself get carried away by the undercurrent of passion that always flowed between her and Daemon, the unspoken devotion that never wavered on either side. 

Daemon's hands had not lifted from her waist, the long line of his warrior's body a wall of heat at her back. Rhea's eyes were hard as stone and just as dark where they had fixed themselves on her unwanted husband's fingers. Her mouth was pursed in disapproval, yet every line of her body read protectiveness. 

She was worried for Rhaenyra, the princess realized, startled beyond what was reasonable. It seemed she had made more of an impression than anticipated on the Lady of Runestone and her liege. Jeyne had her gaze fixed on the Rogue Prince as well, and appeared to be just as ready to interfere. 

It was simultaneously most pleasing and utterly vexing. 

'I daresay I have been punished to excess by having been forced to marry you, and no crime I could ever commit would justify such cruelty, dearest wife.' Daemon's words were weapons, and he did not parlay.

'Your brother the King ought to cut your hands off for daring to lay them upon his heir. She is the Crown Princess, your future Queen. You ought to show her some respect.' Rhea's voice could cut glass, controlled though it was. Remarkably, she didn't rise to the bait Daemon had cast, focusing solely upon his perceived offense. She clearly didn't wish to draw any more attention toward them, futile as that attempt was. Rhaenyra could feel eyes upon them, and some of them were clearly vying for scandal. 

Not whilst she was involved. 

'Lady Rhea, I cannot thank you enough for your concern, but it is not necessary. My uncle was gallantly freeing me from unkind company.' 

Rhea's eyes flitted to hers, the ice in them replaced by a gentleness she had not associated with the Lady Royce before. 'His intentions notwithstanding, my Princess, his behavior is unacceptable. No man should be allowed to behave this way with you, and certainly not in polite company.' She was not as apt as Daemon in her eloquence, but the concern in her voice was real, and touched a part of Rhaenyra she'd thought dead and buried. 

From the time her mother had died in her previous life, all people had done was leave or disappoint her. Starting with her father, then Alicent, then Daemon. Criston. Harwin, who had been taken from her, and Laenor who had not been there when it had mattered, but had had the grace to bow out when she had needed him to. The Lords of the Realm who had declared against her for some reason or other. 

Daemon, at least, had returned to her.

But now, it seemed she had others to rely on. She had hoped for it, but never expected to get it.

'The dragon does not concern himself with the opinions of the sheep.' Daemon growled at his wife. 

'How can you call yourself a dragon when you are barely a man?' Rhea sneered back, eyes darting to about where Daemon's crotch would be if it weren't for Rhaenyra's body obscuring it. Daemon stiffened against her, and not in the arousing way. His rage was rising rapidly, and would need cooling quickly.

'May we all compose ourselves?' Rhaenyra interrupted them before blood could be spilled. 'This is a wedding, not an alehouse.' She added, chancing a wide-eyed glance at Rhea, silently imploring her to back down. Tense heartbeats passed, the silence between the three of them suffocating before the Lady Royce gracefully bowed her head to her princess. Surprisingly enough, Daemon allowed the situation to deescalate just as quietly, choosing not to respond to either his current or his future wife. Rhaenyra cautiously exhaled a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding.

Rhaenyra turned in Daemon's arms, and pressed a hand against his heart. She was startled by its pace. 'Thank you for the dance, uncle. It was the most pleasant experience I've had the entire evening.' Thank you, her eyes said. Thank you for heeding me and not hurting Rhea. Thank you for letting me calm you both. Thank you for choosing me over your own pride. I cannot tell you what that means to me. 

A humorless smile pulled at his lips as he lifted her other hand to his mouth for a kiss. 'High praise indeed.' 

With one last glare at his wife, he turned to leave, and Rhaenyra watched on for a moment as he made his way through the crowd which parted for him like it was their sole purpose to do so. 

Criston's voice pulled her from her trance. 'My princess, is everything all right?' She turned to face her knight, unsure where he'd appeared from, and why he seemed oddly out of breath. 'Forgive my late arrival, I was preoccupied with your previous request. I hope your night so far has been enjoyable?'

Well, that at least explained the state he was in. Best not to draw any attention to the matter. 'You are just on time, Ser Criston, worry not.' She smiled at Rhea, ignoring the way her eyes seemed to stare right into Criston's soul. 'All is well.' She added. Rhea clicked her tongue, clearly not sharing Rhaenyra's sentiment, and was fighting to not chastise her princess' knight. Thankfully, she deferred to Rhaenyra's judgement and left it alone.  

'Lady Rhea, may I accompany you back to your table? I must confess I'm a bit fatigued from dancing.' 

Rhea scrutinized Criston a moment longer before returning her attention to Rhaenyra. 'Certainly, princess. It is my honor.' She offered Rhaenyra her arm in the same manner a lord would, and Rhaenyra took it gratefully. 

The two of them must make quite the picture, Rhaenyra mused, as they cut a path to Lady Arryn's side, who had graciously already cleared a space for Rhaenyra to occupy when she'd seen them coming. The princess sat down gracefully, adjusting her skirts to buy herself a moment of quiet so she may gather herself, and smiled brilliantly at her cousin and good-aunt. 

Jeyne put a concerned hand on her arm, her touch firm and sure. 'Are you alright? What your uncle has done was quite unseemly, and in front of so many people as well. You handled yourself splendidly, I must say, but you cannot have been comfortable.' 

I was perfectly comfortable, I assure you, right until Rhea ruined it! 

Rhaenyra took a deep breath. She had to remind herself that to Jeyne and Rhea, who only knew Daemon as an antagonistic fiend, their dance must have seemed as though Daemon was assaulting her in full view of the Realm, taking advantage of his inexperienced niece and her absent protector under the guise of merriment. They had seen an attack on her dignity and acted accordingly, and had the recipient of their ire been any other man than Daemon, she would have been thankful. As it was, she was still flattered, but mostly angered. However, she could not show herself as such. They would not understand. 

She could not damage her newly repaired ties to her mother's people by coming across as an ungrateful brat now. 

'I am quite alright, cousin, but I appreciate your concern.' She put her hand on top of Jeyne's, squeezing her fingers gently. 'I was less worried about myself and more about Lady Rhea. I feared for your safety,' she said, looking at Rhea with big doe eyes, 'when you put Daemon on the spot as you did. He does not take kindly to being insulted, and though I understand your reasoning, my lady, I cannot help but be insulted on his behalf. Implying what you did is very unkind, especially in public.' She gave Rhea her best self-depreciating laugh, lowering her lashes a bit. She knew it made her look more innocent. 'Of course, what he said to you was very unkind as well. You have my sincere apology for that.' 

Rhea's eyes had grown rounder and rounder the longer Rhaenyra spoke, but when she heard her apology, she immediately shook her head. 'Please, don't apologize. You are not responsible for his actions, I am well aware of that. No one blames you.' She straightened her shoulders. 'I will not apologize for what I have said, princess, for I know it to be true, but I am sorry for embarrassing you. It was never my intention. I only wished to keep you from harm, or humiliation.'

Rhaenyra relaxed internally. She had her right where she wanted her. 

'I am glad to hear that. After my mothers death, I have not had many people who would risk themselves for my sake like you have done. I am... beyond grateful that you would.' She felt her lips pull up into a trembling smile, this one genuine. 

Rhea's eyes were fierce as she also lay a hand on Rhaenyra's arm. 'We do not forsake our own, princess.'

Jeyne said nothing, but her silence spoke volumes. She was with Rhaenyra. 

The Heir to the Iron Throne allowed herself a moment longer to bask in the comfort the Vale women provided so very willingly, before straightening back up. She still had some Lords to feel out, and the night grew ever shorter. 

'There you are.' Rhaenys' said from behind her, neutral in tone and quiet of voice. Rhaenyra turned in her seat, doing her best not to appear surprised at her cousin's appearance. What was it with people randomly appearing this evening? First Daemon, then Criston, and now even Rhaenys. 

'Princess Rhaenys.' Jeyne was the first to recover, 'please, have a seat. Some wine, as well.' She gestured to a servant, who promptly cleared the spot next to Rhaenyra as another swept in with fresh silverware and a goblet. The Vale servants were as devoted to their mistress as Aemma's had been to her. 

The Queen Who Wasn't gracefully accepted Lady Arryn's offer, taking her seat with all the royal elegance her station demanded, one ankle crossed over the other chastely, legs together and spine straight. She never wasted a single movement, and was akin to a marble statue when sitting still, unyielding and unchangeable. 

Rhaenyra envied her greatly for that.

Rhaenys' sharp eyes perused the Ladies Royce and Arryn, something akin to what a charitable soul might call approval in her gaze. 

Jeyne chanced a polite quirk of lips and inclined her head towards the Lady of High Tide. 'You honor us with your presence, Princess.' 

'Oh, I am certain. If you don't mind, Lady Arryn, I would speak with Princess Rhaenyra alone.' She declined the full carafe of wine a servant had brought intent on filling her goblet. 'We have much to discuss.' 

Rhaenyra wanted to shake her. She knew, logically, that Rhaenys was not Jeyne's ally but Rhaenyra's. The Lady of High Tide and the Wardeness of the East were, for now, not allied with one another, and as such, in Rhaenys' mind, she ought to not divulge any business of theirs to a third party. 

Admirable, and cautious. There was much to learn from the Queen Who Never Was, and with her newfound appreciation of Rhaenyra, the crown princess hoped Rhaenys would be willing to provide her with advice when she required it, and lend her support when the need arose.

If, perhaps, in not quite the same brusque manner she had most likely just offended both Lady Arryn and Lady Royce with.

Jeyne's eyes narrowed as her demeanor turned coldly polite, proving Rhaenyra's suspicions. 'If that is what my cousin wishes, I shall oblige. You are, however, more than welcome to stay here and discuss your business where unfriendly ears are kept away by those loyal to our princess.' 

Her choice of words did not go unnoticed by either princess, both understanding the implication. The Vale's loyalty lay with the Heir rather than the King, and speaking such aloud, to someone who was neither friend nor foe nor ally, and also in public, couldn't be taken back. 

House Arryn had chosen their side.

A smile blossomed on Rhaenys' face. 'I would advise against such bold declarations for now, Lady Arryn. We must all be loyal to the Crown... and true loyalty is quiet yet unyielding. The time for obviousness will come, and when it does, none of us must falter.' 

'Serving the Crown and serving the King are two very different things, Princess Rhaenys. I would urge you to remember that, as well.' Lady Rhea spoke quietly. Rhaenyra's respect for her increased yet again. It was obvious that the Vale did not hold the King in high regard. 

It was an opinion Rhaenyra empathized with. She loved her father. But he had not been a good king. He had been - was still - weak and complacent, and too often chose the path of least resistance. He did not wish for confrontation, no, he wanted to avoid it as best as he could, and so, rather than addressing problems, he insisted they were trivialities at best and swept them under the rug at worst, and in doing so, created a court that didn't fear consequence, and as such, didn't fear the Crown. The court may not be obvious about it, but Rhaenyra remembered well that her father's word had not been taken as law, as it should have been, but rather as suggestion, which Otto Hightower had exploited shamelessly. 

Oh, the irony of it all. 

She had thought her father's decision to declare her heir and his conviction to stand by her would be enough. She had taken his word as law, just like Daemon had. The two people in all the Realms who should've acted like Otto: Been obedient to the King's face and plot for their own gain behind his back. Had they done so, the Dance may never have happened. 

But she had the chance to it properly, do it right, now. And she would. No matter how much it hurt. 

Dear Gods, but it did. She had doubted her father's love for and devotion to her for as long as the man had lived, and only understood the depth of his loyalty to her when he'd all but crawled to the Iron Throne to defend sweet Lucerys' birthright as heir to the Driftmark. At the same time, she'd all but idealized him, believing that the Lords of the Realm would obey her as they had him, only to realizing too late that they never had and never would do so.

Certainly, that had partially been her fault - she had been arrogant, assuming that she would not need allies of her own as she was the declared Heir. Her only alliance had been with House Velaryon, and that had only come to pass because her father had pushed for it.

He had, in his own way, done his best to protect her. 

When she'd finally begun to understand just how unstable her reign was, how capricious the Lords sworn to her were, how questionable her continued rule, it had been too late. 

By the time she had been killed, she had been an embittered, paranoid shadow of her former self. Her mind had not been her own most days, she could now clearly see that. 

She shuddered to think it now, but it was the truth. She would have done anything to secure her throne, still would, to be sure, but she would not allow her mind to become as clouded as it had before. All she had lost, she would regain, and her heart would mend when she brought destruction to those who would see her fall. 

She was under no delusions that the Lords of the Realm would just quietly and obediently bow down to her Queenship, as she's once expected. But for now, there was no other heir, and if she had her way, it would stay so for quite a while.

And with how well things were progressing... she may be able to sway her father into granting an annulment of Daemon's marriage. 

Of course, she thought, getting his marriage dissolved was only the beginning. Getting the King to allow his firstborn daughter, his only child and Heir, to marry the brother he did not trust would take quite a bit of manipulation, cunning and patience. All three she'd lacked in her youth the last time, and therefore, would not be expected of her now. 

She allowed herself a small smile and rejoined the conversation. 

'My Lady, I am most honored by your declaration, but I find myself agreeing with my royal cousin.' She lowered her voice. 'We cannot allow ourselves to get swept up in the passion of the moment. There are too many people, both within these walls and outside, who would use such words, true and just as they are, against not only me, but against yourself and your liege lady.'

Rhea's gaze weighed heavily on her, alight with an intensity Rhaenyra couldn't help but be grateful for. To have such fervor on her side was what any ruler longed for, she knew. All the same, she had a point to make. 'We must tread with caution.'

For a heartbeat, the Lady and the Princess stared at each other, locked in silent battle, before the Lady ceded. 'Indeed, my Princess. I apologize.' 

'There is no need for any apologies, Lady Royce,' Princess Rhaenys cut in smoothly, 'as we are all well aware that no offence was meant. All the same, I must ask you both,' her eyes flicked to Jeyne Arryn, 'to endure without my cousin's company for a little while. We have matters to discuss still.' 

Before Rhaenyra could either acknowledge Rhaenys or deny the need for privacy, Jeyne parried. 'As we have just established, Lady Velaryon,' Rhaenyra winced internally, that was a clear reminder of Rhaenys' status as a wife, rather than a ruler in her own right, 'there is no place in this castle more suited for your urgent matters than this very table. You grew up here, so you must know as well as I do that the walls have ears. It is far easier to conduct business out in the open, surrounded by all the noise the guests are making rather than in a quiet hallway where your every whisper will echo. So once again, I invite both you and our Princess to take advantage of the public privacy we are offering.' 

Gods damn it, but the Lady Arryn was completely right. The lords and ladies may feast their eyes on them, but their ears would strain in vain. Over the music, the chatter, and the clinking of cutlery, nobody would overhear a thing. 

Which was why Rhea had been so comfortable uttering the words she had. She'd known full well only the four of them would hear them. 

And Ser Criston, who would rather die than betray Rhaenyra's trust, for now. She once again glanced at him, taking note of his alert posture and ramrod-straight back, and wondered if any Kingsguard had ever gotten tangled up in their white, billowing capes and fallen to their unfortunate end down a cliff. 

'Thank you, Jeyne. We shall gladly do so.' Rhaenyra decided to end the squabble. Jeyne's stiff posture relaxed minutely into something still formal but less readily aggressive, a subconscious reaction to the lessened tension of the situation around her. She sent Rhaenyra a small smile, which was reciprocated.

By her side, Rhaenys radiated displeasure, and while Rhaenyra understood full well where Rhaenys was coming from, the Queen Who Wasn't did not know about Jeyne's plea. The Wardeness of the East needed Rhaenyra's support, just like Rhaenyra needed hers. She would not betray her, or be betrayed. She remembered her kin's fierce loyalty from her former life, and had seen evidence of it already in this one. 

The sooner her two cousins learned to trust one another, as well as her, the better.

It would take time, Rhaenyra thought as Rhaenys' eyes narrowed at Rhaenyra's decision. She wisely didn't argue against it. 

At least not before those she perceived as outsiders. 

Chapter Text

Rhaenys took a moment to collect herself as Jeyne gestured for her servants to fill their goblets, which Rhaenyra allowed with a graceful incline of her head. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Otto Hightower glancing their way every so often, embroiled in a conversation of his own though he was. 

That would simply not do.

She glanced at Ser Cristonm an unspoken order to approach which he obeyed just as wordlessly. 

'Ser Cole, I would ask you to keep a close eye on our Lord Hand. We wouldn't want him to accidentally spoil our merry get together. He does look rather fretful, wouldn't you agree?'

Her Sworn Shield followed her line of sight and met the Hand's searching gaze unflinchingly. Criston was defiant in his refusal to avert his eyes like a proper Knight of the Kingsguard should, perusing the Hand in turn, this man he had come to see as an enemy of his beloved charge. Rhaenyra hid her smirk behind her goblet. Criston was like a loyal hound, defensive of his mistress and heeding her every gesture. 

She quite liked him this way. 

'Of course, my Princess. I shall keep him from disturbing you.' Having received and acknowledged his orders, he returned to his post, his eye watchful on Lord Hightower, and sufficiently distracted from Rhaenyra's cousins, Lady Rhea, and herself. 

'Please, Princess Rhaenys, share with me what you will. You have me intrigued.' 

The princess' pinched look relaxed into what Rhaenyra could only consider feigned pleasantness. 'Of course, cousin.' She shot a stern look at the Lady Jeyne, using the familiar adress as a way to remind Jeyne that they both shared blood with Rhaenyra, returning the Lady Arryn's previous slap with skill and vicious grace. By the twitching of Jeyne's mouth she had decided to consider them even. 'Corlys and I have discussed your proposal, and accept it. While I will remain in the Keep for some time after the celebrations are done, High Tide is my foremost duty. But you had mentioned your fondness for my daughter Laena, which she returns. As a highborn lady who is closely related to you, Corlys and I have decided to entrust you with her. She will be fostered here, at the Red Keep, by you, Princess Rhaenyra. The matter is all but settled with the King.' 

Rhaenyra's insides felt like ice even as butterflies began to dance in her stomach. This was... monumental. It was so much more than she had expected. 

Obviously, it was not only to her benefit, but to House Velaryon's as well. By entrusting their daughter not to the Crown, or the Queen, but to the Heir to the Throne, Lord and Lady Velaryon made it clear that neither King nor Queen had their trust or confidence, but Rhaenyra did, thus signalling to all other Houses that the tides were turning in the Heir's favor. The second most powerful House in the Realm was aligning with her, and more than any public appearances together, the Princess Rhaenys charging Rhaenyra with her daughter's care and education would send a signal even the most oblivious, drunken fool of a Lord could pick up on. 

Not to mention, it was a very polite, sneaky way of rubbing Laena in Alicent's, and by extension, Otto's face. By leaving their daughter at court as the Heir's protege, they made sure that the King would be constantly reminded of the slight against their House, while appearing to have generously forgiven him. Of course, every schemer worth his salt would recognize the gesture for what it was, which could only benefit Rhaenyra, who would be beyond pleased to have her dear cousin so close to her. 

Family was, after all, the greatest, highest grace one could have. 

Rhaenyra spotted the speculative glint in Rhaenys' eye as they looked at one another in quiet contemplation. The Queen Who Never Was knew full well what she was doing, and Rhaenyra felt proud to have one so formidable as an ally. 

'I cannot find the words to tell you how much your trust means to me, cousin. I shall not fail you, nor your daughter. I will teach her all I know, and keep her confidence.' 

'As she will keep yours. I expect her to write to me regularly, to appraise me of her progress. She is a bright girl, and will make a splendid Lady with the right tutelage.' 

In other words, Laena would act as a go-between for Rhaenyra and the Velaryons, as well as an informant for her mother. Her presence at court would also be a most convenient excuse for the Lady of High Tide to visit every so often without allowing the Lord Hand to cast doubt on her intentions. It was, indeed, a most wonderful strategy.  

Rhaenyra inclined her head. 'I am honored.' 

Jeyne cast a wide eyed look at the both of them, undoubtedly realizing the political implications just as well as Rhaenyra had. 'Will the Lady Laena accompany you on your tour as well, Rhaenyra?' 

Rhaenys' went from being pleased right back to being suspicious, looking between Jeyne and Rhaenyra with sharp eyes. 'What tour do you speak of exactly?'

Rhaenyra could have slapped her Vale cousin and then herself. She had not even finished preparations for her tour, or spoken to her father about it, though she knew he would not deny her. 

'Well, cousin, seeing as I will not have a tourney to celebrate my installation as Heir to the Iron Throne, especially so soon after a royal wedding, a tour of the Realm to affirm my status and allow me to become more closely acquainted to my future subjects was deemed a fitting alternative. It will not happen for a little while, two months at least, but I will visit every major House in the Seven Kingdoms, and some of the more influential bannermen also. It would be an opportunity too convenient to forgo to introduce your daughter to the Lords of the Realm, as well.'

She gifted her cousin a blinding smile. 'I had not known you intended to make Laena my ward when I conceived this plan, but I am confident she will be an excellent addition to my entourage.' 

Rhaenys lifted an eyebrow. 'Entourage?'

'Indeed,' Jeyne cut in, 'as Rhea will be staying at Court after the festivities as well. She will accompany our Princess on her tour.' 

Rhaenys inclined her head in acknowledgement. 'I see. Very well, I can hardly fault you for taking steps to secure your position,' she addressed Rhaenyra, 'and my decision remains the same. I will aid you in your preparations for your tour, and we will go from there.' 

Rhaenyra once more found herself stunned into speechlessness. This Rhaenys was so very different from the one she remembered. Then again, she had not married this Rhaenys' son when half of Westeros had been convinced she'd been defiled by her uncle and then supposedly killed him to marry said uncle. 

She could only nod, and was thankfully saved from having to find an appropriate response by the loud cheering of the rest of the hall, which she'd neglected to pay attention to. 

It seemed it was time for the bedding ceremony. 

Oh Gods, the bedding ceremony. 

As her father was the King, there would be no raucous jeering as husband and wife were accompanied to their chambers while losing their clothing on the way, but there was still the anticipation rising in the air as the King offered his new Queen his hand to lead her to the marriage bed. 

Which she would leave unspoiled, pure as freshly fallen snow, unable to confide in anyone that her husband refused to do his duty. 

Rhaenyra rose gracefully to follow after them, gesturing for her maidservant to follow along. 'If you would excuse me, my ladies, duty calls. I shall aid our new Queen in undressing as tradition demands. I urge you to enjoy the rest of the night, and will join you after I have completed my duties.'

As she left, she could hear Jeyne mutter distastefully about forcing Rhaenyra to undress her mother's replacement, and smirked to herself. There would be no allies for Alicent at court once she left on her tour, if Ser Criston's inclination of spreading rumors as fact could be counted on. Already, she had heard several ladies wonder whether a stained sheet would be presented come morning, or if there was no possibility of such, and if not, why evidence of the young Queen's purity would not be presented. 

There was only one reasonable explanation for lack of bleeding during the wedding night, after all. 

Alicent looked over her shoulder at Rhaenyra, who made sure to school her features into a tense, if reassuring, smile. She tentatively smiled back, nervousness in every line of her posture, and Rhaenyra fought the urge to strangle her with the gifted necklace. 

How dare she be nervous?! After she had stolen into the King's affections, plied him with companionship, and enticed him into marrying her? Of course, Viserys was not innocent in the whole affair, but he never would have noticed Alicent had she not done everything in her power to make him see her. 

The Heir kept her head high and shoulders straight with conscious effort, reminding herself that she had to play the supportive friend for a while yet. As far as Alicent was concerned, Rhaenyra blamed Otto Hightower for most of the mess, though she had not yet forgiven Alicent for her part in it. It would not do to falter now and make the girl suspicious. The little upstart had always had a paranoid streak. 

Their small procession reached the King's personal apartments, which included an antechamber for the specific purpose of readying his bride for a bedding. It was equipped with a bathtub, several scented oils, a small wardrobe, and not much else - the idea being that the queen would not spend much time inside, mainly giving her a private space to clean up after laying with her husband. It was also where Rhaenyra would help her dearest friend to disrobe and put on her nightgown, take down her hair and brush it out, as well as aid her in the application of whichever perfumes she chose to wear for her new husband to entice him into ravishing her. 

Ha.

After this first night, the queen's maids or ladies-in-waiting would fulfill the role Rhaenyra played tonight, but Rhaenyra had offered sweetest Alicent the comfort of her presence, arguing that her feelings on the matter notwithstanding, as the highest ranking female of her House, it was her duty anyway. Also, she insisted, she did not wish to abandon her best friend on such a harrowing evening, during such a monumental occasion.

Not that she had cared about it in her past life. 

Despite all her resolve, for a moment she had half a mind to just not walk through the antechamber's door, turn right around and find a bottle or five of Dornish Red. Then she recalled her darling sons and the ends they had met, and pushed on. 

She would ensure that the Greens paid dearly for all they had cost her. 

'I shall await you here, Princess,' Ser Criston seemed to feel the urge to assure her as she followed Alicent through the door, as if it were a choice on his part. Roslyn stood behind him, as though she were using him as a shield. It was amusing, in a way, if he had not sounded so very sure of himself, as if he were being gracious by staying at his post as he was expected to.

But perhaps, she mused, she was seeing arrogance where there was none. Looking back at him, his dark eyes were full of sorrow, directed at her, and worry. Ah, so he wanted to comfort her, in whatever small ways he could. How sweet, and utterly useless. 

'See to it that you do, Ser Criston,' she replied, mouth unsmiling but tone kind. He understood her, and took a bow as the door closed behind her. 

Leaving her alone with the Queen.

Who clearly had absolutely no idea how to proceed, even though all she had ever wanted was to be wedded and bedded. 

Rhaenyra yet again fought the urge to scream. 

Alicent sent a wavering smile at her, so Rhaenyra stepped closer, sensing weakness. An opportunity. Which, after some more fidgeting on Alicent's part, presented itself beautifully.

'I wanted to thank you for doing this, Rhaenyra. I don't think - I meant, what I believe is... It's- It cannot be easy for you.' She stepped forward an grasped Rhaenyra's elbows in that half-hug, half-clutch she was so fond of. 'It means a lot that you are here.' Thank you for not leaving me to face this on my own, was what hung unspoken between them. They both heard it all the same, loud and clear. 

Rhaenyra grasped Alicent's elbows in turn, making sure that her smile wavered just a tad as she plastered it on.

If it was reassurance Alicent wanted, Rhaenyra would provide it. All the better to control her with. Gods knew Otto didn't give her enough of it. She would become addicted to the validation, just as she had the last time, only that now, Rhaenyra would be her supplier. 

'Despite my misgivings, Ali, I want what is best for you. I have found, after what happened to mother, that sometimes, the things that are not easy are the things most worth doing. It is not easy to be here, I admit, but it was a simple choice for me to make. I had to chose between our friendship and my personal pain, so I did.'

The queen interpreted her words exactly like Rhaenyra had expected her to. It was almost too easy. 

Alicent's eyes lit up like stars, tears filling them as she was overwhelmed by emotion. How pathetic. 'Oh, Rhaenyra, I-,' she swallowed, voice thick with tears, 'I don't know what to say. I truly did not intend to hurt you, and I will not do so in the future, I promise. I will be as true a friend to you as you are to me. I am so, so,' her voice caught, but she swallowed once more and continued, her grip tightening, 'so very sorry for my behavior.' 

As you damn well should be, you lying, pretentious, usurping cunt! 

'I know you are.' She deliberately did not imply forgiveness with her choice of words. 'I believe you, Ali.' The lie burned her throat as she forced it out in a suitably touched, somewhat choked voice, and she lifted a hand to brush a stray auburn curl behind Alicent's ear. It must have loosened from her updo somehow, even though the new queen had not danced with anyone during the entire feast. Not even her husband. 

Viserys had not let a single feast pass without dancing with Aemma at least once.

Rhaenyra couldn't help the feeling of vindication mixed with relief as she realized such. There were no deeper feelings for Alicent in his heart that could sway him away from Rhaenyra. She was but a temporary alleviation of loneliness, one whose novelty would soon wear off, and whose comforts would turn out to be the empty words of a fraud. 

It settled Rhaenyra's troubled heart far more effectively than any wine could, and she found that her smile became a bit more honest, and a bit less painful. Oh, the joy of triumph. Finding pleasure in another's suffering was not an indulgence she got to enjoy often, but as long as it was Alicent's, she would - secretly of course -  revel in it. 

'Now,' she gestured at Alicent's attire, 'shall we begin?'

A blush stole its way over Alicent's face even as she acquiesced to the princess' suggestion by turning her back. Rhaenyra quickly set to work and unlaced the bodice of her gown, pulling the flaps of fabric apart gently. She and Alicent had, more often than was appropriate, helped each other dress, so she knew how to lace up a bodice, and she found the reverse far less tricky. Alicent lifted her arms, and Rhaenyra pulled the outer bit of clothing fully apart to leave the queen in yet another layer of fabric, now looser for lack of restriction, if still fitted to her figure. 

She was faced with yet another cross-laced maze of eyelets and expensive string, which she got rid of just as quickly as the first, perhaps a bit more careless than what was advised for a gown this fine.

Not that she cared, she wasn't a maidservant. All that mattered was that the queen got out of her formal wear and into a nightgown, preferably before the sun rose.

Having loosened the dress sufficiently, she tapped Alicent on the shoulder. 

'I'll need your help with this, I'm afraid,' she admitted, trying to sound sheepish. 'I do not have any experience undressing others.' 

The shy blush that had covered Alicent's cheeks turned bright and obvious, spreading down her chest. 'Yes, of course. If you could pull it down a bit, I'll take it the rest of the way off. You got the bodice off with such skill I almost forgot-'

'That I'm not a servant?' 

Alicent paled. 'I didn't mean-'

Rhaenyra stared at her. Alicent stared back. They locked eyes. The tension mounted, and - snapped.

They simultaneously burst into laughter. 

'I must admit, I have never gotten quite such a peculiar compliment, Ali!' She couldn't help but keep on chuckling, genuine mirth in her voice. The look on Alicent's face had been priceless.

'Gods, Rhaenyra, I'm so sorry. I just really thought you did your task so well, I didn't mean for it to come out like it did!' Alicent was also giggling a little, still, before she succeeded in calming herself. 'I've been so tense all day, and your presence brings me so much comfort. It's so easy to relax around you, Nyra.' 

You don't get to call me that. 

'Well, I daresay you are relaxed now. We should continue, yes?'

As Alicent turned back around, Rhaenyra winked at her, causing the blush to return. They finished peeling the queen out of her dress, and when she was left in only her smallclothes, Rhaenyra picked up a bottle of scented oil. Perfume, really. 

'So, do you suppose this goes on before or after you put on the nightgown?' She kept the levity from before in her tone.

No dice. 'After.' Alicent decided quickly. So she was somewhat ashamed about this whole affair. Very good. Shame weakened the mind. Shame was a powerful ally, and a fearsome predator. 

'You don't have to be afraid, you know,' Rhaenyra said while she pulled the nightgown over Alicent's head. She could've knelt down so the queen could step into it, the way she as all highborn ladies was accustomed to, but Rhaenyra staunchly refused to even entertain the thought of kneeling before this traitorous wench. Alicent would never speak of this, she knew. She would insist it wasn't proper. 

There were so many things she would not speak of for fear of impropriety. For lack of confidence. For absence of camaraderie. The isolation of her new position would drive her mad, slowly but surely, especially once Rhaenyra left for her tour. 

Alicent would spend months stewing in the cesspit that was the Court, her only friend gone from her, as the vultures began circling, her father the Lord Hand the most demanding of them all. No one to call confidante, no one to lean on. 

Once she failed at the one thing she was meant to do above all others, namely conceiving, carrying and birthing a son, the vultures would descend to pick at her tender flesh and rend it from her bones, bleeding her out slowly, wearing her down, making her fall into despair.

Right until Rhaenyra returned, like a knight in shining armor, to reassure her and build her back up, to act as a shield between those who scorned her and the queen. She would become so dependent on Rhaenyra that she would take her every word as gospel truth, and would not be able to fathom Rhaenyra acting against her. 

It would make her downfall all the sweeter. 

With those thoughts comforting her, Rhaenyra began to methodically unwind Alicent's hair from the updo it had been forced into, one pin after the other, until the auburn tresses hung free around her face, cascading down her narrow shoulders. 

But when she went to unclasp the necklace she'd gifted her, Alicent reached back and stilled her hand. 'I would keep it on, if you allow it.' 

Rhaenyra's silence must have been telling, for Alicent hurried to add on, 'It gives me confidence, to know I have your love with me this way. You will always be with me, even when we are apart, and I have faith that this gift will aid me in the tribulations of my new duties. It is proof of your blessing of my union with the King, reluctant though it may be, and I would like, with your approval, to keep it as such.' 

Rhaenyra wanted, yet again, to strangle her. Patience. All in good time. No matter what she thinks, she will not conceive for at least a year, blessing or no. 

Rhaenyra took her hands off the necklace and put them around Alicent's waist from behind, hugging her the same way Alicent liked to hug her. 

'You have my permission, of course you do. I cannot say I have forgiven you yet, you know you have hurt me deeply. But you are my friend, my very best friend, in fact, and I do not want you unhappy, or worrying about your place in my life. It is impossible to banish you from my heart, and my feelings for you will never change.' She breathed out, gathering herself. 'You are... one of the most important people in my life.' She squeezed Alicent's waist gently. 'You need not be afraid that I would ever turn you away, Alicent. There is no woman closer to me than you, or more dear. Please do not ever doubt that.' 

The Queen laid her hands on Rhaenyra's and just breathed. Rhaenyra could hear the returning tears in her labored breaths. Yes, go ahead. Cry some more. It is your solution for everything, that and lying. 'm sure it will help, as it always does. 

'Thank you, Nyra. I will not. And you,' she turned in the princess' arms, 'must never doubt me either. I love you with all my heart, and I shall never cease doing so. I cannot.' 

Rhaenyra smiled at her, and was pleased when it was returned. She allowed the affirmation to settle in Alicent's mind for a heartbeat or three, before untangling herself and pointing at the door to the King's bedchamber. 

'I will not wish you luck. Instead, I will tell you that you need not be afraid. My father is a good, kind man, and as your union is,' on his part at least, you manipulative bitch, 'made from affection, you will be just fine.  I will pray for you to the Mother. A much trusted friend of mine taught me how, so I hope you are alright with that.' 

Alicent pulled her shoulders back and nodded firmly. 'It means a great deal to me that you would. Thank you.' 

Rhaenyra inclined her head and watched as Alicent approached the door, regarding the handle as though it would burn her if she touched it, before steeling herself and turning it, walking into the King's bedchamber with all the faked confidence she could muster. 

Rhaenyra remained in the antechamber, despite knowing that her father took his promises seriously. 

The seed of doubt that had taken root in her would not allow her to do otherwise until she confirmed for herself that he would not give in to his weakness and bed his young, beautiful new wife. 

So she remained still and silent, grateful that public beddings were not considered tasteful or necessary for House Targaryen. As the happy couple had already foregone the typical bawdy procession and indignity of being stripped by their wedding guests - quite understandably so, considering their station - no one was waiting outside the door to listen for the tell-tale sounds of consummation. At least as far as the two people in the room knew. 

As she heard faint rustling - most likely Alicent getting into bed with her father, what a disgusting thought - she stepped closer to the door, breath shallow and heart pounding. 

Quiet words, calm and measured judging by the way they were delivered, clearly a man's voice. A beat of silence, before a disbelieving answer, a question by the pitch of it, in a woman's voice. 

Rhaenyra grinned to herself. She strained her ears, and, indeed, there it was, '-cent, there will be time enough later. Do not question me.' 

'But it is our duty, Your Grace-'

'The need is not so pressing, anymore. We will have children, in time. We should know each other better, first.' 

So that was what he was going with? After all the talk about securing the line of succession in case Rhaenyra died unexpectedly, that was his excuse? It was weak. Well, no matter. It wasn't as if Alicent could force him to sleep with her. Thankfully. 

'Your Grace-' Still, she tried. Commendable effort, truly, but wasted. If Viserys did not wish to listen, he would be all but deaf. It was one of his most distinguished abilities. 

'That is my final word on the matter, Alicent. We ought to-'

Rhaenyra took a quiet step back. She did not need to hear any more. Her father would keep his word, and Alicent's purity would remain intact. 

She had bought herself some time. More than that, she had weakened Alicent's, and by extension Otto's, position. No one would blame the King for his wife's lack of change in circumstance, as he had already proven himself more than capable of siring children.

A barren queen was a useless queen, and the longer it took for Alicent to produce an alternate heir, the more focused on Rhaenyra the kingdom would become. By the time Alicent conceived, it would be too late. 

Chapter Text

Outside the antechamber, Ser Criston had not left his post, as promised. His brows were drawn together in worry still, and the way his forehead wrinkled with the expression was most unbecoming for a knight of the Kingsguard. Especially her own Sworn Shield. Had he spend the past however many minutes just... frowning at the door? 

Judging from the relief that flooded his face and smoothed out his features, it seemed likely. 

What a sad man he was. She'd enjoy ruining him, just as she was ruining Alicent: slowly but surely. They'd never see her coming.

In the meantime, she would enjoy his loyalty... and propensity for gossip.

She closed the door quietly so to not rouse any suspicion for her late departure, and walked briskly away from her father's private apartments, a pace Criston would surely chalk up to her perceived discomfort over the demeaning act she had been forced to perform for the whore queen, as she'd already heard him call Alicent very quietly once. It simultaneously made her want to tear her hair out and laugh in absolute amazement. The sheer irony of it could drive one to madness. 

'Are you well, my lady?' He looked her up and down, assessing her for injury. As though he feared that this Alicent would pull a knife on her without provocation. 

It seemed he considered the dearest girl without any sort of decency now, in stark contrast to the other time. To think he believed Alicent capable of stooping so low as to attack or threaten Rhaenyra behind closed doors was downright hilarious when she thought about it too long. 

His tendency to be suspicious of Alicent and therefore all those associated with her would serve Rhaenyra well.

'As well as I can be, Ser. It was a rather long evening, and I confess to some exhaustion. It was a tiring spectacle, as I'm sure you would agree.' 

Criston snorted behind her, agreeing. 'I would, though if I may be so bold, you were resplendent. Every inch the Crown Princess, I've heard many say. I wholeheartedly agree with them, of course. I am honored to serve you, Rhaenyra.' 

There it was again, that grating, familiar address that she could not forbid him for fear of alienating him. She would have to more subtly remind him of their status difference. 'I knew when I chose you to become my Kingsguard that you would be all a Knight is meant to be: honorable, dutiful and loyal. I am lucky to count you as not only my Shield, but as a friend, as well.' 

He did not reply, nor did he need to. They understood each other without words, so annoyingly familiar with each other in a way only a truly devoted protector and a lady truly trusting him could be. 

He would die for her, she knew. And she intended for him to. 

'Have you managed to fulfill my request? Seeing as it took some time, I wished to know.' She posed the question in a light tone as they wound their way through the Keep, back to the Great Hall were the revelry was not yet done.

Criston was keeping pace admirably even in his heavy armor, not even a little out of breath, but then again with all the training he did, she expected nothing less. 

'I have, Your Highness. I apologize for my tardiness. I had not meant to leave you unprotected for so long.' 

She dismissed his contrition with a wave of the hand. 'No need, Ser, I was well protected by the rest of the Kingsguard. They were at the feast, no?'

'Be that as it may, I am your Sworn Shield. By leaving you alone, I have violated my oath.' They had come close enough to the hall that the sounds of celebration were echoing off the stone walls, no matter how many tapestries hung from them.

'You were on a mission from your Lady,' she assured him, 'no one would blame you for fulfilling it, especially if it was as successful as it sounds. Indeed, you have pleased me, Ser Criston.'

'I strive for nothing else, Princess.'

No, naturally, you don't. You and Alicent truly are alike. You'd both have the rest of the world believe that all you live for is duty, when in truth, you're the least honorable of all of us.

'You gladden my heart, Ser Criston. I truly couldn't ask for a more devoted knight.'

They had arrived at the great arch which served as the entrance to the Hall, seeing as the doors were wide open. The two members of the Kingsguard stationed there bowed respectfully for Rhaenyra and nodded amicably to Cole. They had been part of her father's kingsguard since the beginning, Ser Willis and Ser Steffon, one a traitor, the other loyal till he breathed his last.

'All is well in there, I trust?' She made sure her voice was lilting, melodic, not a hint of her displeasure discernable.

'Indeed, Princess. Despite the wine, or perhaps rather because of it, the Lords seem in a fine mood.' Ser Willis Fell reported, a twinkle in his eye. He'd always been respectful to her, but always seemed privately amused by one thing or the other, and in her past life, had sworn himself to the usurper. 

Ser Steffon Darklyn, on the other hand, had been her own Lord Commander, after he'd brought her father's crown to Dragonstone. He looked at her now, years younger, and it was as though someone had backhanded her. She had stood over his charred corpse after he had attempted to mount Seasmoke and got burned for his trouble, just as she had stood when he had knelt before her alongside the rest of her court as she'd been crowned. He had been old then, but steadfast and loyal and brave, and she had mourned his passing.

She was so very glad to see him well, if bored, before her now, so much so that she almost forgot she ought to answer his comrade before she moved on. 

'That is wonderful to hear. Thank you.' Her voice did not waver.

They both seemed surprised at her thanks, Ser Willis more than Ser Steffon, but accepted it gracefully. She smiled to herself. A little regard went a long way, and the fonder they were of her, the better. She was, after all, the Realm's Delight, and people ought to remember her as such.

She directed her smile at them but was on her way before they could respond to it.

She stepped into the Hall, the cool air of the hallway becoming a fond memory as the heat of too many bodies packed together nearly bowled her over. She had to stop for a moment, adjusting. Then she strode confidently forward, the nobility of Houses both great and small parting before her.  

Looking around, she saw no trace of Rhaenys, but that did not surprise her. No doubt she was with Lord Corlys, who by now must have finished plotting the war for the Stepstones with Daemon. 

So, unbothered, she moved toward her cousin's table, where the Lady Arryn was talking with who Rhaenyra instantly recalled as a Frey woman, the Lord's wife, if memory served. But, she sternly corrected herself, the woman -Sabitha, that was her name - was not Frey's wife yet. Fool Frey, as Rhaenyra had nicknamed him during her previous life for daring to ask for her hand in marriage, was not yet wed.

The woman sat with Jeyne had been a good match for him, a daughter of House Vypren, riverlords in their own right and fellow bannermen of House Tully.

Perfect. The Twins were a strategic location, if one needed to go South. There were many ways from the largest of the Realms, the North, into the other six kingdoms, but the Twins were a necessary evil if one wanted to cross the Green Fork. Which was why all paid the high tolls demanded by Lord Frey without much fuss, if great irritation. As heavily fortified as the stronghold was, besieging it was all but useless, and unless one planned to kill every Frey there was and situating another family as Lords of the Crossing, one who would in all likelihood adopt the same strategy for accumulating wealth, there was no way to oust them from power. 

Although they were officially sworn to House Tully, as with many of the riverlords, there was no guarantee they would obey their oaths. But House Frey had rallied to her side during the Dance, and she was confident that they would again.

If push came to shove, she would not be the one falling. 

'Jeyne, Lady Sabitha.' Indeed it was the Lady Sabitha, beautiful and cunning, one of those women who were wasted as wives, yet one who knew how to play the cards she was dealt, and who did so well. Rhaenyra had been fond of her, as fond as one could be when she barely knew her, seeing as her bravery, no, daring, had left an undeniable impression. 

The future Lady Frey seemed surprised to be recognized, but pleasantly so. It seemed many of the lords and ladies of the Realm wanted to simply be thought of as worthy of recognition, even without banners and knights and kinsmen swarming them. Knowing who was who, even if they weren't really much of anything, did quite a bit of work for her. 

'Rhaenyra!' Jeyne lit up, and Sabitha shot a startled look at her at the familiar form of address. Rhaenyra merely smiled at her cousin's jovial tone. 'I am so glad to see you return. I had been holding out hope you would not retire just yet. Matter of fact, Lady Sabitha and I were just talking about you.' Jeyne gestured to the seat Rhaenyra had claimed as her own previously, where her used goblet had been swept out for a fresh one, a servant already filling it. 

Rhaenyra smiled pleasantly and sat where directed, mindful of her skirts. With how drunk people were getting, it would not do to have any accidentally spilled wine touch the expensive fabric. Ser Cole observed as she situated herself, and stood at attention a respectful distance away, statuesque and proud, bowing his head to her before turning his back to his lady as he surveyed the crowd to maintain her safety. Just as she'd ordered him to. 

'All good things, I hope,' she replied, looking away from her knight and taking a much needed swallow of wine. It tasted of summer, cool and sweet, and she recognized it as coming from the Vale. Her mother had kept getting it delivered from her homeland, and encouraged Rhaenyra to drink it over other wines. She was used to the taste, and relished its familiarity. 

'Only the best, Princess,' Lady Sabitha assured silkily. Her voice was smoky and dark, and carried confidently. 

Gallant Forrest Frey's wife-to-be, Sabitha Vypren, had seized Harrenhal after Aemond had abandoned it in her previous life, and managed to escape him when he'd returned. She'd also fought in the Battle of the Kingsroad, and Rhaenyra had little doubt she'd hold her own well in any battle, political, physical or other. 

She had also been fond of women, or so rumor had it. Her husband had supposedly known about it, yet cared little, and the arrangement had worked well for them both. Sabitha had born him at least one son. 

Her husband had fought and died for her cause, so she would secure them both this time as well. Even if she was not yet tied to House Frey, she would be. 

'I do hope you are enjoying the festivities, my lady. You arrived quite late, if I recall correctly?'

Lady Sabitha nodded in answer. 'We did, Princess. My House and I were honored when you welcomed us personally. I must confess, I had not thought we were held in such high regard that the Heir to the Iron Throne would greet simple bannermen like us herself. I wished to express my appreciation for this, which is why I sought out the Lady Arryn. We fell into conversation while we waited for your return, and she mentioned your upcoming tour of the Seven Kingdoms. It was most pleasing to hear that we may soon be able to host you at our castle, as we certainly hope you will grace us with your exalted presence.'

Rhaenyra glanced at Jeyne, and found her staring back. With only a look, she conveyed that she had begun working on Lady Vypren as another ally, one that she hoped Rhaenyra could secure. The princess found her irritation fade into gratefulness. It was clear that strenghtening her ties to the Vale had been the correct move.

'I most assuredly will, my Lady. Though the precise route is not yet set in stone, my first stop will be the Vale of Arryn. I have never seen my mother's ancestral home, and my dear cousin agrees with me that we must remedy this oversight as soon as we may.' 

'As you should, Princess. The Vale is quite famous for its beauty, and I cannot begin to imagine what it must be like to stand in the Great Hall of the Eyrie, as high above the world as man can be. But then, I am certain that a dragonrider such as yourself would consider it a paltry prize compared to the majesty of flight!' 

For a woman who was not yet wed, indeed, barely a woman at all, she was certainly not lacking in confidence. Then again, she had been grasping and cunning since birth, much like Rhaenyra had become of late, and one did not get power without reaching for it. 

'On the contrary, Lady Sabitha. While I would never give up riding my beloved Syrax, for all my House's accomplishments, I doubt we could build as high, on such unfavorable ground, with as much success. Indeed, as a fortress, the Eyrie is impregnable. The fact that it was built by men only makes that more impressive.' 

'Well said, Princess,' the lady conceded. 'but speaking of your Syrax, will you bring the dragon with you? Surely, you will be much faster, and therefore more efficient, if you do.' 

'The point of the tour is not to quickly stop by every bigger castle I see as though I am hurrying to a lesson. I wish to acquaint myself with my future subjects, to hear their troubles and know their joys. I wish for them to know me, so that when I ascend the Iron Throne, I am not a stranger ruling strangers, but rather a Queen who knows her people and is known by them in turn.' 

'Then you will be gone from court for quite some time. Forgive me my prodding, but is that wise? The Queen is new to her role, and there is no one here who could guide her to fulfill her duties. She would benefit from your continued presence, I believe.'

Insightful brat, wasn't she? That was precisely what Rhaenyra planned on happening. Alicent all alone, surrounded by scorn and suspicion, her only friend and support gone with the wind. Her father's pressure the only thing keeping her company, womb empty and sheets bereft of her maidenhead, yet stained red every moon. 

'While that is true, I will not be leaving tomorrow, or even a week from now. The Queen is not a stranger to Court, she has been my companion for almost as long as I can remember. Her status was elevated, yes, and I will of course aid her to the best of my abilities, but it is not as though I shall vanish into thin air, with no one the wiser as to my whereabouts. We shall write each other regularly, and I am certain my father the King has already arranged for Alicent's further education on all subjects that may be unnecessary for a lady, but are vital for a queen.' 

The Lady Sabitha read between the lines splendidly, as shrewd as Rhaenyra had known her to be. She would make an excellent ally, especially once she got married. The queen is young and inexperienced. She is not prepared to assume the role she now must play, and doesn't know what to do with her power. But I do. 

'I am certain that her father, the Lord Hand, will see to it even if His Grace, with his many responsibilities, cannot.' As does the Hand. He knows.

'I do hope you are right. I would hate for my dearest friend to stumble on the public stage, but your words have brought me great relief. Certainly Lord Hightower only wants what is best for his daughter.' He knows and he'll use it to his advantage. Your House doesn't feature in his plans, nor does the Realm. 

'It stands to reason that he would. How terrifying it must be for a father, should one's political and paternal ambitions find themselves at odds.' 

'I shudder to think it. One can only wonder which ambition he might choose... and how it would affect those in his orbit.' Rhaenyra shivered for effect.

'It is a most disturbing thought. I would rather not find out, if I am completely honest.' Lady Sabitha took another swallow of her wine. 'But we have come off topic. We have established that you will tour all the kingdoms. Do you mean to visit Dorne as well?' 

Well, consider her caught off-guard. Naturally, knowing what she did about the War for the Stepstones, a war that had not even begun yet, and the fact that even at this moment, the prince of Dorne was financing the Triarchy, she had considered the southernmost kingdom a lost cause. But what if it wasn't? What if she could sway the Prince into cutting off funding? Without, the war would not last half as long as it had, and a decisive victory would boost both House Velaryon as well as Daemon's standing in the Realm.

Although she would have to be careful. Should swaying the prince prove possible, she could not do it too soon. If the war ended too quickly, it would not be considered more than a Velaryon issue, started by them and handled by them, nothing worth discussing. That could not be allowed to happen. 

Also, if she were to get involved later on, after the war had become a suitably large problem, she would have to make sure that the Lords did not find Qoren Martell responsible for the ignition of the war. She would have to figure out a plan of attack, the first step of which was getting into Dorne without becoming a political hostage - or assassination victim. 

She would have to ruminate on this. 'I do admit, I had not planned on it originally, but now that you ask I realize that rather than as a sign of respect, Prince Qoren might consider my absence as an insult. I shall discuss this further with the appropriate parties, but I thank you for helping me reach this insight, Lady Sabitha.' 

The lady inclined her head. 'Not at all, Princess, it was your own brilliance that led to this realization.' 

Rhaenyra wanted to roll her eyes. How she hated empty flattery. 

Then again, she may have been born a noblewoman of an old House of the riverlands, but few nobles were as blunt as the Starks or her own good-aunt. They flattered each other loudly and schemed against each other quietly. 

Her own hypocrisy was not lost on her. 

'Your compliment is appreciated, Lady Sabitha. I do look forward to enjoying your family's hospitality, perhaps even more than once.' 

Sabitha's eyes lit up greedily, seeing and seizing the opportunity for royal favor as quick as a viper. 'We will be prepared, Princess Rhaenyra. Thank you most graciously for the consideration.' She looked over Rhaenyra's shoulder at some noble or other, and smiled somewhat desolately. 'Regrettably, I must ask your permission to leave this merry round.' At Rhaenyra's assenting nod, she stood and curtsied. 'I bid you a fond farewell.' 

 'And to you, as well, Lady Sabitha' Jeyne answered, sending a quirk of lips the Lady's way.

Once she was out of earshot, Jeyne leaned forward and asked with a lowered voice, 'What do you think of her, cousin? She is but a daughter of a minor House, but she will get wed to a Lord in time. I have made matches among my own bannermen before, and I overheard Lord Vypren talk to Lady Frey. I'm not sure you know, but her son, Forrest, is unwed and seeking a wife, and Lord Vypren has hopes that his daughter might catch his eye. Or his mother's, if all else fails. Should he have her, it can only benefit you, don't you agree? Perhaps she will even wed Lord Tully's grandson, Elmo, I believe his name is. Her family is noble enough.' 

Rhaenyra's smile froze on her lips. How in seven hells had Jeyne managed to, essentially, predict the future? Rhaenyra's heart beat faster, while her thoughts threatened to spin out of control, before she reminded herself that Jeyne was likely simply seeing the opportunities because she was looking for them. Rhaenyra could not fall victim to paranoia again. Caution was healthy, caution kept one alive. Paranoia, on the other hand, was deadly, making one jump at shadows.

Seeing the pinched look on her face, her cousin breathed a barely audible sigh of affectionate exasperation.

Jeyne did not roll her eyes, she was too well-mannered, but it was a near thing, Rhaenyra could tell. 'I may not know you well, cousin, but I am no fool. You are afraid of this new influence the Hand has, now that his daughter is wed to the King. You fear you may be disposed of as Heir, should the new Queen,' Jeyne sneered the title as though it had personally insulted her, 'bear a living son. I do not fault you for that, in fact, I applaud your foresight. The North remembers, it is said, and rightly so. Its people will not become oathbreakers. But others will not be as considerate, and so you must remind them, seeing as they have no honor to do it for them.' 

At that, the frown on her face melted into a warm smile, and Rhaenyra was taken aback at how beautiful it made her look. 'I'm glad to assist you in that endeavor, Rhaenyra. We know our own, and we stand by them. I want you to know that. You need not watch your back with us, for we will watch it for you.' 

Rhaenyra couldn't help herself. She reached out and caught Jeyne's hand in hers, true warmth and appreciation and love blossoming in her chest at her cousin's heartfelt words. 'As I shall watch yours, Jeyne. Do not doubt it.'

They remained still for a heartbeat, basking in this mutual agreement made not from greed but blood, before Criston just had to interrupt them. 

'My Princess, forgive me, but it seems that Lord Hightower is coming this way.' 

Jeyne stiffened. As did Rhaenyra. 

'Shall I turn him away?' Cole offered, ever the gallant knight eager to protect and please her. 

Rhaenyra shook her head mutely. Jeyne sighed in acceptance. They were both aware that the eyes of the Realm were on Rhaenyra this night, especially since the new couple had vanished, and turning away the Hand publicly was asking for trouble she could not afford now.

The eyes of the Lords were upon her, and the Realm could not be allowed to see her as a child throwing a tantrum. They must see a gracious, confident princess who could one day play the Game as Queen. There was no need for them to realize that she was a far more proficient player than most just yet. The shrewd ones were already making all the necessary connections. 

Unlike the man bowing before her now, who still saw an easily tamed brat he could dispose of quickly if need be. The fool.

'Princess Rhaenyra. How joyous it is to see you so exuberant this fine evening. You stunned all the Realm with your beauty.' 

He was laying it on thick, but she supposed it was because of Lady Arryn's presence. A small man using big words to make himself seem more formidable than he was. How did anyone look at him and not see him for what he truly was? A cancer spreading, an ulcer in the mouth, maggots nesting in moldy bread.

And, frankly, a smug cunt. 

She wanted to cut his throat open with a dinner knife. It would be messy, but that she could endure. 

Instead, she donned her battle armor of faked courtesy and replied evenly, 'Thank you, Lord Hand. How peculiar it is for you to comment on my happiness for my father and friend, as though it were an odd thing. Did you suppose me to be miserable that two of the most important people in my life are now joined in holy matrimony? Whatever for?'

It was so very satisfying to see Otto caught wrong-footed. He'd clearly banked on her sharp tongue cutting him to the quick, so he could walk away proudly after having been insulted by the Heir to the Throne, one more brushstroke in the picture he was trying to paint for the Court and his presumed supporters. 

She refused to give him the satisfaction.

'Not at all, Princess, but with your mother's recent passing-', he attempted to recover, but was quickly thwarted.

'May the Gods rest her soul,' Jeyne threw in, smiling sharply at the Hand. Rhaenyra could've kissed her. 'We have not been properly introduced yet. I am the Lady Jeyne Arryn, Wardeness of the East, Defender of the Vale, and the late Queen Aemma's cousin.' She offered Otto Hightower her hand to be kissed, without rising from her seat, and Rhaenyra could not but admire her confidence. 

The Lord Hand, to his credit, did not hesitate to bend down and breathe a quick kiss on the back of Jeyne's hand, most likely simply an ingrained habit from the days of his youth spent kowtowing to those of a higher status, which served him well even in adulthood. 'I am Ser Otto Hightower, my Lady, Hand of the King.' 

Jeyne did not lose her smile, nor her confidence. 'That makes you the new Queen's father, does it not?' As if she didn't know. 'Then it is a joyous day for you, as well. My congratulations on your daughter's marriage. How prosperous it will undoubtedly prove. Then again, so did dear Aemma's, and look where that ended.' She was not wrong. Aemma had carried many children, but only one had lived.

Otto's smile froze. 'My condolences, Lady Arryn. I have not yet offered them, and I apologize for this transgression.'

Otto couldn't see her, because he stood with his back to the Hall, but Rhaenyra had quite the view. Case in point? The Lady Rhea Royce, family by marriage, approaching from behind, undoubtedly already hearing bits and pieces of the conversation the Hand was having with her liege lady, while Rhaenyra's presence went, for the time being, ignored.

'Consider your apology accepted, Lord Hand. You had other things on your mind, I'm sure. You've seen queens die before, so it must not have been as significant an event for you.' 

The look on Rhea's face as she came to a halt not a few feet away from Otto could've called forth lightning and thunder.

'Not at all, Lady Arryn. The late Queen was beloved by her people, and we all still feel the loss.' Otto hurried to attempt to smooth any ruffled feathers, and failed miserably if Rhaenyra read the room correctly, which she was certain she did.

'Which is why her widower married within the year after her passing, with your strong encouragement?' Lady Rhea asked evenly, startling the Hand, who had evidently not heard her approach over the sounds of the continued festivities.

He turned half his upper body towards the new arrival, standing hilariously twisted between the three of them, not quite sure which woman he should face first.

'Lady Royce, you startled me. I have not heard you approach. Nor were you announced,' he added, shooting a disapproving look at Ser Cole.

That would not do. 'Ser Criston is not responsible for announcing the arrival of the bannermen of the Lady whose company I am enjoying, especially if that bannerman is my good-aunt, Lord Hand.' 

His head turned back around so quickly that for a brief moment, Rhaenyra could've sworn she heard his bones creak in protest. Too bad he didn't snap his neck while he was at it. 'All the same, Princess, it is his responsibility to keep you from harm, and therefore-'

'Are you suggesting I may be a threat to my good-niece, the Heir to the Iron Throne?' The warning was clear in Rhea's tone, and the way her voice became dark and commanding. She sounded like the Head of House she was, a lady about to sentence a traitor. Her tone made clear that to continue in this vein would not end favorably for the Hand. 

Especially since his comment could be interpreted quite... creatively, if one felt so inclined. One could infer he meant to accuse the good, honorable Lady Royce, wife of Prince Daemon Targaryen, of treason. For that was what it meant to threaten the Heir to the Seven Kingdoms - it was to commit treason against the Crown.

Quite the fumble for their good Lord Hand, and on such a special day. A tragedy.

'Not at all, Lady Royce, I was merely reprimanding Ser Cole-'

Rhaenyra interfered before Criston could say something she as his benefactor would regret. 'With all due respect, Lord Hand, that is not your duty nor your business. Ser Criston is sworn to me, and he does his duty admirably. I have never come to harm under his watch, and he knew Lady Rhea was coming, as did I. He is not to blame for the fact that she startled you. Though I am certain she did not intend to.' 

Rhea took over smoothly. 'I was unaware that a knight startled so easily. Perhaps you should hunt more, Lord Hand, it would sharpen your ears quickly.' 

'I shall take your advice into consideration, though I am afraid my duties keep me in my tower. I do not have much time for leisure.' Unlike you, went unsaid. Otto tried his hand at a benevolent smile which fooled precisely no one.

'Ah yes, I am certain this whole evening is nothing but a chore to you.' Rhea's tone could have cut glass. 'What a burden it must be, seeing your daughter married to a king, I cannot begin to fathom.'

'The King has chosen his own wife, my lady.' Trying to deflect blame away from himself, as was his wont. A coward down to his very core, their esteemed Lord Hand was. 'My daughter knows how fortunate she is that he chose her, and is prepared do her duty well.' He put emphasis on that last word as if to add insult to injury. How dare he sully her mother's memory this way? When her attempts of doing her duty well had killed her? 

 'Which duty would that be?' Rhea all but hissed, eyes incensed.

'The duty of any wife to any husband. To bear him children.' 

He looked so very smug at his answer, certain he had forced Rhea to concede. 

It did not dawn on him that he had managed to mortally offend all three of them with a few sentences.

Rhea's eyes narrowed, and Rhaenyra involuntarily held her breath. The relationship, or lack thereof, between the Rogue Prince and his wife was well-known throughout the Realms. Otto may as well have declared war then and there, for he had just yanked the proverbial dragon's tail.

Not that Rhaenyra minded. The quicker Otto made himself despised by the Vale women, the better. He was, so far, doing a marvelous job.

'There it is again, this word, duty. You like using it quite a bit, I've noticed. Let me tell you something about duty. It is a heavy burden, one I do not believe you are cut out to bear. It is duty which brings me here, at the side of my Lady, despite my personal misgivings. It is duty which drove the good Queen Aemma to her death. It is duty you hide behind when you have no viable excuse for your wretchedness.'

Otto had paled to an unhealthy degree at Rhea's words. 'How dare-'

'How dare you? You come here to gloat over your triumph, when we are mourning still? In the Vale, we mourn our dead, as I am sure Oldtown mourns theirs. You should have the common decency to leave well enough alone. We are here, are we not?' 

'Lord Hand,' Rhaenyra interjected before anyone could say anything that could derail the situation further. 'I suggest we pick up this conversation another time. Please accept my well-wishes on Alicent's behalf, though I have already offered them to her in person.' 

Otto took the out she offered suspiciously, but at least he had enough sense of self-preservation to take it at all. 'Thank you, Princess. I wish you a wonderful evening. Lady Arryn, Lady Royce.'

'Lord Hand.' The Vale women replied almost simultaneously, one calmly, one barely managing to sound polite. 

'Lord Hightower.' Rhaenyra said, a clear dismissal, and he bowed out graciously. As he departed he shot one last chastising look at Ser Criston before melting back into the crowd.

Rhea marched over - and it was a march, Rhaenyra had seen soldiers mover with less of a military gait - curtsied quickly and seated herself in one of the high-backed chairs surrounding the table, suitably close to both Jeyne and Rhaenyra.

'Did the ceremony go well, my Princess?' She asked, as though nothing of significance had just occurred. As though she had not all but slapped one of the most powerful men in the Realm across the face. Rhaenyra was not certain which she should feel: exasperated or relieved. She decided on neither. 

'It went as well as it could. I did my duty as a princess and a daughter and a friend, though I did not do so with joy. I felt rather in pain, I must confess, and I am not yet prepared to fully forgive Alicent. She has betrayed my trust too deeply.' 

Rhea shared a look with Jeyne Rhaenyra could not interpret. 'I cannot imagine how you feel. But it is not only the Hightower girl that betrayed your trust, my Princess.' 

Blunt as she was known to be, was her dear good-aunt. How refreshing, especially after Lady Frey. 'You are right in that. I suspected my father would eventually choose a second wife, have known for certain we would since my mother's funeral. It is not what someone of my station should say, I know, but... it is too soon. This wedding, for my tastes, is too soon. It feels less like my father is moving on, and more like he is replacing mother. And I know I should rise above that, As High As Honor, but I can't yet.' She shook her head contritely, swallowing down her bitterness at the feigned emotion. 'Forgive me.'

Jeyne raised an incredulous eyebrow. 'My dear girl, I assure you, there is nothing honorable in your father's actions, or Alicent Hightower's. Even the Lord Hand's. Do not mistake my meaning, when I knew Viserys, he was a flawed man, but he did have honor, and he loved Aemma. But I fear he wanted so desperately for a son, that he forgot what he already had: a wife who loved him, and a daughter who could rule as well as any man. I am so very sorry he did not see that before it was too late.' 

Rhaenyra felt her lip wobble, and bit down on it so it would stop. She could not cry in public, she would not. Why was she so emotional today? 'So you do see it? Someone who can rule?'

'I do.' Jeyne grinned conspiratorially. 'I would have instructed Rhea to cease speaking otherwise.'

Of course she would have. She had kept quiet for the same reason Rhaenyra had: Rhea spoke the truth, plain and simple, and that was no sin. 

'You do not wish to have a cordial relationship with the Hand of the King?' Rhaenyra inquired all the same. Best to forge the iron while it was hot, so to speak. 

'No more so than the Hand of the King wishes to have a cordial relationship with the Vale. He would not have come here to gloat otherwise. There is no honor in lording one's perceived victory over who one considers a fallen foe. I find it concerning that a man such as him is steering the Realm, now that I have had the doubtful pleasure of meeting him.' Jeyne shook her head with pity written across her face. 'I doubt he serves the Realm as devotedly as he serves himself.' 

Rhaenyra's expression darkened. 'On that, we agree.' 

'Perhaps a hunt would lift your spirits, my Princess. I find it helps me clear my head, perhaps it could do the same for you?' Lady Rhea threw in, blissfully unaware of Rhaenyra's utter lack of skill or practice in the art of hunting. As far as most courtiers were concerned, hunting was for men, and women were taken along to remain at camp and swoon and fawn over those who made the most impressive kill. 

'I have never hunted before, my Lady, I am sad to say. It was not deemed an appropriate pastime for a princess, or so my teachers insisted.' Seeing Rhea's face fall made her stomach twist uncomfortably, so she hurried to add, 'although now that you are here, a renowned huntress from what I have heard, I would be delighted if you were to take me on a hunt. I would love to learn from you, good-aunt.' 

Rhea was lovely when she blushed, Rhaenyra thought. It was quite charming on her pretty face. 'You honor me. I will do my utmost see you safe and successful.' 

'On the morrow, after we have broken our fast, perhaps? We could get an early start, and get away from all the overtired courtiers!' Rhaenyra suggested, much cheered at the prospect of a bit of time away from the Keep. She would like to be surrounded by little else but lush greenery, focused on something other than politics, for just a little while. And in the company of a woman she had come to like quite a bit in the short time she'd known her. 

Then her mood sunk as quickly as it had lifted. 'I will likely have need of the peace nature offers. I must rouse the Queen Alicent on the morrow, and see her sheets. It is my duty.' 

Jeyne gave her a sympathetic look and patted her hand. 'It is only a short look, red is quite easily discerned among pure white. You need not break your fast with her, and even if you do, you may look forward to seeing us afterwards. I will see the both of you off, and spend the day at Court. There is no telling who else I may find who could be of use to our plans. I will entreat Princess Rhaenys to aid me in my endeavors, as we share a common goal. It shall be a day well spent.'

Rhaenyra did not bother to hide her surprise. 'You will not accompany us?'

Jeyne shook her head, a fond smile on her lips. 'I do enjoy hunting, truly, but I believe you and Rhea should get to know one another without the meddling of courtly affairs disturbing you. Also, I wish for you to have some leisure in your life, and you would not believe how much easier it is to make plans when one is at peace. There is no better way of achieving that calm, I have found, than to be on horseback, hunting. The simple act of traversing the woods, breathing in the scent of green leaves and moss, hearing the birds chirp and feeling the sun on my face helps me regain equilibrium. I am certain you feel a similar way when you ride your dragon?'

'I do. I anticipate we shall return to the Keep tired, but refreshed, Lady Rhea, and I look forward to spending the day with you.' 

Rhea returned her smile, and once again Rhaenyra wondered how Daemon had ever described her as ugly. 'As do I, Princess Rhaenyra.'

Rhaenyra lifted her goblet. 'A toast, then. To family, friendship, and equilibrium!' 

And a toast to scheming, plotting, and ruining reputations, she thought as they clinked their goblets together and drank.

Chapter Text

The morning after the wedding feast found Rhaenyra waking with a sense of malicious anticipation, stemming from the fact that she was the one who would inspect Alicent's sheets, and doubtlessly find them free of blood.

The first pale rays of sunlight were barely streaming in through the long curtains, tickling her eyelids as she enjoyed a few final moments of undisturbed peace before her day truly began with the quiet knock on her doors, to which she simply bid the maids undoubtedly having issued it enter. 

She kept her giddiness to herself as her maidservants, Roslyn and Sara, as well as her late mother's, Jeyne and Sonia, came in with a small army of servants behind them who were carrying buckets of hot water for her bath.

Her apartments consisted of five separate chambers, one of which she used almost exclusively for bathing. They were all interconnected, yet unfortunately, branched off from the main room, which was essentially her bedroom, and therefore it was almost impossible to sleep over the sound of sloshing water and the clanking sounds when it was poured into the copper tub she kept in the second room to the left. It was the smallest room in her apartments, without any large windows, which, in her opinion, made it the perfect bathing chamber. 

Rhaenyra watched as one servant after the other marched through the door leading to the tub, each shortly nodding at her, the full buckets making it all but impossible to properly curtsy or bow. 

She wondered how many of them reported back to Otto, and which of those she could win over. She estimated at least half of them. 

Coming to stand beside her bed and interrupting that train of thought was Sara, putting down a tray bearing oatcakes and steaming tea on her beside table, freshly plucked flowers in a small glass vase adorning the tray, which earned her a smile of appreciation from Rhaenyra. 

Her servants had never put flowers with her morning tea before. It was a yet another pleasant development, showing that the seeds she had sown were becoming blooms already.

Her maids also, it appeared, brought good news. 

With a deep curtsy, Jeyne, standing at the foot of the bed, gestured to even more servants, who were busy carrying various chests of varying sizes the mostly empty room first to the left. She had contemplated having her bed moved there in hopes of gaining more sleep.

'My Princess, as per your orders, the late Queen Aemma's jewelry. We spent most of the night recovering them from the Queen's apartments before they were cleared and made ready for the king's new wife, as well as her dresses and other personal effects.' 

Relief bloomed to life in Rhaenyra's chest, and she surveyed the steady stream of trunks brought in, almost all of her mother's belongings from the looks of it. 

'You have my thanks, Miss Jeyne, Miss Sonia. It could not have been easy to organize bringing everything here, but you have done so in a timely fashion. I am most pleased.' She truly was. She had long contemplated what to do with her mother's possessions, as she had given the order to bring them into her own rooms mainly so that Alicent would not have access to them, but she had an idea on how to best use them. 'Roslyn, could you bring me that small chest from my desk please?' 

Roslyn, who had busied herself laying out a dress for Rhaenyra to wear for her visit to Alicent - and more importantly, her sheets - immediately acknowledged her princess and retrieved the intricately carved wooden chest, bringing in to Rhaenyra promptly and presenting it with a quick dip into a bow. 

'Thank you.' Rhaenyra opened the chest, in which she usually kept drafted but discarded letters, and pulled out a small satchel. It was filled with silver stags and copper pennies, and there were four in total. One for each maidservant. 'I wanted to give each of you one of these to show you my appreciation. These past weeks, you have become my eyes and ears among the servants of the Keep, and your information has proven valid and valuable. You have fulfilled my orders quickly and wholly. You may do with this money whatever you wish.' 

She handed out the satchels to the maidservants, but had to hold up a hand as they, almost as if by mutual agreement, started to protest her generosity, most vehemently, in Jeyne's case. 'I insist. Loyalty is, despite appearances, not a given, and I want you to know that I take notice of it. You will keep the money.'

She doubted any of them had ever had this much money handed to them, but she wanted it understood that there were only benefits in being loyal to her. She had done this in full view of the other servants passing by for a reason, after all. 

'Sara, I need you to do something else for me.'

The awestruck maidservant quickly snapped out of her stupefied shock and curtsied deeply. 'Anything at all, my lady.'

Rhaenyra felt her lips twitch. 'You will go to the kitchens and tell the cooks that all the leftovers from the banquet, be they roasts or cakes, are to be given to the servants. Those who have a family shall be given more that those that do not, but all are to have their share. Tell them these are my orders, and that they are to follow them diligently. I wish for all the servants in the Keep to benefit from their labor.' 

Sara's eyes had grown as round as saucers. 'A-at once, Princess. I shall not disappoint you!' She curtsied and was off, rushing out the doors and past the guards, down the hallways like a little storm. 

Jeyne was still contemplating the satchel. 'Princess, with all due respect and deference, I do not deserve this. It is my duty to obey you, and I require no additional incentives.' 

Rhaenyra sent a small smile her way. 'It is not that. I know you to be dutiful and loyal, and I wish to reward you for it. You are free to give your coins to another, but I hereby forbid you from attempting to return them to me.' 

Jeyne curtsied deeply, and Rhaenyra couldn't shake the feeling she had just passed some sort of test. 'Then all that is left is to thank you from the bottom of my heart for your generosity, Princess.' 

'You are very much welcome.' 

Roslyn followed Jeyne's example and offered her gratefulness as well, quiet and overwhelmed and sounding close to tears. 

She gathered herself quickly though, and went to retrieve the ornate screen from the princess' dressing room so that she may disrobe for her bath undisturbed.

Rhaenyra, meanwhile, finished her tea, and placed the empty cup alongside the similarly empty chest on her bedside table. 'Jeyne, may I ask you a question?'

Jeyne looked up at her with a small frown. 'Of course, Princess. I will answer truthfully, to the best of my ability.'

The princess nodded, thoughtful. 'Do you wish to return to the Vale? I would love for you to stay at the Keep, but if you want to go home, I will arrange for you to.'

The maidservant seemed surprised at her question, before she turned thoughtful herself. 'I could not say, Princess. I followed your mother here, and served her as long as she lived, and I am prepared to do the same for you, if you will have me. But I have never forgotten the Vale, although there is naught waiting for me there but ghosts and uncertainty.' 

'I am sure that the Lady Arryn would take you into her service.'

'Perhaps, and if so I am humbled by her generosity, but I was very fond of your mother. She always wished for your comfort, and I would be remiss in my duties to her if I did not do my utmost to fulfill that wish.' She looked at Rhaenyra earnestly, the decision made clear with that one recollection. 'I would stay in your service, my Princess, in whichever capacity you require, if it were my choice.'

Rhaenyra wanted to crow in triumph. 'Then it is decided,' she replied evenly, not breaking her gaze, 'you will remain at the Keep, in my service. I am honored to have you.' She would begin preparations immediately to have Jeyne and Sonia installed as Alicent's senior maidservants. After all, they had been good enough for the previous queen, and knew the etiquette and protocol for royalty better than any other servant in the castle, other than King Viserys' and her own servants.

Jeyne sunk into yet another deep curtsy. 'The honor is all mine, Princess.' 

Rhaenyra nodded regally and finally rose from her nest of satin pillows and goose-down comforters. 

Roslyn was immediately by her side to help her stand from bed with dignity, a usually futile endeavor, but today, there was a spring in her step and lightness in her limbs. Her hair tumbled freely down her back, and she sighed at the feeling. 

Together, the two of them walked to the bathing chamber, leaving Jeyne behind to strip the bed.

Her maidservant helped her to remove her nightgown, a cream-colored whisper of fabric, and supported her by the elbow so she could climb into the steaming bathtub. Rhaenyra sank into the hot water with a sigh, relishing the heat curling down to her bones. Her muscles loosened, and she took a deep breath, filling her lungs with the fragrant scent of the oils that had been poured into the water.

'Roslyn, would you comb my hair whilst I bathe? I am going for a hunt with Lady Rhea Royce after breakfast, and I would like an appropriately tight braid for the occasion.'

'Certainly, Princess. I shall lay out your riding habit.' Roslyn set to work at once, retrieving her horn comb and hairbrush, the first to ensure no tangles were left in her long silver hair for the brush to snag on, which would be used to brush her hair to shining after the comb had done its job. 

'Please do. I would also speak with Ser Criston.' 

'He is guarding your doors, Princess. He has arrived early this morning whilst you were still slumbering, to relieve Ser Marbrand. I doubt he has slept much, if at all. He seemed relieved when we told him you were sleeping.' 

Rhaenyra hummed thoughtfully. She would have thought Ser Criston would demand entry to her chambers upon arrival, but he seemed to have enough restraint - or care for her health - to leave her in peace whenever he could afford to do so. Wonderful.

'Bid him enter.' 

Roslyn hesitated, and Rhaenyra cocked a questioning eyebrow. 'I beg your pardon, my lady, but you are not decent. Shall I still have him enter?'

Oh. Right. Greeting her knight while she was wet and naked would be highly inappropriate. She attributed her flush to the heat from the bath. 

'I must not be entirely awake yet. You are right, Roslyn, thank you for asking.' Roslyn acknowledged her with a nod, by now brushing her hair gently but firmly. 'Sonia, if you could bring me a fitting necklace from my mother's belongings? I wish to wear something to remember her by for the duty I must be fulfilling in but a bell.' 

Sonia seemed startled to be addressed where she was finishing up directing the servants one room over to put away the late Queen's belongings to be sorted through later. She came through the adjoining door and curtsied at once, hurrying back after glancing at the dress Roslyn had laid out for Rhaenyra to obey the princess' order. 

The brush clinked softly as Roslyn set it down gently to begin twisting Rhaenyra's hair into an elaborate but still practical braid. As she was finishing up, Jeyne, apparently done with the bedding, stepped closer with a towel to engulf her in, so she may be kept warm and comfortable before she dressed. 

Rhaenyra stood, once again braced by Roslyn, lest she slipped, and let herself be toweled off briefly before she stepped from the tub, hair firmly in place. Roslyn brought her dress, a beautiful yet simple blood colored piece with wide sleeves and a modest neckline that would still show off her sharp collarbones, over so she could be cinched into it. Sonia, likewise, had brought a necklace set with ruby gemstones in a marquise cut, which clasped tightly around the neck like a collar. It would empathize her slim neck and lead the eye towards her bust without being obscene.

Her choice of dress was instrumental: She looked effortlessly regal and put together, yet neither opulent nor arrogant. It was of utmost importance that her dress helped project the image she wanted others to perceive, the image of a maiden who was blossoming into a woman, but also a confident Princess of the Realm who was to be taken seriously. 

'My lady, with your leave, I will show in Ser Cole.' Roslyn offered. 'He has been most anxious to see you, I fear.'

Rhaenyra simply nodded, stepping into her shoes. 'Jeyne, go and aid Sara with her task, please. I am a bit worried she may get intimidated by the cooks, I hear they can be quite abrasive, especially to younger servants.'

Jeyne curtsied. 'I am honored to do so, Princess. You are right, they can be quite a handful, but nothing a firm tone and reminder of whose orders we are under will not remedy. With your leave?'

'Naturally.' 

The woman turned and sketched a quick bow to Cole as he came through the doors while Jeyne left, Roslyn and Sonia remaining by her side like sentinels, not moving. It was a touching display of loyalty.

Rhaenyra waved them off. 

Ser Cole bowed deeply. 'My Princess, it is my sad duty to inform you that it is time to visit the Queen in your father's apartments, where she has remained as tradition demands. The King has already left for the council chamber, and no one has entered or exited his chambers since.' He sounded stiff and regretful at once, his brows drawn together.

The thought of Alicent, alone in a cold, pristine bed and awaiting Rhaenyra's arrival like the Father come to judge her for her sins almost made Rhaenyra smile. She kept herself from doing so, if barely, and only because of how strange she knew it would appear if she were to openly grin at her knight's announcement.

'Thank you for your concise report, Ser Criston. Shall we?' She addressed both of her remaining maidservants as well as her knight, secure in her assumptions they would heed her.

There was not point in delaying the inevitable. 

She swept out of her apartments, her knight trailing behind her like a sentinel, his white cloak hiding the filth of his character splendidly. 

'Rhaenyra,' there was that disrespectful address again, 'are you certain of this? Surely, someone else can confirm that the Queen's duty has been done?' Ser Criston, to his credit, sounded genuinely concerned for her emotional well-being. She refused to look behind her as she answered, worried that her eyes might give away her giddiness.  

'I am, Ser Criston. While I do not necessarily distrust Alicent, to be perfectly honest, I do not trust the Lord Hand. How can I ever be certain - truly certain - that Alicent did not lie to me under the Weirwood tree if I leave the inspection to another? It will drive me to madness. No, I must do it myself. I may not want to, but there is no other choice. This burden is mine to bear.' 

No matter how little it had helped in her previous life, the fact that she knew Criston Cole remained. He had to believe that she still held hope that Alicent might be the virtuous girl she had known for almost all her life, not the vile seductress the good knight was already painting her as. He had to believe that she was inherently trusting and meant no harm, that she would only condemn another after one had proven themselves unworthy. As long as he believed that, she could do no wrong in his eyes, and he would remain her steadfast supporter. 

She felt more than heard his heavy sigh. 'I admire your resolve, Rhaenyra. Please be assured, I shall aid you in any way I can.' 

'I would expect nothing less of my Sworn Shield, Ser Criston.' She replied, voice void of emotion, yet tense. An understandable thing it was, too, considering the oh-so harrowing task poor, put-upon Rhaenyra had to perform. 

She held back a scoff as she all but marched up the stairs to the King's apartments, striding down the corridor until she came to stand before the two members of the Kingsguard stationed at the doors.

'Princess Rhaenyra,' they almost simultaneously acknowledged her, brave and reliable Ser Erryk and his traitorous snake of a twin brother, Ser Arryk. 

Rhaenyra graced them both with a suitable, if politely terse, smile. 'Good morrow, Sers.' She gestured at the doors. 'I will be but a few moments.' She told them, to which they bowed, uncannily in sync. 'Please wait here, Ser Criston.' She addressed her own knight, who thankfully had the good sense to not answer verbally, but simply followed the example of his fellow white cloaks to sketch a bow. 

She nodded to Roslyn and Sonia, who curtsied. They didn't need to be told they were to wait outside, unlike certain overly familiar knights.

Finally having gotten the tiresome formalities out of the way, she opened the doors with decorum if not flair and walked through, taking care to close them quietly, chancing one last glance at Ser Criston since the twins couldn't see her without turning around. He looked downright dejected to be left outside, reminding her of a kicked dog. 

Before she turned to look at Alicent, she steeled herself. Taking a deep breath, she consciously relaxed her shoulders and schooled her facial expression into a calm mask of serenity. It would not do to look overly eager or reluctant. She had to seem a tad put off by the task ahead, yet determined to do her duty, a look that The Queen Alicent Hightower had managed effortlessly in the life gone past. 

She had debated how to best play this little meeting for almost the entire week leading up to the wedding, an had settled on setting a respectful yet playful tone to begin with, one that would gradually melt into horror and shocked disbelief at Alicent's inevitable betrayal. Fitting for the persona she wanted Alicent to perceive: a friend hurt by her behaviour, who was willing to repair their friendship but was reluctant to fully trust her. Someone who feared another betrayal, yet doing her best not to expect it. Someone who would be crushed to be deceived again, yet may be willing to lend a helping hand. 

'My queen,' Rhaenyra said, curtsying briefly, before looking up with a light smile on her lips, 'are you well?' All she received was a fearful look from a pale face. 'I hope I didn't wake you, Ali.' She tacked on, the nickname slipping from her lips with worrying ease. 

The Queen sat upright amid silk pillows and goose-down blankets and rich furs, clutching a decorative embroidered pillow to her nightgown-covered chest as though she were in great distress. Which she most likely was, considering how pale and almost frightened she looked.

'Nyra,' the queen whispered, lips trembling and hands shaking around her pillow, 'Nyra, I beseech you. Remember what you said to me last night, what you swore. I beg you, remember and allow me the chance to explain things to you before you draw conclusions. Please, Nyra, grant me but a chance, it is all I ask of you!' 

Well, that was certainly dramatic. 

She put on a worried frown, like any good friend would wear when hearing such an impassioned plea.

'Ali, whatever it is, you can tell me. It cannot be so horrible that I would not hear your side of things, I promise. I thought you would know that after our talk under the tree?' The heir made sure to put a slight, barely detectable note of hurt in her otherwise concerned voice. 

The reminder seemed to calm dearest Alicent somewhat, but not completely. Good. It was better for Rhaenyra if she was still anxious and fretful. She was less likely to fight back.

'Yes,' she whispered, voice trembling. 'Nyra, I do know. But, I- I do not know why... Why last night, the King-'

Dearest Gods, was Alicent about to cry? Already? 

Resolutely, Rhaenyra left her spot at the doors and went to her sweetest friend's side, settling delicately on the edge of the mattress. She grasped one of Alicent's hands in her own, and gently kissed her clenched knuckles. The two of them had always been uncommonly close, physically as well as emotionally. It was nigh time she used the physical aspect to her advantage, her touch meant to soothe as well as unsettle. 

'Tell me, Ali. You need not be afraid that I would ever turn you away, I told you.'

Shaking with relief, the queen all but fell into the princess' arms, clutching at her shoulders and back as though she would be swept up in a great storm if she didn't. Rhaenyra refrained from rolling her eyes.

'He did not touch me,' Alicent confided, still so damnably scared sounding, as though she had any right to fear. 

All the same, Rhaenyra stiffened for effect. 'I beg you pardon?' Her voice had cooled noticeably. Perfect.

The trembling intensified. 'The King. His Grace did not lay a finger on me, Nyra.' The grip on the princess' shoulders became painful as Alicent lifted her head to look her in the eyes. 'I swear to you, before the Old Gods and the New, that he did not lay with me as a husband does with his wife. He only slept next to me, that is all.' Her eyes were glistening with unshed tears, desperation all but flowing from them as they bored into Rhaenyra's. 

Rhaenyra knew that disbelief had written itself on her face. 'What?' 

Alicent took her one-word response as a bad sign.

It was.

'Are you saying,' Rhaenyra asked slowly, 'that my father, who married you mere weeks after my mother passed, did not consummate your union?' As though the realization had just dawned on her, Rhaenyra all but jumped from where she had seated herself. 'Stand up.' It was a demand. 

Alicent looked up at her, now clutching at the necklace Rhaenyra had gifted her as though she meant to ward the princess off. 'Nyra, please, you promised-'

'Stand up!' She ordered yet again, voice shrill as Alicent's would have been had their roles been reversed. 'Alicent, now!'

Alicent reached for her hand, but Rhaenyra yanked it out of the way, keeping her wide eyes on the queen's face. She could see the fight leaving her, posture slumping, looking for all the world like a little girl whose puppy had just died.

The queen kept on looking at her before lowering her head and confessing into the bedding, 'There is nothing to see. The sheets are white, Nyra.'

Rhaenyra blinked in genuine shock. She had expected more evasiveness, not a blunt admission. 'Show me,' she replied, gentling her voice from demand to request. 'Ali, you cannot hide this.'

'Do you think me a fool?! Of course I cannot! But- I need you to believe me, Nyra! The sheets are pure because I, also, still am pure! I have not been touched, by anyone. I swear to you, my maidenhead is intact. You must believe me!' The embarrassment from the admission had made a severe flush spread over Alicent's face, but fierce determination accompanied it, belying her previous nervous demeanor. 

Well, there were some ways to play this, one of them being her firm favorite: Plain cruelty. Dragging Alicent from the bed, exposing the lack of blood, and watching the carnage. Sadly, the risk that her father would tell Alicent about the promise he'd made her was higher than the Keep's walls, so it could not be more than a passing fancy.

The second way was to tell Alicent that she didn't believe her, that their friendship was done, destroyed by her lies. After all, she would say, she'd already had suspicions about Alicent's virtue or lack thereof - what with the wedding being so sudden and all.

Or the third way. Her least favorite, yet the one she would walk, if only because it afforded her the most maneuverability overall. 

She sighed deeply and loudly, and sank down again. She did not look at Alicent, even as the queen turned an unbecomingly hopeful gaze her way. 'I remember what you tole me under the tree, Alicent. You swore on your mother's memory. Can you, with a pure heart and in good conscience, do so again?'

'I can. I do.' Alicent's voice, to her credit, did not waver. 

Rhaenyra looked at her, her mussed locks and pale lips, before nodding slightly. 'I know how you loved her, the same way I loved mine. You would not sully her memory with lies and treason. This, I also know.' She shook her head, hoping that she sounded hesitant when she continued. 'I will believe you. I pray for both our sakes that you are not deceiving me, Alicent.' 

She deliberately used her full name. Alicent would come to associate the affectionate abbreviation with Rhaenyra's benevolence, and the full name or title with her displeasure. Once that had been accomplished, she would always be left guessing and anxious about which one Rhaenyra would use, and why she did, and how to get her to change it again. Constantly on the back foot and unsteady. 

'I am not. I swear to you.' Shyly, she reached for Rhaenyra's hand again, and this time, the princess allowed her to take it. The queen intertwined their fingers. 'Thank you for believing me.'

Rhaenyra made sure to squeeze Alicent's fingers just a touch too tightly. 'As I said, you are dear to me. I trusted you when you told me that you love me, and so I must believe you, even though it is hard for me. But Alicent,' and there, she made sure to capture her sweetest friend's gaze, 'I have to tell you that with every time my trust is tested, it grows more brittle. Help me strengthen it once more. That is all I ask.' 

The nod she received in response was firm and just as desperate as the tears from before. 'I will. No matter what it takes. Our friendship is too precious to me.' 

Rhaenyra smiled slightly. 'As it is for me.' She raised a pale brow. 'Unfortunately, I still have to look at the sheets before the maids come in. It is tradition.' 

Much more docile after Rhaenyra's assurance, Alicent got up and stood aside as Rhaenyra threw the covers back to inspect the bedding. 

Not a single drop of blood. 

Rhaenyra fought down any and all changes in her expression with surprising success, as the look she cast at Alicent out of the corner of her eye revealed that the virgin queen was staring at the bedding with an impressive lack of dread. Which Rhaenyra would be a lot more annoyed about, had she not been entirely certain of how the court would react to the lack of blood. There was only one conclusion in their eyes.

What other explanation could there possibly be for those sheets, as white and clean as freshly fallen snow? 

Not that Rhaenyra would ever imply the Queen to be lacking in purity.

But Ser Criston certainly would, already had. Not on Rhaenyra's orders, of course, she would obviously never command her trusted Shield to debase himself by spreading vile lies, but as the good knight had already asked her... Was it treason to speak truth? 

Rhaenyra nodded curtly. 'Thank you. Now,' she turned to Alicent with a serene look and calm tone, 'I shall ask the servants to prepare you a bath.'

'Wait! Nyra, what should we say about the sheets?' Ah, there was the panic again.

Rhaenyra decided to play dumb. 'The truth, of course.' How delicious it was, that Alicent's virginity would be used to brand her a whore. 'That you remain untouched. That is all that needs to be said on the matter.' Rhaenyra narrowed her eyes as if in preemptive anger. 'No one will dare speak against you, not with me at your back. The King will also attest that he didn't lay hand on you, if need be, I'm certain.' 

And all everyone will hear is that someone else already did. They will wait for your belly to swell, and when it doesn't, at first, they will wonder if you might have been pure after all. But when you continue to fail at conceiving, why, the Gods must be punishing you for your sins. 

'Ali. You are the Queen now. Consummated vows or not, my father cannot simply put you aside. He will not, for he is a man of his word.' Rhaenyra sent Alicent a kind smile. 'I would never allow it. You mean too much to me,' and my plans, 'to let such a thing happen. Seeing as it was the King's own decision, he will stand behind it, and therefore, you. As will I. You are not alone. And you are not at fault.' 

Alicent was staring at her with wide eyes. Rhaenyra cocked her head in confusion. 'What?'

'I simply did not expect you to react so well. I may have harbored hope for your acceptance and eventual support, but I feared it would take months, at the least. I was terrified of your reaction, more so than anyone's. Yet here you are, helping me. I just... do not understand it.'

One day, Rhaenyra would successfully overcome the instinctive urge to want to strangle Alicent every time she overstepped her boundaries. Today was not that day.

'Ali,' she forced her voice to remain steady. A bit of a waver that she hoped would be attributed to hurt from Alicent's lack of faith rather than suppressed rage sneaked in all the same. 'Sometimes I do not understand you. You want my support, and when I give it, you mistrust me. You want my trust, then act as though it were a trap. You want my love, and when I demonstrate it, you don't seem to accept it!' 

Perhaps the waver was not a blunder on her part, but an unintentionally created opportunity. Alicent had deflated in guilt. So the princess pushed on, seizing the opportunity by the neck. 'Have I not shown that I value you? That you have my trust and confidence? Even when you seemingly betrayed me, I gave you the chance to explain yourself, just as I have mere moments ago! It would be easy, I admit, to condemn you as a liar, but I know you, Alicent. I thought you knew me, as well?'

'I do!' Alicent replied vehemently, the force behind her voice momentarily surprising the princess. 'I do know you, which is why I am having trouble understanding your behavior. Although, thinking about it, you did allow me the chance to explain myself. Which I am grateful for!' She rushed to add when Rhaenyra's eyes narrowed. 'You matured a great deal after you were named Heir. I didn't dare rely on that maturity before, and I apologize for that. I was ruled by fear, and that is my own fault.'

This was even better than what Rhaenyra had been hoping for. Alicent was truly, honestly apologizing for being wary enough to show the only reasonable reaction she could to Rhaenyra's change in attitude. It was only natural to be suspicious, since Alicent, as she had pointed out, knew Rhaenyra. But she still felt so guilty for what she had done that she couldn't bring herself to reject the olive branches Rhaenyra kept extending, despite rightfully suspecting them of having thorns.

It was absolutely splendid.

'No, you are right. I suppose my change in attitude is rather abrupt. But I have come to realize, after my mother died and I was named Heir, that I do not exist in a vacuum. Everyone has their reasons for doing what they do, and I cannot allow myself to self-righteously judge them without listening to their side first.' Like you did, so determined to bring me down for daring to make my own choices. 'I wish to be a just Queen, and I cannot be that if I do not strive to improve myself. If I cannot listen to and support a friend, how could anyone else expect me to listen to their grievances, and trust that I will give them the appropriate consideration?' She didn't break their gaze as she finished with an honest, 'It is as simple as that, Ali.' 

Her words had made an impact, she could tell. Alicent's gaze had cleared of suspicion, replaced with understanding. Her face had smoothed out as well, and she no longer looked defensive, or ready to bolt. Her answer, when she voiced it, was without fancy, but honest. 'You will make a good Queen, Rhaenyra.' 

The princess inclined her head. 'As will you. We shall learn together, and from each other.' That earned her a wavering, yet bright, smile. 'Now, the bath?' 

'Yes, thank you. That will be most welcome.' 

Rhaenyra nodded amicably. She raised her voice so she could be heard from beyond the rooms. 'Roslyn, Sonia!' 

She turned back to Alicent as the maids entered. 'They will take excellent care of you. I must be going, but I hope I will see you for supper?' She kept her tone light and agreeable, all too aware that Alicent was prone to interpreting all suggestions not phrased as questions as demands, intentions notwithstanding. 

The Queen nodded absentmindedly, attention on the maids. 'Yes, certainly. I look forward to it.'

Rhaenyra swallowed a dark smile, forcing her pleasant facade to remain intact. 'As do I. Until then.' 

She left as she had come, regally and secure in her position, nodding to Ser Erryk and Ser Arryk on her way out and not even pausing or motioning for Ser Criston to follow her. She knew he would. 

As expected, he waited but a few moments, precisely until they were barely out of earshot, to ask, 'Are you well?' 

Truly, did he think Alicent such a threat? Unless, of course and far more likely, he was worried about her emotional well-being. She repressed a sigh. How repetitive and unnecessary. 'I am as well as can be expected. I was somewhat furious for a moment, but the queen explained herself and so all is well.'

Like a bloodhound, Criston sniffed out the oh-so-subtle hint at a deeper story.

'Beg pardon, my lady? What had you enraged?' Not that she would ever accuse her honorable knight of being a gossip, but a less charitable soul might have called his tone eager. 

'It is a rather delicate subject, that must be treated with all deserving earnestness.' She warned sternly, fully aware that he knew she was putting on airs. To Ser Criston's credit, he kept his silence, waiting for her to continue on her own volition.

'Her Grace's bedding is, to my utmost surprise and mentioned earlier dismay, untouched.' She was almost surprised to hear him gasp, but considering how chivalrous and honorable he liked to think of himself, he must have thought it the most appropriate, appalled reaction. Which, granted, it was. 

'I had already feared the worst, however, Alicent explained herself. She assured me that His Grace did not touch her in any way at all, and the sheets, as she put it, remained pure because she did as well.' He scoffed behind her, and Rhaenyra grinned inwardly. 'I was suspicious, of course, but she gave such an earnest plea that I am inclined to believe her. Unfortunately, I fear I will be ultimately alone in my resolve, genuine though it is.' 

Ser Criston all but radiated disbelief and scorn when he replied in a barely controlled volume. 'Princess Rhaenyra, with all due respect, I am afraid the Queen is lying to you.'

I know she is not. Which makes this even better. 

'Perhaps. Perhaps not. For now, all we can do is wait. If she is telling the truth, there will be blood on another night. If she is lying, well... That will be for the King to decide. But I am anxious that others might not be as forgiving as I am. They may call her unsavory names, or assume the worst.' 

Ser Criston swallowed audibly. 'I admire your good heart, my lady. It makes me fear, at times, that you see the best in people, even those entirely undeserving.'

'You must be careful uttering such words, Ser Cole. Alicent is no longer merely the daughter of a second son. She is the Queen Consort of Westeros, and as such, cannot be openly derided.' She made sure to lay a good portion of concern for her loyal knight into her voice.

'I understand, Princess.' He assured earnestly. 'It will not happen again.' 

'Good. The truth, I am certain, will out. One way or the other.' Yet to be on the safe side, to be sure he took her meaning, she added, 'I do not wish you to get caught up in the maelstrom when it does.' 

She spoke no lie, for indeed, she did not wish him to be merely caught up in it.

No, she wanted to see the Greens drown.

Chapter Text

As Rhaenyra changed into her riding leathers unassisted - her own fault, really, what with giving all her maidservants other tasks - she contemplated Laena.

She was fond of her cousin, had been since she had first met her. She was mature for her age, and would grow into a courageous and kind woman, as strong-willed as she was beautiful, unyielding like her mother, fierce as her father. All the traits that Laenor only showed in battle, Laena showed in everyday life, and she had been sorely missed when she had died of childbirth in her previous life. 

She would make a wonderful Lady of the Tides, in Rhaenyra's humble opinion.

Not that she wished ill upon Laenor, but she simply could not see him ruling in Corlys' place, a Lord in his own right. He had always valued his freedom too much, and his duty too little.

Quite like herself in her younger years, really. Perhaps that was why she had liked him so well; that and the fact that he took Jace and Luke and Joff as his own, and loved them the same, even when they had so blatantly been Harwin's boys. 

Her darling boys, each one brave and strong and good, down to the core of them. Each one taken before their time. Each one lost to her forever. 

The sting of her fingernails biting into her palms as she clenched her hands to fists allowed her to remain in the present. She could not look back, not anymore. Already, the pain threatened to overwhelm her, as insurmountable and bottomless as it had been since her sweetest Lucerys' demise, a gaping maw that would swallow her whole should she relnt in her vigilance against it. Certain as dragonfire, it would destroy her. 

She pinned her mirror image with a hard stare that belied the youthful face staring back at her. She could not give in to grief and regret. She could not lose herself in the past. 

Rhaenyra would shape the future with her own hands, to her own design. She would not permit herself to be led and used anymore, by anyone, friend or foe. 

She nodded at herself resolutely, resolving to speak to Laena once she returned from her hunt with Lady Rhea. She would do her utmost to see Laena live a long and healthy life, filled with joy and lacking pain. She would not die by her own hand, bleeding out yet burning to death. She would live, Rhaenyra vowed. Laena was her responsibility now, and as such, Rhaenyra would not allow any harm to befall her as long as it was within her power to prevent it. 

She strode out of her chambers in a considerably better mood than she had entered them with, not in a small part owed to the fact that while she would be out most of the day enjoying her good-aunt's company in the Kingswood, undisturbed by courtiers, Alicent would start hearing the whispers about her snow white sheets echoing across the Keep. 

By the time Rhaeynra and Rhea returned, the princess figured the rumor mill would be working a mile a minute, and everyone from nobility to clergy would be contributing their own opinion, spin or scandalized comment, herself conveniently absent and therefore innocent of any information reaching the wrong ears.

Gods, she couldn't wait.

As she stepped into the courtyard, she was almost surprised by the chill in the air, before remembering that for all intents and purposes, the day was just beginning for most courtiers. Usually, the princess herself would be barely awake at this hour, let alone bathed and dressed. She shook her head. Another habit to be changed, she supposed. The later she arose, the later she would be informed about changes in sympathies, new rumors, confirmed suspicions... the list was endless. 

Childish as it was, she had a marked distaste for early mornings, especially those following feasts. Since her earliest recollection, most visiting lords would still be abed, while their wives would already be busy gossiping over their stitches, all the servants would look harried and her mother and father, well, they usually steeped in quiet, dignified irritation over one thing or the other... their lack of a male heir, generally. 

She wondered how long she could keep said issue lacking. Long enough to render it unnecessary, ideally.

'Princess! Good morrow!' 

Her good-aunt's bright voice startled her from her reverie, and she turned towards the voice with an unconscious, blinding smile. Rhea sounded rather happy to see her, which was unusual for Rhaenyra. People were, at most, pleased to see her, or at least told her they were. Being in her presence was an honor to be strived for, a privilege to be flaunted, not a genuine enjoyment.

It was such a refreshing change of pace.

'Good-aunt, I am happy to see you in such high spirits already! I hope mine will rise during our hunt, as well.' 

Rhea walked towards her with a spring in her step and a smile on her face, dressed lightly in leather and the rune-engraved breastplate of House Royce, shrouded in myth as it was. Supposedly, the runes protected their wearer in battle, ensuring they would emerge not only victorious, but unharmed. It fit her well, and with her hair kept out of her face with a short braid, and a sword strapped to her side, she looked every inch the warrior maiden. 

'I had hoped to run into you here. Shall we walk to the stables together? Seeing as you knight in shining armor is absent.' Again, went unsaid. Dear, it appeared the Lady Royce was not overly fond of Ser Cole, or impressed with his approach to duty. Rhaenyra hid a smile. 

'Certainly. I must confess I seldom ride on horseback. You will have to be patient with me.' She decided to be upfront about her sadly undeniable inexperience. No amount of self-confidence would make up for her general lack of appreciation for horseback riding. She much preferred Syrax. Or carriages. 

'There is no need to be ashamed. You have many duties, and for a Princess of the Realm, riding is unfortunately considered a pastime rather than a necessity. Although we will make the most of it just the same. There is no need to feel uncomfortable, I assure you.' Rhea gestured at Rhaenyra, encompassing her riding leathers. 'Dragons and horses are quite different, but they both sense when their rider is nervous. You have ridden something far more dangerous already, so you will be just fine.'  

Rhaenyra appreciated the sentiment, she truly did, but she was not nervous, exactly. She simply did not enjoy potentially embarrassing herself in front of her ally in an attemot to master something said ally was an expert in.

Of course, she had come so they may hunt together, but Rhea had already been made aware of Rhaenyra's novice status in that matter. How pathetic would it be if she, rider of the dragon Syrax, did not manage to get a simple horse to obey her?

Shaking those unbecoming worries off, Rhaenyra decided to lead the way towards the stables, pace swift but not harried, Rhea keeping up easily. She did not think for a moment that Lady Rhea required her as a guide. Undoubtedly, she knew precisely where the stables were, fond of hunting as she was known to be.

Speaking of fondness. 'Please, you need not be so formal with me.' She appreciated the formality, she truly did, the honest respect that dripped from it, but that respect would not diminish with the use of her given name, rather than her title. 'I understand we have only known each other a short time, but I wish you would address me more familiarly. Call me by my name.' 

The Lady Royce looked surprised yet pleased, a mixture she was getting used to seeing. It did not make it any less endearing. 

'It is my honor, Rhaenyra. But I want you to do the same.' By unspoken agreement, they both slowed down, coming to stand face to face, and when Rhea extended her arm, palm open in the way of warriors of old, Rhaenyra clasped her hand around the proffered forearm, and Rhea reciprocated.

It felt significant in a way Rhaenyra was not yet used to, settling heavy in her gut, yet not burdening her.

They stood there for a brief moment, suspended in time with only the sky as their witness, before Rhea let go. 'We should hurry. The day will grow long before we know it.' 

'Yes, of course, you are right.' Rhaenyra resumed her pace, the stables now her single-minded goal. She hadn't thought that she wanted to leave the Keep so badly, but then, she had not flown on Syrax for a few weeks now, so she had not had her usual outlet. Foolish of her, really.

The way was thankfully rather short, so they reached their goal in what was surely little time. The sun had risen a bit more, slowly sapping the chill from the air and replacing it with pleasant warmth. King's Landing could grow unbearably hot some days, but today, to her delight, shaped up to moderate warmth, instead.

The stable boys were already hard at work when Rhaenyra and Rhea stepped ontp the yard before the stables, all but swarming the little space they had. With most of Westerosi nobility being hosted at the Keep, the stables were fit to burst, and Rhaeynra knew for a fact that a wide field a little ways from the Keep was in use for some of the horses to roam. No one said it aloud, but the horses there were considered as being owned by less important Houses, and hastily brought up to the stables when one of said lesser lords wanted to ride, giving the appearance that all horses fit the stables. Should the nobles take notice, it would be a mess Rhaenyra was happy to let someone else clean up. 

Of course, House Arryn and its retainers would not be deceived like that while Rhaenyra had anything to say about it, so all their horses were afforded space in the individual stalls making up the stables. 

One of the stable boys noticed them before either of them had to make themselves known with a polite cough or such, and bowed deeply, immediately followed by his fellow stable hands when they realized who precisely had come before them. 'An honor, Princess, M'lady. Lady Arryn's waitin' inside already, your horses are saddled. I'll help you up, if you need me to.' One of the older ones, but still younger than the princess, said. His speech was unrefined, but his eagerness was clear. He also knew his manners, having not looked either of them in the eye, despite Rhaenyra's best attempts at catching his. 

Wait.

'Lady Jeyne is inside?' 

The boy bowed again. 'Yes, Princess. Arrived a bit ago, ordered us to saddle two horses she picked out.' His tone turned worried. 'Should I saddle a third? She said only two, but thinking on it-'

'No, not at all.' Came Jeyne's voice from the stable entrance, interrupting the boy before Rhaenyra had to. The poor hands seemed rather confused about who to bow to, and a bit uneasy with standing still for so long when there was work to be doen, but none of them dared leave without her permission. She waved a hand in their general direction, hoping they would interpret it as dismissal.

They did, disappearing into Gods knew which corners, as far away from them as they could get, clearly deciding it was better to be away in case anything roused the Princess' displeasure. Only the boy who had been talking remained.

He nodded at Jeyne, taking her words as an order, just as, Rhaenyra suspected, he took most Ladies' words. She doubted any noble or royal ever talked to him otherwise. 

'What is your name, boy?' Rhaenyra asked, keeping her voice kind. She did not wish to scare him. 

If he was surprised by her question, he was hiding it well. 'Oleg, my Princess.' He hastily bowed again with a furious blush, clearly unsure of what else to do. He must not have been a stable hand at court for long, but he was likely in charge of the other boys, or another would have stepped forward to speak to them and receive their orders. 'Thank you for asking.' 

'Not at all. Thank you for your hard work, Oleg. If you would come with us, just in case I do need someone to help me into the saddle?'

'O'course! No trouble at all.' He darted ahead, apparently in bit of a rush to get away from them.

Jeyne, in contrast, came towards them with calm steps, smiling after the boy indulgently. 'He's a good lad, from what I saw. Gentle with the horses. They like him a great deal.' 

Rhea nodded appreciatively. 'A good sign.' 

At Rhaenyra's confused look, she elaborated, 'Horses that are mistreated don't trust their handler. Unless they're especially bad tempered, a gentle hand makes a gentle horse.' She pointed towards where the boy had run off to. 'In the Vale, because we have such a great force of riders, we need to look after our mounts well. A hand like him would make it far.'

'I see. I had not considered that.' 

Jeyne's gentle laugh echoed through the yard. 'I figured as much. You must be used to the dragonkeepers Aemma wrote about sometimes. She said they pointed sticks at the dragons and prayed for the best.'

Rhaenyra blushed lightly, for some reason she could not fathom. 'It is somewhat more evolved than that, but I suppose in essence, yes. That is what they do.' 

'Well, far be it from me to criticize your keepers. Come, cousin, I have a gift for you. I had been looking for an opportunity to present it to you.' Jeyne took Rhaenyra's arm and led her towards the stables, Rhea half a step behind them, like she was protecting them. It was a position the Lady of Runestone often took, the princess had noticed.

'This,' Jeyne announced, as they finally stepped into the stables proper, stall upon stall of horses strung together, their smell almost overwhelming Rhaenyra's nose, 'is one of our finest mares. She does not have a name yet, but she is obedient and easily led, and I hope she will be your companion for years to come, cousin.'

While her cousin spoke, Oleg led a beautiful mare before them, her gentle brown eyes setting on Rhaenyra trustingly, the reins lax in the stable boy's hand. The princess' breath caught. The mare was gorgeous with her smooth black coat, black mane and sturdy build, having clearly been well taken care of. She was young, even Rhaenyra with her untrained eye could see that. Her saddle was of rich, clearly expensive, dyed black leather, with matching saddlebags that were already filled, Rhaenyra suspected, with nourishment for the hunt.

She was, for once, speechless. 

She reached out, and gently stroked over the mare's muzzle, the soft texture warm against her skin. The mare pushed forward into her hand, so the princess stroked her again. 

'Rhaenyra?' Jeyne sounded uncharacteristically unsure of herself, watching the princess with a worried gaze.

She must have been quiet for too long, although it felt like barely a heartbeat had passed since she had laid eyes on her new mount. 'I do not know what to say, cousin.' She answered honestly. 'She is the most wonderful, thoughtful gift you could have given me, and I am... so very grateful to you. Thank you, Jeyne, truly.' 

The Lady of the Vale smiled, relief flooding her features. 'I had hoped that she would lighten your mood, and it is a glaring shame that you did not have your own horse until now. I know you have a dragon, but if you are to tour the Realms, there are some locations a dragon simply will not do in. Now, you need not borrow some beast you have never ridden before. When I return to the Vale, and Rhea remains with you, I am sure you will have ample opportunity to get used to your mount.' 

Jeyne smiled at them both, putting a hand on the mare's flank. She whinnied softly. 'I will leave the two of you now. I wish you a successful hunt.' 

Rhaenyra returned her smile with one of her own. 'If you are agreeable, I will have one of my maidservants inform you when we return, and we may have tea together?' Jeyne would not allow the day to pass by idly, she was certain. There would be much to share, and what better way to do that than while comfortably enjoying a hot cup of tea?

Jeyne inclined her head. 'Certainly, I am looking forward to it. I'm sure we will have much to discuss.'

With that, she moved past both Rhaenyra and Rhea back towards the castle proper, leaving the princess to her mare, and her lady bannerman to wait for her to break from her enchantment. She was still captivated by her gift.

'Should I help you up, Princess? It's a bit different from a dragon,' Oleg offered, snapping her out of her admiration, having already crouched down a bit, crossing his hands with his palms up so she may use his hands as a stepping stone of sorts. 

It was his duty, she was aware, but his services were not needed. She was a dragon rider, and didn't need help getting into any saddle. Besides, she may not have ridden a lot of horses, but she had received basic lessons. Riding a dragon was more difficult besides, and she did that without any trouble, as Rhea had already kindly pointed out.

'Thank you, Oleg, but I can manage. You may return to your duties.' She told the stable hand, who, thankfully, didn't question her, only bowed and left, off to do whatever it was stable hands did. She should probably find out. 

Rhea stepped closer, grinning a bit. 'I don't mean to doubt you, Rhaenyra, but if you need help, there's no need to be ashamed of it.' She was clearly comfortable among the horses in her riding gear, arms crossed under her bust, eyebrow cocked as she looked her good-niece over. 

Rhaenyra took her hand off the mare's muzzle, and went around her so she could saddle up. 'Thank you, aunt. But I shall be fine.' It was a matter of pride, now.

Rhea stayed where she was, but uncrossed her arms, watching intently. She seemed ready to spring into action at a moment's notice.

The princess put her foot in the halter, tensed her muscles, and swung herself into the saddle, landing securely and gripping the reins easily. The mare was calm under her, making no attempt to buck her off. She exhaled a quiet breath of relief. 'See? No issue at all.' 

Rhea kept watching for a moment, eye critical, before nodding in satisfaction. She came closer, putting her hand on the horse's flank, stroking gently. She was close enough that no one could easily overhear them. 'Indeed, you are a natural. I simply prefer to be cautious with the Heir to the Iron Throne. Horrible things can happen to a rider who is thrown off by their mount.'

Rhaenyra stiffened. 'So you fear something like this might happen to me?'

Rhea's eyes darted around quickly, ensuring no one was listening in. 'I fear there are those who would welcome such an accident. But few would believe it to be an accident when you are known for riding one horse in particular.' 

So the Vale women were worried Otto might be planning her to suffer an accident during her tour? It was not an unreasonable fear, Rhaenyra hated to admit. But did she honestly believe he would go that far?

Who was she even attempting to deceive? Of course he would.

She would need to pick the members of her travel party with caution. She had already planned on doing so, naturally, but on second thought anyone even remotely affiliated with House Hightower would be denied. There was no need whatsoever to take any unnecessary risks.

Her grip on the reins tightened, and she gave a firm nod. 'You are right, good-aunt. Thank you for sharing your wisdom.' 

Rhea shook her head, patting her knee. 'No need, Rhaenyra. It is only natural to want you safe. Now,' she turned away, walking towards her own horse, a beautiful beast with a chocolate coat, 'we should be off. We will never catch anything if we keep on dawdling.' She saddled up gracefully, completely in her element, a bow and two quivers filled of arrows hatched to her saddle. She had clearly been planning to hunt while in King's Landing, most likely to avoid her lord husband. 

Little did she know, he was busy planning the war for the Stepstones with Corlys Velaryon, a war half the kingdom would soon be involved in, for no reason other than wounded ego. Then again, Rhaenyra mused, that was how most wars started. 

'Lead on, Lady Rhea. I shall be right behind you.' 

The Lady of Runestone gave her a sunny smile, the one that made her entire face light up, and nudged her horse so it took off at an easy trot. Rhaenyra followed her example, and the mare followed her direction obediently, true to Jeyne's word clearly well trained.

They rode out of the Keep together, and, in companionable silence, made their way toward the Kingswood, hopefully before the rest of the nobility temporarily residing at the Keep awoke.

Located across the Blackwater Rush in the southern Crownlands, the Kingswood was easily reached by the Kingsroad, and frequently saw use as a hunting ground. While generally, only the King sitting the Iron Throne was permitted to hunt there, Viserys was not overly fond of hunting, and as such, had not seen any use in enforcing that law. Both Daemon and Rhaenyra had frequented the forest for one reason or the other, and the princess had even taken Alicent there once so they may pick flowers for her mother together. The forest was always lush and beautiful, with many hiding spots and a lake one could cool off in, a true oasis to siphon away the stress which living in the Red Keep tended to bring. 

Rhaenyra would have to visit it more frequently, preferably with the ladies-in-waiting she planned on acquiring on her tour. What better way to show favor or keep alliances than by giving some of the more influential or ambitious lords' daughters positions by her side? Certainly, Alicent or Otto would wise up sooner or later and attempt the same, but hopefully, by that time, the lords would see it for the pale imitation of her own effort it would be. 

And who was to say the ladies the queen settled on wouldn't be more inclined to Rhaenyra's favor? While she had already taken steps to implement Jeyne and Sonia as Alicent's new handmaidens, on grounds of them having already served one Queen, having ladies who were loyal to the Heir by the Queen's side would be even more beneficial to her cause. Alicent would not have a single private moment to strategize or plot. 

This time around, she would not rely on the goodwill or, Gods forbid, moral decency of anyone. 

'You surprised me with your letter,' Rhea said, apropos of nothing, breaking the calm that had settled over them. The horses kept moving, unperturbed, their hooves a steady rhythm on the stone below them. 

Rhaenyra was tempted to ask Have I? but that was a response more appropriate as a deflection. Playing the Game was well and good, but one had to know that not all strategies required coyness, and where blunt answers would yield better results. 

'I figured as much from your response. Did I offend you?' 

'Not at all.' Rhea did not sound upset, so Rhaenyra believed her. The Lady of Runestone was many things, but a liar she was not, and if she felt offended, she would tell Rhaenyra so. 'But I know how the Rogue Prince speaks of me, and that you are close to him.'

She could have pointed out that Daemon was her uncle. That he had taught her dragon riding. That he had stood with her at Queen Aemma's funeral. Yet none of those responses made it past her lips. 

'Daemon has never lied to me, but I am fully aware that personal feelings can and do color perception, and Daemon is a passionate man.' It was the truth, too. Daemon had a very self-centered idea of morality, or better yet, a rather family-oriented definition of it. 

'Yes, I know about the whore he keeps at your seat. You are allowing him to stay at Dragonstone, even though the castle no longer belongs to him.' She said it without much emotion, but Rhaenyra saw the tension in her shoulders, heard the irritation that still plagued the other. It was obvious that Rhea was angry at Daemon's blatant cheating, if only because it insulted her. She doubted that Lady Royce was troubled beyond that, or hurt by her husband's behavior, but she clearly considered him beneath her. 

Rhaenyra would have to diffuse this situation carefully.

'I am.' She conceded. 'He may not be the Heir to the Throne any longer, but he is a Prince of the Realm, and a dragonrider. I have no wish to offend him, or throw him from his home. I care deeply for him, and his restlessness pains me.'

'Associating with me risks offending him.' Rhea reminded her.

'You mistake my meaning. While I have no desire to consciously offend him, I do not make decisions primarily on the basis of winning his approval. If I did, I would have refused my installment as Heir. He can either accept our friendship or refuse to do so, it has no bearing on my choice.' 

Rhea's shoulders, Rhaenyra noticed, relaxed.

She understood the Lady of Runestone, truly, she did. Her husband was a philanderer, flaunting his affair before all, even going as far as to steal his brother's dead son's dragon egg for his supposed offspring with the White Worm. Although Rhaenyra suspected that it had not been meant as an insult, or at least, not only that. Daemon craved his family's approval and attention, especially Viserys'. It was childish and cruel and beyond tasteless, but what better way to get the King's attention than besmirching his dead son's memory? 

Rhaenyra wanted to sigh. It was the same song and dance as always. Daemon had moved past causing these scandals eventually, but it had taken two exiles and three different women, as well as a war and several children for him to reach that point. Perhaps this time around, the change would come about quicker, or at least smoother, and Rhaenyra could help reconcile the two brothers before the elder of them died slowly and painfully. 

She swallowed. Her father's slow demise in her previous life had weighed heavily upon her once it had begun, King Viserys' slow crawl towards the Stranger doubtlessly aided by a loveless marriage and the abhorrent children resulting from it, children he had never shown much love or even care for. Had he only disinherited them formally, the war could have been avoided. When she thought about it for longer, she realized that Viserys could have prevented the war, the split in the family, the discontent of the Realm and subsequent disloyalty of its Lords at several points during his reign, but, yet again, Rhaenyra had to admit, at least to herself, that her father was a weak man, and an inconsequential king. Daemon had been his greatest strength, and he had pushed him away, fed him scraps and called them feasts. 

It was little surprise, really, that Daemon had lashed out. 

She had done the same, albeit in a different way, once. She had never regretted her actions, only their consequences, and in that, had found a kindred spirit in Daemon, who had asked her once why she hadn't just come to him for children, that both he and Laena would have welcomed her in their bed. 

'I am glad to hear it.' Rhea's voice interrupted her musings, and she was grateful for it, for Rhea, the princess was certain, did not lie. It was refreshing, after her interactions with Alicent and Cole, to not have to constantly weigh and mince her words. 

'I wanted to ask you something, Lady Rhea.' The words were out of her mouth before she knew it. 'You don't have to answer, if you find it offensive,' she added, if only because it was the proper thing to say.

Rhea shook her head, her previous disposition back in place, a light smile once more playing on her lips. 'Go ahead. After all the dancing around yesterday, I welcome some direct talk.'

Well, in that case, Rhaenyra would gladly oblige her. 'Do you still want to have your marriage annulled?'

'I do.' Rhea replied, not missing a beat, as direct in her response as Rhaenyra had been in her query. 'Daemon is many things, but a good, or even adequate, husband he is not.' 

I cannot say I agree with that assessment, Rhaenyra thought. He had been loyal and true to her, and been the father to her children she wished Laenor could have been, steadfast and protective and present. She had done her best to be a mother to his daughters in turn, and in that endeavor, she believed she had succeeded, at least somewhat. But that was neither here nor there.

'I will take your word for it.' She allowed, in the spirit of keeping the conversation from turning into an argument about her uncle's values. 'Are there grounds for an annulment?' 

Rhea seemed taken aback for a moment, before she grinned, chuckling delightedly. 'Indeed. We never consummated.'

For a split second, Rhaenyra hesitated, before taking the plunge. She would never advance if she doubted herself at every turn. She had hesitated too long in her previous life, and it had cost her everything. 'Then, Lady Rhea, I would like to offer my help. Both you and Daemon are dear to me, and I cannot stand to see you miserable.' 

Rhea understood her instantly, had taken her meaning precisely. 'While I do not doubt your prowess, my Princess, both the Rogue Prince and myself have, together and separately, appealed to the Iron Throne for a dissolution of our match. The King never budged. Why would he do so now?'

'He will not, at least not immediately.' Viserys would stall and argue and order, as he had before, she knew. The difference was that this time, she would not relent. 'We will need to plan it out carefully, but under the right circumstances, I am confident he will grant your wish and declare your marriage void.' 

Rhea tilted her head, her interest obviously roused. 'Which circumstances would those be?'

It was a legitimate question, and one Rhaenyra found she could answer.

'There are many factors which would influence my father's decision, but one of the most prominent is this: He believes that his brother's marriage will eventually make him settle down. He is blissfully unaware, or pointedly ignorant, of the fact that Daemon does not surrender himself to chains, but chafes under them. All the Realm knows about his Lady Misery, and that neither of you hold any affection for the other. The King also wishes to avoid a potential political headache by offending House Royce and by extension House Arryn by dissolving the marriage, fearing it may tempt other Houses to put the blame of the match failing fully on either your or Daemon's shoulders, thus worsening your chances for a more prosperous union.' 

Rhea shook her head, bemused. 'That is more reasoning than the King has ever given either of us. He simply said he would not undo it, and neither of us would be able to sway him. He would not hear me out, or Daemon, and so we simply arranged ourselves. I was willing to part as acquaintances, but when he acquired his mistress, stating intention to marry her, he grievously insulted me, lack of affection notwithstanding.'

For a few moments, Rhaenyra did not respond, riding along in quiet thought. 'I agree.' She eventually replied. 'All the same, like it or not, should you wish to end this sham, the two of you will need to present a united front, at least before the King. There will come a time, hopefully sooner rather than later, when he will me amenable to your request. When that time comes, we must not hesitate, but seize the moment.' 

They were riding side by side, the road wide enough to allow for such, and Rhea's eyes bored into hers, clearly not needing to watch the road to know where to lead her mount. It was impressive.

Rhaenyra held her gaze, returning its ferocity. 'You are certain of this?' Rhea demanded.

'I do not have a single doubt.' To fully assuage her good-aunt's doubts, she continued, 'This sham is harming both of our Houses. Runestone lacks an Heir, and as a highborn Lady ruling in your own right, you should be afforded the right to choose your own lord husband, one who will give you a child you can be proud to leave your lands and titles to.'

Rhea nodded her acquiescence, yet bit her lip, an obvious tell of nervousness, and said, 'It might be easier to get the King to agree should I have an appropriate suitor ready. Daemon,' the name was all but spit out with obvious distaste, 'as well. If the King wants him settling down, he will insist on another-,' she promptly stopped speaking, and stared at Rhaenyra with wide eyes. 'Do you intend to offer yourself?' 

Well, color her surprised. She had not expected for Rhea to catch on so quickly. 'Well, I-'

'My Princess, I cannot approve of this. While I would be glad to have the Rogue Prince taken off my hands, you are too important to be made into his wife. You will be our Queen one day, and there are many suitors who would afford you nothing less than the best they could offer. Suitors with which you would always be the more powerful and thus dominant partner.' 

Rhea was so earnest in her concern, so honest in her reaction, that Rhaenyra wanted to weep. 

But first, she had to dispel her doubts, at least a little. She would have to keep working on making Rhea see her side of things, and she would succeed in that endeavor, no matter what. 

How, though? Looking at Rhea, she knew empty platitudes would only offend her, and placating nonsense was beneath them both. So, she would opt for honesty. It had, so far, proven the best course of action where the Ladies of the Vale were concerned, and so Rhaenyra would place her bets on it working in her favor again, even though only one Vale lady was present at the moment.

'When Daemon stole my brother's egg,' she began, keeping her voice even and calm, projecting confidence, 'Ser Otto Hightower lead a small force to Dragonstone to demand its return. Daemon, naturally, refused him, and was prepared to fight the Hand with Dark Sister already drawn when I arrived atop Syrax. We met on the bridge leading to the castle, just the two of us, and I told him, I am right here, uncle, the object of your ire, the reason that you were disinherited. If you wish the be restored as Heir, you'll need to kill me. So, do it. And be done with all this bother.'

She had meant it, too. She had stared him down, had met his challenge, and come out the victor. She had earned his respect, and had for the first time been truly seen as someone who was formidable in her own right, not because others pretended she was. He had told her, long after, that it had been the moment his want for her had begun to turn into need, and he had stopped seeing her as his niece, and began seeing her as a woman. A woman he desired.

'He did not kill me, or mock me, or anything else. He listened to me, and returned the egg, allowing the matter to be resolved peacefully. I do not want a meek, submissive husband, or one who will play at being so for his own gain. I want one who can stand beside me, and strengthen my claim, one who will respect me and my decisions, but also push me to beyond my comfort zone, who will tell me when he thinks I am in the wrong. A partner who will be my sword and shield, one I can fully trust.' She looked at Rhea and chanced a conspiratorial quirk of the lips. 'He also rides the second largest dragon in the Realm.' 

Rhea snorted, but said nothing.  

'I understand if this is too much at once.' Rhaenyra offered.

'Not really.' Rhea sighed from deep within her chest. 'I do not approve of your decision, my Princess, but all the same, if your heart is set on him,' ah, there was that distaste again, 'I doubt I can convince you to change your mind.'

She really admired Rhea's ability to roll with the punches. A most formidable trait. She wanted to tell her as much, before the Lady continued. 'But for now, all this is naught but idle speculation. The King, from what I understand, will not be eager to marry his rebellious brother to his young, innocent daughter.' 

'The King doesn't exactly have a leg to stand on.' She shrugged noncommittally. 'He is older than Daemon, and married a girl my age.' 

At the reminder, Rhea's face darkened. 'Yes, the Hightower girl. I hope, for the sake of the whole Realm, that she has more sensibility than her father. His posturing at the feast was despicable.' 

Rhaenyra inclined her head, concurring. 'It was. But unfortunately, that has always been his way. He likes to gloat.' Rhea radiated disapproval, she noted with satisfaction. 'I will be honest with you. I distrust the Hand immensely. He deliberately put his daughter in the perfect position to become Queen, and I believe he intends to put his grandson, should the Queen bear one, on the Iron Throne. He only approved of my naming as Heir because he wanted to keep Daemon from power.' 

Rhea, to her credit, did not even flinch. 'I see. Then his daughter seduced the King. Did it start while your lady mother was still with us?'

Rhaenyra shook her head vehemently, the very idea ludicrous to her. 'No, my father loves my mother still. Alicent... she got to him when he was vulnerable. He needed an open ear, a sympathetic shoulder, and she was that for him. I think the illusion of an understanding companion, combined with the pressure of taking another wife, tempted him into making the easy choice.' 

'An understandable reaction for a normal man, but unacceptable for a King.' Rhaenyra wholeheartedly agreed, although she would not speak so in the presence of any potential spies. It skirted too close to what Otto would doubtlessly paint as treason, although his chances of convincing Viserys that Rhaenyra planned to overthrow him were slim to none, and would likely get him exiled. Rhea, on the other hand, would not be as lucky.

'Rulers,' Rhea continued unperturbed, 'must be capable of making the hard choices, not only those that please them. When the two coincide, that is a wonderful occasion, but they hardly ever do. Marrying the Hightower girl was, with all respect, foolish.' 

'With that, I fully agree.' She sighed deeply. 'My personal feelings on the matter aside, there were more prosperous choices, choices that would have strengthened House Targaryen politically. Instead, most Houses are quietly offended that their daughters were not even taken into consideration, and a few are voicing their displeasure that the King married a second son's daughter. I heard them muttering during the feast.'

Rhea shrugged. 'Many are questioning not only the King's decision, but the Hand's suitability for his position. Some argue that he ought to be ousted, now that his daughter is Queen. They fear that he has amassed too much power, especially as a second son, and is reaching above his station.' 

'Do you agree?'

'Frankly, I do not care whether he is the firstborn in his family or the seventh son of a sixth daughter. I am appalled at his brazen behavior last night. He fancied himself victorious, and flaunted his daughter's new status before us, who are grieving still. He is a distasteful, base man and I am looking forward to the day he is knocked from his high perch.'

Rhaenyra chuckled. 'You and me both. I do not doubt he is plotting my removal as Heir as we speak, and prays for his daughter's belly to swell.' 

Rhea clicked her tongue. 'A swelling belly means little. He can celebrate once she carries to term, and the babe lives.'

None of which will happen, for now.

'Well, it will not happen anytime soon, I think.' Rhaenyra cleared her throat delicately, choosing the moment the Kingswood came into sight to tell her good-aunt, 'Her sheets were white when I inspected them.' 

The look on Rhea's face was priceless. 

Chapter Text

Rhaenyra was up to her elbows in deer guts, Rhea guiding her motions with a stern voice, making sure she didn't puncture or tear any part of their prey's insides that could result in an even bigger mess, and thankful to be wearing leather gloves. She really did not want any gore under her fingernails, since blood had an annoying tendency to cling to skin. The smell would stick in her nose, that stench of copper and death, but she had become used to it over a lifetime.

As far as hunts were concerned, they had been successful.

Well, Rhea had been. She had felled a deer with a single arrow straight through the eye in an impressive display of her archery skills, leaving Rhaenyra feeling mildly useless in comparison.

Of course, seeing as she was the one having been made responsible for the actual butchering of their prey, that feeling had quickly vanished.

'Very good. Remember, the more precise your cuts, the easier the removal. Don't cut into the meat, only sever the sinews. Should you ever find yourself in a situation where you need to butcher your own kill, keep it as clean as possible to not spoil the meat. Once you're done getting the innards out, I will separate the parts that can be eaten from those that can't, and then I will show you how to break down the body.' 

When she had agreed to hunt with Rhea, she had not thought she would be made to take the prey apart herself. Then again, why had she expected differently? Of course the Lady Rhea would do her utmost to teach her how to fend for herself while they were already out in the Kingswood, without a servant or squire in sight to do the task for them. They had already taken a short break by the lake, where Rhaenyra had had to fight the urge to take off her boots and put her feet in the crystal clear water, something that she had always liked doing, and had her maids and, sometimes, the Grandmaester, fretting over the possibility of getting sick. They had not seemed to think that her being the blood of the dragon meant the fire in her veins would burn off any disease, like she insisted. 

She had, when she had been a very young child, in a moment of doubt, asked her father if her belief was true. He had told her, with a smile she only now realized had been pained, told her that she was a Targaryen, and the fire was in her blood, the way it had not been in her siblings'. Perhaps he had known his dream of a son would not come true, even then. At least not one with his beloved Aemma. 

He had had plenty of sons with his Green Queen after that, but not one of them had made him happy. Rhaenyra had been the only child he was truly devoted to, the child he had trusted and loved with all of himself, even when he had been little more than a wheezing husk that she had felt her heart breaking for. 

She had contemplated her would-be brothers, both in the other time and now, and come to the conclusion that letting them live was not the sensible choice.

The second Alicent bore a son, the kingdom would become primed for war. But should Rhaenyra beget a son by Daemon, preferably before Alicent bore any child at all... Well, there would be little reason for war, no? She had given it thought, before she had died, what had driven so many of the lords against her, and come to the conclusion that it had not been merely her gender that had divided the Realm. No, it had been a multitude of factors, but one of the main reasons, she regretted to having to admit, was most likely the fact that she had born bastards, and naturally lied about it. 

She had been the Heir to the Iron Throne, the Crown Princess, and she had lied in the faces of the entire Realm, and expected them to graciously believe her and take her word as law. Which they would have had to, had there not been another heir available, one who was not only perfectly legitimate and male, but also had perfectly legitimate sons. One whose brother rode the biggest dragon in the world.

It had been evident from that infernal hunt where she had killed a boar with Ser Criston, while Alicent had been busy with coddling the infant usurper. Looking back, quite a few lords and nobles and seemed put off by her blood-soaked appearance, while many others had looked approving. They had not said anything, of course, but behind her back, they must have disparaged her, the girl who did not know her place for some, the princess who was capable of defending herself for others. 

Rhaenyra was just fine with that. Before long, her father would declare the hunt for the White Hart Stag, and this time around, Rhaenyra would not be foolishly noble. She would kill the beast and drag it back to camp, proving to the more superstitious members of the Court that the Gods favored her claim to the Throne. 

She put more force behind her cuts, severing sinew from bone and flesh alike, loosening the guts until she could drag them out with a firm grip. 

It reminded her eerily of her ill-fated daughter's butchered birth. 

The hard ground she was kneeling on hurt her knees, the discomfort of spending so long in a position she was unaccustomed to starting to wear on her, yet the pain helped her to remain grounded, and so she welcomed it. She kept her gaze focused and back straight. She would not bend, not under any kind of pressure, not again. She had grown beyond it, the childish need for approval that she had oh-so skillfully denied having. 

The guts hit the ground with a sickening squelching noise, perfectly intact and slick with blood still, the same blood that was slowly draining from the dead deer. She had skinned it as best as she could, Rhea restricting herself to verbal instructions, claiming she would not learn as well by merely watching. Rhaenyra had agreed, and gone to work with one of the many knives Rhea seemed to carry in her saddle bags. 

'Well, that was the hardest part. The rest is simple.' Rhea's voice was calm, and she knelt down beside the princess to collect the guts, which, unlike heart and lungs, were unfit for consumption, apparently. 'I will go and bury those.' 

Rhaenyra was tempted to stop her, to tell her she didn't want to be alone, with the air stinking of blood and death, and the butchered animal's cold eyes staring at her accusingly. But she was stronger than that, she had been for years, so she remained quiet. 

Still, it was among one of the more disconcerting experiences of Rhaenyra's life, sitting on cold ground, the sun gaining in both strength and reach overhead, a lifeless body before her and her aunt burying parts of the thing's carcass far enough away, whatever far enough was. She did not know how long she spent there, watching the steam rising from the carcass become thinner and thinner before vanishing completely, but when she rose up, she winced from the ache in her knees, the strain on her thighs and calves. She clearly needed to exercise more.

'Have you ever built a fire?' Rhea asked, bare hands on her hips. She had taken off her gloves once she had gotten done burying the guts, clearly perfectly at ease here, surrounded by nature with only herself to rely on. She appeared much more comfortable in her riding leathers than a gown, although she wore them equally well, and her face was, for the first time since Rhaenyra knew her, completely relaxed and open. 

It was a good look for her.

Rhaenyra shook her head in answer to her good-aunt's question. 'No, but I assume you will teach me how.' 

Rhea scrunched her nose adorably. 'That was my plan, yes.' She assessed Rhaenyra, gaze turning sharp and attentive. 'Am I demanding too much? If this is too taxing, I understand. You can just sit down and I will do the rest.'

With anybody else, Rhaenyra would have taken the words as mockery, the offer as a badly veiled insult. As it was, she took them at face value, knowing they were spoken with earnest concern, and shook her head again, resolute. 'I refuse. I came to hunt with you, not to sit still and look pretty.' 

The searching look in Rhea's eyes turned to approval. It made warmth spread through Rhaenyra's belly. 'That's the attitude I was hoping for.' She hesitated briefly, before looking at her again. 'It's the attitude a leader should have.'

Rhaenyra smiled a little. 'I will not get the Iron Throne merely because my father named me Heir. Questionable purity notwithstanding, if Alicent bears a son and my father acknowledges him, Otto will push for him to usurp my position. He would have enough supporters, as of now, simply because I am a woman, and while he would not do anything obvious while my father lives, the King... he will not live forever. I cannot rely on the Lords honoring the oath they made me.' 

Rhea looked like she wanted to protest, her innate sense of honor most likely besmirched with the thought of others breaking vows of any kind before thinking better of it. 'You believe all of them will forsake you.'

It was not a question, but Rhaenyra decided to treat it as one, seeing as Rhea seemed determined to get proper answers from her, and the princess saw no point in lying to her. Rhea and Jeyne both had made their support of her public, so she would respond in kind, and trust them in turn.

Some things she would keep to herself, but most she would share. 

'Not all, I don't think. There has never been a Stark who broke an oath, and both Houses Arryn and Velaryon have in not so many words declared for me.' She realized her mistake the moment the words left her mouth, and all but saw Rhea honing in on her choice of words.

'You speak as though you anticipate war.' Rhea, once more, bluntly stated what others would have tried to deny even the mere possibility of.

'There are no contenders for the Throne yet, if what you believe of Daemon rings true.' She continued, her voice matter-of-fact. 'The Hightower girl may be a wanton, but we will not know whether her betrayal has borne fruit for some weeks yet. You ought to make her lack of bleeding public soon, should she swell. You cannot allow her to parade a bastard as a trueborn son, especially one who will be a threat to your very life once he grows.' 

Oh, the irony of it.

Rhaenyra had thought about it, condemning any child Alicent might bear to a lifetime of whispers and insults and cold looks. But that bore the risk of the King telling Alicent, or worse, the entire Court, about the promise he had made her, and that could not be allowed to happen. No, she would have to handle this more delicately, like she had already been doing, and allow dearest Alicent the chance to destroy herself. 

Besides, she knew her father. He would not take action unless forced, and would, if prior experience was anything to go on, be content to let others handle the issue in his stead. The very same attitude that had allowed the Dance to happen would aid her in preventing it. 

'I am not yet in any position to publicly condemn the Queen, especially lacking proof of adultery. She insisted, quite forcefully, that she was without blame, so I will withhold judgement. Should she swell too soon, I will come back to the matter. Also,' she added, seeing Rhea preparing to argue, 'I am not the only person to lay eyes on the Queen's sheets. The servants do, as well, and they will not be quiet. While I would prefer a frank addressing of the issue, protocol will not allow me. For now, I must bide my time and consolidate allies. I cannot make a move this consequential alone.' 

Rhea listened intently, hands never idle as she gathered stone after stone, most of them somewhat flat, and carried them over. 'You would know that better than I. The Red Keep is known as a viper's pit, and setting one foot wrong will see you devoured. I defer to your experience in the matter.'

Well, that had been easier than expected. 'Still,' Rhea added, and there was the protest Rhaenyra had been bracing for, 'what will you say when you are directly asked about the Queen's virtue?'

Rhaenyra smiled coldly. 'I will tell any who wish to know precisely what the Queen herself told me: That the King did not touch her. They may do with that information what they will. If it is the truth, I could not possibly say. I had to take her word for it, as I have been forced to quite often recently.' She heaved a deep sigh. 'Alicent was my only friend for a long time, and I struggle to find the girl I knew in this woman who is now my father's wife. The Alicent I knew would never have taken advantage of someone so vulnerable, she would have given comfort to the best of her abilities. That girl, I would have believed without a second thought. This woman, who stole into my father's chambers day after day while keeping it from me, she is a stranger. I could not attest to her character.'

Rhea, by now, was stacking the stones to two small towers about two feet apart. 'From what I heard, many wonder if she goes to the sept so often because she has something to atone for.'

Rhaenyra hummed, agreeing non-verbally. 'She does. If not for adultery, then certainly for the seduction of a grieving man.' 

Rhea shook her head, getting back up and retrieving sturdy looking branches from beside her horse. Rhaenyra had not even noticed her collecting them. 'With all due respect to the King, he was the one who made the decision to marry her. Bedding someone is well and good, many husbands do, be it a whore or mistress, but marriage is quite another. If his honor demanded he marry the girl, the only explanation I could think of is that he already had her maidenhead and did not wish to see her mistreated because of it. All the same, he could have arranged another match for her, he is the King, after all. He did not have to be the one marrying her.'

Rhaenyra did not disagree in the least. 'No, he did not. But my father, he is a good man. I do not think he bedded her before the wedding.'

Rhea shrugged, the movement conveying that her opinion on the matter was clear. 'Then the Queen betrayed him. That is treason.'

Rhaenyra bit her lip. Rhea was drawing all the right conclusions, the ones Rhaenyra was certain the court would also draw once the servants whispered in their employers' ears what they had heard from the maidservants who had carried the Queen's sheets to be washed. What they might be doing at this very moment, in fact, what they had been told not to tell, which in itself, they would insist, was a confession.

The Court would tear Alicent to shreds, before she ever got the chance to rule it. Her credibility would be gone and reputation ruined. 

That, Rhaenyra realized, might be mitigated if Alicent only bore silver-haired, purple-eyed brats like she had the last time. Of which there had been entirely too many, in her humble opinion.

It was time to consider alternate means of preventing her from bearing contenders for Rhaenyra's crown. More... reliable means than a father's promise. Like a certain necklace.

'So is accusing the Queen without proof.' She parried. 'The best I can hope for,' what I have been working towards, 'is for the Queen to remain without issue or for the child to be obviously not of my father's seed.'

'Even if the child looks nothing like the King, if he does not disown it and divorce the Hightower girl, he would still be competition. Weak competition, to be sure, but he would have a claim, however tenuous.' Rhea shook her head. 'While I stand by my point, and this is purely hypothetical for now, you may be lucky and she could only bear girls, or perhaps, however cruel that may sound, only have stillborn sons.' 

'And if she has a boy?'

Rhea did not hesitate for a second. 'Then you must take any measures necessary to prevent usurpation and preserve your claim.' 

Her tone was hard and cold, and Rhaenyra appreciated it more than she could say. Rhea did not feel the need to use flowery imaginary to dance around a subject and neither did Rhaenyra. She would have to do that soon enough, with the courtiers and the visiting nobles, who would all flock to her as the only proper source of information regarding Alicent's purity. She would have to constantly watch her words and mind her tone, veil her meaning and suggest rather than outright tell.

It would be frustrating, but rewarding, in the end. 

'Otto is already salivating for war. He wants his own blood on the Throne, and he will spill other people's blood to get it there.' 

'Yes, that was the impression my Lady and I have gotten as well. You are wise to see it so early, and take preventative measures.' Rhea took another knife from her belt and started sharpening the ends of the branches into points. 'I will do my utmost to aid you, but you need to point me in the right direction. Which Houses do you believe you can win over in which you do not have any blood relations?'

Rhaenyra grinned. Rhea was such a blunt woman, and she adored her for it. 'House Tyrell, for one. They are House Hightower's liege lords, and their seat is conveniently between King's Landing and Oldtown. Should there be a need for mustering armies, House Hightower would need to pass through the Reach, and meet Lord Tyrell's forces in battle. They would not even get out of their own lands, lest be able to lay siege to the capital. House Velaryon would protect me on the high seas, and the Knights of the Vale are known for their prowess in battle. House Stark would also march South to my aid, should I call upon them to stand by their oath, and ideally, House Baratheon will be invested in my rule as well.' 

Rhea did not interrupt her, only asked, 'How, exactly? Knowing which Houses to win over is vital, no doubt, but that is not a plan in and of itself. You will need more.'

'Lord Tyrell is in need of a wife. There are enough appropriate daughters of noble Houses he may wed, but I will propose to Rhaenys that she put Laena forward as a possible match. House Tyrell is a young House, to be sure, but they are powerful and owe their rule to House Targaryen.' Rhaenyra was unexpectedly excited to share her plans with another. Especially one who was invested in her success.

'That will only work if Rhaenys does not feel offended at your advice.' Rhea warned, 'She may want her children to choose their own spouses, since at least one of her grandchildren is already promised to your heir. Neither of which are even born yet.' 

She inclined her head in acknowledgement. 'Yes, but either way, Lord Corlys will want only the best for his children. It will not be me or Daemon,' Rhaenyra noticed with amusement how Rhea scrunched her eyebrows in irritation at the reminder, 'so one of the Lords or daughters of another major House will have to do. There are enough of them, thankfully.'

Rhea shot her a dry look, paired with an even drier response. 'House Velaryon will not take kindly to you using their children as bargaining chips.' 

'I am not.' Rhaenyra smiled slightly. 'I am simply offering advice. As Laena will be my ward, it is perfectly appropriate for me to suggest possible husbands for her. Both she and Laenore will need to be wed, and when they are, they should have their pick of the finest Westeros has to offer. Laenor, as the future Lord of the Tides, especially, will need to choose his wife carefully. Laena... she is my cousin, and I am very fond of her. I will not allow her to wed anyone who would show her disrespect, and House Tyrell is known for treating the women marrying into the family well. Which is more than can be said for, say, House Lannister.' 

Rhea clicked her tongue, but offered no rebuke. 'Either way, House Velaryon will use their agreement with you to their advantage. Depending entirely on the sex of your firstborn, either Laenor or Laena's firstborn will be sitting the throne beside your heir. All who want their blood on the Iron Throne will jump at the chance to marry either. You have boosted their standing substantially by offering them such a deal.'

'Not without reason. House Velaryon are the only other House which boasts dragonriders. Meleys and Seasmoke could match Syrax and Caraxes in battle.'

'You feared war?' Rhea's surprise was clear from not only her voice, but also the widening of her eyes.

'When father announced Alicent over Laena as his new wife, I was worried, I will admit.' She did not think that her father had fully grasped the depth of Lord Corlys' offence caused by the King's rejection of his daughter. She had done what she had to in order to keep him somewhat placated, to hep him save face. 'I made sure that House Velaryon would remain steadfast in their allyship, if not to King Viserys, then to Princess Rhaenyra.'   

Rhea cocked her head. She had obviously thought about their situation quite a bit. And it was their situation, rather than only Rhaenyra's - they were allies as well as family. 'Alright, say Lady Laena weds Lord Tyrell. Do you think that will be enough to sway him into fighting for you?'

'House Tyrell tends to fight for the sure winner. If I have most Great Houses by my side, they will not have reason to remain idle.'

'You are discounting Houses Baratheon, Lannister, Greyjoy and Martell.' 

'Am I? House Lannister is a lost cause either way, they are too closely intertwined with House Hightower. House Greyjoy... the Iron Fleet is formidable, to be sure, but House Velaryon boasts the better navy.' 

Frankly, Rhaenyra wondered if it were possible to convince Lord Greyjoy to add his strength to Corlys' in the coming war. The Ironborn had not deigned to join the war the last time, but then, they had not had the grievances with the Triarchy that Corlys Velayron did. They had, in fact, quite a bit to gain from abstaining from the war, should they choose to use part of their fleet for trading, rather than raiding. 

Which was the crux of the matter. The Ironborn loved their battles and blood and glory, and who knew, mayhaps Rhaenyra would be able to convince Lord Greyjoy to indulge in battle once more before his death. It was quite vexing that Dalton Greyjoy was not old enough for battle yet, for she knew she could convince him easily. The Red Kraken had been a formidable ally. 

All the same, it was a good contingency plan. Should she fail in her attempt to corral Qoren Martell, she would throw as much of her weight as possible behind the campaign for the Stepstones, and gather as many allies as she could to end the war once it escalated swiftly and decisively. Besides, as far as she could recall, the Dornish had only joined the Triarchy after the Stepstones had been conquered by Daemon the first time. Before that, the Prince of Dorne had not seen the need to meddle in the affairs of the Seven Kingdoms. She had wondered why, but put it out of her mind, as she had had other problems to contend with, but perhaps she ought to revisit the issue. 

'That leaves House Baratheon. Since their inception, the Lords of Storm's End have been loyal to House Targaryen, and I do not anticipate that will change.' Especially since this time around, Aemond will not be able to buy Baratheon's loyalty with a royal marriage. Instead, I will head that nonsense off at the pass. If it is acknowledgement he craves, I will take one of his daughters as a lady-in-waiting.

The current Lord Baratheon, Boremund, had been one of her supporters before his death, being related to her through Rhaenys via his sister, Jocelyn Baratheon. He had been a loyal and honorable fellow, quite unlike his illiterate son, Borros, the turncloak. All for naught, as well, since none of his four daughters had ended up with a Targaryen husband to the best of her knowledge, what with Aemond getting slain nary a year after his betrothal. 

Not that it mattered anymore. It was in the past, where it would stay. 

'As for House Martell...,' she trailed off. There was little to say on the subject. 

'If you do send a raven to Sunspear, and the Prince agrees to host you, you might get the chance to make an ally of the only Westerosi peoples able to defy the conquest. No Targaryen has been capable of that. It would give you immense leverage.' 

Rhaenyra cocked her head to the side, considering Rhea's words. For someone who supposedly spent most of her time hunting, the Lady Royce possessed a keen political mind. Then again, she was Jeyne's closest confidante - a woman who had to contend with usurpation attempts as well. 'Most folks in Westeros consider the Dornish crude and queer.'

Rhea nodded in assent, before elaborating, 'Yet, it cannot be denied that they possess a powerful army and fleet, and are not under control of the Iron Throne. If you could win them as your ally, most of Westeros would consider you as being the one to finish what Aegon has started.' 

'The first Ruling Targaryen Queen finishing what the first Targaryen King started?' She liked it. It had a certain gravitas about it, a sense of triumph and glory. 

'Essentially.' 

The princess hummed considerately. 'I will think on it.' She sighed a little. 'It is vexing, at times, to think of all that might obstruct my way to the Throne, when, where I a man, I would not even have need of planning for attempts at usurpation.' 

Rhea laughed. 'You will always have to fight twice as hard, be twice as smart as any man, at least until your reign is secure.' The Vale woman shook her head, turning serious once more. 'The quickest way to do that, besides securing allies, I daresay, is securing heirs.' 

Rhaenyra bit her lip and glanced at Rhea, who was looking back at her steadily. 'I am aware. Ideally, before Alicent does.'

A look of pure loathing flitted over Rhea's face, and at once, the princess found herself thankful that she was not her enemy. 'Even if the Hightower girl bears a son, and he lives beyond childhood, we cannot be certain that he is of the blood and seed of King Viserys. You, however, are undoubtedly a pure Targaryen princess. Should we succeed in our endeavor, and sever all marriage ties between myself and the Rogue Prince, and you wed him, your children will also be pureblooded Targaryens. Their claim will be stronger than that of whatever bastards the girl whelps.' 

Rhaenyra was shocked by Rhea's choice of words, as she had honestly not expected that much venom to drip from them. It was clear that while the Lady of Runestone had not ever looked favorably upon the new Queen, the mere implication of Alicent's adultery was enough to turn Rhea against her completely.

It was beautiful and terrible, to see her plan work so seamlessly. 

'Yes, perhaps.' She conceded, keeping her voice nonchalant. 'But still, I cannot count on that. I must have allies, and contingency plans, and heirs. I need more influence than I currently have.' 

'You are the Heir to the Iron Throne, rider of the dragon Syrax. You are the second most powerful person in the Seven Kingdoms.' 

Oh, if only that were as true as she had once assumed! Her dragon, her title, her crown, it had all meant nothing, in the end, because she had been willfully ignorant of the potential the Hightower brood held to usurp her. When she had acted, it had been a valiant battle, she had had victories she was still proud of, but her sons, her husband, her dragon, and even she, had died. 'On paper. In truth, I can be deposed of as quickly as I was named, there are other dragons, although not many of them claimed, and the Hand of the King holds more power and sway over both council and King than I do.' 

Rhea's eyes widened, as though that thought had not occurred to her. 'Certainly, your father will not disinherit you.'

'No.' Of that, she was absolutely certain,and the truth of her belief rang through her voice. 'I know he will not do such a thing, but again, the King will not live forever. And when he dies, Otto Hightower will seize his chance, with his grandson as his figurehead.' 

Rhea nodded, eyes narrowed. She clearly did not like what she was about to suggest. 'Then you must dispose of him. Get one of your allies named Hand of the King in his stead, and the battle will be all but won.' 

It was a simple and clean solution, one that Rhaenyra had also taken into consideration. It would be difficult, to shake Viserys' faith in the cunt, but she would work towards it. Themore plans she had in place, the better. Betting on only one outcome was useless and ridiculous.

Still, she offered, 'That may prove harder to do than you may anticipate. My father trusts Otto, more than his own blood, Prince Daemon. And now that he has married his Hand's daughter, I doubt that anything but the most grave of offences will prompt him to oust Otto from his position.' 

Rhea took her cautioning with grace. 'As you say. I will defer to you on this matter, seeing as I am yet woefully unused to Court.' She shook her head as if to clear it. 'All this scheming is not my metier. I prefer my fights straightforward. We will continue this conversation later, during tea, perhaps? We came here to clear our heads, and I, for one, intend to do so.'

Rhaenyra chuckled ruefully. 'My apologies. I have not forgotten the purpose of this outing, I promise. Let us put these talks to rest, for now, and focus on simpler matters.' 

When they returned to the Keep, it was well after midday, and Rhaenyra was exhausted. She was not accustomed to this much exercise, as any hunts she had been part of before, few and far in between they may have been, had mostly consisted of her and the other ladies sitting in a tent, sipping tea and eating cake. It had been a markedly different experience, and Rhaenyra found herself looking forward to a repeat. 

The two of them parted in the entry hall, their butchered catch which they had made solely to show off already on its way to the kitchens to be prepared for the private supper she would have with Alicent.

Spotting her, Ser Criston stood at attention, like the obedient hound he was becoming, his face stormy and shoulders stiff as a board. It seemed as though he, unlike her, had not had a particularly pleasant day so far.

'My Princess. I trust that your hunt was enjoyable.' The words were formal and perfectly suited to anyone who might overhear, although the hall was uncharacteristically empty, but perhaps he had said them for Rhea's sake, who had shot him a glare when she had briefly laid eyes on him, before disappearing up another stair. 

'Rest assured, I had a wonderful time.' She gracefully moved past him, knowing he would fall into step with her easily, and headed for her apartments, where would freshen up so she could then meet with both Rhea and Jeyne for tea, where there would be cakes and gossip aplenty. She grinned to herself. It would be fascinating to hear how the Court was reacting to their Queen's unsoiled sheets. Speaking of which...

'Ser Criston, I cannot help but notice you look somewhat disgruntled. May I inquire as to the reason?' He tone was jovial, but her eyes were cool, not that he could see that. She went up the stairs as quickly as her protesting thighs would allow her.

'My Princess,' he said, voice just as dark as his expression had been, 'the Queen has seen fit to instruct me to deliver her message to you.' 

Ah, so that was the cause for his sour face. He was insulted to be used as an errand boy by the whore queen. It was perfectly understandable, if she said so herself, a white knight of the Kingsguard, doing a servant's duty. What an indignity to be made to suffer - Ser Criston must be furious. Nevermind that he regularly did the same for Rhaenyra. 

'Did she indeed? How quickly dearest Alicent has gotten used to her newfound authority. I certainly hope this will not give rise to any undue rumors.' 

Criston scoffed. 'That would be most unfortunate, but nothing she does not deserve, my Princess. Would you care for her message? If not, I shall forget any words she has spoken to me, and burden you not.' 

How sweet. Such a gallant man, Ser Cole was, where his charge was concerned. 'That is a most noble offer, Ser Cole, but I will hear the Queen's message. Go ahead.' 

'As you wish. The Queen implores you to meet her in her chambers for a private dinner, and hopes to discuss matters of a personal nature with her dearest and most loved friend.' 

Nothing new there, she had asked Alicent to share dinner first, after all. But Criston did not need to know that. 'I see. I will instruct Sonia to carry my answer to the Queen. I have something of greater import I wish to entrust you with, Ser Criston.'

He puffed up, she could tell. 'Anything, Rhaenyra. Just say the word.'

Slit Otto Hightower's throat and claim you did it of your own volition, then commit suicide.

'The Lady Laena has accompanied her parents to King's Landing. I wish to make certain she is safe here. I want you to pick a knight you trust, one who is worthy of such honor, to act as her Shield whilst she remains in the Keep. I love my cousin dearly, and could not bear it if any harm were to befall her. There is no one else whose wisdom in this matter I value more.' 

Criston, predictably, all but vibrated with her subtle flattery. 'Consider it done, my Princess. I will bring you the best knight the Keep has to offer, one who is not only capable in battle, but wise and kind also. The Lady Laena shall be one of the best protected people in this castle.' 

'Thank you, Ser.' She offered him a warm smile over her shoulder which was promptly returned, his mood lifted with his lady's praise. 'I knew I could rely on you. Now, tell me. What has happened while I was away?' It had been only a handful of hours, but rumors spread like wildfire in the Keep, and Rhaenyra was eager to hear them. The more outlandish, the better. A wild tale was always more likely to be repeated than the dull truth, after all, and the nobles loved a good scandal.

A saintly Hightower coming to the marriage bed defiled? They would swarm to that story like flies to honey. 

Ser Cole shook his head, his curls bouncing with the movement, and Rhaenyra repressed the urge to snicker at the picture he made. 'My lady, it is as you feared. Someone told, I know not who, and the Keep is aflame with speculation about what the Queen's sheets may mean. As you have instructed, I kept quiet on the subject, but I fear the next time you enter the Ladies' Hall, you will be accosted. You are the only reliable source of information on the matter, as I doubt anyone has the backbone to do more than allude to the sin the Queen has so clearly committed.' 

Rhaenyra tutted. 'Ser Cole, you mustn't sink so low as to repeat base rumor as fact. All we know for certain is that dearest Alicent has not bled on her wedding night. It could mean a number of things, not only the worst.' 

Cole scoffed quietly, and Rhaenyra swallowed her grin with practiced ease. He was like a hound with blood, so very certain that his conclusion was the right one, and Rhaenyra, why, she had done her utmost to tell him the truth of things, but if he didn't want to listen, then how was it her fault? 

'Anyway,' she continued, 'we shall wait and see. For now, please continue to observe and report back to me. Perhaps it would be prudent, just in case, to guard the Queen's doors more closely at night, and have her accompanied by someone that can be trusted not to be led astray by her during the day.' 

Ser Cole all but bristled behind her, she could feel it. 'You believe she would dare continue her affairs even now? Or worse, attempt to seduce another lover right under His Grace's nose?'

Oh dearest Gods, this was delectable. The man who had given her so much grief after she had given him her maidenhead, who had been Queen Alicent's staunchest supporter and champion, was condemning her utterly. He believed she was an adulterous whore, the worst sort of sinner, and was prepared to spread that opinion as fact without Rhaenyra having to dirty her hands. She could keep on telling him that there was no evidence of any wrongdoing on Alicent's part, but the damage was done, and he would interpret it as her trying to be polite about the obvious. No matter what, he would never believe a word the Queen spoke. 

But Rhaenyra had to tread carefully, for now. It was imperative that Alicent believe her an ally, a friend. She had to play this carefully.

'Watch your words, my Shield. There is little reason to speculate on Alicent having any sort of affair, but frankly, she is young and beautiful. Men may believe themselves in a place to take liberties, should the rumors persist, and like it or not, she is a member of the royal family now. She must be... protected.' 

Criston was being rather quiet behind her, the sound of their footsteps echoing off the walls as they finally drew close to the princess' apartments.She heard him take a deep breath. 'Rhaenyra, I do not mean any insult, but frankly, the adulterer has lied to you before. I fear she is doing so once more, and regarding her affairs, she may come to the conclusion that she has nothing to lose now that she is wed. I understand your hesitancy to act, truly, as you are the Heir to the Throne, and must represent the Crown with dignity and honor. All the same, I must entreat you, do not allow this farce to continue unchallenged.'

Rhaenyra shook her head, feigning ruefulness. 'I hear your plea, Ser Criston. However, my father is not only a good, loyal man, he is also the King. He cannot simply pick and discard wives as he sees fit, and he has sworn an oath before the Gods to honor and cherish Alicent. He has a duty to her.' She sighed for effect. 'But I have a duty as well, to him. I may not be able to actively defy Alicent's claims, but I intend to keep the King, and his dignity, as safe as I can, with the means afforded to me. Will you aid me in this endeavor, Ser Criston? Can I count on your support, now and always?' 

There was no hesitation, only firm certainty, when he answered. 'Now and always, my Princess. I will never forsake you, come what may. I swear it.' 

'Then, Ser Cole, I hereby command you to keep watch of the Queen, or barring that, take a Knight of the Kingsguard, one who can be trusted, to be her protector. I know you will not fail me.' 

'You can rely on me, Rhaenyra.' The reply was earnest and short and sweet, encompassing all she required in a knight.

She would, when the time came, almost be sad to lose him. Or not.

Chapter Text

Having sent Cole off on a mission that would undoubtedly make him quite despised by the Hand, not to mention some of the older knights of the Kingsguard, Rhaenyra wandered down the halls to her apartments unaccompanied. She had often done so in her youth, when most were still confident that Aemma would carry a son to term. In later years, when such an occurrence had been deemed unlikely by many, there had always been a minder close by to ensure the princess' safety.

Most of the time, come to think of it, it had been Alicent stuck to her side. 

Thankfully, now that she had strengthened her ties to the Vale, it would be Lady Rhea next to her most days. Her frank way of speaking and critical assessment of any situation would benefit the princess greatly, she had no doubt, not to mention the relief her company provided compared to the empty flattery most political interactions demanded.

When she picked her ladies-in-waiting, Rhaenyra determined, she would ensure that they were either easily manipulated as to not cause her grief, or versed in the Game, as to be of use to her.

On second thought, they could not be too easily manipulated, or another may take advantage to have them spy on her. Although, should she succeed in making them loyal to her, Rhaenyra would gain more pawns, ones who would not be used against her, unlike a certain former friend she could mention.

However, while her maidservants could be swayed with kind treatment and gold, for highborn ladies such simple methods would not be sufficient. They were, after all, used to fine things and flattery, and so, in order to secure their fathers' and brothers' loyalty. she would have to arrange favorable matches for most of them, and indebt them to her that way. 

Having the Heir's favor would mean something, Rhaenyra would make certain of it.

She had to use what time she had wisely. Her father had assured her that his new wife would remain untouched for a year. That was plenty of time to turn most courtiers against said wife, all except those truly loyal to the Hand. It was also plenty of time to figure out a way to render Alicent permanently infertile. 

In years gone past Rhaenyra would not have ever considered such cruelty. She had resented Alicent, been indifferent at best to Alicent's children, but until Aegon had crowned himself King following their shared father's death, she had not once wished him dead.

Now, it would be better were he never born. It would give her more satisfaction, to watch Alicent slowly despair when she failed to beget children even when her husband deigned to fill her with his seed, this sick fantasy her dearest friend had always harbored of becoming mother to a whole brood of wailing spawn, when she had been terribly unsuited to motherhood in the end. 

Rhaenyra was granting her a favor, really.

But how to go about it? The Queen would be minded by a septa, Rhaenyra imagined, especially since Alicent was a Hightower, and Oldtown the center of the Faith. Not to mention the Citadel, home to the Order of the Maesters. 

The quickest, most surefire way to ascertain Alicent became unable to bear children would be to bribe her septa. No one sane would suspect a woman of the Faith to poison her charge. But for that to work, Rhaenyra would have to gain the loyalty of whichever septa the High Septon deemed worthy of serving the Queen, which would be an endeavor that could take years to end. 

The other person above suspicion would be the Grandmaester. He had regular access to the Royal Family, and would be expected to aid the Queen with any fertility issues she may experience. There was a higher chance of blackmailing the Grandmaester than there was of turning over a septa, although Rhaenyra would damn well try her, as well. 

Of course, that begged the question of how, precisely, she could... convince the Grandmaester in the span of a year - most of which she would be travelling as part of her tour, damn it - to vow his undying loyalty to her.

Or, failing that, how to ensure that whichever maester replaced him was loyal to the Heir rather than the Citadel, or worse, the Queen.

Perhaps she ought to instill one of her own as a novice in the Citadel. It would take whomever she chose years to work his way up to the rank of Archmaester, but by then, she would have a loyal candidate to replace the current Grandmaester. Even if Alicent bore healthy spawn, that did not have to be the end of all things. After all, even Targaryens could fall victim to... illness. 

Her father had proven such horrifyingly in her previous life, and she prayed fervently that his death this time around would not be the exaggerated, painful affair it had been previously. Mayhaps, whatever sickness had ailed him could be prevented from taking root. At the very least, Rhaenyra would be sure to stay at the Keep and not flee to Dragonstone at the first opportunity, aiding her father in place of the Queen, or perhaps alongside her if she must. She would not leave him to Otto Hightower's poisonous whispers and the maester's milk of the poppy. 

The slow death of King Viserys, combined with the absence of his daughter and brother, had allowed the Hand far too much influence. He and his daughter, their oh-so pious Queen, had ruled unquestioned for years before the King had passed, paving the way for the eventual civil war between Rhaenyra and Aegon. A war she had eventually lost. 

Gods, she had been foolish. Leaving the capital for Dragonstone had been an act of pure cowardice, no matter how tried to defend it. She had left her father at his Hand's tender mercy, addled and unable to rise from his sickbed most days. She had all but handed Otto the kingdom on a silver platter with her absence, all in her rush to keep her sons safely away from the harshness of Court and herself free from the gilded cage she had been locked in all her life, when she should have used every weapon at her disposal to weaken the Greens and break their power. 

In the end, dwelling on her failures was akin to dancing on a cliff's edge. She could fall and lose herself at any point if she was not careful, yet could not help herself but dance anyway, analyzing her steps and correcting them. She had to learn how to look at and learn from the past without going mad or worse, not seeing her mistakes for what they had been and making excuses for committing them. 

The earlier she began, the better. She would, during her tour, doubtlessly be introduced to second or third sons, which were notoriously often either forced to become knights to bolster their families' army, take the black, which was considered and honorable venture, take the cloth, which was especially prevalent in the Reach, or become maesters. Except for the first of those practices, all required the novices to give up their lands, titles, and forbid them from siring children or taking wives. 

Surely, one or the other son forced into leaving their home and comfort would resent the path chosen for them, and be willing to turn against their House. One who she could ensnare and use for her own benefit. 

Ideally, it would be more than one, and she could have her pick of loyal, opportunistic pawns who would all attempt to one-up another in doing whatever it would take to become her favorite. 

Playing the long Game was tedious, but reaping its benefits would be delicious, and so, she would prepare to indulge in a feast when the time came for her to seize her glory. 

Beginning with the three ladies gathered in her salon. With them by her side, she would start an avalanche that no one could hope to escape, and engulf the Seven Kingdoms.

With a calm smile in place, she entered her rooms, hearing the Lady Rhea's voice coming from the princess' salon. While it was almost unheard of for any lady to be in the Princess' rooms without the princess herself present, Rhaenyra had urged all three of her closest allies to make themselves at home while they waited for her arrival. The servants would whisper, as they were wont to do, and the other ladies would grow curious about what was said and plotted behind closed doors, wanting in. They would begin to court Rhaenyra's favor, and the Game would be truly afoot then.

It was curious, she thought, how alliances were made over biscuits and herbal tea, over honeycakes and fruit. Her handmaidens had outdone themselves, arranging a beautiful spread of delights on the table in her solar, having brought up the finest cutlery and cut crystal glasses, as well as freshly plucked roses in an intricately painted vase in the center of the arrangement. Roslyn and Sara both curtsied before Rhaenyra when they spotted her, standing at the door awaiting the ladies' needs. 

Rhaenyra smiled at them both, pleased with their work, and dismissed them kindly, waving off their protests with a gentle hand. 'I shall call for you when I require your services, until then I suggest you enjoy the day. The wedding has been exhausting for all, and you have done splendidly.'

Sara flushed down to her neck at the praise, and Roslyn hid her dimples behind her hair. 'Thank you, Princess. We will be waiting for your call.' She was the first to curtsy before taking her leave, while Sara followed her example after a slight hesitation and glancing at the ladies still talking, who had not yet taken notice of their princess, to involved in their own talks. 

Rhaenyra gestured towards the doors. 'Do not be shy, Sara.' The poor girl almost squeaked at being addressed by name. 'The ladies and I can serve ourselves for a little while.' She cocked her head to the side a little, feigning curiosity. 'Unless you have something urgent to tell me?'

'N-no, my Princess. It can wait. I only wished to say- what I mean is-,' she took a deep breath, and said, 'I meant to thank you, is all. You have been very kind. Please enjoy your tea!' She finished quickly, and curtsied, before scurrying away, her face and ears still red. 

Rhaenyra stared after her, barely even noticing that the chatter from the solar had died down, her servant's words stunning her somewhat. She had wanted to win their gratitude and with it, loyalty, but she had not thought it would go so quickly.

She shook her head and turned around, just in time to witness Lady Jeyne smiling brightly as Rhea finished regaling both her and Princess Rhaenys with the tale of their hunt, voice more animated and excited than Rhaenyra had thought the Lady of Runestone capable of, a lovely flush to her cheeks. It was clear that she had enjoyed herself immensely, finishing her narration with their return to the castle. 

'I was not quite as capable as Lady Rhea makes it sound, although I deeply appreciate that you would call me so, good-aunt.' Rhaenyra finally announced her presence.

Lady Rhea turned around, cheeks still warm with a hint of color. It was a testament to her ease with the Heir that she did not startle even a tad. 'Welcome back, Rhaenyra. We waited until you came to start with the tea, but when my lady inquired as to our outing, I could not help but be overcome with excitement. It was a truly impressive display for your first hunt, do not think otherwise.'

Rhaenyra inclined her head in silent thanks. 'Far be it from me to question your expertise, Rhea. I had a wonderful time.'

She made her way to the table, seating herself without flourish, and reached for the teapot, which had wisely been put on a warmer so it would still be steaming in a few hours' time. She poured herself a cup, inhaling the fragrant scent of thyme and lemon, before reaching to her right and doing the same for Princess Rhaenys, who seemed rather pleased by the gesture, knowing its significance.

Before she could afford Jeyne the same honor, Rhea stood from her seat to take the pot from her hands, gently but firmly prising it from her grasp. 'Allow me, my Princess. I should have taken notice of the absence of your servants before, and acted accordingly. Forgive me my carelessness.'

'Not at all, Lady Rhea.' Rhaenyra insisted. 

Rhea smiled at her, warmth in her dark eyes. 'It is my duty and honor, as one of your ladies-in-waiting, to pour your drinks. I shall take this opportunity to practice, if you will allow me.' 

Rhaenyra could not but agree, and wondered how she had ever thought the Lady Royce too blunt for court. It was obvious to her now that her good-aunt was well practiced in the art of courtly diction. Why wouldn't she be? She was a lady in her own right, Head of her House, a close friend of the Lady Paramount. Rhea had put her mind to staying by Rhaenyra's side as a representative of the Vale, of course she would do her best to be a shining example to all other nobles. 

The princess relaxed her shoulders, noting Rhaenys' approving nod out of the corner of her eye.

Lady Jeyne all but beamed at the both of them. 'I had hoped your excursion would go well, and I am glad to hear that you were able to clear your head, cousin. It has been a tumultuous for you of late, and I, for one, thank the Gods for your remarkable resilience. You share it with Aemma.' 

The twinge in her chest at the mention of her mother, however favorable, was as familiar to Rhaenyra as Syrax' smell, and just as interwoven with who she was. It would never cease to hurt, even if two lifetimes should pass. 

'Yes,' Rhaenys agreed, quiet compassion in her lilac gaze. She had respected Rhaenyra's mother as both a woman and the queen, and while her mourning may not be as deep as Jeyne or Rhaenyra's, she had felt grief at Aemma's passing. 'Her Grace was indeed remarkably resilient. One wonders whether her replacement can boast such, as well. She seemed rather fragile when I passed her in the halls.' 

Never one to waste time, was her royal cousin. Rhaenyra appreciated that quality immensely. 

'Indeed?' Rhaenyra made certain she sounded curious rather than eager, as she honestly was. She was also eager to move on from the topic of her dead mother, craving the distraction orchestrating Alicent's fall from grace was to her for now. Her enemy was weakened and would soon be humiliated, ready to be shaped anew into a creature that would not dare raise word or doubt against her, and all Rhaenyra had to do, for a little while, was lean back and allow it to happen.

'Hmm. It was but a quick glance.' Rhaenys elaborated, eyes narrowed and gaze sharp, clearly already aware of why the Queen had been in lowered spirits. 'Strangely, she broke her fast in the quiet of her chambers, rather than in the Great Hall, her father appeared rather worried.'

'The Lord Hand has many things to worry about, one can only hope that he concerns himself with matters of the realm before any others.' Jeyne all but hissed, her impression of Otto Hightower as obvious as the contempt in her voice, her mood going from jovial to angered in the span of a heartbeat.

'Seeing as his daughter is Queen now, he may be compelled to argue that his family is a matter of the realm.' Rhaenys replied calmly, the picture of regal poise. Whatever offense she felt was hidden behind a veneer of politeness that was certainly as thin as the gossamer threads of a lady's embroidery, and just as unnecessary. 

Although admittedly, she had struck at the heart of the matter with unerring accuracy, pointing out the source of their issue with her usual dry certainty. 

'Alicent has married into the House of the Dragon.' Rhaenyra pointed out. 'My father cloaked her in our colors, she derives her power and station from our family. The Lord Hand would do well to remember that, and not worry himself unduly.' She chanced a quick look at her Vale cousin, and added, 'He certainly never worried so much about the previous Queen, from what I recall.'

'He did not?' Jeyne took the opportunity beautifully, as Rhaenyra had hoped she would. It may seem petty, but Rhaenyra would not risk even the slightest chance that Otto or Alicent may worm their way into Lady Arryn's good graces. 

'No. Rather, all he did was remind my father that she had not borne him a son yet, as though they had not been painfully aware.'

Jeyne pursed her lips, eyebrows drawn together in a severe frown. The Hand's treatment of Aemma had not been widely known, and the Queen herself had never outright spoken of it, but when the Hand fancied himself worthy of voicing his opinion to the King, he always ensured to strike at the Queen's lack of male issue. It had been a strain on every member of the family - except for Daemon, of course. 

'This one won't bear the Realm a prince any time soon, either,' Rhea supplied, cutting through the tension with ease, long since finished with pouring tea, and nibbling on a biscuit with delicate teeth. She swallowed, the sound loud in the silence following her words, and added, 'Even if she does, he will not be Targaryen. Perhaps that is why the Hand worries.'

Rhaenyra barely held herself back from snorting in a most unflattering way at the utter lack of reaction Rhea's announcement enticed in Rhaenys - quite the contrast to Jeyne's sharp intake of breath in astonishment.

Before the Lady Arryn could so much as gather herself, Rhaenys, with by now expected aplomb, tea untouched before her, said, 'I see. I had wondered where the rumors were coming from.' Her voice was cool, and instinctively Rhaenyra's shoulders tensed in preparation for an argument.

Instead, a genuine smile fought it's way onto Rhaenys' face as she continued. 'While personally, I do not pay much mind to gossip, it would appear that Lord Tyrell does. He all but asked me to confirm that the Queen was no maiden on her wedding night.' Rhaenys fixed her sharp gaze on Rhaenyra's face. 'It seems you are the one person in the castle that knows the truth and is willing to part with it. The King and Queen certainly won't.' The princess took a sip of tea, eyes never leaving the Heir, before setting down her cup gracefully and folding her hands, the gesture deceptively demure. She directed an almost approving smile at Rhaenyra. 'That gives you the advantage.' 

Rhaenyra inclined her head in acknowledgement. 'It does. It also gives me the responsibility to deal with the matter to the best of my knowledge and ability. So I will tell you the truth.' One could cut the anticipation following her announcement with a knife, if one were inclined to try. 'The Queen did not bleed on her wedding night.' 

The silence following Rhaenyra's statement saw Jeyne's eyes widen, then narrow, her face akin to a stormcloud, filled with foreboding disgust. Princess Rhaenys exhaled slowly, nostrils flaring, her face as blank as any mask, while her eyes began blazing with fury as she clenched her hands.

Rhea kept her composure, but then, she had known beforehand, finishing her biscuit with a sort of carefree meticulousness Rhaenyra found admittedly hilarious. It appeared as though the only thing in the room that currently held the Lady Royce's attention were the confections spread before her.

'Alicent assured me it was because the King would not touch her.' Rhaenyra added, watching both her cousins, so different in their appearances yet so alike in character, draw their conclusions, an example illustrative of what would happen with the courtiers over the course of the day, to be cemented by the Royal Family's silence. To not deny was an admission in the eyes of most, after all.  'She insists that she remains a maiden.'

Jeyne scoffed, fury writ in her voice. 'Oh, I am certain she does. It is an obvious, desperate lie, an insult to all who have their wits about them!' She shook her head vigorously, immaculately done hair bouncing with the movement. 

Rhaenyra fought to keep her face somber, taken aback by the impassioned reaction her cousin was showing. She made her voice as meek as she could without sounding scared. 'Unless anyone can prove otherwise, she is a virgin.'

'Call for a septa then.' Jeyne outright growled, composure all but gone. 'Or a maester, perhaps? Should they find her maidenhead intact, we know her to tell the truth.' 

That was, possibly, the single worst thing Rhaenyra could do, and an idea she had to put put of her cousin's mind as quickly as possible. 'I have many privileges as Heir to the Throne, but questioning the Queen's purity without proof is not one of them.' Rhaenyra cautioned. She had not thought that Jeyne would be the offended party, rather, she had expected Rhaenys to fly into an insulted rage, had been prepared to placate her, or rather, direct the full force of her fury towards those deserving of it without getting caught in the crossfire. 

Yet the Queen Who Wasn't instead seemed contemplative and calculating, her gaze never leaving Rhaenyra. 

'Lack of blood is proof.' Jeyne insisted, and she wasn't wrong, per se.

'Is it?' Rhaenyra pressed. 'If the King, for any reason, stands behind her and corroborates her story, my credibility will be gone. I cannot risk it, not yet.' 

'So you will do nothing?' Lady Arryn demanded.

'No.' Rhaenyra vowed. 'Not quite. I would ask that, should anyone put the matter before you, tell them what I have told you. That there was no blood, but the Queen claims she remains pure. No more,' she fixed each of them with a shrewd look, 'no less.' Her tone became insistent. 'It cannot be denied that she did not bleed.'

At that, finally, the loathing shimmering in Jeyne's eyes dimmed, as understanding became clear in them. Her rage, for the moment at least, was quelled in light of her dawning comprehension of Rhaenyra's intentions. 'You want the Lords to draw their own conclusions. If you do not say anything, nothing can be held against you, and no one can accuse you of trying to undermine the Queen, especially not the Hand.'

Rhaenyra could have sighed in relief. 'Just so.'

'It is a wise choice, Rhaenyra.' Rhaenys admitted, calm as you please, which somehow only added to Rhaenyra's wariness. She did not trust that calm. 'You must keep yourself separate from rumors, as best as you are able to. The fewer opportunities you give the Hand to throw your character into question, the better.'

The Queen That Wasn't shook her head slowly, and it was then that the Heir realized why she appeared unfazed if not for the brief flicker of rage in her eyes. Ever since Lord Tyrell had pressed her, Princess Rhaenys must have.much like Rhaenyra herself, been weighing her options and responses. She had, then, reached the same conclusion that Rhaenyra had, and resolved that her best option was also the simplest: to leave Alicent to the nobles which were already, figuratively at least, gathered to tear her apart. 

'I must admit, you are handling this with a calm and grace befitting a woman twice your age, Princess.' Rhaenys continued, quiet pride in her eyes. 'I will not lie, I had expected you to throw the queen to the vultures, but you have risen above such temptation. It honors you, and although few will say it openly, many will take notice of it.'

Rhaenyra had briefly thought about it this way, not expecting too much to come of it, but her cousin's claim rang true. 

'Our princess is, indeed, wise beyond her years. The Lords will learn to trust you,' Rhea addressed Rhaenyra, 'and the way you are handling this situation will affect your standing for years to come. While it would be personally satisfying to make the woman the King replaced your mother with suffer, from a political standpoint, it would make it all too easy to paint you in an unflattering light.'

'Quite right. I have spoken too harshly,' Jeyne sighed deeply, her fingers tight enough on her teacup's handle that her knuckles had turned pale. Anger was still simmering under the surface, and rightly so. 'You are right to bide your time on this matter, although I fear your detractors will use this against you all the same.'

Of course, failure to act quickly spelled doom in certain situations, but this was not one of them, Rhaenyra had thought. 'How would they do that?' She settled on asking.

'They will say that you are allowing your fondness for Queen Alicent to cloud your judgement.' Rhea answered in her Lady's stead, something Rhaenyra had noticed she did quite often. A clearer sign of trust could hardly exist. 'They will try to make it seem as though you are too gentle, too kindhearted to be Heir.' Rhea crossed her arms, biscuits forgotten for the moment. 'And should you condemn her, they will insist that you know no mercy, not even for your oldest friend. You cannot do right in their eyes, so why bother?' 

It was nothing but the truth, it made a bitter taste spread in Rhaenyra's mouth. 'Who are they? Those that stand against me so firmly?'

Rhaenys and Jeyne exchanged a glance, quick as anything, and interestingly so, as Rhaenyra had considered them to not be all too fond of each other yesterday. Then again, Jeyne had hinted at wishing to get to better terms with Lady Velaryon at the feast, and they seemed united in both their desire to help Rhaenyra and their hate for what now appeared all of House Hightower.

As it should be.

'While you and Rhea were in the Kingswood, I decided to use my time wisely and broaden your opportunities for alliances.' There was a strained smile on her face as she put her feelings aside for the moment as to answer her princess with all the dignity a Ruling Lady commanded. 'The Princess Rhaenys, it seems, had a similar idea, only that she was looking to find who could not be swayed. Of course, we both had little time, but I believe if nothing else, we each found the beginnings of what we are looking for.'

'Indeed.' Rhaenys took over seamlessly, 'There are a few lords, most of them minor, who are hostile to the prospect of you ascending the Iron Throne. The major Houses will not dare risk offending you, but since the minor Houses would not dare be openly defiant, I suggest being wary of their overlords. They may feel safe openly expressing their disdain because they feel that their liege lords share their sentiments.'

'Not all of them, I am certain.' Jeyne supplied. 'Take the riverlords as an example, their opinions do not reflect that of House Tully.'

Rhaenys sighed, exasperation a quiet footnote in her tone. 'Yes, you have said so already. Multiple times.'

'It bears repeating, it seems.'

Although neither woman sounded overly bothered by each other, before emotions could run high, again, Rhaenyra interrupted. 'Which Houses seem to be the most hostile?'

'Unfortunately, neither of us has exactly had enough time to -'

'Frankly, Rhaenyra, very few Houses will be openly against you until such a time where they have cause to be. Until the Hightower girl bears a son, the biggest threat to your position is and remains Prince Daemon.' Rhaenys fixed her with a stern look, ignoring Jeyne's affronted stare at the interruption. 'Although you seem keen on denying this, considering the way you danced with him last night. I urge you to look closer to home than you are inclined to. There is only so much you can do in advance, with the few resources you have at your disposal.'

Gods be damned, this again. 'I seek to gain allies in the war to come, Princess Rhaenys. I am not so foolish as to think that the Gods will smile on me with the same fervor with which they used to frown on my mother. Alicent will bear children, I do not doubt it. The Great Houses must be in my favor when that time comes.'

'You have every dragon in Westeros on your side.' Rhaenys sounded so damnably sure of herself, and for a split second, it was as though Rhaenyra was looking at her own younger self, so desperate to not even entertain the thought of war that it had almost broken her when its outbreak had been sounded with her second son's mangled body hitting the waters of Shipbreaker Bay. 

No, she would not let this stand unchallenged.

'Do I?' Rhaenyra smiled self-deprecatingly. 'There are many unbound dragons, and who is to say the Queen's children will not claim some for themselves? The Cannibal alone, for example, would throw a wrench in any plans we may make, and necessitate a battle on dragonback. Should one of Alicent's children claim Cannibal, or Dreamfyre, or, Gods forbid, Vhagar, some Houses may be persuaded to attempt to remove me as Heir. I cannot rely on dragons alone.'

'Syrax, Meleys and Seasmoke are rather formidable. Caraxes, as well, should his rider decide to give you his loyalty.' Rhaenys parried, as confident as Daemon had been.

Still, even as it amused her, it was fascinating how Rhaenys did not, for even a second, entertain the thought that Daemon would join the Greens. The worst Rhaenys apparently worried the Rogue Prince might do was abstain from battle entirely, and both of them knew how unlikely that was.

'Daemon has always been loyal to this family. It is a shame that most refuse to see it.' She returned Rhaenys' stare with a hard glare of her own, unwilling to give an inch on this matter. 'While I do agree that our dragons would doubtlessly cow the less ambitious lords, Otto Hightower will not be halted so easily. He has, over the past decade, steadily amassed influence and power. He is a second son. Nothing is given to him that he does not take for himself. He has succeeded in making his daughter Queen. He will stop at nothing to make his grandson King.'

'A grandson that does not exist yet.' Jeyne reminded them, eyes flickering back and forth between the two Targaryen princesses. 

'Yet being the operative word!' Rhaenyra exclaimed, a sudden onset of frustration seizing her and raising her voice. 'Already, Otto is sowing the seeds of war, and when - not if, when - Alicent has a son, our gracious Lord Hand will do his damndest to place him on the Iron Throne instead of me! I need to gather support now, because if I wait, war will be inevitable. Should I have enough of the Houses on my side, I may be able to prevent a full-scale war. If not, I must still have allies to help me defend my claim, and win my crown.'

She watched, trepidation slowly fading away, as the truth of her words finally sank in.

Her voice did not tremble when she entreated, 'Either way, I am asking for your help in this endeavor. I ask all of you.'

Rhea bowed her head, a silent smile on her lips. Jeyne nodded graciously. Rhaenys... smiled. 'I believe I speak for everyone in this room when I say that you have our full support and confidence, your Highness.' She quirked her lips, but not in disapproval. 'I am relieved that you paid heed to what I told you. Men would sooner put the Realm to the torch than see a woman ascend the Iron Throne, but perhaps, if it is you, their minds might be changed. I shall, if you will allow me, begin negotiations with House Tyrell regarding your tour on your behalf. You must plan your route wisely, and be certain to fan the flames of dissent when appropriate, and when to compromise to soothe wounded pride. Yes, Otto has made his daughter Queen, but in doing so, he has alienated many nobles. They smile to his face, yet resentment brews underneath the surface. To have their own daughters and sisters passed over for the child of a second son of a powerful, yet minor House is a grave insult. They know they cannot touch the King, but they have begun to hate his Hand. You may persuade them to distrust him, as well. A Hand that no Lord obeys or trusts must be replaced, after all.' 

Rhaenyra held back a broad grin, her cousin's advice as useful as she had known it would be. 'And then I am free to place a Lord of my choosing as Hand, thus indebting him to me.'

Rhaenys inclined her head. 'Just so.'

'Which begs the question which Lord can be trusted in such a high position.' Jeyne mused. 'Do not forget in your zeal that, while you are Heir, His Grace King Viserys holds all the power. He must approve of whomever you present, lest he be prompted to lose faith in you, or become wary of your advice.'

'Of course.' Rhaenyra gave a thoughtful hum, once more immersed in plotting. 'He would be inclined, I do not doubt, to elevate a member of the Small Council.'

'Then perhaps, you ought to start there. Replace those Lord Hightower can count among his allies with those who will honor their oath to you, and he will find himself isolated even before you depose of him.'

'Indeed. Still, I do not yet know who might be deserving of my faith. Which members of the council should I be wary of? I do not know them well, as few have ever deigned to hold a conversation with me. I shall begin there.'

With startling clarity, the princess realized that the servants would know. She would command, no, entreat them to gather information from the Lords' servants, to ascertain their loyalties, who might be swayed to her side and who would not buckle. If she played her cards right, and she intended to, she might gain some spies in the process, for few servants were treated well enough to be entirely devoted to their masters.

Perhaps she would send Sara. The girl was sweet and probably well-liked by the other servants, and based on her reactions before, would not deny Rhaenyra. More likely than not, she would even be eager to assist Rhaenyra in any way she could, and when she succeeded, Rhaenyra would reward her generously. 

'A wise decision. The Lords will remain in the capital for at least a week, as celebrations wind down. So will their daughters and sisters and mothers. The Ladies' Hall will be filled with them, and the Queen shall be too busy adjusting to her new position to properly take advantage of that fact.' Jeyne smiled conspiratorially. 'I had wondered, cousin, when you intend to gather ladies-in-waiting. Mayhaps now is your chance.'

Jeyne was completely right, and Rhaenyra had begun planning for such. All the highborn women of Westeros were gathered in the Red Keep, and she, the Crown Princess, Heir to the Iron Throne, was without ladies. Gathered was a wealth of potential allies she could exploit. She allowed a grin to show itself on her face.

'Mayhaps it is.'

'While this is indeed an opportunity you ought to take advantage of, I also urge you to remember that, as Heir, you have a duty to continue your bloodline. In order to do so, you require a husband, a spot many covet. Their children with you will inherit your crown, and while one of my grandchildren will wed your own heir, whoever the King chooses as your spouse will see his power greatly elevated. The Lords will petition the King, most likely at this very moment, to announce an engagement.' Rhaenys said, the reminder like a rush of cold air.  

'I will speak to father about this.' Rhaenyra stated, keeping her unease out of her voice and face. 

Yet Rhaenys pressed on. 'Still, whoever you marry-' 

'Whoever our princess marries must be prepared to support all her choices, not only publicly, but also in private. They must be able to set aside their own aspirations for the Queen's sake, and be formidable enough in their own right that no one would dare challenge them for being in the supporting role to our princess. They must have the right family name, and inspire both fear and loyalty.' Rhea cut in. She smiled at Rhaenyra, describing Daemon in a way neither Jeyne nor Rhaenys could deny would make a fitting husband, but not so that they could immediately distinguish who she might be referring to. Rhaenyra was truly grateful to have her for an ally, and relieved that her interference afforded Rhaenyra a moment to gather herself. For all her determination, she still despised to think of her womb as a bargaining chip.

'Until such a match becomes available,' Rhea finished, 'talk of engagement should be kept to a minimum, lest the King interfere.'

Rhaenys blew out an agitated breath. 'I do not disagree with you, Lady Royce, but might I remind you that the longer Rhaenyra remains without issue, the easier it will be for Otto to establish his own grandchildren as alternative Heirs? If Alicent bears a son before Rhaenyra does, she has the ideal bargaining chip for an alliance to throw our princess from her position. It is imperative that Rhaenyra bear children before Alicent, or, barring that, we be able to deny any of the Hightower girl's whelps are the King's legitimate offspring. The fact that her sheets are unstained provides us with the ideal explanation. We must use it while we can.'

Before Rhaenyra could protest, again, Lady Jeyne agreed with Rhaenys. 'Indeed, we must.' There was a calculating glint in her eye. 'Cousin, you must not speak disparagingly of the Queen, you have the right of that. But neither I nor Princess Rhaenys are Heir. We may speak as we see fit, especially as we shall speak the truth.'

Rhaenyra spread her hands in gratitude. House Arryn valued honor, and Alicent had sullied her own, as far as Jeyne was aware. 'You need not sacrifice any of your integrity on my behalf, Jeyne,' she reminded, only to be gently but firmly brushed off. 

'The Hightower girl deserves no mercy, Rhaenyra. Not after how callously she has behaved.'

For a brief moment, no longer than a heartbeat, Rhaenyra felt an inkling on guilt seep into her stomach, knowing full well the repercussions of her own actions. Then she remembered her murdered Lucerys, her slain Jace, her dead Joff, and her sweet Aegon, forced to watch his mother being eaten alive, and squashed that guilt with an iron fist. There would be no mercy. 

'Then it is settled.' Rhaenys said, shaking Rhaenyra from her musings. 'I shall make inquiries, subtly of course, as to who is inclined to not accept you on the Iron Throne, while Jeyne will do the opposite. You yourself must speak with the King regarding your tour, as well as be seen with the Queen so that the Court does not sense any potential divide in the House of the Dragon.'

Rhaenyra nodded, accepting Rhaenys' proposal with grace. 'Thank you, Princess Rhaenys. If it is agreeable to all of you, I suggest we reconvene on the morrow, breakfast, perhaps? We may share it in the Ladies' Hall.'

Jeyne agreed. 'A splendid idea, cousin. Rhea, will you accompany me or stay with our princess?'

'I will remain, my liege, with your permission, should Rhaenyra allow me.' Rhea looked toward the princess as she spoke, and received a firm, vaguely enthusiastic nod in response. 

'Please do. I enjoy your company, after all.'

Rhea gave her a genuine smile. 'As do I, yours.' 

'That is touching indeed,' Rhaenys cut in, 'but I must insist on a quick word with Rhaenyra before I depart. Would you kindly give us a moment?'

Rhea and Jeyne both looked to Rhaenyra, and only moved after she nodded her assent, leaving the solar and closing the doors, their heads together. 

Once they were, for a given definition of the word, alone, Rhaenys stood, her back as straight and stiff as an iron rod. Rhaenyra stood as well, for no other reason than that it made her feel more in control of the situation.

'Your father has made a choice in wife that will haunt both him and the Seven Kingdoms for as long as he lives, perhaps even beyond that. He has offended many lords, and while House Velaryon has accepted your equitable exchange, Corlys remains slighted. The Triarchy has plagues our trading routes for some time now, yet the King will not hear of it. Therefore, je intends to defend our territory in the Stepstones, and Daemon is set to go with him. I fear this may devolve into an all-out war, and in light of our recent change of relationship, I wished to be the one to inform you of such.' Rhaenys' face was inscrutable, and her posture as regal as could be, giving nothing of her personal feelings away. 

Meanwhile, Rhaenyra did her best to mask her surprise. She had not thought Rhaenys would come forward with such information of her own volition. 'Do you believe that we could convince them to stop?'

'No, I am afraid not. They are angry, and betrayed, the both of them, although for vastly different reasons. Your offer has done much to quell Corlys' dissent, yet he will not be swayed into inaction. He believes, and I agree, that the King is too lenient with the Triarchy's continued overtures into Velaryon territories. Something must be done, and if the Crown will not aid us, we will do it ourselves.'

'For what it is worth, you have my full support, Princess.'

'I had hoped you would say such. Leaving Laena here in your care is as much a show of trust from our House as it is an affirmation of support from you.'

'I am aware of that, Princess. You need not remind me. But I am wondering, what will you do with Laenor? He is Lord Corlys' heir, after all.'

'One wonders what you have to be reminded of and what can be left unsaid, at times.' She shook her head. 'No matter. Laenor will return with me to High Tide, unless the King decides differently. Even in the unlikely event Viserys declares he'd rather have Laenor stay here, I will insist on taking him home.' 

Rhaenyra cocked her head in confusion. 'Why would father insist on keeping your son here?'

'As your fiance, perhaps. You are of age, are you not?'

Rhaenyra wanted to bristle. She would not marry Laenor again, not for lack of affection for her cousin, but for his lack of interest in anything possessing a cunt. Last time, she had not had a choice, Daemon's actions and her own indiscretions with Ser Cole forcing her father's hand. 

Not again. 

'Had we not just discussed the fact that, as far as I am aware, the King has not yet begun searching for potential spouses for me? Are you privy to details I am not, or are you suggesting that he has approached Lord Corlys about this matter?'

She could almost hear Rhaenys grit her teeth, and stifled a triumphant smirk. So he had not.

'As of yet, the answer is no. But with all this talk of you begetting an heir before the Queen does, I had thought you would look at the most obvious prospect first.'

Which she had. Namely, Daemon. 

'As I have already told you before, cousin, my father decides my match. I cannot go over his head in this, or at all. He is the King, and his word is law.'

'Without question. But he adores you, and would not force you into a match entirely against your will. I do not doubt he will take your desires into account when he makes his choice, and Laenor is the best candidate.'

'I am fond of my cousins, all of them, but Princess, there are many others he may consider. The Prince of Dorne, for example. A marriage between Qoren and myself would bring Dorne into the Seven Kingdoms without war and death, not to mention they have, so far, allowed the firstborn child of their Prince, no matter if male or female, to succeed said Prince. I daresay they would not contest my status as Heir simply because I am a woman.'

She saw Rhaenys' eyes narrow, and continued, undeterred. She had to lower the Princess' expectations of an engagement, or better yet, dash those hopes completely. 'There is also House Baratheon, as I believe Lord Boremund's son Borros is not yet wed, though feel free to correct me if I am wrong. House Lannister also has a son of acceptable age, as well as House Tyrell. Many noble Houses, some of the oldest in Westeros, have sons whose lines they wish to join to ours. The King must consider them all.'

She locked her gaze with Rhaenys' and sighed for effect. 'I myself would not spurn House Velaryon.' She emphasized. 'But the King has already done so, and may do it again. No matter who my husband ends up being, my firstborn will wed one of your grandchildren. They will rule together when we are both ashes in the wind. That, if nothing else, is certain.'

Rhaenys had the good sense to concede her point with a slight tilt of the chin. 'You understand I must look out for the best interests of my House. Laenor has both the blood of Old Valyria and a dragon of his own. What other suitor across the Realms can boast the same?'

Daemon, actually.

'None,' at least yet, as far as you are aware of, cousin, 'which also means that you have your choice of wives for him. I am not the only option.'

'Yet you are the most valuable, attractive one. Which you are well aware of.'

Rhaenyra wanted to tear her hair out in frustration. Rhaenys clearly, frustratingly, had not yet given up on getting her married to Laenor. 

'All the same, your son cannot yet give me the heirs I require, which, if you would recall, we have just established I ought to beget as soon as possible, and until the time comes where he does, 'tis a moot point.'

Rhaenys looked at her, a calculating gleam in her eye. 'As you say. I shall take my leave, then, cousin, although I urge you to consider carefully whom you would see elevated to Prince Consort upon your ascension to the Iron Throne. His character should be unquestionable, as should his honor be without dispute.' 

Rhaenys Velaryon bowed her head with great dignity. 'Princess Rhaenyra.'

Rhaenyra returned the gesture, stomach roiling. 'Princess Rhaenys.'

The Queen Who Never Was left the Heir's solar, and Rhaenyra could not stop a shiver from running down her spine. 

Chapter Text

Ser Cole, Rhaenyra discovered, was quite efficient when he put his mind to it, as he had already returned to his post by her doors by the time the princess exited her solar. Lady Rhea stood within the princess' chambers still, not quite glowering at the Kingsguard, who only turned from his position when he heard the princess' footfalls.

Or perhaps, she thought upon closer inspection, she was simply too optimistic, for she did not get the feeling he had been particularly successful in his endeavor to find a suitable guard for their pious queen. 

She bid him enter.

'My Princess,' he said with a gallant bow. 

'Ser Criston,' she replied, looking him over. He was perfectly put together but for the slight flush on his cheeks. It would appear her valiant knight had hurried to return to her side.

'I regret to inform my Lady that I have not yet found a man worthy of the position you require him for, and beg you for more time in which I might find him.'

Rhaenyra inclined her head graciously, ignoring, for the moment, Rhea's gaze burning a hole in her forehead, and quirked her lips at her Sworn Sword. 'Of course, Ser. You are to be commended for your diligence. I would have been sorely disappointed had you rushed through your task and named someone unsuited.' 

Ser Cole bowed once more, the picture of a chivalrous White Knight. 'It is with similar fervor that I have searched for one you might name as your cousin's protector, my Princess, but I have been made aware that House Velaryon has knights sworn to them also, and been urged to look no further.' 

'By whom?' She asked sharply.

'I rather believe him to be a Hightower man, your Highness, a lad by the name of Emmett Cuy.' Her Sworn Shield sounded rather miffed.

'And have you paid his disparaging words much mind, Ser Criston?'

'Not at all, Rhaenyra. I had my orders, and will meet with the knights of Driftmark in the evening, if my Lady permits me.' 

She could hear Rhea puff out an annoyed breath through her nose as Cole called Rhaenyra by name instead of title. She kept her attention on her knight. 'Certainly, see that you do. Be certain to not insult any of out Velaryon friends, and assure them that I wish only for the best, most honorable knights to be considered, as my cousin is quite dear to me and I wish to know her safe, especially if there is no member of the Kingsguard present.' 

'As my Princess commands.' 

She smiled sharply. 'I would also suggest that you strongly advise Ser Cuy to keep his opinions to himself, as you are not only a member of King Viserys' Kingsguard, but also the Sworn Sword and Shield of the Heir herself. It would not do to have anyone reach beyond their station merely because their overlord's brother's daughter is wed to the King.' She sighed dramatically. 'He might be tempted to lie for the Queen hailing from his lands, and under certain circumstances, this might be admirable, but not in the matters we have discussed.'

Criston frowned severely, Rhaenyra noted with no small amount of satisfaction. 'He will be reminded, my Lady. I shall see to it that only those loyal to the Crown are considered as the queen's protectors.' 

With the way he spat out Alicent's title, he might just as well have called her a harlot. 

The princess inclined her head, not deeming any reprimanding necessary since Ser Cole had not, in fact, offered any insult to the queen. He was learning. 'See that you do. In the meantime, since Lady Laena and I will be spending some of our time together, you will serve as her protector, as well.'

Ser Cole bowed deeply, his curls bouncing. 'I am honored by your trust, Princess. No harm shall befall your cousin whilst I draw breath.'

Rhaenyra's lips tightened, not that Cole could see it. Rhea certainly did, however. 'How reassuring.'

She resolved, then and there, to find a knight on her tour whom she could entrust with the queen's welfare. To be fair to Ser Cole, Rhaenyra had, in a way, set him up to fail, as she had known that there were few members of the Kingsguard who would not tread lightly around the queen as long as her father was Hand and, as far as they knew, enjoyed the King's confidence. Once some time passed, and Alicent's belly did not swell, they would begin to doubt her quietly, and be more amendable to keeping her under careful watch, but until then, it was best to keep the queen out of reach of the knights sworn to House Hightower. Only to keep more rumors from spreading, of course. Indeed, it would sound peculiar should the knights loyal to the Hand insist the Hand's daughter was pure. It would only add kindling to the flame. Some may even begin to think that those knights might be taking liberties with the King's young wife.

One shuddered to think it. 

'My Princess,' Lady Rhea said, voice clear, 'your cousin, Lady Laena of House Velaryon, has arrived.' 

Rhaenyra looked past Ser Cole, who hastily stepped aside in a movement that was quite comical with his armor and cloak, to where Rhea stood next to the still opened doors of the princess' chambers. 

Sure enough, a short, slim figure clad in blue with a white head of curly hair stood respectfully away from the threshold in the hallway, curtsying when Rhaenyra's gaze fell upon her. 

The princess beckoned with her left hand, and Laena entered her chambers with all the grace a twelve year old could muster, which, as a member of House Velaryon, was quite a bit.

Rhaenyra favored her small cousin with a fond smile when she came to a stand before her, one that was easily returned in a completely open and honest expression of joy which was particular to those still innocent.

'Princess Rhaenyra,' Lady Laena Velaryon intoned, 'my mother, Princess Rhaenys of House Targaryen, and my father, Lord Corlys Velaryon, are pleased to entrust you with my care and education. I, also, am honored to become your ward, and hope to learn much from you.'

Rhaenyra's smile widened, and she indulged her cousin with a curtsy, as a highborn lady would to her liege. 'Thank you, Lady Laena. I am honored, as well. Your mother has explained your role to you, I trust?'

'Yes, she has. She says I am to keep your confidence, learn from you, and write to her as often as possible.' At that, she abandoned the clearly forced cadence and leaned forward a bit to whisper, 'She also said to be your ally, but we are friends already, so I do not think I will have to try very hard.'

Rhaenyra just adored her. 'Indeed. Do you have any questions for me, cousin?'

As though she had only been waiting for the opportunity, it burst out of her. 'Where's Vhagar?' Laena immediately asked, eyes shining and voice excited.

'She is wherever she desires to be,' Rhaenyra replied easily, charmed by her cousin's exuberance. Seeing her face fall a little, she continued, 'While I may not know precisely where Vhagar is, should you desire to take to the skies I would be happy to have you with me on Syrax. She is smaller, but nimble, and I adore her very much.'

At that, the shine returned to her cousin's eyes. 'I would love to, Princess Rhaenyra. She is golden, right? And bigger than Seasmoke!'

'A bit bigger, yes, but not much. He might even overtake her in a few years.' She leaned down a little and lowered her voice as though offering a secret. 'Until you claim a dragon of your own, cousin, you may ride Syrax with me as often as our duties will allow us.' 

Laena's smile, if possible, brightened, and Rhaenyra found herself helpless to do anything but respond in kind. 

Rhea cleared her throat, so the princess looked up at her, and found her good-aunt staring back at her with warmth in her dark gaze. Ser Cole, likewise, was beholding them with a look in his eyes the princess was immediately wary of. Not because it was malicious, no, it was anything but, yet it was precisely what alarmed her. She was reminded, abruptly, that she had to tread carefully with Cole, no matter how loyal he was to her now, for he might dare to reach above his station, and she had to expect that he might lash out at her once she rebuffed him.

It was not his place to imagine her as anything but the future Queen.

'My Lady Arryn has departed for now, as has Lady Velaryon. There is still some time until supper, and I wished to inquire how you usually spend your leisure time, Rhaenyra.' Rhea said, the corner of her lip twitching. 'I have not been made aware of any possible schedule you might keep.' 

Rhaenyra waved her off, straightening. She could worry about Cole later. 'How could you possibly? I would love to give you a definite answer, yet unfortunately, my schedule changes quite abruptly at times, especially of late. Many of my lessons have been put on halt while the Keep prepared for the wedding, and will resume once most lords have returned to their own lands. I expect this will change permanently to accommodate my new status as Heir, but I have to discuss that with my father.' She shook her head a little, putting on a mildly offended expression. 'For now, we must head to the sept. I have promised Alicent to pray for her.' 

Cole scoffed behind her, while Rhea, clearly about to do the same, barely held herself back. 'As you wish, Rhaenyra.' She chanced a glare at Criston, his frequent absences from Rhaenyra's side and infrequent uses of the princess' name having earned him Rhea's disapproval already.

He seemed a bit confused by her hostility, but knew better than to ask after a reason. He gave Rhea a respectful nod, which she barely acknowledged.

His eyes darted to the princess quickly. Under different circumstances, she would have responded to that, but instead, she busied herself by complimenting Laena's dress. It truly was lovely, with narrow sleeves and silver detailing, complimenting her skin. Momentarily unsure how to treat her new ward, after a brief second of hesitation, she offered Laena her hand, glad when the girl took it without fuss or question. Without a word or further ado, Rhaenyra led them all out into the hallways so they may visit the sept, if only to keep up appearances.

'Has the Princess Rhaenys had something troubling to share, Rhaenyra?' Rhea inquired gently as they were walking through the Keep towards the sept within its grounds. Rhaenyra had promised Alicent she would pray for her, so she would be seen doing it, lighting a candle to the Mother as though even one of those seven fools mattered to a woman who had the blood of Old Valyria running through her veins.

As though the Faith held any power over her or hers, as though those anointed fools could dare tell House Targaryen to cowtow to their icons. It was an insult to her blood to kneel before any Gods other than those of Old Valyria.

The First Men worshiped the Old Gods, she thought looking at Rhea. Although the Faith had reached far, some houses still kept the Old Gods rather than the New, and the descendants of the Bronze Kings might still do the same.

Rhea tilted her head in question at the princess' continued silence.

Rhaenyra contemplated waving off Rhea's concern. Then again, what good was it to have a lady she could trust and confide in when she did not do so? 'She did, indeed. Do you know of the Stepstones, by chance?' 

Rhea shook her head slowly, a frown slowly forming on her face. 'They are a group of islands near Dorne, but that is the extent of my knowledge. I suspect you mean something else?'

'I do.' Rhaenyra took a deep breath, recalling with a rising chill and burning hatred the cost of the war with the Kingdom of the Three Whores in her previous life, of her brave Jace, felled by the Myrish. 'You are correct, the Stepstones are a chain of islands east of Dorne, but more importantly, many Westerosi trading routes, controlled by High Tide, run through them. They are, unfortunately, also filled with pirate dens. They were cleaned out when Myr, Tyrosh and Lys formed an alliance which calls itself the Triarchy. This alliance, headed by the prince-admiral Craghas Drahar, is pressing our Velaryon allies and cutting their trades, which they quite understandably take offense to. In order to quell the threat of these pirates, Lord Corlys has decided to meet them in open battle at sea and on land, in order to secure the Stepstones for Westeros.'

Rhea tilted her head with a wry smile. 'That sounds, indeed, perfectly reasonable. A conflict that demands a solution, and of course, the solution is war. What could be more sensible than that?'

Rhaenyra bit back a vindictive grin at Rhea's biting tone, if not for the reasons the Lady of Runestone probably imagined. 'Quite. The urgency of the matter was only exacerbated by the King spurning the Lady Laena, as doing so has naturally greatly offended my cousin's husband and herself.'

She looked down at Laena quickly, just to ensure she did not accidentally offend her with her candidness, but the girl did not give any indication of offense, indifference or any other emotion. 

It was just as well, really. She doubted Laena felt actually slighted by the King's refusal to marry her, and the court was already wagging their tongues about another topic.

'But that is not what makes you nervous.' It was a statement, not a question. 'You may speak your mind to me without fear of prejudice or judgement, I hope you know.'

Rhaenyra felt, more keenly than she was comfortable with, Ser Cole's gaze on her, and the warmth of Laena's hand in hers, and decided to be cautious with her phrasing until she could send Ser Criston off without raising his suspicion. He must continue to believe himself one of her most trusted friends at court, even as she drove him into making foes of most others there.  

'I do. I confess that I am still unused to it, I do not mean to insult you, Rhea. To be perfectly frank, I worry for Daemon and Laenor both. I am afraid that before long, he will mount Seasmoke to aid Lord Corlys. He is young, and I do not wish to lose him to a stray arrow or the swing of a sword.' She did not speak a single lie, although she circumvented the crux of the issue. Should things play out the same they had before, Daemon would take three years to return to King's Landing as King of the Narrow Sea to lay a crown of driftwood before the Iron Throne as tribute to his brother, an act which called for a great reward. 

This time, she would ensure that said reward would be her very own hand in marriage. If perhaps a bit sooner.

'Surely the Sea Snake will not take his heir to war so soon?' Rhea asked, concern edging its way into her tone. 

Laena's grip on Rhaenyra's fingers tightened, but she kept silent. It was heartening to see Rhaenyra would not have to teach her that at times, it was wiser to listen to others and plan quietly, rather than immediately answering every concern and believed slight with a sharp reprimand or correction. Or it would be, if she could be certain that it was stone cold calculation that kept her from speaking, rather than fear for her brother. 

'Not yet, no, but eventually, he will, and it is a frighteningly easy thing, to be killed. Even as a dragonrider.' She answered, squeezing Laena's hand and giving her a reassuring look. Laena met her gaze with determination in her own. Calculation, then. Excellent. 

'You expect the conflict to drag on, then.' 

'For quite a while, yes. The Triarchy may be made up of pleasure dealers and pirates, but that makes them only more dangerous. They know not honorable battle, and they have little or next to nothing to lose. They will not be defeated easily, nor do I believe will they be defeated permanently.'

'And of course Daemon will be in the midst of the slaughter. He will relish in the opportunity for bloodshed.' Rhea said, matter-of-fact, tone deliberately lacking inflection.

Rhaenyra shot Rhea a heavy look, but could not begrudge her contempt. The Lady of Runestone had little reason to respect the Rogue Prince, and he insulted her at every given opportunity. 'I am certain if Corlys asks him, he will eagerly join him to conquer the Stepstones once and for all, yes. Caraxes is a dragon that knows war, and will not be easily felled, I know this. Yet I cannot help but be wary.'

'The Rogue Prince is an excellent warrior, that cannot be denied, not even by all those who loathe his very existence.' Rhea could not have sounded less concerned if she tried, Rhaenyra was certain.

'Yes.' She agreed easily, all the same, pleased that Rhea was willing to acknowledge one of her husband's better qualities, choosing to ignore the latter half of her statement out of politeness. 'He is. He is not invulnerable, however.'

'No one can claim to be. But he is harder to kill than most, and that beast of his also. Do you know when he and Lord Velaryon will be departing?'

'I do not. Neither of them has seen fit to speak to me about their plans just yet, although one of them still might. I am holding out hope on that.' She gestured at the doors of the sept,  coming to a halt before them, as Ser Cole overtook all three of them with quick steps to pull open one of them so that they may enter with grace. As the heavy oak creaked ominously, Rhaenyra stared into the depths of the sept, at the statues of the Seven she could make out, lit eerily from below by hundreds of candles, the cold seemingly seeping out of the supposedly holy place to grasp at the hem of her skirts with bony fingers, and was held in place not by fear but something else, something that felt suspiciously like frothing rage.

Damn all Seven of those so-called gods Alicent so revered. As though they listened to a damn prayer anyone ever hoped to have answered.

'Do you pray to the Seven, Rhea?' She asked calmly, not taking even one step forward to enter, leaving Ser Cole to wait patiently, as he ought to.

'Not usually or enthusiastically, I admit.' Rhea's voice was hushed, as if she, too, felt uneasy. 'I have never seen much evidence of their existence, or supposed benevolence. There is no sept on Runestone.'

That, also, was heartening to hear. 'Neither do I. But I have made a promise, and I keep my promises.'

'An admirable quality.' She breathed deeply, not looking away from the entrance of the sept, down the polished marble stairs to the pit in the middle of which stood the Stranger. 'I do not understand why you indulge that harl- girl, my Princess. She does little to deserve it.'

'We have discussed this before.' Rhaenyra reminded, in a half-hearted attempt to sound as though she did not wholeheartedly agree with her good-aunt's assessment.

'Indeed.' Rhea offered her arm gallantly, and Rhaenyra smiled at her. 

Together, the three walked down the stairs, Ser Cole closing the doors behind them gently, and Rhaenyra could almost trick herself into thinking they were coming to this place of worship to ask trivial matters of the Gods, or pray for a bountiful harvest and a summer that would never end.

Only to find her mood rapidly deteriorating when she saw their new, gracious Queen kneeling piously before the altar of the Mother, head bowed and hands folded before a lit candle, as still as the statues surrounding her, only to raise her head when she heard their footsteps, loud in the quiet. 

She turned her head, revealing eyes rimmed with red and loose auburn curls, not at all an appearance fit for a queen. As if to add to the effect, she paled at the sight of the three of them, especially once she saw Laena, with what little color remained in her cheeks draining from her face.

Remarkably, it was Laena who found her bearings first, dipping into an impeccable curtsy. 'Your Grace,' she greeted, voice lilting. 

Alicent wiped her eyes with the heel of her hand quickly, and rose, bowing her head in equal parts greeting, acknowledgement and what Rhaenyra fervently hoped was shame. 

'Lady Velaryon. Lady Royce. Rhaenyra. I shall leave you to your prayers.'

Although nothing would please her more than to send Alicent fleeing, what kind of friend would she be if she left her clearly distressed former companion in such a state? It would not do.'Please give us a moment,' Rhaenyra addressed both Rhea and Laena, and stepped forward to lay a hand on Alicent's arm before she could pass by them. 'Ali, you are not well. Speak to me.'

The Hightower girl chanced a quick glance towards their company, and when Rhaenyra followed her gaze, she was met with a look that was so well known and familiar to her that she did, for a moment, not realize why it was Alicent who stiffened under her fingers. 

It was with a sense of vertigo that the princess became aware that she had become so used to being regarded with contempt barely concealed with politeness, that she had for a moment found herself back at the Keep after the debacle in the whorehouse with Daemon, when the rumors had begun that she was used goods, defiled by the Rogue Prince willingly in a pleasure den.  

The contemptuous glare Rhea directed at the queen was a look said queen had often worn herself, only it was usually aimed at Rhaenyra. 

Alicent did not shrink back from it, though her shoulders rose in a subconscious effort to shield herself, and her hands trembled pitifully. The princess swallowed her snarl with difficulty. So it seems you cannot bear to taste your own medicine, my dearest friend. Such a shame.

'Come, Ali. Let us talk for a bit.' She gentled her voice as she led the queen towards the back of the sept with little difficulty, for Alicent had no trouble turning her back so that she would not have to face Rhaenyra's companions. 

She had always been weak that way.

Rhaenyra led her to the Mother's altar once more, and lit a candle, just as she had promised she would. She knelt down, and Alicent copied her easily. 

'I will not ask what is wrong, but I will ask that you do not shut me out. Has anyone said something to you? Shall I have to be very stern when I remind them of their station?'

A bloodless, pale imitation of a smile pulled at Alicent's lips despite herself. 'No one has said anything. They did not need to.' Her eyes became sheened with tears and her voice trembled. 'But they were accusing me all the same, Nyra. I have never seen such hate and contempt before, and there was nothing I could do to defend myself, because no one said or did something that could be defended against. They only stared. And whispered. Even as I was only walking through the halls, their eyes followed me.'

She bit her lips, and Rhaenyra noticed that they were bloody. She held back a scoff with all the dignity she could muster, and forced herself into the role of the supportive friend that she had resolved to pretend to be.

It would pay off, in the end.

She pointedly did not think about the treatment she had suffered in her past life, perpetuated in no small part by Alicent herself. No, best not to think about it, for the necklace Rhaenyra had gifted her and still hung about Alicent's pretty, slim neck, was beginning to tempt her once more.

'I wish I could help you in some way, Ali. It will get better when you bear a son, I am certain. No one will doubt you then.' She made her voice soft and reassuring, as though she genuinely believed what she was saying. 

'But what if I don't?' The queen whispered, fearful. 'What if he never lays with me?' 

Then I would be most ecstatic, sweetest girl, you cannot even begin to imagine. 

'He will, I do not doubt it. It is distasteful to talk about, but I am certain that my father will do his duty, and in turn, I am without doubt that you will do yours.' Rhaenyra did, indeed, not doubt that Alicent would attempt to do what she believed was her duty. It was only a matter of ensuring that the queen believed her duty to be whatever Rhaenyra told her it was. 

'Then why hasn't he?!' It burst out of the queen amidst the stillness of the sept, and Rhaenyra bit her lip to keep it from turning up into a smirk as Alicent darted a wild look backwards, where Laena and Rhea were still standing, and now certainly staring. Cole had never stopped leveling loathsome looks at the queen, so Rhaenyra was not surprised to see him add a bit of judgment to the mix, perhaps now thinking that Alicent was not only betraying her husband, but also disrespecting the Gods.

'How would I know?' Rhaenyra returned, raising her eyebrow a little. 'It is not as though I have been eagerly discussing you with my father.' She made sure to interject just the right amount of honest distaste into her voice, and was rewarded when Alicent flinched just slightly.

'I did not mean to imply-'

'No, I know you did not, I apologize.' Rhaenyra interrupted. She sighed, faux rueful. 'It makes as much sense to you as it does to me, I'm afraid. But I know this, he would not have married you if he did not intend to create children with you.' He required a broodmare, and you made yourself his choice, she did not say. 'All the same, for now, I fear the best you can do is keep your head high and your spirits lively. Do what you have done before, and be the queen I know you can be, gentle and dutiful. I support you in any way I can, Ali.'

'I know, Nyra, and I am grateful to you. But by the Gods, my first and highest duty is bear children for the King, and he denies me. What other duties could I fulfill?'

Dearest Gods, how had she ever allowed Alicent to have enough power to start a war? This girl who was so eager to whelp one brat after the other, while she was a mere child herself, without any idea what sort of obligations she had as the King's consort.

Rhaenyra shifted slightly, brushing her shoulder against Alicent's in what could be interpreted as solidarity, and felt her lean into the touch. She kept her eyes on the flickering candle and told her, 'Support my father. He requires more from a wife than children, I believe. My mother,' at this point, she made sure to swallow audibly, 'was his staunchest ally, other than Daemon. She heard his grievances, and never tried to sway his mind, she only ever strived to support him in his decisions. Perhaps you could try the same.' 

She saw Alicent lower her head even further out of the corner of her eye, and grinned inwardly. 

'My father,' Alicent began unexpectedly, voice hushed, 'advised me to be a constant presence in the King's life, to keep myself in his thoughts by any means I possess.' The queen bit her lip even bloodier, and from under her lashes gave Rhaenyra a mournful look. 'I do not think the King would like that very much,' she confided. 

Rhaenyra concentrated on her breathing, so it may be as steady as her resolve. 'You need not play the temptress, I assure you. My father has married you, against all advice and odds, so I urge you not to doubt his affections. The course of love does not always run smooth, and what are the whispers of a few against the shout of the heart? You will have children, Ali, and when you do,' she leaned towards her dearest friend, 'I will be by your side, and take my siblings into the sky on Syrax' back, just as I would take you, if you wished.'

It was a pretty lie, and as Rhaenyra had hoped it would, it eased the stiffness of the queen's back and smoothed the frown on her face. 'I do not know if I could ride a dragon like you do.' She said. 

'Perhaps not,' the princess conceded, 'but I think you are braver than you give yourself credit for.' She smiled warmly at Alicent, and the queen smiled back gingerly. 

'Thank you, Rhaenyra. I will be patient, then, and see you at supper, as we discussed.' 

Rhaenyra nodded. 'But of course. I am looking forward to it,' she lied. 

The queen rose, with only a slight tremble in her hands, and turned to leave. When she passed them, the Lady Laena curtsied beautifully, as the Lady Rhea muttered, 'Your Grace,' in the same tone one may use to say go fuck yourself. Alicent stiffened, but only replied with a nod, acknowledging them both before leaving the sept.

Rhaenyra stared up into the carved face of the Mother, hands clenched together in a mockery of prayer, at her empty eyes and stone face which was supposed to be set in an expression of mercy, but had never been anything more than a marble accusation to Rhaenyra, and felt as empty as those eyes. As empty as she had felt after her daughter had died, as empty as she had been when her sons, one after the other, were taken from her. 

She had filled herself with hate and fury and burned away her weakness with fire and blood, or so she had heard it said, but the hollowness remained. 

'She is pretty,' said Laena into the silence that followed Alicent's exit, shaking Rhaenyra from her strangely somber mood. 'But she doesn't look like the queen.' 

Rhaenyra turned around to look at her younger cousin, blinking a few times to clear the emotion from her eyes. 'What do you mean?'

'She carries herself wrong.' Laena tilted her head in consideration. 'I cannot describe it properly, but it is like she is afraid to be seen.' 

'She has the look and demeanor of prey,' Rhea said, collaborating Laena's description. She smiled down at Laena. 'You are very observant, Lady Velaryon.' 

The girl blushed, a barely discernible change of color on her lovely cheeks, and said, 'My mother is the Lady Velaryon. Please call me Laena, Lady Royce.' 

'Very well, Lady Laena. You may call me Rhea, then.' 

Rhaenyra smiled, an honest one she found herself only capable of for few, and rose from her position. She looked at the many burning candles in front of her and thought of snuffing them out like she planned to do with Alicent's hopes of birthing spawn. She straightened instead, and descended the steps from the dais. 

'Until we meet your mother,' she addressed Laena, and was pleased to immediately have her full attention, 'as well as Lady Jeyne in the Ladies' Hall, I have decided to speak with my father the King regarding not only the affairs of the Kingdom, but also my tour. As I did not have the customary tourney in honor of being named Heir, I shall instead visit the Lords of the Realm personally. I wish for your advice on this matter, as I endeavor to present him with a preliminary route. I must also write to the Prince of Dorne, as I intend to visit Sunspear, which, as I am certain you are aware, I cannot do without his explicit approval. As much as we pretend otherwise, Dorne is only part of the Seven Kingdoms nominally, and does not answer to the Iron Throne in reality.'

She looked towards Rhea, who was listening just as intently as Laena. 'I ask both of you to assist me in this.' 

Both Laena and Rhea would serve as their respective Ladies' proxies once said Ladies returned to their own seats, and as such, should be made accustomed to advising the princess as soon as possible. 

Laena seemed excited at the prospect of being an advisor, while Rhea nodded amicably.

Ser Cole had, the moment Rhaenyra had risen, ever zealous to do his duty gone to open the doors, a courtesy he had decidedly not offered the queen, and so Rhaenyra, her ward, her lady, and her knight left the stale air of the sept behind for the admittedly more pleasant air of the Keep's gardens. 

'Well, you have already promised your cousin, Lady Jeyne Arryn, that you would visit the Eyrie first. Depending on whether or not you intend to follow the Kingsroad you could either travel directly to Winterfell, perhaps via White Harbor from Gull Town or your could go through the Bloody Gate and visit Riverrun first. From there, you may go to Winterfell via the Twins. House Frey would certainly be pleased to host the Heir to the Iron Throne.' Rhea did not waste any time, just as Rhaenyra had known she wouldn't.

'Maybe you should decide in which order you will visit the Major Houses first, Princess,' Laena offered, eyes narrowed in concentration as she undoubtedly pictured a map of Westeros in her head, not content with the conversation happening over her head. Already, she was beginning to sound like the woman whose daughters Rhaenyra had raised as her own in another life, a woman she had dearly missed when she had passed. She could not wait to see the girl next to her grow into herself, and in doing so, becoming even better an ally and friend to have. 

A friend who would, in time, claim Vhagar. A friend who would, this time, not perish in childbirth if Rhaenyra could help it. 

Rhaenyra nodded in assent to her ward's suggestion. 'My apologies, I should have lead with that. As I am beginning with the Eyrie, I had thought to visit House Stark afterwards. I would go on to Pyke, and from there, well, I have not yet decided. All I am certain of is that I will end my tour with Driftmark.' 

'Ideally, you would come from Dorne, yes?' Laena asked, a frown on her small face.

'Indeed.'

'If you are set on going from the Vale to Winterfell, you could travel to the Iron Islands via ship. From there, you could either set for Lannisport, and with it, Casterly Rock, or you could sail for Seagard and continue on to Riverrun.' Laena offered, which was, indeed, a good course. Then again, most courses were perfectly alright with Rhaenyra, since she only meant for the Lords to think that the precise route she took represented in how high an esteem the Crown held them. Which was why it was paramount she begin with the Vale, and end with Driftmark, honoring her staunchest allies before the Realm, letting them all see how she cherished those that were loyal to her. 

'If you play your cards right, you could convince the Lords that the order in which you visit them is congruent with their importance to the Crown.' Rhea, apropos of nothing, pointed out, cutting right to the heart of the matter and proving that she was the exactly right choice to stand beside the Heir. 'As you both begin and end your tour in the halls of your strongest allies.' 

Rhea had truly gotten to know Rhaenyra well in quite a short amount of time, to pinpoint her plans so accurately.

Laena grinned brightly. 'Mother said that no matter where you travel when, I get to accompany you! I have never seen so much of Westeros before.' 

Rhaenyra smiled indulgently at her cousin. 'Of course. Both you and Lady Rhea will be by my side.' 

Laena would garner much attention, she knew, as the daughter of the Lord of the Tides. A favorable match may be made. At the very least, the seeds for a future betrothal would be sown, Rhaenyra would personally see to it. 

'Well,' Rhea interrupted both Laena's exuberance and Rhaenyra's plotting, 'once you have seen the Lannisters and the Tullys, you are left with Highgarden and Storm's End. After that, the only remaining seat of import is Sunspear, which is a viper's nest either way you look at it.'

'Yes, quite. Dorne, I rather think, is the most dangerous part of the journey, should the Prince grant his permission.'

'Is it wise, cousin, to go to Dorne?' Laena asked, voice turning concerned. 

Rhaenyra had considered it for long enough to have an answer prepared. It was an honest one, that she had intended to give the King when he inevitably attempted to forbid her from going where one of Aegon's queens had met her end. 'It is both, wise and foolish, and whether it is viewed as the former or the latter depends on the outcome. Should the Prince deny me entrance, I shall lay the matter to rest as though it had never happened, but should he bid me visit, I may be taken hostage, or killed outright. That is the unfavorable option. The other would be that the Prince agrees to meet me, we find common ground, and the Crown's relationship with the Dornish strengthens.'

'Maybe he'll ask you to marry him, to strengthen the ties between House Martell and House Targaryen.' 

They were Rhaenys' words spoken by her daughter's voice, and Rhaenyra had to silently congratulate her cousin on her wiliness. She must think that Rhaenyra would let her guard down around the sweet little girl that had become her ward, and say something to her that she would not say to her lady mother. 

Which she might have, had she not expected Rhaenys to use her daughter this way.

'Perhaps he will. I will be obligated to answer him the same way I must answer everyone else. It is the King that decides my match.'

Laena sighed a little. 'Is it nice? To have everyone in the Realm asking for your hand?'

This question, she could tell, was genuinely Laena's own. It made Rhaenyra smile a little wistfully. 'Not as nice as you probably imagine. It would be wonderful, if I could believe that these men who want my hand want me, as I am, to take to wife because they like me and wish my happiness. Because they want to protect me and love the children we would have together because they would be ours. But unfortunately, most of these men don't see me, Rhaenyra Targaryen - they see the Heir to the Iron Throne, and they want not my happiness, but my power and position. They would use any children we may have to further their own ambitions, and cast me aside once I was no longer useful.' She shook her head. 'It is a fate I am dreading as I lay awake at night.'

Rhea looked at Rhaenyra with such compassion in her dark eyes that the princess almost had to look away from the intensity. 'It shan't happen to you, Rhaenyra. You will be happy with your husband, as I can never be with mine.' 

Laena nodded vigorously. 'Yes, you will. Whoever it is, he better make you happy, or else.' 

Rhaenyra could feel tears gathering in her eyes and blinked rapidly. She swallowed harshly, and felt her lips pull themselves into a smile. 'Then I shall dread no more, cousin, if you are so fierce in your intent to protect me,' she told Laena, who puffed up just a bit at the praise. She was still a child, after all.

Meanwhile, Rhaenyra nodded gratefully at Rhea, who only inclined her head in answer. There was no need to tell the Lady Royce how her words filled her with warmth. 

'Can we go visit Syrax?' Laena's voice broke Rhaenyra's contentment, and she chuckled. Her cousin loved dragons, her mother's blood strong, and having a child around her once more was a nice distraction even as it filled her with wistfulness. 

'I shall send word to the dragonkeepers so we may ride tomorrow. There is much to do yet today, I am afraid, and precious little time remains before the sun sets once more. I have promised Lord Tyrell a leisurely stroll trough the gardens whilst he remains at the Keep, and as Crown Princess, I have other duties, as well. The wedding is done, and I must meet with the master of coin and the head maidservant to discuss the spending the feast and hosting has required thus far, which will require time enough, then I have to get changed for supper with the Queen, and after that, I must compose a letter to Prince Qoren. So you see, we must postpone our ride for tomorrow. My schedule is not quite as packed yet, so we may go on the morrow, after breaking our fasts.' 

'May we do that together?'

If only Rhaenyra knew. Depending entirely on how supper went, she would take her breakfast in the Ladies' Hall, her own rooms, or the Queen's solar, perhaps even in the Great Hall alongside the rest of the family. All the same, in all cases but one, having her ward with her would be looked upon favorably. 

'We may. I will tell you before you go to bed, at the latest.' She crouched down and put a hand on Laena's shoulder. 'Ser Cole will accompany you back to your mother.' She craned her head back to find her knight nodding in assent, and turned back to Laena as he stepped forward to obey his princess. He could read her well, and knew she was sending him along for both Laena's safety and to give him a reason to be among Velaryon men without any snide comments being made. 'Give her my regards.' 

Laena nodded seriously, and somehow, the gesture did not look childish. 

Rhaenyra watched her ward and Shield leave together and her heart clenched painfully, as for a moment, Laena reminded her so much of Baela that she could feel her throat growing tight.

Rhea cleared her throat delicately, and grateful to be leaving those thoughts behind, Rhaenyra stood and turned to look at her in askance. 'You will need to organize the Lady Laena's schedule, as well, my Princess.' Rhea said, tone calm but firm. 'She is your responsibility, and her education relies on you. Lady Velaryon will most likely provide you with a summary of all the subjects her daughter requires no further education in, but there should be benefits to being raised in part by you, rather than only on Driftmark. I suggest you ensure that your involvement shines through in her manner. There are many benefits which living in the capital, under the Heir's wing, brings. I would advise you to keep a strict grasp of the Lady Laena's education, especially regarding politics. I don't mean to imply any lack of ability on Lord Laenor's part, but if Lord Velaryon, indeed, draws him into war, and something should happen to him, Lady Laena is the only other heir to the Driftwood Throne. Perhaps you ought to educate her the same way you are being educated - in matters of the state as well as in matters of a household. I, myself, floundered at the former at the beginning, and may have failed, had my Lady Arryn not aided me.' 

She flushed a little, and once more, Rhaenyra was confounded how Daemon could ever find her ugly. 'Forgive me, I meant to disrespect.'

'On the contrary, Rhea, I respect and value your advice, and would urge you to not hold back your thoughts and opinions, especially in private.' 

She bowed quickly, and Rhaenyra smiled. Her good-aunt was a most valuable ally, and had, however unwittingly, reminded Rhaenyra of an issue she would have to address as quickly as possible. Namely, her station with the Small Council. As Heir, she was not only permitted, but expected to attend their meetings, which she also had before her naming, but only as her father's cupbearer. It was time to change that, and to become part of the Council in her own right, rather than as an accessory. 

There was a council meeting in the evening, she recalled, and seven fucking hells, how could she have almost forgotten it? She had been so wrapped up in her own scheming she almost missed one of the most important changes she must make to show herself a capable heir and future ruler. 

'Lady Rhea, as I recall, a meeting of the Small Council will commence this evening after supper. I would ask that you, whilst I attend it, give the Lord Tyrell a message from me, if it is agreeable. Should it not be, I will ask Ser Cole.'

Rhea shook her head slowly. 'Not at all, Princess. As your lady-in-waiting it is my duty and honor to keep your confidence and oversee your schedule, so anything you require of me will be done.' 

'Thank you. I knew I could rely on you. As we danced at the feast, Lord Tyrell requested a walk through the gardens with me, and as he is officially the overlord of House Hightower, I consider it prudent to spend some time with him.' 

Lady Rhea looked at her with shrewd eyes. 'I know you have already chosen your consort, but the Lords of the Realm do not know such yet. Matthos Tyrell has a few sons, all of them gallant and handsome. As you discuss politics with him, I urge you not to forget that.' 

But his son is too young, she wanted to say, before she remembered, with startling clarity, that she had utterly misremembered which Lord Tyrell she had danced with - namely, the father of the Lord whose wife had ruled in their son's stead during the Dance. She could have smacked herself. The current Lord Tyrell was, indeed, married, but not to a Hightower offspring. His son would do be, and Rhaenyra had confused the two.

Gods, how embarrassing. She had to ensure such a thing would not happen again.

'I shan't forget.' She vowed, more to herself than Rhea. 'There are many Houses with sons of age to be married, one more influential than the other.'

'Quite.' Rhea agreed, then hesitated briefly before pressing on. 'You will not only visit the Main Houses, though, will you?' 

What a strange question. 'No, not only. There are many houses with influence, and all could tilt the scales in my favor.' 

Rhea exhaled in what seemed to be relief. 'In that case, I urge you to also pay visit to Lord Celtigar, Lord Westerling, the Strongs of Harrenhal, perhaps the Arbor and Brightwater Keep. There are, of course, many more, but those are the most obvious.'

'Indeed?' Rhaenyra asked, as if she did not know the answer perfectly well, but she wanted to see how Rhea would react.

'Yes, princess.' There was not a hint of reproach or condescension in her tone, and Rhaenyra felt muscles she hadn't noticed tensing smooth out. 'The Celtigars are of the blood of Old Valyria. The Westerlings are one of the oldest, most noble houses of Westeros, while Harrenhal is one of the most fortified keeps in all the Realms, and sits betwixt Casterly Rock and the Eyrie. Should House Lannister rebel against your ascension alongside House Hightower, Lady Arryn could send the Knights of the Vale to Harrenhal to join her forces with Lord Strong's and meet the lions there, preventing them, in turn, from uniting their host with Lord Hightower's.' 

Rhaenyra hummed, having had a similar idea.

'Furthermore, Brightwater Keep, likewise, is a strategic location if you wish to prevent House Hightower from taking up arms against you. House Florent, which holds Brightwater, has plenty of daughters you could take as your ladies. Meanwhile, the Arbor is held by House Redwyne, and boasts one of the largest fleets in Westeros.'

Rhaenyra couldn't stop her cheeks from flushing and lips from forming a genuine smile. 'Should this plan succeed, Oldtown would be besieged from all sides, and could not move their host towards King's Landing. They would be utterly surrounded, and alone.' 

Lady Rhea nodded in agreement. 'Precisely. In practice, of course, it could always be that one of those Houses betrays you, and supports Otto Hightower instead, but the Lords, while at times unreliable, are not stupid. I doubt they will risk losing their men supporting an uprising that would be opposed by three quarters of the Realm, as well as all the dragons therein.'

'Most of the dragons.' She reminded, yet again. 

Rhea cocked her head. 'I understand that you are afraid that the Hightower girl will bear sons, and that you are even more afraid that those sons will claim dragons that could outmatch those that are already sworn to you.' She rolled her shoulders and added, 'but so could your own children.'

Rhaenyra sighed through her nose, and nodded tiredly. 'True enough, but as I said before,there are many unclaimed dragons, and House Targaryen only has two. All others belong to House Velaryon,' As will Vhagar, 'and as you are still married, however unwillingly, to the only man I shall consider as a spouse, that will not change anytime soon. Naturally, the point becomes moot should Alicent fail to conceive, but I doubt she will.' 

Rhea nodded grimly. 'It is easy to dismiss the threat her son would pose as long as there is no son. You must amass as many allies as you can while you are the only option, so that, even if the queen whelps a boy before you birth your heir, you remain the better prospect.' Rhea chuckled, mirth in the sound. 'The sooner my marriage gets annulled, the better for the Realm, it would seem.'  

'Yes.' 

For a moment, Rhaenyra was tempted to discuss her tentative plans to render Alicent infertile with her good-aunt, before catching herself. While Rhea was doubtlessly on her side, Rhaenyra did not yet know how deep that loyalty ran, if the Lady of Runestone could stomach the thought of poisoning the queen, or as she might see it, killing innocent babes, even if her liege, the Lady Arryn, insisted on Alicent being undeserving of mercy. 

What was said in the heat of the moment could not be taken at face value, though it might ring true. 

Still, the longer she contemplated her options, the clearer it became that preventing Alicent from bearing any heirs at all was the most favorable option. Which, of course, necessitated making her barren. And if she knew Otto Hightower at all, such could not be accomplished by way of poison. He would be watching his daughter like a hawk, and Rhaenyra's servants may be loyal, but not yet loyal enough to die for her, or withstand the torture Otto would certainly order to find out who had demanded of them to poison the queen.

Damn it all, she had hoped it would not come to this. 

Just as she had hoped to prevent a civil war by not striking first, back then. But she had learned from her mistake. If she could not make her old friend barren, she might manage to - 

No. She could not even conceive the thought of treating her own father this way. She would not harm him, it was impossible. 

Although there had to be substances that could be used to weaken the King's seed, she would have to get him to imbibe them without disclosing what they were, thus abusing his trust and love for her in a way she had never considered herself capable of doing. And even though she would never bring harm to her father, the thought of deceiving him so viscerally made her want to vomit.

So horrified was she at her own brief callousness that she almost missed the way Rhea stiffened. It took less than a heartbeat to pinpoint the cause of her tension as she felt more than saw the Rogue Prince approach them. Her uncle had an aura about him that was hard to deny the best of days. 

'Prince Daemon,' Rhea said, so perfectly polite and without a hint of reproach that Rhaenyra could not help but look at her in admiration. She knew how Rhea loathed her uncle, yet she found it in herself to be courteous to him, now that she knew of Rhaenyra's feelings. It was most appreciated. 

Daemon raised an eyebrow in unconcealed surprise. 'Rhea. I see you are stuck to my niece no matter where she goes. Do excuse us for a moment.' 

Rhaenyra could see the urge to reprimand Daemon build in Rhea's eyes, but instead of allowing her emotions to rule her response, she looked at Rhaenyra for confirmation. Only when the princess gave a nod of assent did the Lady of Runestone move away, over to one of the many flowerbeds in the gardens, this one filled with honeysuckle and hellebore, to keep a surreptitious eye on them. 

Daemon did not pay his wife any further attention or mind, his full focus on Rhaenyra. She refused to squirm under the intensity of his gaze, and succeeded - barely.

'Rhaenyra,' he murmured, low and intimate, and she repressed her instinctive shudder, goosebumps rising on her skin without her permission, which she dearly hoped he did not notice. 

'Daemon,' she whispered back, feeling less like they were in public, in the royal gardens no less, and more as though they were alone in their bedchambers on Dragonstone, the world narrowing down to the two of them, fire on fire, burning together. 

She could see Rhea begin to move towards them, and took a decisive step back to halt her. 

Daemon smiled in that wolfish way of his, clearly aware of the effect he had, and she both wanted to slap that look off his face and kiss him senseless, so that he would lose himself in her and her alone. 

She did neither of those things, and instead asked in what she hoped was a steady voice, 'What gives me the honor of your company, uncle? I have not seen you since the feast.'

To that, the prince let out a bark of laughter. 'Me? I have been in the Keep the whole time, while you were out and about with my wife. A most unforeseen development, the lords have been gossiping like washerwomen about it... when they weren't busy gossiping about the new queen.' He leaned forward, his silver hair falling over his broad shoulders. 'I do wonder why you are so very quiet on the matter. You all but stole away in the early hours, and went right on to holing up in your rooms after you returned. The Keep is aflame with speculation.' 

'Oh? And which speculations might those be?'

There was a cruelly amused glint in those eyes of his. 'Some say the queen threatened you to keep quiet about her sheets. Others say she had betrayed my brother before their wedding night, but you and I both know that Otto may be a lying cunt, but he is no fool. He never would have wed his daughter to Viserys if she were not pure. A few say that you were so distraught by your friend's betrayal of your trust that you rode out to avoid her.' He laughed again, but softer. 'As though you would run from that girl.' He twirled a lock of Rhaenyra's hair around his finger, and she had to fight not to lean into the touch. 'I rather think something else is afoot, something far more dangerous, and intriguing.' 

He let go of her hair, and brushed her cheek with the tips of his calloused fingers, so very close to her mouth. Her heart was beating too quick for comfort, and she feared her cheek to be hot to his touch. 'Whatever it is you are planning, be smart about it.' He took his hand away, and she mourned its loss, even as indignation flared in her. 

'I rather feel like I should say this to you, uncle.' This time, she met his gaze fearlessly, and the heat in it warmed her from within. 'I know you intend to wage war. Do not make me mourn your death, for I will not forgive you. Neither will I forgive you should you fail to keep me in your thoughts, or send me letters.' She gazed at his mouth, and clenched her hands. 'You will not leave without so much as a goodbye, swear it to me.' She demanded, and his eyes darkened in response as naked lust mixed with slight anger at being commanded. 

Yet, he did not deny her. 'Very well, if it means so much to you,' he sounded magnanimous, as if he was making a concession and not obeying his queen - future queen, she reminded herself. She had to be careful with him, for a while yet, still slighted as he was about being removed as heir. There was a reason he was going to the Stepstones. 

Perhaps a bit of charm was in order. 'It does, uncle. I miss you when you are not near,' and yearn for you when you stand right next to me, 'and while I know you to be a warrior without equal, I desire nothing less than to be forced to command Syrax to burn yet another lifeless body. Do not make it so,' she implored him, eyes slightly widened for effect. 

He shook his head with a smirk playing across his lips. 'Fret not, niece. It will be but a skirmish, quickly settled once Lord Corlys and I join forces.'

If only you knew, she thought, but did not contradict him. 'If you say so, uncle. You are more experienced in war than me, and I shall trust your prowess.' 

He grinned conspiratorially. 'And while I am off, fighting the enemies of the Crown on the battlefield, you will be here, fighting the enemies of our family with the same ferociousness, if slightly less violent methods, I trust?' 

She could always rely on Daemon's love for his family and hatred of all things Hightower, thank the Old Gods and the New. Rhaenyra smirked back at him with all her teeth, and watched him draw in a quick breath. 'Without fail.'

He cupped her shoulders, and she fought to remain loose-limbed, keenly aware of Rhea's piercing stare at her back, ready to spring into action the second her Princess seemed ill at ease. 

'I see we understand each other,' he said, voice a rough growl, and Rhaenyra cursed her traitorous body for its reactions to her uncle, her consort, the love of her life. 

'We always have,' she responded in a breathy whisper, tone more suited for seduction than anything else, and put her hands on his biceps, drawing strength from his body and presence as she used to when the Dance grew into slaughter and nothing else would do to comfort her but his embrace. 

As though her words had broken a spell, he stepped back, and while his grin remained charming and dangerous, in his eyes there was conflict. It took her a few heartbeats to discern the source, but when his gaze darted over her form, she recalled that to him, she was a girl, not a woman grown he should desire. 

It might take a few more months, she thought, as she allowed him withdraw from her grasp. 

'Return victorious,' she told him. 'And do not dare depart without my knowledge. You are a Prince of the Realm, not a thief in the night. You will not deprive me the right to see you off.' 

He laughed, but she could tell her words pleased him immensely. 'As you say, darling niece.' 

For a brief moment, she wondered if he would kiss her, at least on the cheek, the intent to do so clear in his purple gaze, but before she could tilt her head to encourage him, he turned and left the same way he had come - silently and swiftly, with nary a word. 

How typical of him. 

'My Princess, is everything alright? Has he said something to upset you?' Rhea's concerned voice was both a comfort and a curse, although Rhaenyra had to admit she was impressed by her courteous manner. The Lady of Runestone had been not only been perfectly civil to her estranged husband, but had also made herself scarce to allow Rhaenyra and Daemon a few minutes almost alone. Her wordless support meant more than Rhaenyra had thought it would. 

'I am well,' she said, 'but troubled all the same. I do not enjoy the thought of my blood waging war, whilst I sit at home and hope and pray with every raven arriving that it does not carry word of my kin's demise. It is bad enough that Alicent has betrayed me, now my uncle leaves me, also.' 

Rhea laid a comforting hand on her shoulder. 'As I said, Daemon may be chaotic and unpredictable, but he is also a great fighter. Lord Corlys, likewise, is a formidable commander, and an experienced sailor. They will prevail, and should they not, they have you as their ally. There is much that can be done to end a war which does not involve direct battle.' 

Rhaenyra thought about the Ironborn, and House Redwyne. Dorne, as well.

'Quite right,' she agreed. 'Mayhaps tomorrow when we ladies take tea in the Ladies' Hall, we may finish planning the route of my tour, which I will present to the King the day after tomorrow.'

Something in her voice must have roused Rhea's sense for danger, for when she asked 'You do not intend to ask his permission, do you?,' Rhea sounded mildly exasperated. 

Rhaenyra shrugged, not feeling particularly guilty. She adored her father, she truly did, but the fact of the matter was that at times, it was best to confront him with a done deal rather than attempt to persuade him into agreeing with her decisions. If all the Lords knew of her upcoming tour and began to barter their way into being visited by her earlier, or longer, or in some cases, being visited at all, the King would be hard pressed to deny her without seeming like he was undermining his own Heir.

'Of course I will ask. I am merely convinced that my father will accept my plans.' 

Rhea snorted. 'That is one way to say it, I suppose.'  

Rhaenyra smiled angelically. 

Chapter Text

When Rhaenyra had decided to involve herself more with the masters of the Small Council, she had quickly determined that she would start with Lord Lyman Beesbury, the master of coin. He had been an old man for as long as Rhaenyra had known him, dutiful and loyal, and had been among those who had kept true to their oaths. She remembered him fondly, and as she sat before him now, that fondness grew once more. 

In part, she could acknowledge at least to herself, because from the very beginning of their meeting, the old lord had treated her with all the respect and reverence any Heir to the Iron Throne deserved. He had not belittled her in the least, rather he had been obviously if quietly pleased to see her, especially once he heard of the reason for her visit.

Rhaenyra knew plenty of men who would take offense to being asked about their handling of the Realm's affairs, but as far as Lord Beesbury was concerned, she had no reason to be wary of him, nor was there any need to coerce him to her side - he was loyal to her for no other reason than that she was his future queen, and if she wanted to be informed of the financial affairs of the kingdom, he would provide her with such knowledge. 

Refreshingly, he also expected her to have and express her own opinions and insights on the Crown's finances, and may be willing to instruct her in the subject of accounting and tax management, as well as others of the same nature upon her inquiry.  

It was a most pleasant discovery, and would help her in achieving a more secure standing within the Small Council.

'The truth is, Your Highness, that even now, the royal wedding is exceeding its budget by a wider margin than I had accounted for.' The master of coin pointed to a rather high number on the parchment before her, his old hand sure and steady. He made no attempts to pin the blame for the overspending on anyone, ever the honorable man she had known in her previous life. 'This is my responsibility, and I will do my utmost to correct it.'

Rhaenyra admired his diplomatic wording, and might have been tempted to leave it at that if she did not require some leverage against the Hand, the sooner the better. 'You may be frank with me, Lord Beesbury. Why has the cost risen to such levels?' She eyed the parchment with interest. She had not bothered to question the spending of the Crown in the life gone past, especially since she had done her best to all but ignore the wedding as it had happened, but the more she thought about it, the more childish that seemed. 

The old man gained a stern expression as he answered, 'I would not lie to you, my princess.' He shook his head slightly, and continued before Rhaenyra could attempt to apologize for the accidental offense.

'Despite my advice and insistence, more lavish fabrics, meats, entertainment, wines, and other such things were ordered than had been originally proposed.' Beesbury pulled out another roll of parchment, and opened it carefully, laying it beside the one already before the princess. The disparity between them was... interesting, to say the least.

Tellingly, Lord Beesbury did not name the person responsible for those orders, but she well recalled asking Otto Hightower about said overspending herself. Who else could have commanded the master of coin if not the Lord Hand?

However, flat out accusing Lord Hightower of any uncalled for altercations to the budget would not go well with a man like Lord Beesbury. She opted for a gentler approach. 'May I ask why such was allowed? It is to my understanding that the King must approve any budgetary changes, but I do not see his signature here.' She knew full well what she was insinuating, and so did Lord Beesbury. She felt almost bad for pressing the old man the way she did, but it could not be helped.

As she had expected, he did not disappoint, and answered with all the dignity he could muster, 'Forgive me my bluntness, Your Highness, but when I brought this same matter before the Lord Hand, he assured me that since the King's wedding to your own mother, the late Queen Aemma, had been so sparse, the people of the Realm should witness, in his own words,' his lips thinned before he continued, 'a magnificent royal wedding to make up for the one that was not back when Viserys was still a prince.'

Rhaenyra's eyes narrowed. Loathe as she may be to admit it and as distasteful as she found it, Lord Hightower, in this instance, was not in the wrong. Viserys' wedding to Aemma had been small and intimate, as no one had had even an inkling that he would sit the Iron Throne one day, and a royal wedding was a perfect reason to gather the Houses and ascertain loyalties and potential grievances alike, not to mention the opportunities the gathering afforded Rhaenyra in particular.

Also not to be disregarded was the fact that the various lords brought revenue to the capital in the form of brothel visits and some such. Yet, since most lords were housed in the Keep, rather than the city proper, the burden to feed and entertain the nobility lay mostly with the Crown.

'I attempted to ask the King about the Hand's decision,' Lord Beesbury elaborated, perhaps mistaking Rhaenyra's reaction as ire towards him, 'but he was unavailable, and since in the King's absence, the Hand speaks with the King's own voice, I obeyed.' 

Rhaenyra nodded in agreement, smoothing out both the wrinkles on her face and the fabric of her skirts. Questioning the king was not her intention, and while she understood why her father had left the planning of his wedding to his Hand, and why the Hand had lobbied for a grand celebration, she knew full well that Otto Hightower would have kept the whole affair rather smaller had the new Queen not been his own daughter, even if she could not say so aloud. Not when it did not benefit her, not when it made her sound bitter and petty and unsupportive of her dearest friend. The master of coin had done exactly what was expected of him, and she refused to fault him for that. All the same, there was one question she would have answered. 'Is the Crown in debt, then?' 

Lord Beesbury shook his head. 'No such thing, Princess, please do not worry unduly. Trades are going well, and summer still reigns, so while the cost is higher than what I had calculated, the Realms are far from destitute.' 

She heard what he did not say. Were trades goings worse or it were winter, we might be in more dire straits. She filed it away for later pondering. 'That is a relief.' She said, before adding, mayhaps somewhat goading, 'I know father is not frugal, but hosting his Lords for weeks on end did seem somewhat unlike him.' 

Lord Beesbury put his hands on the table before him with the palms down. It was a defensive pose, but not one that indicated guilt, or submission, since his head was not bowed and his expression open. 'It is not my place to judge what the Crown spends its gold on, only to procure the funds for it, even if at times, I wish I had to procure less. I sit on the council to advise the King, not to make his decisions for him.' 

He truly was a splendid servant of the Realm. She should have known he would take offense to her implication, and lowered her lashes contritely, privately satisfied. His reaction only showed where his priorities lay, and she was content that they were not in the games she played, for that meant the master of coin would refuse Otto Hightower just as politely, if firmly. 

'Of course, my apologies.' She made sure that her voice was pitched a tad higher than usual, to give the impression of embarrassment, acknowledging her misstep immediately. She truly did not wish to upset the master of coin, and to her relief found that his face cleared of any offense at her quick apology. 

'Not at all, Your Highness. You are well within your rights to demand answers of me, but I cannot, in good conscience, blame anyone for exceeding the budget other than myself. What is done is done, and all that is left to do is to mitigate the consequences, such as they are. When the taxes come in, I will reassess, and report my conclusions to king and council. This is but a preliminary assessment, and will be revised once the feasting is done.' He was resigned to the coffers emptying even quicker than anticipated, and who could begrudge him? First the Tourney of the Heir, who had died alongside the Queen, then the funeral, and then a wedding. 

She was rather glad not to bear the burden of the master of coin's responsibilities. 

All the same, she could stand to learn from him. 'It has been quite an expensive year so far, I daresay.' The master of coin chuckled in agreement. 'My lord, I know you have a great many duties, and your time is stretched thin, yet may I be so bold as to seek your continued tutelage in financial matters?' She asked with a hopeful smile. Judging by his surprised widening of the eyes, he had not anticipated her inquiry, though he did seem appreciative of it.

'I am honored you would ask me.' He assured as she handed him his parchments. He took them carefully, rolling them up with practiced ease. 'Of course, I will make time, perhaps once a week if my princess is available?' 

Rhaenyra could've hugged him, but refrained. That had gone far more smoothly than anticipated. 'I certainly am, my lord.' And if she had not been, she would have simply moved whichever other arrangements she'd had. She had to make herself indispensable to the council, or barring that, important enough that her loss would be felt. She gave Lord Beesbury one last smile and regal nod. 'For now, I will leave you to your accounts, and look forward to seeing you at the council meeting.' 

The old lord bowed, not a hint of gout in his bones, and the princess took her leave without any more fuss. 

It would only serve to improve her relationship with Lord Beesbury, she was certain, were she to finance her tour with her personal funds. Viserys, likewise, would be less inclined to protest her plans if they did not depend on the Crown's gold, and she dared Otto Hightower to attempt to derail her plots this early on. She would not tolerate it. 

As she made her way through Maegor's Holdfast absentmindedly, the twists and turns of the hallways familiar since she could waddle, she thought of Corlys Velaryon, the master of ships. A proud, powerful man, he was a most valuable ally, one who remained - for now, at least - at the capital until wounded pride would lure him away for Gods knew how long. The last time, it had taken years for the conflict of the Stepstones to be resolved, and even then, it had reignited quickly enough, almost costing the Sea Snake his life.

Thank the Gods it had not come to that, for neither of his children, as far as he knew, had been as lucky. One commanding her dragon to lay her to waste, the other murdered by his own wife, when he had fled across the Narrow Sea in truth. Now, one was bound to remain at the capital, close to the princess and her politics, the other set for Driftmark, and war soon enough.

Try as she might, she failed to shake the queasiness that had made a home in her stomach when she thought of the Stepstones, a feeling that had not plagued her the first time around - all she had felt then had been resentment and bitterness over her uncle leaving her without so much as making her aware of his plans. 

But now, she felt the need to warn Rhaenys against allowing Laenor on the battlefield, for the mere thought of him fighting there sent ice creeping down her spine. She could not articulate for what reason she felt such dread, as previously, Laenor had returned from the Stepstones with nary a scar but plenty of glory. 

She could not deny the foreboding feeling, the sense of dread, and wondered whether it was simply lingering unease over risking a dragonrider unnecessarily, or if it was sincere concern for her cousin's well-being that had her stomach roiling. She liked Laenor, and wished to see him safe, but he was a child still, albeit a capable one. He would grow into a fine knight, and do his duty to his House, though he was not, in Rhaenyra's opinion, all that suited to become the Lord of the Tides one day, if only because he valued his freedom far more than any fancy seat. If given the choice anew, she contemplated, would he once more choose to exile himself to be with one he loved? Would he once more leave his blood and dragon behind? 

Rhaenyra sighed. It was no use contemplating which may never come to pass. All the same, she would give her warning to Rhaenys even at the risk of offending her, for she could not stand to sit idly by as Laenor might be felled, inexperienced and brash as he still was. 

So lost was she in her thoughts, that when she turned a corner she almost collided with a young man, about her age, and, at a glance even as he all but jumped backwards so as to avoid touching her, judging from his clothes and boots, the son of a noble House. 

For the young noble's part, his eyes darted from her silver hair to her amethyst eyes, over her richly dyed and embroidered dress and precious jewelry, and he all but fell over himself to apologize when he recognized who she was. 'Your Highness, please forgive me! I did not see you!' He bowed hastily and quite more lowly than young lords usually did, but then again, she rationalized, he was clearly afraid he had insulted her. 

With just a hint of teasing in her tone, she said, 'Certainly, you may consider yourself forgiven once you introduce yourself.' Hopefully, her lilting words would put him at ease. While she at times enjoyed seeing people squirm before her, she could recognize an accident when one happened, and he had definitely not run into her on purpose. She had no wish to torment him.

The boy blushed to the tips of his ears, and did not dare look her in the eyes as he said, 'My name is Randalph Buckler, of Bronzegate.' 

That rung a bell, however faintly. Rhaenyra had known a Lord Buckler, she was sure of it, but he had not contributed to the Dance, had he? But she did not recall him to be a traitor either, so how was the name familiar? 

She squinted a bit trying to dredge up more about Bronzegate, before the memory came back to her. In her previous life, there had been a purge in King's Landing after the Usurper had crowned himself, and the Head of House Buckler had been executed by the King's Justice at the behest of her drunkard brother when he had refused to renounce the oath he had sworn Rhaenyra as the rightful Queen.

He had not been the only Lord to die that day, she knew, the fury she had felt back then returning to her blood now as she looked over the boy before her critically. Had it been him?Could he perhaps become that loyal lord? 'Very well, Lord Buckler, I am Rhaenyra Targaryen, Heir to the Iron Throne. It is a pleasure to meet you.' 

His blush burned bright as he answered, 'Y-you as well, Your Highness, but I am no lord. Only the third son of one.'

Ah, so he was the future Lord Buckler's brother. That explained the lad's cautious ways, third sons usually had it rough, since they were neither heir nor spare, and generally outlived their usefulness once the firstborn son was a man grown. Though it was more prudent to have as many children as possible in case one or more of them died, the issue generally arose as to what to do with all of them should they live past infancy and childhood.

Her silence at his reveal of status stiffened the boy's shoulders, and the third son bowed again, eyes cast down. It must weigh heavily on him, to know the purpose of his birth, his lack of prospects. 'I apologize again for-' 

She shook off the cobwebs of recollection and smiled brightly. 'Not being able to see around corners?' She asked, voice playful now. She did not wish to frighten the poor lad, so courteous and inexperienced at court. 

'For almost causing Her Highness to stumble! I could not have forgiven myself had I caused you injury. I am truly sorry.'

She scrutinized his stature, the now self-consciously hunched shoulders and tense arms, and noticed how he squirmed under her gaze. 'As you can see, I am neither injured nor offended, so you need not be afraid.' She reassured him, tone calming, smile dimming. Perhaps she had overdone it, he seemed such a skittish thing. 'Where were you going? I do not believe that the Lords of the Stormlands are quartered in Maegor's Holdfast.' 

His eyes lit up in understanding before he paled just as quickly. 'Dearest Gods, that's where I have wandered? I- I had been looking for the Ladies' Hall, to escort my lady mother back to the chambers His Grace has generously provided us. I have not been to the Keep ever before, and dared not ask any of the knights, they seemed so busy. Forgive me.' 

Well, he certainly seemed to be comfortable with handing out apologies. Then again, in his mind, it was probably safer to apologize too often rather than seem arrogant, or worse, rude, by not apologizing when appropriate. 'You are forgiven. You may be on your way,' she said, resigned. He was obviously too intimidated by her title and position to offer any engaging conversation, not to mention so far away from his House's inheritance that he would be completely overlooked at Court in favor of more advantageous alliances. 

He bowed again, lower than necessary, and turned around to take his leave. 

She stared at the retreating back of the third son, and the opportunity he unwittingly presented, and could've slapped herself. 'Wait!' She called. 

Immediately, Randalph stopped, turned and stared back at her fearfully, most likely believing she had changed her mind and would punish him. She offered him a sweet smile instead. 'Why don't I show you the way? I attend the Hall rather frequently, and I would be delighted to make your lady mother's acquaintance.'

His mouth almost fell open in shock, but he caught himself quickly. A good sign. 'I could not possibly ask this of you, Princess! You must be so very preoccupied, my oldest brother always is, and he will only inherit Bronzegate, not the entire kingdom! I could not keep you.' 

She wanted to laugh at his feeble attempts to dissuade her, but had no wish to offend him. He was sweet in his earnestness. 'You are by no means keeping me, as I am offering. You need not accept, of course.' 

That was nothing but empty courtesy on her part, and they both knew it. To deny her was to commit political suicide, and what unneeded child of a minor albeit loyal House would be so foolish? 

'I would not deny the Heir to the Throne, my Princess, but I - I am not important enough to warrant such attention from you, I know. It is very kind of you.' 

This one, it was becoming clear, had experience with being dismissed, and no idea what to do with favorable attention from those of a higher standing. He would be useful, she thought, as soon as she had disabused him of the notion that she could be deterred so easily. 'Then, since you won't deny me, and I have already made my intentions clear, let us be off.' She approached him, and watched him stiffen like a frightened rabbit. 'Will you not offer your arm?' 

He immediately thrust his right arm forward, barely avoiding hitting her waist. He blanched again. 'My apologies.' 

She could have giggled. 'Not at all.' Rather than annoying, she found it quite endearing, how nervous he was. A boy trying to be a man.

As she led them through the winding corridors of the holdfast, she wondered whether this boy whose eyes dared not stray towards her, had any aspirations towards greatness. What did he want in life? Certainly, unless tragedy struck twice, he would never be Lord of his House, but that did not mean he was content with his lot. She studied him out of the corner of her eye, but other than his obvious nervousness, there was nothing about him that hinted at discontent. Perhaps it was best to ask.  

'Tell me, Randalph, what is your brother like?' She made sure to keep her voice low, and only somewhat curious. It would not do to show undue interest.

The boy startled slightly, but the conviction behind his words was clear. 'He is kind, Highness, and well-liked by his people. He treats both me and my other brother, Ralph, with respect, even though we are only spares.' There was confidence in the set of his shoulders when he declared, 'I would die for him.' 

Do not offer your life so easily, it is snuffed out quicker than you would think. 'I am heartened to hear it.' She said instead. 'There is nothing more important than family. No matter how noble or venal, we must protect our own.' 

He looked at her with a spark of interest. 'Brother says the same. He says he will let me become a squire, so I may one day be a knight. It's very generous of him.' 

Four-and-ten was an acceptable age to begin squiring for a knight, but the way he phrased it gave her pause. 'Did you think he would command you to take the black?' She took a stab in the dark, but it seemed she hit the nail on the head when the boy nodded.

'Mother prepared me for the possibility. She said it is a noble thing, to serve at the Wall, and I would have obeyed had I been told to take the oath, but I was relieved when my brother said differently.' His love and admiration for his brother saturated every word he spoke about him.

'He sounds a good man. Is he interested in meeting his princess, do you think?' 

'It would be his honor, my Princess, but he would not be so brazen as to ask.' 

'Well, between you and me, if he were to be polite about it, I think I would say yes. How sad it would be, were we to never know.' 

She saw the realization sink in, and watched Randalph nod frantically. She was certain he would report back to his brother, and before long, one of her maidservants would bear a message from him. 

She smiled to herself, before asking, 'What about Ralph, then? Will he become a squire, as well?' 

'Ah, no, not as far as I know. He has no talent with a sword, or a bow, or a lance. He has no confidence, mother says, but he is quick. With his head, I mean. What I meant to say, is that he's smart. He has been asking to be allowed to enter the Red Keep's libraries, but mother and brother told him it was not proper.' He darted a quick, almost scared look at her when she chuckled softly.

'Indeed, it is not.' She agreed placidly, a mischievous twinkle in her eye. 'At least not without permission.' She kept her eyes ahead, fully aware that Randalph was staring at her in utter wonder. He clearly grasped what she was implying, and was smart enough to not respond directly. If she was lucky, his brother was just as smart, if not smarter. She could use all three of the Buckler brothers, and their mother, perhaps, as well. 

'Well, here we are,' she said, pointing at the double doors which lead into he Ladies' Hall, separating from the youngest Buckler. 'The Ladies' Hall.' She smiled at the knights guarding the doors, who bowed their heads to her in turn, and turned to the young noble beside her. He mirrored her movement, and they stood facing each other, surrounded by little more than the walls of the Keep and the tapestries that hung from them. 'Men are forbidden from the Hall, so you must wait here. I shall go and tell your mother her son has come to do his duty.' 

Said son flushed all the way to the tips of his ears, much to her amusement. 'A-as you say, Your Highness. I will wait.'

She smiled indulgently. He had learned not to oppose her quickly. 'Wonderful. I will nary be a moment.'

Rhaenyra strode forward, and the guards immediately opened the wide doors for her. 'Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen, Heir to the Iron Throne,' one of them called out, and every head in the Hall swiveled towards her. When they saw her enter, the gathered ladies curtsied before her as one, and when they rose again, their princess gave them a regal nod, acknowledging them all at once. 'My ladies. Do not let me keep you.' 

Murmured assent followed her dismissal, the same way their eyes followed her every move as the Crown Princess descended the stairs with deliberately slow steps, surveying the nobles under her gaze. She recognized a few of them, though they were quite a bit younger than she recalled them, but the majority of the ladies gathered sank into the muddy waters of obscurity for lack of recognition. It was something she would hopefully fix during her tour of the Realms, and subsequent gathering of ladies.

Of course, if she truly wanted, she could simply command a few of the noblewomen to send their daughters to court to serve their princess, no tour necessary. She could even simply send ravens bearing her orders and know they would be complied with. There was no pressing need to travel all across the kingdom so soon after the upheaval at court. It was but an agreeable excuse, one her father would accept, she mused, one he could perhaps even empathize with, if she dressed it up the right way.

Rhaenyra was loathe to manipulate her own father, but how could she not play all the cards she held? They were few enough as it was, the deck stacked against her, and she had to use her father's love whilst he lived, if she wanted to avoid war after he died. 

All around her, the sound of a hundred whispers interspersed with the melody of some bard's song swirled, and she felt her head begin to spin. The smell of the perfumes the ladies had spritzed themselves with overpowered her nose, the heat of their bodies suffocated her even across the clear berth they had given her, their eyes plucked her apart. Her breath came faster, she had to bite her lip to prevent it from trembling. She clenched her hands, once, twice, took a deep breath. Perhaps a cup of chilled Dornish Red would do her good. 

Before she could gesture to a servant, however, she noticed a slender figure fast approaching. The girl's dress was primarily silver, with red embroidery on the hem and sleeves of her dress, and Rhaenyra, much to her chagrin, took almost until the girl was right in front of her to put a name to her face and colors. 

With her deep blue eyes and full lips, Lady Alysse Reyne, wife to Lord Robard Reyne, was only a few months older than Rhaenyra, and a classic example of a woman nobody would think ugly, yet neither call beautiful. She was pretty enough to look at, but her true worth was yet to be determined. As she boldly looked her princess in the eye, her gaze was anxious, yet determined. Rhaenyra could admire that, if not her rudeness. Then again, if Rhaenyra remembered correctly, Alysse had been born a Tarbeck, a powerful if unruly House, one which had declared for Aegon during the Dance - and led the Lannister host after the demise of its lord. 

If nothing else, this ought to be interesting. 

'My Princess,' Lady Alysse said with a polite curtsy, 'I have been looking forward to speaking with you ever since my family arrived at the Keep. I know it has been some time, and this is a time for rejoicing, yet I wished to express my deepest sympathies for your losses.' 

Rhaenyra wanted to smirk at her opening but refrained, before almost tilting her head in question at the plural, for the lady could not have known about the princess' dead children - but of course. Rhaenyra had not only lost her mother, but her infant brother, as well. She wished to have been numbed to the pain of losing siblings long before she had to wage war against some of them. Sadly, try as she might, the thought of Baelon filled with her with grief, just as the thought of Aemma filled her with a sorrowful sort of rage. 

'Thank you, my Lady. I am pleased as well.' Rhaenyra returned the lady's courtesy with a silken voice. It seemed Lady Alysse was quite a bit more brazen than her fellow nobles, who did not take their eyes off the both of them. Good. 

Let them all see that Rhaenyra was the royal to be courted, not Alicent. That it was the Heir they should flock to, instead of the Hand or his daughter. 

'My father recently had the pleasure of making the acquaintance of your cousin, the Lady Arryn. He introduced me to her, and during our brief talk, she has spoken highly of you, princess, so when I saw you enter I knew to take my chance. Rumors of your beauty have reached across the Realms, and I see they were, if anything, understating matters. You are, without a doubt, the fairest maiden in the Kingdom.' Lady Alysse complimented, and although she dredged up a flattered smile, Rhaenyra was reminded unpleasantly of Laena and the way she had been instructed to speak to Viserys. Rhaenyra herself had only heard it years after the fact, long after Laena had married Daemon, and she was as disgruntled to think of it now as she had been then.

She wondered if Lord Reyne had instructed his wife similarly, should she ever find herself in the presence of the Crown. 'Thank you, Lady Alysse. Whilst my septa tells me that true beauty is that which glows from within, I am thankful to have had the good fortune of inheriting my mother's looks, if not her charm,' she caught Alysse's quickly down-turning lips, and continued, 'but I am glad to hear I have garnered a favorable reputation. I would hate for the Realms to think their future Queen ugly, or unpleasant.' 

Lady Alysse's frown had smoothed out alongside her demeanor when she gave a light laugh, whether fake or real. 'I hope they shall admire the wit you have been gifted alongside your beauty, my princess.' She lowered her voice, leaning forward some, so Rhaenyra leaned up a tad so they might be granted the illusion of privacy - annoyingly, Lord Reyne's wife was a few inches taller than her. As she stretched her body upwards, Rhaenyra surveyed the room out of the corner of her eye.

When Rhaenyra had announced her intentions to the Ladies of the Realm days ago, she had known some of the more ambitious Houses would seize their chance. Others would wait until they were approached. Rhaenyra wondered what Jeyne had said to this daughter of House Tarbeck, for she had only wed Lord Reyne recently, to make her come forward in this manner - or perhaps, since Rhaenyra had already promised Lord Tyrell a stroll, House Reyne had not been able to abide coming second. All the same, it was progress.

'In confidence, my princess, both my father and my husband are most interested in meeting you. My lord husband, in particular, has expressed his wish to foster deeper connections between our Houses. After all, we are one of the noblest and richest Houses in Westeros, and we have been loyal servants to the House of the Dragon since the time of the Conqueror.' 

Rhaenyra quirked her lips in a genuinely pleased manner. The Reynes of Castamere were, indeed, old and rich and proud, almost more so than their liege lords, the Lannisters of Casterly Rock. The Lady Reyne, in a few short sentences, had made clear the displeasure of her House being seemingly overlooked in favor of their golden overlords. At the same time, she affirmed her House's loyalty despite all, although from her wording it seemed that loyalty was tied to a certain level of acknowledgement from the princess' side. Acknowledgement Rhaenyra was happy enough to provide. From what she could recall, there had been no Reyne to meet during her engagement tour in the life she had lost, and looking at the woman before her, Rhaenyra decided she would have her as an ally. 

The last time around, she had not been so conscious of the pieces on the board. She had been so young and willful then, her pride wounded when she had been all but commanded to wed and produce heirs, and no amount of sugarcoating by her father could take the sting from the core of his order. She had believed he meant her to be worthless without issue of her own, not understanding that power came in many forms, and a dynasty derived its stability from a clear line of succession just as much as a stable rule. Her father had been right that she ought to take a powerful husband and pop out trueborn dragonriders of her own in order to secure her place, even if she had been recalcitrant.

Taking in the woman before her, Rhaenyra thought that there stood one whose worth she may not yet know, but was willing to test. Lady Alysse, with her bold approach, was certainly promising, and interesting to boot, not at all a timid or browbeaten girl looking at nothing but the man who would be her jailer on her father's command.  

Rhaenyra did the only sensible thing she could in response. She gifted Alysse Reyne an honest smile and replied, 'My lady, I would like nothing more. House Reyne's valor is well known to me, as is your resourcefulness. The splendor of Castamere and the wealth of your history have been of interest to me for quite some time, and I look forward to discussing them in more depth with your husband present. Perhaps tomorrow, if you are available-'

'We most certainly are, Princess.' Lady Reyne answered quickly, and this time, it was Rhaenyra who frowned some. It appeared House Reyne was just a little bit desperate to appeal to her. Then again, although they were powerful in their own right, it was well known that their liege lords were closer to Old Town than they were to Castamere, and that it would only become more obvious now that Alicent Hightower was Queen. 

She would use it to her advantage.

'Wonderful. Perhaps the three of us ought to dine together, since the constant revelry can make one long for calmer company.' It was an invitation and dismissal in one, and Lady Alysse grasped that. 

With a pleased smile, she curtsied once more, and said, 'How thoughtful, Your Highness. We will be there.' 

Rhaenyra inclined her head, and Lady Reyne took her leave as gracefully as only a woman who had accomplished everything she set out to do could. 

Belatedly the princess realized she ought to have asked after Lady Buckler, but again, Bronzegate lay in the Stormlands, not the Westerlands. Lady Baratheon, formerly Velaryon, would have been the woman to ask, but unfortunately, she was dead.

As was Jocelyn Baratheon, her daughter and the current Lord, Boremund's sister and Rhaenys' mother, another woman who would have known the stormlands and its noble Houses far better than the princess. That left Rhaenyra with few options, but it seemed the Gods were smiling on her, for just then, she spotted a short, beady-eyed woman wearing modest jewels hastily making her way past, and, following a hunch, she called quietly, 'Lady Buckler?'

The noblewoman stopped in her tracks, eyes flitting over her liege, and she immediately dropped into an appropriate curtsy. 'My Princess, it is an honor and pleasure to be recognized by you. Although I have little to offer, what there is, is yours.' 

Clearly, Randalph had learned his manners from his mother. 'Lady Buckler, I have made the acquaintance of your youngest as he wandered the Keep utterly lost. He is waiting for you outside the Hall, to escort you to your rooms.' 

Lady Buckler all but gasped, scandalized, and Rhaenyra bit back an amused smirk. Truly, the entire family was entertaining her today. 'I must apologize for him, then. Please, Your Highness, the boy means well, but he is not the brightest, or he would have known better than to bother you with such trivialities. I ask your forgiveness on his behalf.'

'There is nothing to forgive. I offered.' She added as she saw Randalph's mother prepare to speak, heading off any potential complaints or further apologies.

Another curtsy was her answer, alongside a murmured, 'Her Highness is as gracious as you are beautiful. With your leave, I shall go to him now.'

Rhaenyra nodded in acceptance. 'I must away, as well. I shall accompany you to the hallway.' It was a statement, not a question, so what could Lady Buckler do but nod in acquiescence?

The both of them walked calmly back towards the double doors, the noble a step behind the royal, as was proper, and Rhaenyra relished the eyes on her. She did not doubt that Alysse's actions would inspire other nobles to approach Rhaenyra, emboldened by her success and encouraged by Rhaenys and Jeyne. 

As she knocked on the doors so the guards would open them, she allowed herself a small, smug smile. So far, all was going rather well.  

Randalph's head jerked up and around as the doors swung open, and he immediately averted his eyes, which Rhaenyra approved of. She spoke calmly and quietly, 'I will leave you here, Randalph, and wish both you and your lady mother a pleasant day.' 

Randalph bowed, stammering his thanks, whilst his mother, far more composed, murmured her own, and she smiled slightly before turning away to continue on towards her own rooms. Despite all she wished to do still, she had a previous engagement she could not afford to neglect. 

The sun had just begun setting when she arrived at her chambers, where her maidservants were already waiting alongside Rhea, whose presence was, for Rhaenyra at least, already expected. No announcement had been made regarding her installment as Rhaenyra's chief lady in waiting, but that suited them both for now. The less was known about their companionship, the more curious the court would grow, the more intrigued people would become, and the more desperate they would be to unveil the mystery, to be part of the group.

'Your Highness,' Jeyne greeted with a curtsy. Her face was perfectly neutral, but something told Rhaenyra she was displeased. Perhaps it was the way her shoulders seemed too stiff for mere formality. 'Welcome back. Lady Royce has chosen your gown for this evening's duties, as well as jewelry.' She was curt and to the point, and Rhaenyra appreciated that in the same way empty flattery annoyed her.

Rhea took half a step forward in order to bow formally. 'My Princess.' 

'Lady Rhea.' She returned, unsure on how to continue. She had thought that Rhea would use her given name, since she had permitted her such, but it had become clear to Rhaenyra that when she was uncomfortable or uncertain, Lady Rhea defaulted back to courtesy, at least when she respected someone. Otherwise, Rhea went for the jugular. It was obvious, to the princess if to no other, that something was bothering her good-aunt, but unfortunately, Rhaenyra did not have enough time to discuss the issue before she had to be at the queen's apartments.

There was no use fretting about it then. She would deal with the matter on the morrow.

Instead, she turned to her maids. 'Jeyne, Sonia, if you would assist me?' She addressed the two of them, both of whom obeyed without delay as she gestured towards the dress laid out on her impeccably made bed. Roslyn and Sara busied themselves otherwise, whispering among themselves.

As her maids peeled the clothes off her body, Rhaenyra watched Rhea. Though she was standing still, with her back straight and shoulders relaxed, her mouth was set in a thin line and her arms were tensed. 

Perhaps she should still attempt to parse out the general issue. 'Have you had any troubles, good-aunt?' She inquired cautiously, stepping into the gown. It was a splendid choice on Rhea's part, one of the first ones Rhaenyra had commissioned after she had woken up after her murder. The bodice was Myrish lace with details in blood red, whilst the neckline was embroidered with a coiling dragon of the same color, which gave the appearance of it coiling around her shoulders. The sleeves billowed, only to cinch tightly at her wrists in a dramatic flare, and as Jeyne tightened the lacing at the back of the dress with a strength that belied her years, Rhaenyra's waist appeared so small she could scarcely believe it. The way the seamstress had tailored her work made her bust look bigger than it was, her hips rounder and more mature, and gave her the silhouette of a woman grown. 

She adored it. 

The jewels Rhea had picked were similarly pleasing. A short necklace of heavy gold, it reminded of a collar, albeit a low sitting one, with an opal set in front. A simple yet elegant piece, which was not overly lavish and therefore perfectly suited to a dinner with family. 

Usually, were any noble invited to sup with the Queen, they would deck themselves out in their finest dresses and most expensive jewelry, but Rhaenyra wanted to make clear, without any words spoken, that she was not visiting someone of higher authority and status, but an old friend. The point was to be seen in this so that all who beheld her knew that the power balance between the Heir to the Throne and the Queen Consort was scaled evenly, or in Rhaenyra's favor. 

When she had seen Alicent in the sept, she had not been quite able to pinpoint where her disquiet had come from upon seeing her dearest friend, as it was certainly not sympathy, but now, looking at herself with her clothes perfectly tailored, her hair done up and jewels clasped, she knew precisely what had thrown her off. 

She had not seen Alicent with her hair undone since they were young girls, back in the life that would not be again. To see her with her hair unstyled, especially now that she was queen, had been strange, and come to think of it, suspicious. Had it been a ploy to garner sympathy? To appear the vulnerable maiden unjustly condemned? Or had she been truly so upset by the King's spurning of her on their wedding night that she had forgotten her new role? 

Perhaps Rhaenyra was reading too much into it. 

Or perhaps she was not reading into it enough. Perhaps she should ask herself what picture Alicent wanted to present to the nobility gathered at court, to elicit their compassion, if not their respect. But it was such a childish, hapless way of going about it, that it did not fit with the Green Queen Rhaenyra recalled. 

Come to think of it, that could be exactly why. Alicent was not that woman yet. She was a girl, who had seduced the King at her father's behest, who had feared the resentment of her only friend due to said seducing, who now had to contend with rumors of unfaithfulness and the judgmental reactions to them. Perhaps she was simply overwhelmed, and had forgotten herself for a moment, to seek solace from the only figures in her life who offered it every time she sought them out: The Seven Gods, whose candles she lit and prayers she spoke, whose teachings she had been brought up with. 

Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps. 

Rhaenyra sighed imperceptibly. These thoughts would lead her nowhere yet, worse, they turned in circles, leaving her more confounded than she had been before, and she could not afford to meet Alicent at any less than her best and sharpest.

'You are a vision, my Princess,' Rhea said, looking at her with quiet admiration, shaking her from her contemplation. Rhaenyra, to her own surprise, flushed a little. 

'Thank you, Lady Rhea.' She had relaxed, Rhaenyra noticed with relief, in spite of not answering the princess' question. As Rhaenyra had become used to her lady-in-waiting being at ease around her, she had been quietly discomfited by her agitation. 

'I shall be off, then.' Rhaenyra said brightly, shaking herself of her contemplation. 'Roslyn, Sara, if you could await me with a warm bath when I return?' 

'Certainly, Your Highness!' Sara replied, curtsying, followed immediately by Roslyn, who murmured her assent, as well. 

'Wonderful. Lady Rhea, I shall meet you on the morrow in the Ladies' Hall, to break our fasts. If you could kindly inform Lady Laena of this?' 

Rhea bowed with a twinkle in her eye. She had become somewhat fond of Princess Rhaenys' daughter in the short time they had known one another, it seemed. How wonderful. 

There was a knock at her doors, expected yet still unwelcome if only for what it signaled, and Rhaenyra drew back her shoulders. She would not falter. 

Whilst Alicent was still insecure in her new position, Rhaenyra would be a steadying presence by her side, ever the dutiful friend and princess, doing her utmost to help their new queen adjust to the demands that would be made of her. Of course, Otto Hightower would also be there, to fill Alicent's pretty head with assumptions about her new power. 

He would pretend that Alicent's power was not already halfway to broken. Like the Lord Hand himself, the Queen Consort derived her power from the King, and from the children she could give him. The moment Rhaenyra's father had kept his promise to her and refused to break Alicent's maidenhead, he had done his part to weaken his queen's position, which would not strengthen until she gave him a living child. And even if she, against all odds, succeeded in bearing offspring, unless that child came into the world with purple eyes and silver hair, their parentage would always be in question. 

There were herbs, fruits and flowers which could prevent conception, or terminate a pregnancy, she was well aware. The issue was, that as a sheltered only child, and a girl besides, the Grandmaester would be most reluctant to share his knowledge of such plants with Rhaenyra. Not to mention asking after them would be highly suspicious in and of itself. 

Although, Daemon might know them if only in passing - or his lover, Lady Misery, who Rhaenyra suspected of having a far deeper knowledge of potions and poisons than the princess was comfortable thinking about. If the White Worm would be willing to aid her or not, though, was another question entirely.

The way to the Queen's apartments wound itself through the Keep, as familiar to Rhaenyra as Syrax's scent. Queen Aemma had often asked her there, and she had been despairing of it at times, knowing it tended to signal scolding for making her mother worry when she was already under stress from her pregnancies. Now, she wished she were summoned by Aemma. 

Instead, her dearest Alicent occupied the chambers of the Queen Consort, and in doing so, destroyed a piece of Rhaenyra's heart. The heavy doors came into view just as the sun finished setting, leaving the torches lining the hallway as the only source of light. How charmingly fitting for the shift in her mood.

'Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen, Heir to the Iron Throne!' Announced the Kingsguard on duty, Ser Rickard Thorne, in a booming voice, as though anyone else would seek out Alicent at this hour. She knew that he had turned traitor during the Dance, and smuggled Maelor out of King's Landing when she and Daemon had taken it. All the same, she nodded at him, a gesture he returned with a respectful bow.

The princess did not linger to brace herself, and when Rhaenyra walked into the Queen's chambers, the queen immediately stood from the comfortable chair she had been situated on. 'Welcome, Nyra.' Alicent said, her voice warm with genuine welcome. 

She looked better, her budding figure clad in a richly dyed flowing dress, her slim neck encased in the princess' gift. There was something vulnerable about her in this moment, something fragile and easily shattered, and Rhaenyra stilled in response. Alicent looked so very young in the firelight, the shadows playing on her pale face, painting hollows and creases there which would take years of dour looks to develop. All the same, the look in the queen's eyes when she gazed upon Rhaenyra was filled with an emotion the green queen had not directed at her for decades, and the hands that grasped for Rhaenyra's were gentle and seeking comfort.

The two of them stood there, as close as they had ever been, and Rhaenyra could almost convince herself nothing had changed between them, nor would it ever. 

Yet when she tore her eyes from her oldest friend's, and looked at the mantle above the elaborately decorated fireplace, the illusion shattered like crystal. Rhaenyra had known that her mother's belongings had been cleared out, as she herself had commanded some of them brought to her, but to see these apartments she had so often visited so utterly changed speared her lungs with ice. Already, there was a seven-pointed star instead of a painting of the Eyrie hanging above the fireplace, and the cream colored drapes had been exchanged for the green of House Hightower. 

'Ali. Thank you, I am glad to be here.' The lie rolled off her tongue easily.

Alicent smiled, as was proper, her hair tied in a low bun at the nape of her neck, a few loose curls artfully framing her pale face. Her gown was somewhere between sky blue and storm grey, the color reminding Rhaenyra of the sky against morning mist. Her breasts, such as they were, were tastefully alluded to owing to the cut of the bodice, and Rhaenyra's necklace, which Alicent still wore, emphasized her sharp collarbones and delicate throat. 

'Come, sit with me. The servants will bring supper imminently, enjoy some Arbor gold with me while we wait.' 

Alicent swept a hand towards the two cushy chairs in front of the fireplace, and the small table between them. Unfinished embroidery was placed on the table, likely put down as she had stood to greet her oldest friend, and Rhaenyra recognized the motif quickly. It was the High Tower, seat of the queen's House. Alicent hadn't been there in years. 

'Thank you.' Rhaenyra replied. As some of the best and priciest wines in the Kingdoms, Arbor gold was a splendid choice for the queen to serve. It paired well with most dishes, and was stored in great quantities in the wine cellars of the Keep, and the taste was familiar on Rhaenyra's tongue as she took a sip from the cup the queen poured her. 

It was a sign of respect for the queen to pour her drink, and Rhaenyra recognized it for the thought-through move it was. A reminder and a promise in one.  

Rhaenyra put down her cup and reached for Alicent's hand, lacing their fingers together the way the queen was accustomed to. It was such a strange feeling to once again be free to touch Alicent without the queen twitching away as tough she feared Rhaenyra's touch would hurt. The princess smiled warmly. 'Tell me about your day, Ali. Our talk in the sept was awfully brief, and I have looked forward to speaking with you privately.' 

Alicent squeezed her fingers gently. 'There is not much to tell. I took breakfast in my apartments, met with my father. I visited the weirwood tree and went to pray. I retreated to embroider.' Her voice was wistful, her eyes downcast. 

Well, it sounded terribly dull, put like that. Doubtlessly, the queen had left out the more harrowing bits.

It might be best, however, not to press for now. A concerned friend would not, after all, want to agitate an already delicate situation. Better to focus on the more innocuous implications. 'And how fares your father? I have not seen him since the feast.' 

'He is well.' Alicent smiled briefly, before adding after a slight pause, 'He is concerned for my marriage.' 

If Rhaenyra were still searching for proof that Alicent believed them to be just as close as they had been before Alicent had betrayed her, this would be it. She wanted to talk to Rhaenyra about her troubles, even if it meant prodding the bruise her marriage had left on the flesh of their friendship, healed though as Rhaenyra had assured her it would be. Alicent had no one to turn to, no one to lend a listening ear, no one to offer a comforting shoulder to cry on. She only had Rhaenyra.

Rhaenyra affected a reassuring tone. 'Whyever would he worry about it? As I keep saying, a match made for affection will endure even more tirelessly than one made for duty.' 

She watched with no small amount of satisfaction as Alicent struggled to articulate just why the Lord Hand had reason to fret about his daughter's lack of consummation. Alicent, although she had already confessed to Rhaenyra that her father had bid her endear herself to the King, could hardly tell her oldest friend that she feared the King may set her aside, since as far as Alicent knew, Rhaenyra thought Viserys married her for love. 

'He worries for the same reasons I do,' she settled on replying, 'namely the rumors that started. While father and I both know that the King has come to... feel favorably towards me, the Court does not share his sentiment.' 

Which Rhaenyra had planned to happen. Before she could reply, Ser Rickard's voice rang out once more. 'Lord Otto Hightower, Hand of the King.' He announced, rather more lackluster than his tone had been when he had announced Rhaenyra. Perhaps he was not as enthused about the Hand as he had been in the other life, not yet at least. 

It was the first thing she thought of, the Kingsguard's allegiance, rather than the fact that Otto fucking Hightower had apparently been invited to hers and Alicent's private supper. Or rather, she thought noticing the look of unabashed surprise on the queen's face, he had invited himself. How presumptuous. 

Alicent's expression settled into the mask of pleased calm Rhaenyra had become familiar with when she bid her father enter, though Rhaenyra could see the confusion in her eyes, alongside some displeasure.

'Father, how wonderful to have you join us,' the queen said, rising to kiss Otto's cheek. It was a perfectly polite greeting, the dutiful daughter shining through the queen's mask, and Rhaenyra could have cheerfully strangled them both. 

She rose, mainly because it would be seen as petty and immature not to. As Hand, Otto Hightower was the second most powerful man in the Seven Kingdoms, and even she, as the chosen Heir, was technically a step below him in authority. 

She would not greet him first, however. She simply refused to stoop so low. 

'Daughter. It pleases me to see you well, and in such good company,' he said, turning to Rhaenyra. He inclined his head, and she wanted to force it down lower, until his forehead touched the ground. She smiled pleasantly instead. 'Princess Rhaenyra.' 

'Lord Hand,' she replied, nodding at him. If he thought she would curtsy to him, he had best think again. 

His eyes narrowed, but before he could say anything, the Keep's servants arrived, platters laden with food held securely in their hands, all of them hurrying past the two members of the Royal Family and the King's closest advisor without looking any of them in the eye. They seemed keen on avoiding scrutiny, Rhaenyra could not help but notice, especially when they had to move around the esteemed Lord Hand. 

'Well,' Alicent said, 'I did not anticipate another to dine with us, Nyra, but surely you do not mind?' 

She very much minded, thank you. But to say so would be the height of idiocy, so she shook her head. 'Not at all, Alicent. If the Hand insists on honoring us with his presence, I shall not complain.' She leveled Alicent with a saddened smile, and watched her face fall. 'Even if I was looking forward to some time alone with my oldest friend.'

'Oh, I do not mean to keep you.' Otto Hightower rebuffed, and Rhaenyra bit back a vicious retort. Whatever their loyal Lord Hand had come to the Queen's apartments to accomplish, it sounded as though he had managed. Rhaenyra's lips thinned. 'I only wanted to visit my dear daughter, to ensure your well-being.'

Rhaenyra could've laughed herself sick hearing the Hand's feeble excuse to disrupt his daughter's time unsupervised with someone he couldn't control. The Hand was only here to remind his daughter of her loyalties. 

Alicent seemed torn, but Rhaenyra was fully aware that her hold on the queen was not yet stronger than the Hand's. Alicent might have begun to tentatively question her father's motivations, gently encouraged by the Princess, but she was not ready to defy him. Might not ever be ready to defy him. But then, defiance might not be needed - only lack of compliance could be enough, under the right circumstances. 

That was fine, if not preferred. Rhaenyra could be patient, and chip away at Alicent's loyalty one doubt planted at a time.

Before Alicent could call for a servant to bring additional silverware, the Hand took a step back and announced, 'The both of you could certainly use some time alone, I agree. Do enjoy your supper, daughter, you must keep your strength up. Princess, I shall see you at the council meeting.' 

With that, he simply turned and left as abruptly as he had come.

For a moment, Rhaenyra was tempted to make a snide comment. Instead, with great effort, she simply raised an eyebrow at Alicent, who could only offer a similarly confused look. She gathered herself quickly though, and gestured towards the table, now laden with various dishes and plenty of sweets. 

'Let us eat, then.' The Queen said, and Rhaenyra complied with her implied order to sit and not speak of the Hand's strange behavior. Why wouldn't she? By sweeping it aside, Rhaenyra could be sure it would fester in Alicent's head, as so many inconsequential things did, in excellent company of some that mattered, if only one could differentiate between the two.  

Alicent was not yet the paranoid Queen who had been convinced Rhaenyra would put all her children to the sword to protect her throne, was not yet the vicious woman set to make her son King, come what may, who had, as an adult, demanded a boy have his eye cut out in recompense when all that boy had done was protect his kin.

Rhaenyra reminded herself of that as she found her gaze fixed itself on the chaise her own royal mother had often laid upon when she had become so heavy with child that she was advised by the Grandmaester to move as little as possible. She resolutely did not think of the blood that had been spilled in these rooms, the screams that echoed from the walls or the betrayal that stained the floors. 

A serving boy appeared at her side to cut her a slice of meat, startling her. He still got a warm smile and thankful little nod, which made him flush and bow his head in turn, until he met her gaze on accident and paled considerably, backing away quickly. 

Fascinating. 

And exploitable. Such obvious fear of those whose station was far higher than his own was not something she witnessed often. She would have her maids inquire about the Hand's and Queen's servants. Jeyne and Sonia were Alicent's servants in the interim, before Otto could fill the positions with those loyal to his own House, but even he could not deny the King. If Viserys decided that Aemma's maids should be Alicent's, neither father nor daughter would be able to oust them. 

That was, if they even thought to try. They might consider Rhaenyra's mother's maidservants beneath notice, and expect loyalty of them for no other reason than that they were servants instead of nobility, and think them duty-bound to serve them to the best of their ability, never even suspecting them of having their own thoughts and desires. 

'How have you been, Rhaenyra?' Alicent broke the silence, pulling Rhaenyra from her thoughts.

Ah, the ever-dull question about her well-being, the question nobody wanted an honest answer to. She offered a shrug and wry smile. 'I have been as well as could be, considering everything.' 

A sigh escaped Alicent's lips. 'All we have spoken about lately has been about the wedding. Or the bedding. I have not properly asked after you, and I should have.'

'Well, my main focus has been you, so truly, you did not miss much.' She graced Alicent with an open smile. 'I have been spending most of my free time with my cousins, and gladly so. I had not realized how self-involved life at court was before I spoke to Lady Arryn. It made me remember that all noble Houses, great and small alike, have their own issues and matters to attend to, and while ours might be the most influential of them, we are but one cog in a greater wheel.' 

And even a pebble, no matter how ordinary, could clog that wheel and grind it to a halt. 

'You are right in that matter. While I have all the education of a noble lady, being the Queen will require more political involvement than I have experienced until now.' Alicent took a sip of wine, face carefully neutral. 'I am happy to hear that you are broadening your horizon, but I pray that you shall not forget your oldest friendship in favor of these new ones.' She shook her head, eyes luminous. 'For I have observed they only came about after your elevation.' 

For a heartbeat, Rhaenyra wondered whether she had misheard, or simply misinterpreted the implication of Alicent's words. Certainly, she could not have said so plainly what Rhaenyra had perceived. 

Looking into those doe eyes, however, Rhaenyra knew she had not imagined the slight Alicent had just offered the princess' blood with neither fear nor shame, and fancied, for a brief moment, Otto Hightower sitting there in place of his daughter, for it was clear that they were his words, spoken through his child, believing himself capable of manipulating Rhaenyra through the friendship he perceived as stronger than ever she held with his daughter.

And said daughter, thinking herself secure in Rhaenyra's affections just as the princess had intended for her to be, obeying her father as dutifully as she ever had.

How dare she. After all the betrayals she had visited upon Rhaenyra, how dare she insult the princess' own blood? Those who had mourned with her, stood with her, unafraid to declare their loyalty? How dare she try to besmirch both Jeyne and Rhaenys this way, these women who had proven capable of more integrity than the entirety of House Hightower?

Despite Rhaenyra's righteous anger, she had to admit, at least to herself, that Alicent mimed the concerned friend beautifully. How unfortunate for her, then, that she was a lifetime too late to ensnare Rhaenyra.

For if nothing else, this overture proved that Alicent considered Rhaenyra's trust a given, and was confident that she had her ear. 

Rhaenyra swallowed, allowing her difficulty to do so to shine through. It would not do, to clue Alicent in on the fact that whatever trust or affection Rhaenyra might have once felt was snuffed out utterly, with only smoke remaining.

'Have you heard something?' She asked, deliberately quiet, perhaps a tad insecure, but not offended. She could not stumble.

Alicent shook her head, eyebrows furrowed. 'No, nothing so drastic. It is merely concerning, that after so many years of barely any communication, they both come flocking to you. And not only them, I have heard.' She trailed off, before fixing her gaze at Rhaenyra's face. 'I fear House Velaryon has latched onto you after failing to convince the King to marry their daughter. I would not wish you to be used in some scheme.' 

Rhaenyra tightened her grip on her dinner knife and wondered if she could excuse accidentally lobbing it at Alicent's head. Perhaps not. 

'Your concern is touching, truly, but I do not believe that Princess Rhaenys would stoop so low. She is a woman of great dignity, and has always supported her House with the utmost grace.' 

It was a firm, if polite, dismissal of Alicent's statement, and while not quite as eloquent as she may have offered had she been less offended by the sheer audacity of the queen's claims, it was still kinder than deserved.

Alicent inclined her head, clearly understanding Rhaenyra's underlying warning, and promptly turned to another supposedly questionable new companion. 'I trust your judgement, for you know her better than I. But what about the Lady Arryn? Is it not terribly convenient that she seeks you out while you are still in mourning?'

If Rhaenyra ground her teeth any more, she feared they might break. She forced herself to relax her jaw, flexed her thigh instead. The less agitated she seemed, the better. Although she allowed her brow to furrow for dramatics. 'If you will recall, Alicent, we mourn together. My mother was her cousin, and she offered me her condolences.' She reminded, voice stern but without reproach. Reprimanding Alicent would push her into a corner, and prompt her to lash out in response, only serving Otto, and therefore, Rhaenyra would not do so.

'But the Lady Royce does not leave your side. The Lady Laena is to become your ward.' By this point, Alicent sounded genuinely fearful, her voice getting higher and more agitated. It seemed that Otto had done quite marvelously in convincing her that Rhaenyra was in danger from her closest allies. What a cunt. 'They gain quite a bit by having your support. All I wonder is whether or not they deserve it, for I could not bear for you to be hurt once more.'

Gods, but Otto had truly outdone himself. Alicent had always had an inclination towards paranoia, and feeding into it allowed the Hand to direct the queen and see where she went without allowing himself to be culpable in anything that came of said paranoid ways. 

Otto Hightower had been slighted at his daughter's wedding feast, his moment of triumph, and had decided to retaliate. She should have seen it coming. This insidious seeding of doubt was exactly what Rhaenyra hoped to do to Alicent, after all, yet unlike the princess, the queen would not know to defend against it. 

But how to best play this? Dismissing Alicent's concerns out of turn would be what Rhaenyra would have usually done at the age she was feigning to be. But that would be at odds with the image of the mature heir she was cultivating. Giving Alicent too much credence to her face would result in her expecting the princess to distance herself from her allies, not that Alicent knew them as such, in public, which simply would not do. 

She decided to walk the fine line between the two. 

'While I do appreciate that you are looking out for me, Ali, I will also remind you that I have, for too long a time, lacked the ladies-in-waiting I am due as princess. Lady Rhea, as my uncle's wife, is an obvious choice.' 

Truth be told, Rhaenyra had often thought it best that the Lady of Runestone was far away from Daemon as to not make him miserable, and thought nothing of his constant dalliances on the Street of Silk, nor of his mistress on Dragonstone. To her, Daemon had been a constant source of comfort and cheer, spending long hours in her company and telling her stories and poems, never daring to present himself without one gift or the other to charm her and lift her spirits, distracting her from the dourness of court with tales of his exploits and trips to wherever she fancied. Having his wife, no matter how dear Rhea had become to her by this point, close to him, would only have served to make Rhaenyra resent the woman who caused him grief. 

Daemon had never treated Rhea kindly, nor she him, as they had both seen one another as shackles, keeping one another from freedom by royal command, and forcing them both to drown in despair together. 

Alicent smiled thinly, recognizing her defeat, but was not willing to acknowledge it without a parting shot. 'The way I understand it, their marriage is one in name only.'

Quite like yours, Rhaenyra wanted to shoot back, but refrained.

'I would not know such,' she lied, keeping her expression open, but not inviting. She would not give Alicent an inch in this matter. 'but the Lady Royce boasts every quality one could desire in a noble lady, and more besides.' 

Frankly, Rhaenyra had no doubt that Rhea had been prepared to do her duty on her wedding night, and were any man other than Daemon the one she had been made to marry, he would have taken his rights from her, if only for propriety, but no man could compel Daemon to strengthen his ties to his wife, and both would be better off for it. 

It was much easier to see a marriage annulled when it had not been consummated, after all. 

'I will take your word for it, then. But still, her presence will surely be missed on Runestone?' 

Alicent was like a dog with a bone, trying every way she knew to get what she wanted. From veiled hostility to affected sympathy, Alicent was playing all cards in her deck, oblivious to her own obviousness.

Rhaenyra took a sip of wine before replying, 'I have every confidence that Lady Rhea can handle her own affairs.' 

'What about her liege, Lady Jeyne Arryn?' Alicent's brows were furrowed as she spoke Rhaenyra's cousin's name, as though she had any right to utter it. 'Her own people have rebelled against her, I have heard it whispered.' 

By Otto, no doubt. It seemed he was whispering all sorts of things into his daughter's ears, and she believed blindly. The same sort of manipulation Rhaenyra herself was engaging in. 'Nothing so drastic,' she assured her dearest friend, 'it was a simple matter to handle, from what my cousin tells me, and there have been no issues since. Unfortunately, some lords thought themselves - foolishly, in my opinion - just to rise against their ruling Lady, and had to be reminded that it was not for them to pick and choose their liege, especially since Lady Arryn had afforded them every courtesy and honor.' 

It was a veiled threat which would reach Otto faster than any spy ever could, delivered by none other than his unsuspecting daughter. Alicent did not see Rhaenyra as a source of danger - a stark and deliberate contrast to her past life, which Rhaenyra would work hard to keep intact, and therefore did not seem worried by her statement. Rather, Alicent seemed relieved. 

'So there is no need to worry about the situation in the Vale?' 

'There is no situation in the Vale, only the Lady Paramount. She rules by right of her blood as the true Wardeness, and to question that is treason.' Rhaenyra said sharply. 

Alicent grew ever so slightly more pale, but to her credit, she took Rhaenyra's reaction with remarkable grace. 'I meant no offense. I was merely worried for your cousin's position, but it is reassuring to hear that the peace in the Vale remains intact under her leadership.'  

Rhaenyra feigned slight remorse as she replied, 'You have given none, but this matter is close to my heart.' She sighed softly, elaborating, 'There are very few women ruling in their own right, and as I will join their ranks in time, I think it wise to take some direction from them.' 

'A reasonable decision, of course. But might I remind you to be cautious of whom you lend your ear? Some might whisper lies into it.'

Rhaenyra smiled sardonically at the queen, watching as she took a bite of supper, chewing slowly, not looking at the princess as though she were aware just how out of line she was. Perhaps she knew, but was too entangled in her father's web to do anything but what he bid her do, maybe she truly believed her own lies and thought she was being a true friend. In many ways, the distinction mattered, as it affected the way Rhaenyra could use Alicent. In others, the distinction was without difference, as both reasons led to the same outcome. 

'Your concern is touching, Alicent, but you need not fear. Trust must be earned, as we are both well aware.' She smiled at her dearest, oldest friend. 'I have never trusted one who did not earn and deserve it, have I?'

What could Alicent possibly say to that?

'Indeed not.' Was the answer, and the only one which would not endanger Alicent's own standing in the princess' regard, a standing that was not to be risked.

It was a perfect segue. 'Yet while we are on the subject of trust, I have found myself wondering whether you had yet chosen a personal Shield? If not, I would suggest doing so without delay. The Kingsguard is made up of the finest knights in all the Realms, and their loyalty is unquestionable. As Queen, all of them are sworn to defend you and keep you from harm, but many queens have had personal Sworn Shields, and I would see you protected only by the best.' 

Alicent's expression softened in genuine appreciation. 'Thank you, Nyra. Truthfully, the King has not breached the subject with me, and I feared it would seem presumptuous to pick a Kingsguard without the King's explicit approval.'

'I shall speak to the King on your behalf, then, as I am meeting him this evening at the Council. You should not be without protection, it is not proper.' 

It would be the quickest way to force Alicent into a decision, for if she did not make one, the King would. As both King and Queen could be influenced, for now, it would increase Alicent's dependence on Rhaenyra if the queen was pushed. Who else would a young woman ask for advice if not her only friend?

Alicent hesitated briefly before saying, 'Queen Aemma did not have a Sworn Shield, as I recall.'

Rhaenyra did not scoff, but it was a close thing. 'No, she did not. All the same, I would afford you such, and I am certain my father agrees. We both wish you safe always.'

A shy, pleased smile pulled at the queen's lips, before a frown turned her pretty face into the grotesque mask of worry. 'You speak as though you think me in danger.'

'You are, and I mean no offense, a young queen who has risen from a modest position to the highest standing any lady could achieve in Court. Many are jealous, and therefore, dangerous.' 

'They would not dare!'

'Are you willing to bet your life on that? Or the lives of your unborn children? I am not.' 

Alicent paled. 'You believe there are members of the Court that would see the King's children dead? Commit treason?'

Rhaenyra stared at Alicent with disbelief for a heartbeat before reigning herself in and affecting a look of mild surprise and faint incredulity. 'I never said such a thing. I merely think it is better to be cautious rather than regretful. You are the Queen, Ali. You must have the protection that position requires. I did not have a Sworn Shield until a few months ago, when I should have been afforded one years past. I would not see the same happen to you.'

'You think others would see my lack of a personal knight as a blemish upon my person?'

'I fear they would take the King's confidence in every knight in this castle, especially the Kingsguard, as lack of concern, for no other reason than spite.' She smiled reassuringly. 'There is no reason to worry, of course. My father is completely right to have the fullest trust in the White Cloaks, who would never allow any harm to befall a member of this House, but if for no other reason than my own concern for my oldest friend, I would still want you to choose a knight solely devoted to your protection, as Ser Cole is to mine.' 

Alicent inclined her head at this, seemingly taking Rhaenyra's words to heart. She took another swallow of wine, asking plainly, 'He would have to be part of the Kingsguard, would he not?'

Technically speaking, the answer was no. Should Alicent desire, she could name any knight as her personal guard, no matter which House he was sworn to. Although it was commonly considered obvious that a member of the monarch's family, and indeed, the monarch themselves, would appoint the Kingsguard to the post. The Kingsguard served for life, after all, and since they had sworn themselves only to the Crown, should, in theory, have no possible conflicting loyalties, as would be the case with, well, every other knight across the Realms.  

'Certainly, but there are five which are available to you, discounting the Lord Commander and my own Shield.' Rhaenyra told her, wondering which knight she should counsel Alicent to choose. 

For all that Rhaenyra knew of things to come, she did not rightly know the answer to her own question. The members of the Kingsguard had been as divided as the Realm itself when the time had come to stand for the rightful Heir, and only a few had kept their vows and honor. While pushing Alicent into naming a Kingsguard loyal to Rhaenyra could yield advantages, it was a risky proposition, for he might turn traitor, costing her. 

Rhaenyra watched as Alicent furrowed her brows, and cut into the meat on her plate, chewing to buy herself some time to think it through. While the Kingsguard served for life, no one claimed it had to be a long one. It was expected of them to lay down their lives for the royal family, and not a single member had ever been allowed to leave the group alive - if one of them broke their oaths, a trial by combat usually followed, and with it, a public execution. 

One of those Rhaenyra knew to become Green might be the better choice, after all. 

'I shall consider them carefully, and choose one of them.' Alicent announced, as if she had heard the princess' thoughts.

Rhaenyra made sure to sound supportive when she replied, 'I am glad to hear it.'

It was true enough, she was glad. She would be even gladder when this dinner was done.

'Now, might I tell you of my hunt? I was most stunned to receive a gift from Lady Arryn, a beautiful mare I yet have to name.' 

They spent the rest of their supper talking about little else, which suited Rhaenyra just fine. She could all but see the thoughts brewing in Alicent's head, the question of her personal protector weighing on her. It was just what she needed to keep their new queen occupied as the heir cultivated alliances. 

Before long, their time together, short but precious, drew to a close, and as the queen walked her to the doors of her apartments, Rhaenyra was not surprised to find herself engulfed in a warm hug goodbye. She returned Alicent's embrace and parted with a promise to meet again soon, which Rhaenyra would seek to keep. 

As she entered the chambers the Small Council was held in, she kept thinking about which White Knight might be best ousted from his post. It was had only been a half-formed idea in the beginning, but now that she gave it more thought, would it not be advantageous to have another Kingsguard utterly loyal to herself, one which was less likely to betray her than Cole? 

Ser Thorne, she mused, would be her prime candidate. He had turned traitor, and been firmly on the usurper's side, even smuggling his son away from her reach. Unfortunately, he was a son of a noble house from the crownlands, so depending on his family's status and connections, getting rid of him might gain her more enemies than he was worth, at least if she got him dismissed from the Kingsguard for inappropriate behavior regarding the Queen. 

She nodded at the good ser whose dismissal and possible murder she was considering as she passed him on her way into the chambers, careful to seem detached but not cold in public, no matter who might be seeing her. As far as she was concerned, she was under constant scrutiny, and would conduct herself thusly.

'Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen, Heir to the Iron Throne,' she was announced as she entered, and she gave the Lords of the Small Council an encompassing respectful inclination of her head, and a short curtsy to her father, the King. 

Viserys smiled at her indulgently. 'Rhaenyra, on time for once, I see.' 

She gave a bright smile in response, and retorted, 'Well, I wouldn't want the King's cup running dry, father,' deciding that it would not do to have a serious talk, or more likely, argument, about her status among the council in front of the same.

For now, she would mime the co-conspiring daughter who believed she had outwitted the council with her father's help.

The majority of the council paid her little heed, but Corlys Velaryon, as well as Lord Beesbury, gave her a respectful nod, which she returned with the same gravitas. It seemed she had one more silent ally on the council already, her visit to him a clear indication of her intent to seize full responsibility of her duties as Heir, and therefore proof of proper conduct. 

As the Hand began with a droll little spiel about the nobility and how they had expressed to him how honored they were to witness the King's wedding, Viserys leaned towards Rhaenyra and quietly told her, 'Just so you know, I am most happy with the way you acted at the feast. I appreciate that it could not have been easy, but you did what was right for our House and the Crown. I am glad you are mature enough to recognize when to pretend to be pleased in public.' 

It was moments like these which reminded Rhaenyra that her father did not lack political aptitude, but rather the willingness to act on it. 'I did not do it simply for the perception of the nobles. I did it for you, and the love I bear you, the same love you have always born me.'

Viserys huffed, good-natured. 'I do not believe it necessitates mentioning, but I have spoken to Otto about you, just before the meeting. Princess Rhaenys approached me to speak about Laena, and I am most happy that you have taken on such responsibility.' Why, Rhaenyra seemed to make Viserys happier than Alicent did. 'While she was at it, she also inquired about another matter, which I admit I was remiss about. I will tell you more after the meeting concludes.' With that, Viserys turned his attention back to his council, and Rhaenyra, despite her best efforts, found herself - increasingly frantic with every passing moment - wondering what precisely Rhaenys had asked the King.

If it was about Rhaenyra's lack of engagement, she would scream. 

She still did not have the proper leverage, the right incentive, the convincing arguments necessary to make Viserys amendable to his Heir wedding his brother, the Rogue Prince. She had not yet had enough time to put all her pieces in place, to maneuver the actors to her advantage, Hells, to even coerce Daemon into going along with any plans she might come up with. She had spoken her mind to Rhea, and secured her as an advisor and champion in the matter, but that alone would never be enough.

If her father got it in his head, as he had the last time, that she had to make a politically advantageous match to secure her claim, she might not be able to use the same argument she had last time to get him to cede her choice of husband to her. 

Although, she would certainly try, if push came to shove. 

She looked at Otto with renewed shrewdness. It the past that would not be allowed to repeat itself, the Queen had, with the Hand's approval, married her daughter Helaena to the usurper, rather than securing potential allies by marrying the princess to one lord or the other. 

Rhaenyra planned on begetting as many children with Daemon as they were able, enough to rise the envy of Good Queen Alysanne and Jaehaerys the Conciliator, though she would never treat her own children the way the Wise King had treated his. 

She still shuddered to recall the fates of his daughters. 

Rhaenyra looked at her father, heartbroken but healthy, and reminded herself that even in her past life, he had never forced her. Her marriage to Laenor had been the result of her own and Daemon's actions, and although she had resented Viserys for denying Daemon's offer to wed her in the tradition of their House, she had come to understand why he had forbidden their match. 

Any reasonable father would have had the head of the man who had allegedly defiled his daughter in a whorehouse. In hindsight, it was only for love that Daemon had been allowed to live.

'Thank you, my Lords. We shall reconvene in three days' time, until then, I suggest you enjoy the festivities.' 

With murmurs assenting to the King's thinly veiled order, the Masters of the Small Council filed out of the chamber, the Lord Hand being the last of them, and even then, he only took his leave after a pointed look from the King. 

Rhaenyra braced herself. 

'Father. You wished to discuss something with me?' 

'Indeed. Sit. Pour us a cup,' he added as she took the vacated seat of the Hand. It was always the seat to the right of the monarch, if the monarch attended the Small Council meeting. With a small flourish, she filled her father's cup before doing the same for herself. She took a small sip, and waited, gaze fixed on the king's.

He chuckled. 'Careful there, one fears you might drink yourself insensate at this rate.' He joked, and Rhaenyra found herself grinning. 'Now, as I mentioned. Rhaenys approached me to seek my approval to appoint you as her daughter's guardian, an approval which I was pleased to grant. I had not expected anything of the sort after I turned the Lady Laena away as a potential wife, but then again, you have been keeping Princess Rhaenys' company since she arrived in King's Landing - a welcome decision.' Viserys smiled indulgently as he patted Rhaenyra's hand. He seemed so young and unburdened as he spoke, stronger than he had been in his last years. Rhaenyra smiled back at him, praying her lips were not trembling. 'There has been a distance between her and me, after the Great Council. She has bent the knee to me as her king, and kept to herself, but I fear she has never truly forgiven me for the Lords' decision. Back then,' he swallowed, 'I could have insisted she was the true heir, and stood by her side to secure her place. I did not.' He shook his head, and Rhaenyra was transfixed by the ease with which he carried out the motion. 'When she came to me, we spoke a great deal, more than we have in recent years, and she confided in me that she saw herself in you.'

Rhaenyra gripped her father's hand. 'We are somewhat similar, I am aware.'

Viserys sighed. 'Indeed. And like her, you also have a challenger.'

Her father could have poured iced water over her head and she would not have been as shocked. 'I do?' She barely kept herself from spitting accusations. Have you already broken your promise and pilfered Alicent's cunt?

'Yes. Daemon believes himself the rightful heir, and he may attempt to undermine your claim.'

Rhaenyra blinked. 

Of course. Rhaenys did not like Daemon, or consider him anything but a bloodthirsty brute lacking self-restraint. That opinion would not change any time soon, nor would the king's. Brothers they might be, but it was no secret to the royal family that Viserys did not approve much of Daemon's pastimes, or his temper. Whilst Rhaenyra and her uncle shared the Blood of the Dragon, Viserys was - for all his good qualities - not half as wild as them. 

Furthermore, there was an obvious solution to the king's perceived problem which he simply did not wish to consider: Were he to dissolve Daemon's marriage, his brother would be free to wed Rhaenyra instead, uniting the House of the Dragon once more in the way of their ancestors, and rendering any worries of rebellion or usurpation naught. 

Voicing that opinion, however, would not yet yield anything but scorn and further the rift between the King and the Rogue Prince. So, Rhaenyra only furrowed her brow and replied, 'Father, Daemon had the chance to kill me when I retrieved my brother's egg. No one could have stopped him, yet he chose to return the egg without conflict. Does that not mean he accepts your choice and therefore, my status?' 

Viserys sighed deeply, leaning back in his seat as though all the weight of the world was placed upon his shoulders, the joviality gone from his face. 'As you said, he did give you Baelon's egg, but you were not alone. There were witnesses. He could not have killed you without facing the consequences, and not even Daemon would dare harm the Heir to the Iron Throne surrounded by those sworn to protect her.' 

Rhaenyra widened her eyes for effect. 'Father, Daemon would certainly never harm me. You and I, he loves with all his heart, even though he shows it in twisted ways.' 

'He stole your brother's egg and celebrated his death!' Viserys' voice echoed through the room along the sound of his palm colliding with the heavy wood of the council table. His eyes were ablaze, and Rhaenyra was reminded how not even a rotting body had been able to stop him from defending her claim from those who sought to deny her through her sons. 

She had to tread lightly, and cursed herself for making out Daemon's actions as less severe than they were.

'He did, I do not deny it.' She softened her voice, a counter to her father's harshness. 'But he returned it when I asked him to, and he would never take up arms against you. I think he wishes you were more trusting of him, but he does not know how to tell you without making an ass of himself.' 

Viserys scoffed. 'An ass, indeed.' He shook his head. 'I will not hear any more of Daemon for today.' 

Rhaenyra inclined her head, conceding where she would have ordinarily insisted on a fight. It would do more harm than good to press the matter now, when her father's heart was closed to her coaxing. It was better to give it time, and wait until Daemon did something even Viserys could not help but appreciate. Like, say, win the Stepstones, be crowned King of the Narrow Sea, and lay his crown at his brother's feet. 

'I had wondered, father, how long you intend to host the Lords.' It was an abrupt change of topic, but since Viserys himself had decided that the matter of the Rogue Prince was closed for the time being, he could hardly complain. 'The Hand claims at least a fortnight, Lord Beesbury says another week.' 

Viserys sighed yet again, his shoulders dropping from their defensively risen position as he waved his hand dismissively. 'A fortnight, for good measure. Otto seems to think it fundamental that all the Realm sees the Crown's position strengthened by the new Queen.' 

There was a deep sadness emanating from her father, a sadness Rhaenyra shared. A guilt that she did not, for she had not commanded Aemma's death in favor of a potential son's life. She consciously relaxed her hands, which had almost clenched without her permission. Her mother was dead, and no amount of rage and sorrow would change that fact. 

She could, however, use those emotions to her advantage. 'Lord Beesbury told me that Lord Hightower insisted that your second wedding have everything your first lacked, so that the people may see how much you value your new wife.' 

Viserys tensed momentarily. For a brief moment, Rhaenyra dared to hope, seeing the brief flash of rage in her father's eye, but it was gone as quickly as it had come. 'Did he? As Hand, he would want to make sure that the Crown is not perceived as weakened, and as such, would want to ensure a show of strength, so to speak.' 

How foolish of her. Of course, he closed his ears to the truth Rhaenyra attempted to tell him. Viserys refused, for now, to see Otto as the treacherous cunt he was, but she could work with this reaction as well. She needed only to sow the seeds of doubt, so that when she had enough power, she could pluck the fruits and have Otto Hightower either executed or at least exiled from King's Landing.

'I told Lord Beesbury the same.'

The king hummed. 'You have never spoken to the Master of Coin privately before.' He observed, a small smile playing around his lips. 

She smirked wryly. 'I have never been Heir to the Throne before,' she replied. 

Her father barked a laugh. 'Yes, well. See to it that you keep that attitude.'

She grinned and nodded. 'Of course. It is not only a privilege, but a duty, and I will not fail to honor that.'

Viserys sighed once more, yet this time, he seemed pleased as he finished his wine. 'And that, my dear, is the difference between you and Daemon. You both share the blood of the dragon, you are both chaotic and unpredictable, but with you, I am beginning to see that I can trust that you will do what is best for this House and the Realm. With him, I can be certain whatever he does, it will benefit him, rather than us, the most.' 

Rhaenyra wanted to argue. Wanted to tell her father that Daemon was far more interested in pleasing Viserys than he realized, wanted little more than his brother's approval and attention. His love. Daemon would sooner fall on his own sword than betray Viserys, but she knew telling Viserys that would accomplish nothing. For now, she had to acquiesce.  Grudgingly. 

'I am happy you have taken notice. I know I am willful, and stubborn, and proud. But I want nothing more than for you to rely on me, and show you that I can be relied on. I want to share your burden, father, in whichever measure you deem proper.' She knew that other than her, no one would carry part of the weight of the crown. One for lack of trust, the other for lack of interest. She offered a quiet addendum. 'If, for now, that means learning from you quietly, in the background, then I will do so.' 

Viserys studied her intently, and she felt the knot in her stomach tighten. Perhaps she had spoken too soon, been too obvious, too brazen in her wording. Perhaps he saw her words for the cajoling they were, the attempt to seem like the dutiful daughter she was trying so hard to present herself as. 

The king's frown deepened, and she feared the worst. 'So Rhaenys was right, after all. She'll be pleased to hear it.' 

'I beg your pardon?'

Rhaenyra's father laughed. 'You don't beg, daughter. You are too proud for that, which is, in and of itself, not a bad thing. Royalty, especially future Queens, should not be made to beg easily, or at all.' Viserys looked out the stained-glass windows, a faraway look on his face. 'Rhaenys told me that you were dissatisfied with your position. Not as Heir, but the role - or rather lack thereof - you have on the Small Council. Tell me true, daughter. Are you?' 

She could deny it. It would make her seem humble and content to serve, but one look into her father's face dissuaded her before that idea was halfway formed. Much as it didn't seem like it some days, he knew her, and he knew her well. It would be an obvious ploy, and may destroy the bit of faith she had earned. 

'I am. Perhaps it would be more accurate to say I am dissatisfied with the way my role is perceived.' 

'Do elaborate.'

'I am perceived as a servant, rather than as your Heir. While I am grateful that I can witness the workings of the council, I am aware that this is all I am, of now: An observer, best seen and not heard. My opinion is not wanted, or asked, and despite your elevation of my position at court and among the Lords of the Realm, to the Small Council, I am still naught but your cupbearer.'

Viserys looked at her, truly looked, and whatever it was he found in her eyes took the wind from his sails. He closed his mouth which he had already opened to oppose her thoughts on the matter, and watched her pensively, his cup drained, his hand still. He did not move save for breathing, did not tense or fidget. He merely observed her, and she let him. 

The King would have to break the silence that had fallen between them in the wake of her confession himself, and as was his wont, he took his time to do so. 

Rhaenyra refused to falter. Whether or not he saw reason now, and elevated her among the council as well, or brushed her concern off and left her to find her own way to a higher position, she would not contradict his choice. Not in any obvious manner. But she would also not allow her father's preference for inaction to hinder her from protecting him from his own flaws.

Finally, after what felt like hours, but could not have been, the king inclined his head. 'Believe me, daughter, when I tell you that no matter which position you hold on this council, the men who sit on it serve the King, and as my Heir, they as a result serve you. Changing too much, too quickly, will cause nothing but strife and conflict.' He patted her hand again, and despite her resolution, Rhaenyra fought the sudden urge to scream. 'You will tell me your opinions after the council concludes, and I will take them into consideration. But until you come of age, you will remain my cupbearer.' 

Of course. She wanted to argue, but froze before her tongue could move. If she challenged her father's decision, now that he had made it dependent on her age, she could hardly hold him to the promise he made her regarding Alicent. She knew the way her father's mind worked, and if he allowed his daughter to make decisions that influenced the entire realm whilst her slightly older friend was, according to said daughter, too young to be bedded, Viserys would come to view his promise as a moral conflict. And as much as she loved her father, once he could no longer justify his decisions with excuses like need and morality and suitability, he inevitably began to fall apart. 

Just as he had done when he murdered Aemma. 

So, Rhaenyra looked down at their hands, hers so much smaller than his as had always been the case, and when she looked back up, made sure to put all her love into her smile, and keep all the frustration and dejection where he could not see it, and said, 'As you will, father. I will be sure to observe carefully, and learn as much as I can during that time until I reach a more appropriate age. But when I do, which position shall I have?'

She had to press him while he was still willing to talk, for if she tried at a later date, she knew he would wave her off. 

'You will no longer be my cupbearer then, that much I can promise you.' His voice was heavy when he answered, but his face was sincere, and so she leaned back and smiled brightly. 

'Thank you, father. I know you only have my best interest at heart, and while I do not deny that I at times chafe under the restrictions your expectations put on me, I will do my best to live up to them.' Rhaenyra worried her lip before adding, tone deliberately hesitant, 'I have spoken to Lady Royce, and she has agreed to stay at Court as one of my ladies. I do not have any besides her, and wanted to ask your leave to reach out to various Houses so I may add their daughters or sisters to my retinue.'  

Viserys' eyes widened incrementally, and Rhaenyra knew that the thought had not crossed his mind before. He had not deliberately deprived her. 'You have always been happy with only Alicent as your companion, and refused other ladies. What changed your mind?'

'For one, Alicent is the queen now, and therefore, cannot be solely my companion any longer. Also, as we discussed, I am your Heir now, and the Realm needs to know that I take that seriously, and can follow custom. As princess, I should have ladies-in-waiting, and while before I wanted none of it, after speaking with my cousins at length, I have come to realize that I could greatly benefit from having more than one girl to rely on.' 

'So Lady Rhea and Lady Laena are not enough?'

'Laena is my ward, not my lady, and while I cherish Rhea's insights and loyalty, I would like to have more than one lady in my retinue, now that I am Crown Princess.' 

Viserys chuckled. 'You want some girls your age around you, not only a child and your uncle's wife.'

Well, if that was what Viserys wanted to hear, it suited her purposes just fine. As though he had just caught her in a fib, she sheepishly asked, 'Yes? Was it that obvious?' 

Viserys shook his head. 'No, but I am your father. It was only a matter of time, and of course, you have my permission. Gather as many ladies as you would like, but take care not trust too easily. Many will seek to use you to advance themselves,' here, he outright smirked, 'but you will not let yourself be used. You are too clever for that.' He sounded proud, and Rhaenyra fought down the lump in her throat. I am using you for my purposes right now, father. Forgive me.

She bowed her head. 'Thank you, father. It means a great deal to me.'

Viserys leaned back and sighed contentedly. 'I am most pleased by your change in behavior and attitude. I knew when I made you my Heir that you had what it takes to sit the Iron Throne one day. Do keep proving me right - it is a wonderful change.' 

Rhaenyra smiled, genuinely this time. 'I will.' Though perhaps not the way you are hoping for.

They spoke some more on trivialities before Rhaenyra took her leave with the shadow of a proper curtsy, which her father only shook his head at, her thoughts racing. Now that she had obtained her father's blessing, she had a reasonable excuse to make her tour, and though Viserys would fume when he heard of it, if Rhaenyra spun it the right way, none of it would be her fault. She - or more accurately, Jeyne and Rhaenys - were already in talks with various Houses, and it was not a stretch to think the Heir would want to speak with more than just one member of each House before she made the choice on which would join her at Court. A visit would be the most obvious choice to determine suitability, and Otto would not suspect her of gathering allies when she was ostensibly there to gather ladies. He did not think of her as a threat, more a pliable little girl, as her supper with Alicent had confirmed. He believed the threat came from Lady Velaryon and Lady Arryn, and while Rhaenyra had not intended for that to happen, it was a blessing in disguise. He would not dare to move against her, not while his daughter remained childless, and Daemon his enemy. 

As long as Viserys held off on siring any more children, Rhaenyra was Otto's only way to remain in power. If she was lucky, or rather, if Otto was half as smart as he liked to think he was, he would try to win her trust, and in doing so, give her the perfect position to see him... gone. 

As she made her way through the Keep on her own, Criston presumably occupied with attempting to win the favor of House Velaryon's knights, she all but bubbled with excitement. While Otto's conclusion about Rhaenys and Jeyne was unfortunate, it unexpectedly enough helped Rhaenyra's cause. The longer Otto went without seeing the threat she posed the longer she had to move without scrutiny. Yet, whilst she was busy moving pieces into place, what Rhaenyra needed, at least for a little while, were people at Court she could use to isolate Alicent while Rhaenyra was on her tour. They would need to pretend to be her confidantes, or at least servants, and keep her from anyone who might actually be kind to the young queen while her closest friend was gone. 

Starting with the queen's of yet unchosen Shield. 

No matter who Alicent picked, Rhaenyra could use Cole's all but assured reaction to her advantage. If she knew the Dornishman, and she did, he would immediately assume a deeper relationship between the queen and her guard, no matter who he was. He would be hesitant, naturally, to share such concerns with his liege lady, but after a while, he would not be able to keep his thoughts to himself, and seek to inform Rhaenyra of his fears.

She would ask him if he had any proof of his accusations, which in turn meant Cole would interpret any and all interactions between Queen and Shield as treason to the realm, and seek to remove the Kingsguard member, or any knight serving Alicent from either his station or life altogether. Mayhaps Rhaenyra would let him, for she had determined that those of the Kingsguard which had once chosen to honor their vows to her would not be risked. She would keep them well away from the Greens.

However, if Cole succeeded and found a trustworthy knight to keep their young queen away from temptation, all the better, since he certainly would only choose a man he believed loyal to the Crown, or Rhaenyra herself. Either way, Alicent's Shield had to serve Rhaenyra's purposes, willingly or not, and a few of Alicent's ladies and servants as well. 

She had already slipped two maids loyal to her into Alicent's household, and ladies would soon follow - the queen would not be able to walk a single step without Rhaenyra's knowledge, let alone plot against her, not that she would have to worry about such for a while. 

With those plans set into tentative motion, she could focus on a more pressing issue: Prince Qoren Nymeros Martell of Dorne, who had refused to take part in the Dance, but would soon act as a supporter of the Triarchy, and whose kingdom was as connected to yet distant from House Targaryen as no other. His was the blood that had felled Queen Rhaenys, and his the only kingdom that had not bowed to the might of the Dragon, and was as a result essentially treated like a rebellious province and left alone. 

A few attempts at subjugation had been made since King Aegon's sister-wife had been murdered, but none had succeeded. Perhaps, she mused, a gentler touch would yield more favorable results, beginning with not a threat, but rather a request. 

She had turned it over again and again in her mind, how to best get the Prince to not dismiss her out of hand. Asking him for permission to visit Dorne directly, she had decided, would not go over well, and put her at risk of being taken hostage. Not only would such result in a re-ignition of war between House Targaryen and House Martell, it would - no matter the outcome - paint her in a most unflattering light in the eyes of the Lords whose loyalty she sought. 

As he had not yet pledged his support to the Kingdom of the Three Whores, she could not write to him to implore him to stop, and sending aravem only to offer empty pleasantries would get her nothing but an equally discardable answer. No, it had to be something worthwhile, yet non-incriminating, in case Prince Qoren tried to use her letter against her. 

The best deception had a kernel of truth hidden within. Keeping that in mind as she sat down at her desk, contemplating the empty parchment before her, she dipped her quill into ink and began writing. She had a genuine interest in his answer, but it was not her ultimate goal.

Prince Qoren,

As I am certain you are aware, my father, King Viserys Targaryen, First of His Name, has named me Heir to the Iron Throne. Westeros has not ever had a female ruler, yet Dorne has, and from what I understand, your people have always accepted such. At the risk of sounding presumptuous, I find myself curious about your customs, and have decided to write to you regarding said curiosity. The maesters are knowledgeable, yet even their records lack deeper understanding of Dorne's rich history. There is bad blood between our families for obvious reasons, yet I hold out hope that we, at least in this matter, could overcome some of the resentment remaining between our Houses.

She hesitated a moment before continuing. 

Despite common perception, I, personally, hold no grudge against either you or your people, and I write to you in hopes we might one day begin to repair the relationship between our families. As such, I hope for a swift and satisfying answer, and remain wishing for the continued prosperity of your people as well as your own House.

With highest regards, 

Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen, Heir to the Iron Throne

Rhaenyra read over her letter, but found she did not wish to add anything to what she had written. It was short and to the point, and while she was never as eloquent in her writing as she was in her speech, she folded the parchment and sealed it with red wax, embossing her seal on it. She wished to gain Prince Qoren's attention, and no matter which reason she stated in her letter, any missive bearing the Royal Seal would catch the eye of the head of House Martell. As she was citing interest in his House's laws of inheritance, he would have little reason to blatantly dismiss her query, and may in fact feel obliged to answer her for no reason other than courtesy. She could establish a basis of communication using her honest interest as its foundation, and go from there.

Sighing, she leaned back and blew out her candle. Her bath was ready and waiting, and she always slept best after a hot bath. She had a feeling she would need to be well-rested for the days to come.

Chapter Text

Something Rhaenyra had always appreciated about Dragonstone was its tranquility. No matter how many the great castle housed, the walls seemed to swallow sound, even as hundreds of feet puttered through the hallways, the echoes of their footfalls faded faster than they rightly ought to. 

The same could not be said about the Red Keep, at least not the Ladies' Hall. 

When Rhaenyra had arrived with Laena and Rhea in tow so they may break their fast together while also presenting the noblewomen with the opportunity to approach their princess, the Hall was already host to a multitude of ladies, their handmaidens and septas. Most were occupying themselves with idle chatter whilst they embroidered and drank tea and indulged in small cakes and the like. It was precisely the sort of environment Rhaenyra had avoided like the plague in her first life, and would dearly love to avoid again, but needs must. 

So there she sat, at a lavish table groaning under the weight of multiple platters of cold meats, fruits cut and arranged artfully into swans and birds, brown bread, sweet breads, jars of honey and various jams, porridge, bowls with berries and sweet cream, boiled eggs, crispy fish and fruit tarts, as well as carafes of sweet plum wine, steeped tea, and water so fresh and cold beads of it ran down the side of the crystal jug that stored it, all arranged around a centerpiece of fresh flowers, the stems of them interwoven as though a maid had decided to weave the kingdom's biggest flower crown. It was simple, yet beautiful.

Laena seemed utterly entranced by the feast before her, but waited patiently for Rhaenyra to begin filling her plate before her hand so much as twitched toward the cakes. It put a smile on Rhaenyra's face, as well as Rhea's, that little spark that gleamed in Laena's eye. 

The cakes were nice, too, even though Rhea seemed more drawn to the fish and breads.  

Rhaenyra hid a grin behind her cup of tea as she watched Laena grasp for another cake before her hand made an abrupt detour to the porridge. Apparently, Princess Rhaenys had, similarly to Queen Aemma, told her daughter not to over-indulge in sweets. Aemma had always told Rhaenyra to keep her diet balanced so not to lose her figure, a teaching Rhaenyra had heeded until she had given birth to Jace. She had indulged herself more after that. 

The princess watched as her ward dipped her spoon into the porridge and took a bite, distaste clear in her eyes. 'If you drizzle some honey over it,' Rhaenyra offered, 'or put some sweet berries on top, it goes down easier.' 

Laena, to her credit, did not startle, but nodded before following her advice - by doing both. 

Rhea laughed lightly. 'I take it you prefer sweeter foods, Lady Laena?'

Laena shook her head a bit, curls bouncing. All the same, she bravely took another spoonful, managing to keep her brow from wrinkling in distaste, in spite of the disgust Rhaenyra could see in her eyes. Laena was remarkably adept at concealing her feelings, especially for her age. 'I don't like bland food. Porridge doesn't taste like anything, and it feels strange to eat.' She answered after swallowing, eyeing the lemon cakes longingly.

Rhaenyra agreed wholeheartedly. She despised porridge. 'You could simply eat bread instead.' It was what Rhaenyra had done, after a while. The moment she had understood that her mother merely insisted on porridge to keep her from eating cake all day, she had switched to bread and lathered it in honey, interspersing some meats in between. It had pleased her mother and septa well enough, and she had been allowed cakes afterwards. 

'Mother says porridge keeps me healthy, and if I eat more of it, I will get used to it.' 

Rhea hid a smile behind her hand, and Rhaenyra fought to keep her own lips from twitching. Yes, it seemed most mothers told their daughters such dastardly lies. 

'My mother told me something of the sort, once. She later told me it was so I would not grow large before I had grown tall.' Rhaenyra confessed in a hushed voice, sharing an amused look with Rhea.

Laena's eyes grew big. 'So this will not keep me from falling sick?' Her grip around the spoon had grown lax, and the back of it dipped into the porridge without purpose.

Rhaenyra hesitated. On the one hand, she had no desire to question Rhaenys' teachings to her daughter. On the other hand, she did not wish for her cousin to force herself into eating something she hated, healthy as the food supposedly was. The maesters were always quite happy to insist on a diet of porridge and soup when caring for the sick, and despite her own marked distaste, she could not deny that it was perfectly filling, especially when eaten with fruit and nuts. And honey. Copious amounts of honey. 

Thankfully, Rhea came to her rescue before she had to make a choice. 'Perhaps. Elaborate' She told Laena, eyes warm and voice kind.

Laena let the spoon drop fully, all her attention on the Lady of Runestone. 'My mother told me and Laenor that porridge will make us grow up healthy and tall, so we should see the wisdom in eating it, rather than childishly focusing on the bland taste.' Her eyes were all but begging for Rhea to tell her otherwise. 

Rhea affected a profoundly sad sigh. 'I see. Well, Laena, I am afraid to tell you that your mother is right. Both Princess Rhaenyra and myself have eaten porridge for the exact same reasons as we were children.' 

Said princess hurried to nod solemnly when Laena turned her questioning gaze at her. 'Indeed, as I told you. I have only recently decreased the frequency.' 

Laena tilted her head, gaze turning mournful. 'Because your mother cannot make you anymore?' She asked, all sweet concern. Rhaenyra swallowed down her reflexive deflection and answered in a way that would hopefully turn the conversation somewhere less emotionally charged. She had no desire to speak of Aemma.

'Not exactly. As I matured, I was allowed more freedom of choice.' She told Laena, which was not quite a lie. The whole truth was of course that with only her septa berating her, Rhaenyra had soon abandoned the pretense of understanding the necessity of porridge. Her septa's disappointed looks were amusing to her, and for a while, she had her share of mischief drawing that look out of the woman as often as possible.

Thankfully, Laena accepted her explanation without fuss. 'So when I am grown, I can eat cake instead,' she concluded, looking less glum with that sliver of hope on the horizon. 

Rhaenyra nodded decisively. 'Precisely.' She said, freshening her tea. She offered to do the same for Rhea, who declined, apparently content with fresh cold water and salted fish. 

Which was fair enough. Not everyone liked cake as well as Rhaenyra and Laena, strange as that might seem. Breaking the silence once more, this time with purpose, Rhaenyra addressed her cousin once more. 'Tell me, Laena, do you recognize the woman over there, by the harpist?' They could use this time, she reasoned. The better Laena got at recognizing the ladies now, the better it would serve her later. It would also help Rhaenyra to get an overview of Laena's teachings.

'Which one?' 

A fair question, as two ladies were conversing with one another. One of them was clad in crimson and gold, but that would be too easy. 

'The one wearing blue.' Rhaenyra said.

Laena squinted her eyes a little, considering. 'The one who is a bit old?' She continued her questions, head tilting. 

Rhaenyra repressed a grin. Both women were on the older side, but Laena was being nice about it. 'Yes, that one.' 

'No, I have never seen her before.' Laena admitted freely, honest and curious. She had probably seen the woman in passing, but as her house had no closer connection to House Velaryon, it was to be expected that Laena did not recognize her face. The only reason Rhaenyra did was because she had personally greeted almost every noblewoman in the Hall when they had arrived for the wedding, and had therefore had the opportunity to match names she knew to faces she did not. 

Rhaenyra decided to give her cousin a hint. 'Perhaps you have heard her House's words. Behold our Bounty.'

It only took Laena a few seconds to find the correct answer. 'House Merryweather!'

'Who are they sworn to?' Rhaenyra pressed.

'House Tyrell.' Again, the answer came quick and certain.

'Their words?' 

'Growing Strong.'

Very good. 'What of their territories?'

'The Reach, which they rule from Highgarden.' Rhaenyra would have been satisfied with that bit, but Laena continued without prompting. 'They became the ruling House because they yielded the Reach to Aegon the Conqueror after King Mern the Ninth Gardner was killed in the Field of Fire.' 

Rhaenyra only barely kept herself from reaching over to ruffle Laena's hair with pride. 'Well done. I see you know your history.'

Laena blushed prettily. 'The maesters say I excel at history and Valyrian.' 

'Nyke biare naejot rȳbagon ziry.' Rhaenyra told her.

'Kirimvose, ñuha dārilaros.' 

Rhaenyra smiled indulgently. She simply adored Laena, even more so now that she was her ward. 

'Valyrian, many across the Narrow Sea insist, is the only true language for poetry,' the princess said, 'and indeed, Prince Daemon often brings me books filled to the brim with poems of all kinds in our mother tongue. I could lend you some, if you would like.' 

Laena's eyes brightened perceptibly as she agreed with a girlish grin. 

Rhea, Rhaenyra noticed, also watched the girl with a benevolent slant to her mouth, eyes soft as they rested on Rhaenyra's ward, until she stiffened almost imperceptibly as one of the ladies seemed to finally gather the courage to approach their table.

The lady did not look Rhaenyra in the eye, but rather looked to Lady Royce for permission to approach, which Rhaenyra noticed with approval. It was the proper way of these things - to pretend that as royalty, the Heir to the Iron Throne was not to be directly approached, but rather addressed by way of her chief lady-in-waiting, unless one had already been introduced.

Rhea leaned forward and murmured, 'Lady Alerie Frey seeks introduction, my Princess.' 

Rhaenyra took a sip of her tea, for no other reason than to remind everyone that no matter their titles or lands or ancestry, they all awaited the pleasure of House Targaryen. Swallowing the fragrant mouthful, she inclined her head to Rhea. 'Very well.' 

Lady Alerie Frey, Fool Frey's mother, had not been seen at Court ever since she had implied to Queen Aemma that she ought to beat Rhaenyra's willfulness out of her whilst she still could. Rhaenyra's mother had never divulged such to her father, nor had she ever allowed the other courtiers to hear of Lady Frey's audacious advice, but the very next day, Alerie was gone from Court, and had not returned until the King chose a new wife. 

How interesting, that she had chosen to come to the princess now. 

'Princess Rhaenyra. I do not know if you remember me, but I once was one of your mother's companions, many years ago. I am Alerie Frey.' She was just as tall as Rhaenyra remembered her, with an almost gaunt face and stern eyes. Her mouth did not smile easily, Rhaenyra noted, as she returned the lady's curtsy with a regal nod and a charming smile. 

'Of course I do, my lady. I was quite a bit shorter then, but you will find me no less outspoken.' Rhaenyra gestured at the many chairs surrounding the table. 'Please, make yourself comfortable. I look forward to speaking with you.' 

It was a lie, of course, but then again, most of the pleasantries she exchanged with others were. 

Lady Frey's smile, where it had been pinched before, became even tighter, her lips so pale they seemed more belonging to a corpse than a living woman. 'Thank you, princess. I see you have learned your manners, after all these years.' 

Rhea stiffened tellingly, her glare like an arrow, and Rhaenyra was tempted to let her scare off Lady Alerie, if for no other reason than her own amusement. But no. Rhaenyra should at least figure out why Alerie was here. 

'Indeed, my mother taught me well. But what of you, Lady Alerie? What have you been doing these last few years?' 

The woman finally gave up her frightening attempts at forcing her mouth into a position it was no longer made for, and frowned. It suited her face much better. 'I have born my husband many children, two boys and five girls. One of them I already gave to the silent sisters, another is wed.' For a moment, it seemed the lady wanted to continue in this vein, blunt and forward as few courtiers ever were, before she caught herself. 'Her wedding was quite recent, a modest affair to be perfectly honest, but I can rest easier knowing she is taken care of.' 

Lady Alerie's frown grew even more pronounced, her shoulders rigid. 'It must be a relief,' she said, 'to know your oldest friend is in the same position. She was such a tiny thing, when I saw her last, always trailing after you like a lost duckling.' 

Rhaenyra kept her lips from pinching by sheer force of will. She refused to give Lady Frey the satisfaction. Rhea's glare, in contrast, grew ever fiercer. 'Queen Alicent is indeed my oldest friend, and to know she has been blessed by the Gods to find true love is a balm on my soul.' 

Lady Frey hummed with condescension. 'Praise to the Maiden for that. Speaking of which,' a sly smile stole onto her mouth, and Rhaenyra was once more startled by just how grotesque she looked when her lips turned up, 'there has been a most unsavory rumor making the rounds. I do not know if you are aware, but it seems your blessed oldest friend is not quite as innocent as she has been presenting herself to be.' 

While this was just the conclusion Rhaenyra wished for people to draw, the way Alerie Frey spoke made something unpleasant coil in Rhaenyra's stomach. She did not know whether to defend Alicent, feign offense at her behalf or stay on the course she had plotted exactly for a situation such as this. She was frozen, even if only for a moment, with indecision, in spite of the fact that she knew the wisest choice to make would be to throw Alicent to the wolves and watch them feast. 

Rhaenyra straightened her spine and lifted her chin. 'Regrettably I believe I know which rumor you are referring to. All the same, I would suggest that if you wish to gain further insight into the issue, to simply ask, rather than imply. You have never been shy, my lady, do not play coy. It does not suit you.' She told Lady Frey coldly. It would not do to have her think she could play Rhaenyra so easily. It would do even less for her to believe Rhaenyra childish enough to jump at shadows. 

Lady Frey, for her part, did not hesitate. 'Very well, if you insist.' She leaned forward, greed burning in her gaze. 'Did Alicent Hightower bleed on her wedding night?' 

It was precisely the moment Rhaenyra had been waiting for. She affected the need to take a deep breath, as though bracing herself, a quick dart of her eyes into her lap as if she could not stand to hear the words aloud even though she had asked for them, tongue darting out to wet her lips in a deliberate imitation of nervousness, quick to show and just as quick to be hidden behind the impervious mask of the Crown Princess of Westeros. 

She leaned back in her seat. 'She did not.' Rhaenyra told her, and watched her eyes light up. 'However,' she continued, holding up her hand to forestall any interruption, 'Alicent has assured me that her lack of bleeding stems from a lack of bedding, rather than any unsavory action on her part.' 

Rhaenyra watched Alerie Frey closely, and so could bear witness to the disbelief which showed itself on her face before she could hide it. Even after the lady managed to put her expression back to a mask of neutrality, the doubt in her voice betrayed her. 'And you believe such?' 

The princess lifted her shoulders. Pretending to be naive would not aid her with this woman. 'I must, for openly questioning the Queen's virtue is treason.' She narrowed her eyes at Lady Alerie. 'She has sworn that she came to the King untouched,' she said, the implication clear: She had never said when she had come to the King. 

Judging from the sound Alerie made, she caught Rhaenyra's precise wording, though she wisely did not comment on it, in her presence, at least. Doubtlessly, she would have no issue speculating on the matter with the other noblewomen later. 'Certainly, I meant no offense,' she replied smoothly, folding her hands in her lap. 'Yet whilst we are on the topic of weddings, there is one more thing I had hoped to ask of you, Princess Rhaenyra.' 

Satisfied with Lady Alerie's response, she nodded in acquiescence. 'Do tell,' she invited, taking another swallow of tea. 

Alerie let out an aggrieved sigh. 'As I said, I have many daughters - I want you take another one off my hands, the sooner the better. Pick whichever one you like and do with her as you please, as long as you make her a good match. That is my offer.' 

Rhaenyra knew her smile had frozen on her face. The dismissive way Alerie spoke of her own children did something to her insides, something quite unpleasant. All the same, she could not snap at the other woman as she would certainly like to. Not yet. 

'You have quite a bit to gain, should I take you up on this. What do you offer me in turn, Lady Alerie?' 

Lady Frey's eyes sharpened, her lips thinned and her nostrils flared. 'You would need to speak to my husband about these matters, princess. I only come as a messenger. Of course, there is no rush, and you are more than welcome to come to the Twins to talk things through in depth. The Lord of the Crossing would welcome you with open arms.' 

Oh dear, it appeared that Lady Frey did not agree with her husband at all. But that was just fine. Now that she had served her purpose, Rhaenyra wanted nothing to do with Alerie Frey, truth be told. 'Very well, I shall do so.' 

Lady Frey rose and curtsied once again. 'We await your raven, princess.' 

She swept off the dais with a poise that belied her displeasure, and Rhaenyra was glad to see her gone. 

'She doesn't like you very much, cousin,' Laena observed, and Rhaenyra repressed a sigh.

'Indeed, she does not.' The princess replied, voice devoid of emotion. 

'You don't like her, either,' Laena continued, sipping on her tea. 'But you both pretend there is no dislike at all. Mother says it is important not to wear one's feelings too openly, but I wonder why she came to you if neither of you are pleased in the other's company.' 

Rhaenyra's lips twitched up. 'I will tell you all about why that is later, I promise.'

Laena nodded in easy acquiescence, seemingly satisfied. 

A change of topic was in order, as far as Rhaenyra was concerned. 'Tell me, Laena, how fares your brother? I have not seen him much.' Rhaenyra asked, reaching for a honey cake.

Laena's lips turned down a bit, her brow crumpling. 'Laenor is well, if a bit restless. He enjoys the luxuries of the Keep, and training with the older knights. He is improving his swordplay every day. Father is very proud.' 

'That is good to hear. He will grow into a splendid knight himself, I do not doubt.' 

Laena nodded. 'He enjoys fighting,' she said, 'and I like that he enjoys himself.' 

Rhaenyra smiled, nodding along. Laenor had indeed become a fine knight, honorable and just, in a life gone by, but that did not mean he had developed a taste for duty. Although he had never blatantly shirked it, either, Rhaenyra had had to command him to take responsibility, once. She had no wish to do so again. 

'He has many years to do so, yet. As do you.'

Laena smiled. 'I don't doubt that I will have fun by your side, Rhaenyra. Or that I will learn a great many things, and see many wondrous sights. But I miss my brother already, even when I need only go to the training yard to see him.'

Rhaenyra's smile turned bittersweet. 'You are both growing up, and in doing so, growing into different people than you are today. But you will always be siblings, and the love you share will not fade because of distance, I can assure you of that.' 

Not that she knew much of sibling love herself, but she would never forget her sons, and the love they'd all had for each other. How much they had suffered when one after the other had been lost to the ravages of war.

'Did you love your brothers?' Laena asked, blissfully unaware of Rhaenyra's musings. 

The princess swallowed with some difficulty, reaching for her goblet for a mouthful of wine. 'I do, even still. Over time, loving them became painful, but I could never bring myself to stop entirely.' 

She was not lying, not even about the brothers that Alicent had birthed. She had, for a time, loved them, right until Aemond had killed Luke, she had loved them. She had not loved them devotedly or unconditionally, but she had loved them. 

Perhaps that was why it had hurt so much, when news had reached her of Aegon's crowning.

Laena nodded thoughtfully. 'You would have been a great older sister, I'm sure.' 

'Indeed, Rhaenyra would have been. I can see it in the way she treats both you and your brother,' Rhea agreed, smiling at Laena and Rhaenyra both, her dark eyes warm. Rhaenyra returned her smile somewhat bashfully, glad she had not shared her tentative ideas about preventing any more siblings from being brought into the world with the Lady of Runestone. 

'My princess, my ladies, excuse my interruption.' A quiet, dignified voice called. Rhaenyra turned in her seat, intrigued and eager for a change of topic. 'I had been invited by the Princess Rhaenys to join you all this morning, but it appears she has not yet arrived.' 

Rhaenyra looked the new arrival up and down with a critical eye, searching through her knowledge of nobles Rhaenys entertained more than a fleeting acquaintance with and concluded that the noblewoman was probably from the stormlands, and most likely in favor with House Baratheon. The stormlands were, like most southron regions, not lacking in nobility great and small, but Rhaenyra had no doubt that, if Rhaenys personally invited her to break her fast with the princess of Dragonstone, she must be a valued member of Lord Baratheon's court. 

That left two possible families, Connington and Morrigen, both the other's neighbor, both old and rich, but only one with a matriarch old enough to fit the lines Rhaenyra saw in the woman's face, the streaks of grey in her hair.  'You are most welcome, of course, Lady Connington.' She offered graciously. 'Please, have a seat. My cousin will join us momentarily, I have no doubt.' 

Lady Connington inclined her head and moved around the table to sit closer to Laena rather than Rhea, which only made sense as she was here on Rhaenys' behest. 'Thank you, Princess, although I do not mean to make any imposition on your time. Should you be preoccupied I will endeavor to keep my inquiry short.' She assured, but Rhaenyra waved her off. 

'There is no need for hurry. There are certainly times in which efficiency is imperative, but I do not believe our get together fits that category. Tea?' 

Lady Connington nodded in slight bafflement, reaching for one of the pots. 'My apologies. I did not mean to imply there to be a sense of undue urgency on my part, or indeed yours, my princess, though I appreciate your assurance.' She took a dainty sip, sighing when the flavor diffused on her tongue. 'I see why Princess Rhaenys insisted I introduce myself. You are rather thoughtful for your age, and more courteous than many would expect from someone in your position, if you don't mind me saying so.' 

Rhaenyra swallowed the ash that lingered on her tongue. 'Not at all, my lady. Many share your sentiment, but I am happy to prove otherwise.' 

The lady inclined her head, conceding graciously. 'You do, my princess, forgive me my bluntness. With the recent upheavals in your life, no one would begrudge you some time to yourself, but you have taken over your mother's duties with an aptitude and confidence that has astonished many. It is humbling to witness, my princess.' 

Lady Connington spoke with a certain gravitas about her, a solemnity that would not be out of place on a Northerner. Rhaenyra had not expected any less from a woman that enjoyed the confidence of Princess Rhaenys Targaryen. When Rhaenys' mother, Lady Jocelyn Baratheon, had died, Lord Boremund, Rhaenys' uncle, had been devastated. His own wife had not long before, and that had left House Baratheon without a matriarch. Many of the roles of the Lady of House Baratheon had been jointly taken over by Ladies Morrigen and Connington, as was custom. They were both from old, noble and loyal families, and would have been quite close to Lord Boremund's late wife. Rhaenyra had never been too interested in House Baratheon as a whole, but considering their strong ties to House Targaryen, perhaps it was time to change that. The fact that Lady Connington had approached Rhaenyra spoke volumes, as Lord Baratheon would doubtlessly have known her intentions and approved of them. 

'Thank you, my lady, I am honored to hear you say so.' She took a sip of her beverage. 'Your family has long been close to my cousin's, as House Baratheon enjoys your loyalty in all matters.'

She inclined her head in agreement. 'We are honored by our Lord's trust, and we are honored by Princess Rhaenys'. When I was a lady-in-waiting to Lady Jocelyn, I had the privilege of watching her grow into the formidable woman she is today, a privilege you will share in regards to Lady Laena.' Lady Connington offered Laena a warm smile which was easily returned. She folded her hands in her lap, dismay clouding her features even as the dignity of age kept her upright. 'The princess is held in high regard in the stormlands, as you must know. We were ready to defend her claim to the Iron Throne over your father's, but acquiesced to his rule because Princess Rhaenys commanded it.'  

Rhaenyra was grateful that she had nothing in her mouth or hands as Lady Connington spoke, for she certainly would have made a mess were it otherwise. She had been taught that King Jaehaerys' succession had been fraught with tension which had just barely been prevented from boiling over into war because of the Great Council. But she had also been taught that the lords had bent the knee to King Viserys because the matter had been settled for years before the Old King had died. She'd had no idea that even afterwards, there had been lords who would have fought for Rhaenys' claim, had she only given word. 

She took a deep, slow breath through her nose to force her heart to calm down so her hands would not shake as she raised her eyebrows a fraction, affecting mild surprise - for she was certain she had not been able to completely mask how the lady's statement had thrown her. 'I had not known such, I confess,' she said, reaching for another egg and some sausage. 'Yet it begs the question, why tell me now?' She dripped honey onto her bread, just a smidge to avoid a mess. 

Lady Connington kept her gaze fixed on Rhaenyra as she answered, 'For good or ill, the King has chosen you as his Heir, the same way Jaehaerys chose him. The same tension lies in the air as it did back then, the same threat of war is on the horizon. For the moment, we are safe because you are the King's only living child, and the few who would press your uncle's claim would not be enough to secure him the throne. You are, in essence, the lesser evil. That will change the moment the new queen bears your father a son.' 

Rhea, who had been content to listen so far, spoke. 'You are not telling us anything new, Lady Connington.' She swirled her wine in its' glass, leaning forward. 'There will come a time when all must choose, whether they wish it or not.' 

Lady Connington turned her eyes on the Lady of Runestone, whose voice held a quiet threat not helped by her harsh words. Rhaenyra could not fault her. The Lady Connington was rapidly sapping her patience. 'Quite, my lady, and I am under no delusion which side you are on. Or the Princess Rhaenys.' She produced a sealed roll of parchment from her wide sleeve with a flourish Rhaenyra envied. 'Which is why Lord Baratheon hereby cordially invites you and your entourage to Storm's End, to celebrate your installment as Heir to the Iron Throne. He also offers you to take your pick of the maidens of his bannermen, so you might always be surrounded by friends.' 

Rhaenyra and Rhea shared a look even as the Lady Royce leaned over to take the letter from Lady Connington. It was as much a show of devotion as it was a way to remind Lady Connington of her place. She did not have the standing or favor that would allow her to act so familiarly with the Princess of Dragonstone. She clearly took Rhea's meaning if the brief wooden quality of her smile was anything to go by. 

'I am of course most honored by Lord Baratheon's invitation and accept wholeheartedly. Please relay my sentiments to your lord, my lady,' Rhaenyra told her, voice honey-sweet and cheeks lightly dusted in a charming blush. 

Lady Connington, to her credit, accepted the dismissal for what it was and rose without delay, her duty done. 'Certainly, my princess. With your leave?'

Rhaenyra simply nodded, barely registering the lady bidding farewell to first Laena and then Rhea, or Roslyn clearing away the lady's used cup.   

Another lady approached their table, and the Game continued.

Lord Tyrell was not the most imposing man Rhaenyra had ever seen - that spot was kept, quite securely, by Lord Corlys Velaryon - but he did his damndest to come close. Rhaenyra was not quite certain whether it was his height, his width or the way the man carried himself, but Rhaenyra could appreciate his sheer presence. 

She did not smile when he bowed and kissed her ringed hand, the very picture of courtesy. Instead, she graced him with a regal nod and took his arm as he offered it, allowing her hand to settle daintily in the inner crook of his elbow as he led them into the sprawling gardens of the Keep, the salt-scented air gently whispering through their hair, making Lord Tyrell's cloak flutter and Rhaenyra's dress sway to tunes unheard. 

'I am grateful for this opportunity to speak with you, my Princess,' Lord Tyrell began after they had walked for a few moments, their steps in sync. He had purposefully timed his own steps to match hers, effectively letting her set the pace. While to an outsider it may look like she was quietly letting him lead, in truth he was the one following her. It pleased Rhaenyra. She recognized what he was doing, but saw no need to call him on it - if he was doing it in hopes of manipulating her, it would not do to let him know she had caught on. 

'In truth, if you do not mind my boldness, there are matters to be discussed that I am grateful to speak to you about, rather than our king.' He chuckled ruefully. 'Please do not mistake my words for insults, they are not meant as such.' 

Rhaenyra tilted her head, not miming her intrigue. 'I have found, these past few days, that those that insist they mean no insult often only use those assurances as a preface to attempt to insult without reproach. Perhaps, you will be the exception that proves the rule, my lord. Please, continue.' 

Lord Tyrell, rather than be put off by her words, seemed to take them at face value, which either spoke to his character or his stupidity. 'My princess is too kind. I, the same as many other Lords in the Realm, have daughters that could have pleased the King. I do not wish to place blame on anyone's feet, but it seems to me as though our king has passed over many maidens in his wooing of Lady Alicent, whose elevation my House and I can only welcome and support, naturally.' 

'Naturally,' Rhaenyra echoed with a hint of sarcasm, the displeasure in Lord Tyrell's voice telling her that he, should she wish to hear more, required a sympathetic ear she was happy to lend.

'There are some who insist a certain expectation we all held has not been met,' he began delicately, 'and there is hope you might be able to dispel the doubts those few are sowing among us. I wish not to put you in any discomforting position, Princess, yet I cannot endure this strain on a House so near and dear to my own, and, as their liege lord, would entreat you to answer my query.' 

Rhaenyra answered with a light hum while she gathered her thoughts. It was an interesting strategy, relying on House Tyrell's technical authority over House Hightower to get Rhaenyra to spill Alicent's secrets, while framing it as concern for the lady herself rather than the seeking of political advantage it was. 

House Hightower held a great deal of influence in the Reach, and now, the rest of the Realm, and House Tyrell, young and comparatively weak as they were, had to scramble for any leverage they could to keep the older House from reaching beyond their grasp. It was not a stretch to worry that the Hightowers might use Alicent's new position to plead with the King to make Alicent's uncle, who ruled Oldtown, the Lord Paramount, supplanting House Tyrell and reducing them to the stewards they once were.

Rhaenyra could work with this. 

'Thank you for bringing your concern to me, Lord Tyrell,' Rhaenyra said, voice lilting yet serious. 'The trust you are showing by doing so is not misplaced, I assure you. A disquieting number of nobles have all but accosted me in the Lady's Hall, seeking the same answers as you, though I did my best to ward them off. Should I answer you, I first require your vow that you will not use your knowledge to harm Alicent in any way, or tarnish her reputation.' 

The princess could all but see Lord Tyrell's mouth water at the sheer scandal her words were implying. Rhaenyra fought her urge to smile, instead putting on a small pout, her bottom lip jutting out only slightly. 'Do I have your vow?' The reason she asked for him to swear to her was twofold: On one hand, should he keep to his word, she would know his honor was more important to him than political advantages. On the other, should he break his vow, he would prove not worthy of trust, and, depending on who he told, whether he was a player or pawn. Either way, it benefited her. 

For Lord Tyrell, the wisest thing to do for the sake of his own legacy, would be to align himself with her, and put his overly mighty bannermen back it their place with her assistance, asserting his dominance and securing his place at Rhaenyra's court, propelling House Tyrell to prominence under her reign. That, however, was a long ways away, and might therefore not be a prospect attractive enough for him to pursue, and so could lead to him instead running to Otto Hightower to tell him what Rhaenyra had said about his daughter, so he might bury it as lies and slander lest others start believing Alicent impure. 

Which was precisely why Rhaenyra had not hesitated to tell the truth to the many who had wanted to hear it. Whether it would become twisted or not, she had no way of influencing, but at least she could use her advantage while she had it. After all, if Alicent lied about something as vital as her maidenhead, the only logical conclusion was that she would lie about other matters also, and as a consequence, could not be trusted at all. 

'Certainly, you do.' Lord Tyrell replied at last, remarkably calm. He kept his eyes straight ahead, always on the path so that they would not stumble. Rhaenyra smiled a little. 

'That comforts me greatly, my lord,' she said, allowing relief to color her voice. It was only pretend, of course, but she knew he was desperate to see her as a friend to the Queen, and so would take comfort in her tone. Even if he was not, for now, it would serve her best to appear as Alicent's ally at least to those who also sought the Queen's favor - which they would do until she became known as spoiled goods.

She took a deep breath, as though to steel herself against the words she must speak. 'For a long time,' she began, calm and steady, 'Alicent and I have been the closest of friends. She was with me through the worst moments of my life, short though it may still be, and for that alone, I hold only the greatest fondness for her.' She made sure to tilt her head up at Lord Tyrell, who caught her gaze and held it. 'When there was no one I felt I could turn to, Alicent was there. It is the least I can do, I feel, to return that loyalty now that she needs it, when she is so very alone in her new position, and seems so lost.' She sighed softly, squeezing Lord Tyrell's arm. 'What you need to understand, my lord, is that I trust Alicent, and love her as the sister I have never had. So when the time came to do her duties to her King as his wife, I was the one tasked to ready her for the bedding, and to observe our Queen the morning after.'

At that point, she hesitated, if only to see how Lord Tyrell would react. His eyes were narrowed and his nostrils flared, she noted, but she could not say with certainty whether his expression was due to anticipation or dismay - or perhaps, both.

Either way, she had to press on. 'What I saw was not what I, or indeed, anyone could have expected. Alicent remains, as she tells me, untouched and unspoiled, as did her sheets.' 

Lord Tyrell audibly sucked in a breath, eyes wide as his arm tensed, unable to hide his physical reaction to Rhaenyra's confession. The hand she still had in the crook of his elbow was squeezed not unpleasantly by his strong arm, but all the same, she felt suddenly untethered. It was one thing to plan and discuss and scheme, and another entirely to actually enact those schemes. In relaying the facts of Alicent's wedding night, Rhaenyra had changed the course of history, and in doing so with Lord Tyrell, had put the man at her mercy. He could not sit on knowledge like this, not when the entire Keep was abuzz with speculation which Rhaenys and Jeyne were only facilitating, while Alicent was slinking in and out of the sept in a manner that could not seem more guilt-ridden if she tried, while the Crown Princess and Heir to the Throne was the only person who could be reasonably relied on for truthful information.

And so it would spread, from one honorable and powerful lord to another, until all thought they knew what had truly been the reason for the King's choice in wife, like ripples across a pond. The ladies' gossiping could be dismissed as just that, but Rhaenyra had deliberately chosen Lord Tyrell as the first ruling Lord to be told of Alicent's intact maidenhead. As her liege lord, he was bound by honor to defend her virtues, and so could be relied on to spread the truth Alicent had insisted on the morning after her wedding, leaving Rhaenyra as all but blameless when the crows descended on the rot of Alicent's reputation. Nothing was more enticing than which was left to the imagination, and no truth anyone could tell was so delicious as a sordid secret, imagined or otherwise. 

Rhaenyra affected a gentle frown, her lips downturned and brows drawn together. 'I confide in you, my lord, because I trust that you also only have Alicent's best interests at heart, as her family are your own bannermen.' She stopped abruptly, amid the flowerbeds and sunshine of the gardens, their surroundings a peaceful contrast to the storm brewing behind Lord Tyrell's eyes. 

'Princess, before I say anything on the delicate matter at hand, I must first thank you for your courage in admitting something of this nature to me. Your trust humbles me, and I will strive to prove worthy of it for as long as I live,' he swore, his hands clasped around her own. 'I assure you that all you have said to me in these gardens will remain here, and no mention of it shall pass my lips without your permission, but, my princess, I must beseech you: Tell me, do you believe Queen Alicent?'

Rhaenyra, caught however momentarily off-guard, could not stop her expression from betraying her shock and dismay. 'She is my oldest friend, I have told you-' 

'Yes,' he interrupted, agitated, 'so you have said, but the heart of the issue remains thus: Do you believe her, truly, or do you only want to?' 

She stared at Lord Tyrell, taking a conscious breath lest she slap the audacious man right across the face in sheer indignity. How dare he? She was the princess of the Seven Kingdoms, the future Queen, and he was her subject. How dare he attempt to command her?

'Unhand me this instant, my lord,' she said, voice quiet but impossible to ignore, the command in it as clear as day. Lord Tyrell let go of her as if the fire in her blood had burned him, shame overtaking his features for a moment. She seized the opportunity shamelessly. 'I am not here to be interrogated like some sort of petty criminal, I am here out of courtesy for your House, which has proven its loyalty to mine when so few others saw the wisdom of surrender. Do not make me regret that choice, for I assure you, it will be the most grievous mistake you could possibly make in this life.' 

Lord Tyrell had blanched considerably. 'Princess, I-'

'I will not hear any more of this,' she cut him off, voice like ice. To her satisfaction, he fell silent instantly. 'Regardless of your unfortunate loss of control, you have given me your word that you would not speak of our conversation to others, and I shall hold you to it. In a few weeks, I will tour the kingdoms, and Highgarden is, naturally, one of the many keeps I will grace with a visit. We shall speak more then, when you have had time to compose yourself.' She offered the flick of her fingers as he made to apologize again. 

'A raven will be sent to you once things are finalized. Until then, I look forward to seeing your seat.' She decided to offer him a sliver of assurance he had not fumbled his House's future quite yet by adding, 'You may wish to present one of your daughters to me then, to take with me as a lady-in-waiting.' 

She stepped back and watched him bow just a tad lower than the Lord of a major House usually would, even before his future sovereign. 'Of course, my princess. Please forgive me my trespass, I will be honored to receive you at Highgarden.'

Rhaenyra nodded at him. 'Lord Tyrell.'

She left him there, amid the sprawling pathways and lush greenery of the gardens, so she could make her way back to the Red Keep. Maybe she would send for Ser Cole, whose absence was beginning to be noted, not only by the ever watchful Rhea, but his fellow Kingsguard brothers. 

Her septa caught up with her as she just exited the main garden to one of the more hidden pathways that led down to the sea. She had, to Rhaenyra's memory, always been old, but she seldom looked as harried as she did then, her eyes flinty and mouth pursed, face red from exertion. How odd. 

'Septa Marlow,' she greeted, voice light and airy, a demure smile firmly in place as she wondered why in seven hells the good septa would look so frazzled this fine day. 

'Princess Rhaenyra,' the old woman returned, her usual solemnity nowhere to be found as she put her hands on her hips and proceeded to try and scold Rhaenyra like an impertinent child, a hurried curtsy all the courtesy she was capable of. 'You have not been at our lessons these past days, yet somehow, have found time enough to entertain in the Ladies' Hall, and now, of all things, I hear you are taking walks, unchaperoned, I might add, with young men when you are not yet wed! Where, pray tell, is Ser Criston? Lady Rhea? At this point, I should be relieved if even a maid was nearby to ensure nothing untoward happened! You are the Crown Princess, not some minor nobility, have I taught you nothing?' 

At the end of her tirade, all the emotion seemed to seep out of the septa, her shoulders dropping and tension ebbing. 'You are not a little girl anymore, you are almost a woman grown. There is talk of inappropriate dances with your own uncle, and many lords of the realm.' Marlow looked at her sternly, voice tight. 'And on the eve of your own father's wedding, no less. Are you aware of how that looks?' 

Rhaenyra held back the urge to roll her eyes at the septa's dramatics. True enough, she had shared dances with many lords, but under the watchful eye of her cousins, father, the Kingsguard and, oh, all the Realm, nothing of indecent nature had happened. 

She shot her septa a charming smile, the Realm's Delight. 'I assure you, septa, the good lord was a perfect gentleman the entire time. He is also wed, if that will help ease your mind, and I am not helpless.' Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a blur of white and silver, the bounce of lush curls. A bit louder than strictly necessary, she continued, 'My Sworn Shield was also present, although I am not surprised you did not see him. I bid him to give me some privacy, but he was diligent in his duty as always,' she finished, just as Ser Criston took his customary place at her back, a large protective shadow whose gaze was fixed on the septa in a way that could only be considered intimidating. 

He did not take well to attempts at her honor or dignity, after all. 

'Ser Cole,' Septa Marlow said, remarkably composed. There was not a hint of fear in her voice or posture. 'How wonderful of you to join us, late though you are.' 

Criston, to his credit, did not flinch or show any other sign of reproach at her chiding tone. 'Septa Marlow,' he acknowledged, back straight and not a hint of a bow in sight, a clear sign she had insulted him with her implications. 'I have not seen you in quite a while, have you been well?' 

'As well as can be when my charge seems intent on avoidance of her duties.' She replied. 

Cole tilted his head. 'Indeed? All I have witnessed these past days is our future Queen tackling her responsibilities with a seriousness that would put many lords to shame.' 

Rhaenyra appreciated his defense of her actions, but she appreciated the way Marlow's eye twitched even more, and gifted Ser Criston a warm smile as praise for his efforts. He returned it, eyes crinkling at the corners. 'While I rejoice to hear you have taken your new role seriously, princess, I might remind you that your elevation only increases the need for you to put more effort into your lessons.' The septa closed her eyes and took a deep breath, looking for all the world as though she were praying to the Mother for strength. She most likely was. 'I am aware that this burden that the King had placed on your shoulders weighs heavily. You may take solace in the fact that once Queen Alicent, Gods be good, gives him a son, that weight will be lifted from you, along with any undue attentions owing to that weight.' 

Rhaenyra felt her smile freeze on her face and Ser Criston bristle at her back. For once, she absolutely endorsed his protectiveness, and did not stop him from answering Marlow in her stead. 

'You forget your place, septa,' he hissed at her, displeasure radiating off every word. 'It is not for you to decide who inherits the Iron Throne, and the King has chosen Princess Rhaenyra not for any small or petty reason, but because she is the one best suited to the crown. It might chafe at you, that she does not require your advice on her every step, but that is your failing, and I suggest you do not ever attempt to place blame on our future Queen again, for I will not take kindly to it. As for your hopes for Queen Alicent, perhaps you had best go and pray on them, since I do believe you have outstayed your welcome here.'

Septa Marlow drew herself up to her full height. 'It is not me, Ser, who has forgotten their place. It is not for you to answer in the princess' stead-' 

'Indeed,' Rhaenyra cut in, 'it is not. However, harsh though his words may be, the sentiment rings true. My father has, after a great many years, chosen me as his heir. To think that he would depose me, after going through the trouble of installing me, is with all due respect, foolish. Should Alicent bear a son, I will be grateful, and love my brother with all my heart, but unless my father bids otherwise, I shall not consider my brother the future king.' Rhaenyra fixed Marlow with a hard stare. 'It is concerning that you would assume otherwise, septa, although I suppose I understand your reasoning. All the same, allow me to disabuse you of that notion.' 

Rhaenyra stepped back and nodded at Cole. 'We shall be off. I have another meeting in half a bell, and I would hate to be late for it. I will see you tomorrow, septa. Please excuse me.' 

With that, she whirled around, her steps sure and unfaltering, Criston Cole a tall shadow at her shoulder, precisely one step behind her. 'Forgive me my tardiness, Princess,' he asked, once they were safely out of septa Marlow's earshot. 'I did not mean to leave you unguarded. I do hope nothing of concern happened while I was not there to protect you?' 

Rhaenyra thought of Lord Tyrell's grip, his breath on her face and the look in his eyes. She smiled over her shoulder at Cole. 'Not at all, Ser Criston. Do not worry yourself unduly.' 

He inclined his head, though his eyes remained shadowed. 'I have finally found an appropriate Shield for Lady Laena, it might please you to know. He is a knight of House Velaryon, and has spent many hours guarding both the Lady Laena and her brother, Laenor. He is, from what I have surmised, brave and skilled, and his loyalty to Lord Corlys is absolute. He would give his life to defend your ward, and smile as he did so.' 

Genuine pleasure welled in Rhaenyra as she heard those words. 'Thank you, Ser Criston. It brightens my day to know Lady Laena shall be well protected even when her family returns to Driftmark. With your endorsement, she shall have one of her own for a protector.' 

Ser Cole all but glowed at the praise he inferred from her wording. But a few steps later, his demeanor soured. 'As we are on the topic, might I be so bold and ask after the queen? She has seen fit to ask me on my recommendations for which of my sworn brothers she ought to take as her personal shield.' He elaborated when Rhaenyra raised an eyebrow at him over her shoulder. She sighed at his answer. 

'I see. Well, Alicent is well within her rights to demand a Kingsguard solely devoted to her, and it stands to reason she would ask you for your opinion, as you are my own Sworn Shield. I am only glad she did not attempt to command you into the role,' she teased gently, noting with satisfaction how the idea enraged Cole. 

His voice was hard as he answered. 'She cannot do that, can she?' 

Rhaenyra shook her head, finding his worry sweet, if a little unnecessary. 'Only the King could command you to her side, for I assure you, I would not send you to do such a task,' she promised. 

Cole heaved a sigh of relief, making Rhaenyra chuckle lightly. 'Should you need me to watch the queen, Rhaenyra, I shall obey you. I would take any post, accept any mission, as long as it served you.' He told her earnestly, and Rhaenyra was glad he could not see her face. She did not want to think of what he could see there, how uncomfortable his fervor made her. She reminded herself how easily that devotion turned to loathing and schooled her features before she chanced to speak. 

'As always, your loyalty helps me bear my burdens with greater ease than I could on my own. Knowing I can rely on you so utterly gives me a comfort that cannot be matched.' The lie left her lips smoothly, voice warm and smile gentle, and she felt the pride that radiated off Criston in response. They stepped into the Keep, the heat of the Gardens becoming a fond memory as the shadowed cold the walls seemed to emit made a home in Rhaenyra's limbs.

The halls were filled with mingling nobility, and Rhaenyra could not be overlooked with her red dress and tall shadow as they cleaved through the scions of various Houses, all taking the opportunity to mingle and chat and scheme. She kept her smile just as firmly in place as her perfect posture.  

Thankfully, she spotted Jeyne a bit off to the side, deep in conversation with, of all people, Lord Strong of Harrenhal. Rhaenyra instinctively looked around for Ser Harwin, but to her consternation, did not see him in the immediate vicinity. Though, perhaps that was for the best. She did not know how she would hold herself together if she saw him again, healthy and handsome and - not hers. No, just a knight, for now, not yet Commander of the City Watch, not her lover, not the father of her sons. Only a man who did not know her yet, who would never know her as he once had.

Rhaenyra could not falter. She contemplated simply turning another direction, perhaps head for Lord Stark instead, or Lord Celtigar. But that would be a cowardly thing to do. Harrenhal was an important strategic location, not to be discounted should it come to war, and having its Lord as her ally would only aid her, especially once she got rid of his ambitious second son. Inconspicuously, of course - both Lyonel and Harwin loved Larys, misplaced though that love was. 

Lyonel would be named Master of Laws in just a few days, if Rhaenyra recalled correctly, having been named on the tail end of the King's wedding celebrations in her previous life. He had been steadfast in his service, and never reached above his station, and though he had disapproved of Harwin's dalliances with the princess he had kept quiet about them - but that he owed to the fact that acknowledgement of their involvement would have meant Harwin's death. 

She wondered why Jeyne had singled him out, before deciding it was most likely Rhea's doing. They had discussed Harrenhal's strategic importance just a little while ago, so it made sense that Jeyne had already engaged its Lord. She worked fast, her cousin, and Rhaenyra once more found herself grateful for her steadfast support. 

Jeyne's back was to the room, but her sky blue and cream dress was a dead giveaway, not to mention that Rhaenyra was confident she could pick Jeyne out of a crowd of hundreds after spending some time with her, the sight of her a gentle relief after the cold her septa's words had left the princess with. Lord Lyonel's stout figure, likewise, assured Rhaenyra of her choices. How strange, Rhaenyra mused, to see them so close together now, when in her previous life, they had to her knowledge only ever seen one another in passing, if at all. Her polite smile giving way to something real and warm, she made her way over to the two of them. 

Lyonel saw her first, his shrewd gaze encompassing Rhaenyra in her entirety as his conversation with Lady Arryn came to a halt to accommodate Rhaenyra's presence. The man had always seen the bigger picture, even when no one had given him credit for it. 'Lady Heir,' he greeted in his deep voice, a respectful bow following the words. She acknowledged him with a nod, the same respect emanating from her.

Jeyne turned around at his greeting, eyes lighting up as she saw her cousin. 'Rhaenyra! How wonderful of you to join us, we were just talking about you!' She exclaimed, opening her arms slightly so Rhaenyra could embrace her briefly, the gesture no less impactful for its quickness. 

'All good things, I would hope,' Rhaenyra teased gently, coming to stand between Lord Strong and Lady Arryn, Cole a single step behind her at her right. She looked at them and noted with satisfaction that they did not seem to be hostile toward each other, rather it appeared they were amicable. How wonderful. 

'But of course,' Lord Strong assured. He looked at the room behind them. 'Lady Arryn and I were just speaking of the Lady Laena, and how we are both certain she will flourish under your care.' 

Ah, so news of Rhaenyra's new ward had already made the rounds at court, no doubt pleasing House Velaryon, demonstrating where their loyalties lay. Rhaenyra offered a charming smirk. 'Thank you for your kind words, Lord Strong. I shall do my best to ensure Laena blossoms into the formidable Lady I have already caught glimpses of. In time, she will be the envy of the Kingdoms.' 

Lord Strong nodded in agreement. 'Of course, with blood like hers, and your tutelage, who could doubt it?' 

He had always been a man of few words, careful and calm, never stepping a toe out of line. Lord Strong was a valuable addition to the Small Council, a steadying influence in times of turmoil, especially with the War for the Stepstones looming on the horizon, a threat unknown to any but a select few, which would soon force her closest allies into a precarious position she knew the King would watch idly until no other option remained but to act, which in turn would insult the King's brother to the point of rage - a rage that ended the war for the time being. 

She laughed lightly at Lord Strong's words, and allowed a gentle flush to grace her cheeks. 'None, I would hope,' she replied, her voice low and intimate, prompting the Lord to lean a little closer. 'But enough about me. Tell me, Lord Strong, how are you finding Court? I imagine it is quite different from Harrenhal.' 

Lord Strong had the good sense to nod in agreement. 'Yes, quite different indeed. It is far more populated, for one.' From what she knew, Harrenhal, while vast and imposing, was cold, damp and a glorified ruin which fell apart barely slower than it was repaired, while many parts of the castle went entirely unused, a permanent sense of eerie gloom hanging about the place House Strong called home. 'Also,' Lord Strong continued, 'it has far greater luxuries to offer.' 

Rhaenyra hid a grimace. While the comforts of the Keep vastly outstripped those of Harrenhal, its dangers were just as ubiquitous, if better obscured. She resolved to assist the future Master of Laws in navigating the Court's pitfalls where she might.

'The company is also an improvement.' Jeyne chimed in, pulling Rhaenyra back into the present. Her cousin had a talent for lightening the mood, and Rhaenyra dreaded the day she would return to the Eyrie. 

Yet she was here for now, and Rhaenyra was happy to rely on her while she could. 

'I would never dare suggest otherwise, though the term improvement is quite an understatement.' He was looking at Jeyne as he spoke, and Rhaenyra felt her eyebrows rise in genuine astonishment.

Lyonel seemed just a little too flustered by Jeyne's words, a light dusting of color along his cheekbones. It appeared the Lady of the Vale had charmed him thoroughly before Rhaenyra had joined them, and Rhaenyra looked between the two with gentle amusement. 'I am glad you think so. Since I have rarely ever left the Keep, I cherish all insights other perspectives offer, as I am aware how, at times, the comfort that surrounds me blinds me to the plights of others. I wish to change that.' 

'Which brings us back to that tour I had mentioned before, Lord Strong,' Jeyne took over smoothly, her hand resting lightly on Rhaenyra's arm, a gesture both of them knew was noticed by the more observant nobles at their backs. 'After these festivities, our princess will visit her loyal subjects, beginning, I am honored to say, with the Vale of Arryn.' She offered Lord Strong a warm smile, and he could not seem to help himself as he smiled back, hanging onto her every word. 'I was wondering whether you would be amendable to housing her in Harrenhal when she travels through the riverlands. Your home is subject of a great many mysteries and intrigues, and inextricably linked to House Targaryen's own history in the Realm.' 

He was nodding before Jeyne had even finished speaking, but it was no surprise: Not a single lord would deny the princess' visit. Still, it was endearing how obviously charmed Lyonel was by Jeyne, even if nothing came of it. 'Of course, I would be honored to receive you, your Highness,' Lord Strong addressed Rhaenyra, head bowed deferentially. 'Even if I might not be present at the castle myself, my castellan shall offer you every comfort in my stead.' 

Jeyne tilted her head, curiosity gleaming in her eyes. 'Do you intend to travel, Lord Strong? Or will you be engaged otherwise, that you would be unable to personally host the Heir to the Iron Throne?' 

Lyonel paled slightly, but did not hesitate in his reply, nor did his voice tremble in the slightest. 'It is not a matter I am at liberty to discuss as of now, but I am afraid a new duty will call me permanently away from Harrenhal. My sons will come with me, and my daughters might, as well.' He offered an apologetic rise of the shoulders, the best he could.

Rhaenyra of course knew he was trying to avoid telling them that he would soon be appointed to serve as the Master of Laws on the Small Council, a position that had been left vacant after Prince Daemon had held it for about half a year. It was, incidentally, almost the exact same length of time it had been vacant for as of this week. Lord Lyonel would do his duty well, if past history proved the rule, and Rhaenyra was certain she could cultivate him as another ally on the Small Council. As Viserys' Heir, he would consider it his sworn duty to aid her in matters of legality and law, and she knew he would not attempt to deceive her or bog her down with unnecessary documents the way other masters on the Council might. 

With Lord Strong, three out of the six members of the Small Council would be hers. Lord Beesbury and Lord Velaryon were allies, and neither of them were friends to the Lord Hand, and she was reasonably confident she could sway Lord Commander Westerling to her side also. The Grandmaester she had determined to be a lost cause, mainly due to the Citadel's close relationship to House Hightower and the fact that Otto had had his claws in him ever since he had taken office. No, she would not waste time and risk alerting Otto to her plans by attempting to cultivate Runciter to her side. She would start at the very bottom, by finding a second, or third, son and getting him sent to the Citadel, supporting him from the shadows, and then, when the time was right, installing him as Grandmaester. 

But it would take years for that plan to come to fruition, so she would cultivate whatever allies she could in the meantime, and the Master of Laws was a most agreeable candidate. 

'All the same, my intention to visit your seat remains. I have every confidence that your castellan will take excellent care of me and my household.' She decided to put the poor man out of his misery. Jeyne's eyes, for all their beauty, could pierce one's soul, and while Rhaenyra knew Lord Strong to be made of sterner stuff, she still had no wish to put him through distress unduly. 'Speaking of your sons, I have heard one of them be called Breakbones. Ser Harwin, I believe his name is?' 

Lord Lyonel's expression changed to one of subtle relief and pride, Ser Harwin just as favored by him in this life as he had been in the other. 'Indeed, that is what they call him. He is my firstborn.' There was genuine happiness in the lord's voice when he spoke of his son, however short and matter-of-fact his statement was. 

'Would you consider him a good teacher?' Rhaenyra asked, thinking of Randalph Buckler. She had not yet heard from the boy's brother, but she had little doubt that she would. Knowing minor nobility, he was most likely fretting over how to best approach her without seeming presumptuous. A valid concern, if misplaced. 

Lord Strong hummed under his breath. 'I would like to think so, yes. He has the right temperament for it, and has already begun helping the lads in the training yard improve their swordplay.' His eyes narrowed shrewdly. 'Did you have someone you want trained? You clearly do not lack protection,' he said, gesturing at Ser Cole, who kept dutyfully silent. 

Rhaenyra offered an elegant shrug. 'Not as such, but considering his reputation, I would hope that some of the younger knights and squires could benefit from his tutelage, especially if he does have the temperament you claim. We can only profit from a man such as your son training with our knights, don't you agree?' 

'I have had the opportunity to observe Ser Harwin myself, and I must say Lord Strong is understating matters. He is most impressive, Rhaenyra, and from what I have seen, his ferocity is matched by his kindness.' Jeyne smiled at both the princess and the lord, leaving one rather more flustered than the other. 'I had been hoping to make his acquaintance today, but he appears to be absent.' 

Lord Lyonel took a moment to collect himself before replying, 'Yes, he is training. He hopes to join the gold cloaks, and help protect our capital.' 

'A most noble goal, certainly worth pursuing,' Rhaenyra said. She could see him before her mind's eye as he once had been, happy, handsome and beloved by the people, a gentle giant of a man who was ferocious in his protectiveness, who had been everything she had wished Laenor to be. She had longed for him for many years after his passing, his personality and steadfast companionship as sorely missed as his warm embrace and reassuring presence. 

Gods, how long it had been since she had last beheld him, since she had enjoyed his company? How long would it be until she would see him again, if only to assure herself he was whole and breathing? She did not know, and part of her feared for her heart should she see him again, unwed and unspoilt as they both were of now, for she had loved him fiercely and known to be loved by him in turn. 

She loved Daemon, she truly did, but she could not deny that the gentle warmth that flowed through her when she remembered Harwin had shown her that love was not always a whirlwind of passion to be drowned in. Not, she mused, that Harwin had ever lacked passion when it came to her. It was simply a different brand compared to her uncle's - a tender romance, worship pressed into her skin as he soothed away her troubles with his touches like whispers in the dark. 

Rhaenyra closed her eyes briefly, playing it off as a blink as she gathered herself. 'Please relay to him my wishes for his success, and be certain to introduce him properly.' 

Lord Strong bowed in lieu of a verbal answer, but that was perfectly acceptable. 

Jeyne instantly took the obvious end of their conversation to draw Rhaenyra lightly to the side, a blinding smile on her pretty face directed at Lyonel. 'I look forward to a more in-depth conversation at a later date, Lord Strong. There will doubtlessly be some opportunities still, before I return to the Eyrie.' 

The good lord bowed again, murmuring his assent, and left quietly to be swallowed up by the crowd. 

Jeyne turned to Rhaenyra. 'Something is not right,' she murmured to her, voice barely loud enough for Rhaenyra to hear. 'What is bothering you, cousin?' 

Rhaenyra smiled self-deprecatingly. 'Am I that obvious?' She had thought that she masked her unease relatively well, but clearly her cousin had seen right through her, which both pleased and vexed her in turn. She would rather not be read so easily, yet she would like to be known well enough by those she trusted that attempts at subterfuge were pointless. What a conundrum.

'Only to me,' Jeyne winked, taking a goblet of wine from one of her servants, which, Rhaenyra had noticed, seemed to solely be here to surround their lady and supply her and those she talked to with wine or water. Most other nobles were being served by the servants of the Keep, as was expected. Interesting. 

The servant offered her some wine as well, which she took without fuss. She had a taste for the vintages from the Vale, so familiar to her after years of drinking them. 

'I can let the matter lie, if you wish it, cousin,' she offered, smile firmly in place even as she sipped from her goblet. Rhaenyra followed suit, using the time it afforded her to order her mind as she became suddenly excruciatingly aware of Ser Cole's presence at her back. Best not to speak of Lord Tyrell's moment of intemperance where he could hear, lest he do something inadvisable with, no doubt, the best of intentions. She had no desire to smooth any feathers he might ruffle in an attempt to defend her honor. 'Not at all. It is not so serious, a mere misunderstanding, I believe.'  

Though there was doubt in her gaze, Jeyne inclined her head graciously. 'As you say, cousin.' She leaned a tad closer so she could confide, 'Half the hall is abuzz with talk of you and Lord Tyrell. They are wondering what you talked about, and whether it had anything to do with his Hightower bannermen.' There was a mischievous grin on her face. 'There was also a young lord from a minor stormlands House, who asked where you might be found. Apparently, his brother made your acquaintance just as short while ago. I told him I would inform you of his query.' 

So Lord Buckler had already followed up on his brother's advice and sought her out. A good sign. 'Indeed, I quite literally ran into the brother on my way to the Ladies' Hall. We spoke for a bit - the boy aspires to become a knight, and I thought that should Ser Harwin not object and find the lad agreeable, he might become his squire.'

Jeyne nodded at her explanation. 'The more time I spend with you, Rhaenyra, the better I understand King Viserys' decision to name you his Heir. You have all the markings of greatness, and an astonishing aptitude for politics, especially considering your age.' She shook her head ruefully. 'Aemma would be so proud.' 

Rhaenyra swallowed down the lump of shame in her throat. If only Jeyne knew what she planned, she doubted the Lady of the Vale would be so eager to praise her. The princess put on a happy face. 'It gladdens me to hear you say so, cousin. If only the rest of the Realm shared your high opinion, I would need not worry about anything, especially not our esteemed Lord Hand.' 

At the mention of Otto, Jeyne's face darkened, all mirth wiped from her expression. 'Speaking of which, he has been attached to Lord Lannister ever since he showed himself. If rumor is to be believed, Tyland is to be named as master of ships to the Small Council, a proposition that confounds me as Lord Velaryon, to my knowledge, has not resigned from his seat. Unless my information is outdated, of course.' 

It was a question phrased as a statement, and Rhaenyra took a moment to formulate her answer, sipping at her wine. 'I am reluctant to speculate, of course, but I have an inkling as to why Lord Hightower is in talks with Ser Tyland.' She leaned closer to Jeyne, so that she could whisper in her ear, 'Princess Rhaenys confided in me that she believes her husband might be pressed to address the issue of the Stepstones once and for all, and doing so would undoubtedly take him from Court for what may be years.' She leaned back and continued at a less secretive volume, 'It would only make sense for the Lord Hand to try and get his own allies in place at the Council.' 

Jeyne sucked in a breath through her teeth. 'Then you must move quickly. The Lannisters, I have come to see, are too deeply entrenched with House Hightower to be swayed into your orbit. They will support their green friends to the last, and having one of their own on the Council will give their side far too much influence, I am afraid.' Jeyne's grip on her goblet tightened until her knuckles were as pale as Rhaenyra's hair. 'I have already heard it whispered that once Queen Alicent gives the King a son, you will surely be removed as Heir in favor of him. Lord Jason, it seems, is intent on asking for your hand in marriage, and feels quite assured of his suitability.' 

Rhaenyra could not, for the life of her, tamp down her disgusted frown and accompanying scoff. 'I would rather fling myself from the battlements than become his wife, and I would tell him so personally if he had the courage to come after me himself.' 

Jeyne let out a faint hum. 'There is fire in your veins, cousin, which I greatly admire. It would cripple your position, should you wed the wrong man, especially one such as him. His pride would never allow him to stand in his wife's shadow in any matter, and the last thing your cause needs is for your consort to be anything less than completely supportive of you.' Her eyes bored into Rhaenyra's with an intensity that belied the unfazed nature of her tone. 'No matter who he ends up being.' 

Rhaenyra sighed through her nose. 'I quite agree,' she said, thinking of no man in particular, 'but it would be best, I believe, to leave such talks to the privacy of my solar.' 

The Lady of the Vale huffed a laugh. 'Yes, of course. I merely wished to inform you of an underlying threat to your position. Lord Hightower has been busy, same as we. Should Lord Velaryon indeed decide to resign as master of ships, and Ser Tyland be named to the seat, I fear for your standing on the Council. Has there been word from your father? Will he elevate you formally?'

Ah, so Rhaenys had informed Jeyne of her talk with the King. It was a promising development, and Rhaenyra found herself relieved by it. The less her allies squabbled among each other, the better for her cause. Still, that did not, unfortunately, equate to her problems becoming fewer, for now at least. 

'We have spoken on the matter at length, but until I come of age, he wishes for me to remain his cupbearer. I have ceded the point, as the time fast approaches, and I do not think that it is worth alienating him over at such a delicate time.'

Jeyne's eyes narrowed. 'I understand. While to me, it makes little sense, I am sure the King has his reasons, and you are wise to choose your battles. However, as the Princess of Dragonstone, do you not automatically have a seat on the Council?'

Rhaenyra shrugged, pretending to be unbothered by the issue. Jeyne was right, of course - the Heir to the Throne was simultaneously the Prince of Dragonstone, as the seat came with the standing. While Daemon still lived in the castle, and Rhaenyra did not wish to humiliate him by forcing him out, it technically belonged to her now, and it would be expected that she moved her household there once she reached the age of maturity. However, in this and most instances, she would have to defy tradition and remain at Court despite the misgivings of others. She could not leave the Greens to sink their claws into the King, who would if history held true soon become ailing and incapable of ruling on his own. Rhaenyra could not leave her father in the clutches of his enemies, whether he knew them as such or not. 

'There have not been so many that I could discern a pattern of yet. Some were kings before they were men, and others died before attending a meeting at all. I shall speak to Lord Lyonel about it, as he has quite extensive knowledge on all matters of law, and from what he has told us, will be at Court for some time yet. It will do me no disfavors, I believe, to seek his tutelage.' 

Jeyne smiled approvingly at Rhaenyra. 'Quite right, Rhaenyra. The more you learn, the less will surprise you. Knowledge is just as much of a weapon as a sword, and the right words in the right ear can end a war just as decisively as an army.' She sighed, but her eyes sparkled with excitement. 'If at all possible, you might get Lord Velaryon to suggest his own replacement to the King. Someone who is a friend to not only the Sea Snake, but you as well, who can be relied upon to do what is demanded of him when the time is right. Ser Tyland is not that someone, but the Princess Rhaenys is already looking to find the appropriate man.' 

Gods, what a relief it was to have allies like them. 'That eases my burden a great deal, cousin.' She lowered her voice a little, so as not to entice the attention of the lords around them. 'Were it my choice, I would nominate the princess herself in absence of her husband. I doubt my father would agree, and it would not be practical for House Velaryon to be deprived of their matriarch when their lord is to go to war.' A sigh escaped her. 'Still, she has the knowledge and temperament for it, and were it possible, I would nominate her. Alas, it is not.' 

Jeyne tilted her head considerately, weighing her words, her tone low as Rhaenyra's as she replied. 'Perhaps, once you are Queen, you can make a new order.' She waved her hand dismissively. 'Until then,' she continued breezily, as though she had not just echoed Rhaenyra's own words - which Jeyne had not heard her speak - back at her, 'you might consider Lord Celtigar. The Lannisters and Redwynes are too close to the Hand to be of any use to you, and I am afraid Lord Greyjoy has no wish to sit on the Council. Lord Celtigar shares your Valyrian ancestry, but lacks the prestige of dragons, so he will not be a threat to your own power, rather, he will help facilitate it. He is also unlikely to speak poison into the ears of those who could aid you, unlike Ser Tyland, who might wish to undermine your position as Heir to help his brother secure you as his wife. The fewer people on the Council that are not with you, the better.' 

The princess could not but agree, seeing as Jeyne was right on essentially all counts. 'Just so,' she said. Bartimos had been an excellent master of coin and advisor to her, and she might have fared better in the war had she heeded him more. She knew him to be incorruptible and ingenious, as well as perfectly wealthy. 'Lord Celtigar is an agreeable choice. I will speak to Lord Corlys, and together, we shall sway the King in our favor.' It was such an obvious, easy solution. How come she had not thought of it herself? 

The Lady Arryn smiled warmly. 'Wonderful. Until then, might I suggest answering a letter that will be delivered to you in the evening? It will be sent by Lady Tully, and invites you to an avenue of your choosing to discuss the recent positive changes in the quality of Myrish lace and how to ensure its continued availability for the Realm.' Jeyne finished her wine. 'Her daughter just adores the work of the Myrish seamstresses, and is most invested in the topic.' 

Rhaenyra was utterly blindsided for a moment. 'I - what?' It was the single most ridiculous answer she could have given, but the only one she could muster at the sheer whiplash the change of topic had just given her. 

Jeyne laughed delightedly, without any malice. 'Yes, that was my reaction also. It is a perfectly vapid topic, no? Who would be interested in it other than a noblewoman, one so young as well.' Jeyne winked, and it dawned on Rhaenyra. Of course, it was a front. Why else tell the contents of the letter so explicitly, if not to discourage others from forming an interest in it? It was obvious once you knew what to pay attention to. 

'Quite. How fortunate, that Myrish lace is indeed a most intriguing material, and so very necessary to the noble ladies. I shall give Lady Tully's concerns my undivided attention.' Rhaenyra assured, faux-serious. It was most intriguing, to try and gain Rhaenyra's attention in such a way, and to go through the trouble of concealing her true purpose. To the lady's credit, her scheme was working: The princess was indeed most interested in what she had to say. 

Jeyne allowed a servant to present her with a freshly filled goblet of chilled wine, which stood accompanied by another clearly meant for Rhaenyra. They both took their goblets, and Jeyne dismissed the servant with a polite thank you. 'Just so,' she said. 

Rhaenyra led Laena past various dragonkeepers, most of whom sported a wide array of scars. The few of them who did not were young, or new to their position, and both excitement and apprehension were clear in their eyes - for while it paid handsomely to be a dragonkeeper, one also paid handsomely to stay one. Seventy-seven in total, never more or fewer, potential members were trained for years, learning not only how to wield the spears they were given upon entering the order, but also Valyrian, the outlay of the Dragonpit with all its' nooks and crannies, as well as the various intricacies of dragonkeeping, which included saddle making and slaying would-be egg poachers in similar measure. It was one of the most important Orders in the Realms, and like the Silent Sisters and the Night's Watch, it's members were sworn to neutrality.

Rhaenyra smiled at one of the old keepers, a man by the name of Wyl, who had been a keeper for longer than Rhaenyra had been alive, and as such, boasted both scars and skill - yet it was only the former he would proudly tell others about, to warn and to impress at the same time. The keeper that accompanied him was far younger, and if Rhaenyra had to guess, had been actively serving in the Pit for a week at the most, his armor shiny and with nary a scorch mark, his stride as cocksure as only a boy's who had not yet been tested by real life could be. She knew that either the dragons would temper him, or he would die as certain of himself as he lived, which would not be particularly long. 

'Syrax is saddled and ready, Princess. We wish you both a wonderful flight.' 

Ever a man of few words, Wyl gestured to the entrance of the Pit, which Syrax was exiting with nary any prompting from the other keepers, as eager to see Rhaenyra as the princess was to see her. She had to stop herself from running over and flinging herself at her beloved dragon like a child. Next to her, Laena gasped quietly. 

'She is beautiful, Rhaenyra.' Laena said, and Rhaenyra smiled, choking back tears. 

'Indeed, she is,' she whispered, stroking down the delicate scales between Syrax' nostrils, letting her hot breath wash over her, breathing in the smell of her dragon as she laid her forehead against her muzzle. 

'I have missed you,' she murmured, before taking a step back so she could take Laena by the hand. 'I am sure you have flown with your mother before, but please remember that Syrax is not Meleys. She does not know you yet, so be careful.' 

Laena nodded obediently, lifting her free hand to Syrax' nostrils and letting the dragon sniff her with an inquisitive sound. 'This is Laena,' Rhaenyra said, 'my dear cousin and ward. She shall fly with us today.' 

Syrax made a chuffing noise, staring at Laena, before tilting her great head, exposing her side so they may reach her saddle. Rhaenyra grinned. Her girl was so clever and gentle, as accepting of Laena as Rhaenyra had hoped she'd be. 

'Shall we, cousin? The skies await.' 

Rhaenyra waited until Laena had climbed into the saddle, keeping a careful eye on Syrax, who thankfully stayed as still as she was able, allowing Laena to settle comfortably before Rhaenyra climbed on as well. The princess situated herself behind her ward, ensuring Laena had a tight grip on the saddle's pommel before grasping the reigns. 'Sōvēs!' Rhaenyra ordered. Syrax leapt into action at once, her great wings spreading as her powerful legs pushed off the ground, taking to the sky in a matter of seconds, the wind blowing Laena's curls upward and into Rhaenyra's face, obscuring her view for a moment. She did not mind. Laena's delighted peals of laughter made a rush of warmth bloom in Rhaenyra's chest, and for the first time in what seemed like eternity, the princess' smile was one of carefree glee, utterly free and untouched by the woes and worries of the world below, her joy as pure as the clouds they broke through. 

Gods, how she had missed this!

How long had it been, she wondered, since she had ridden her dragon for no other reason than to feel the wind in her hair, to see the world become small and meaningless, to feel all her troubles fade away? Since long before the Dance, surely. She had been in agony for so long, lost one precious creature after the other, but she had felt Syrax' demise from miles away. The civil war had broken many of Rhaenyra's convictions, yet it was the death of her dragon, and the son who had tried to protect her, that had almost broken her spirit. 

Never again. 

So lost was she in her memories that when she heard the roar of another dragon, she almost veered right around, prepared for battle, certain for mere moments that Aemond had come upon her. She felt rage and loathing lick up her spine, her eyes hardening and muscles tensing. She would kill him, and if it was the last thing she did in this life-

A loud laugh, juvenile and reckless, startled her as Laena yelled out a greeting to a small figure on a grey-and-blue dragon that looked just like... 'Seasmoke?' She breathed, as the of-yet smaller dragon soared next to them, flapping his wings in an effort to keep up, jostling poor Laenor quite thoroughly. Rhaenyra blinked twice, lost for a moment to see her late husband instead of a bastard made knight upon Seasmoke's back, before she came back to herself, and finally pulled herself together enough to shout a greeting, however belated to Laenor Velaryon, who hollered enthusiastically as he made Seasmoke dive down and soar back up again, for no discernible reason at all. 

Rhaenyra tightened her grip on the reins and her thighs around Laena's, before veering off sharply, forcing Laenor to duck under Syrax' body as the she-dragon roared in response, both her and Seasmoke dancing around each other in the open sky, playfully chasing after each other, but never colliding or attacking. 

Laena shook with laughter against her, and Rhaenyra felt her cheeks begin to hurt from grinning so hard, her heart full to bursting. 

They had flown a ways from the city proper, but not so far that Rhaenyra could not find their way back easily, although she suspected that Laenor had lost track of their whereabouts. No matter, as long as they stayed together, Rhaenyra would not allow him to be lost.

'We should land!' Laenor yelled, 'Seasmoke is tiring!' 

Indeed, Rhaenyra could tell that the younger dragon was slowing down somewhat, the beat of his great wings becoming more sluggish as their flight wore on. 'Follow me!' She commanded. She knew Laenor had heard her, as he directed Seasmoke to sag behind slightly so she may take the lead.

The princess directed Syrax to swoop low so she may survey the lands for open fields lacking in population or at least large settlements. She had no desire to be among herds of people again just yet.

When she found a sufficiently secluded spot, she urged her dragon to land, gripping Laena around the waist so she would not get rattled too badly as Syrax met the ground legs first, her claws stabilizing her landing as her shoulder lowered so her riders might descend easier. Behind Syrax, Seasmoke also came down with earth-shaking force, and Rhaenyra grinned as Syrax roared in his general direction, as protective as ever of her princess. 

'How wonderful of you to grace us with your company, cousin,' Rhaenyra greeted, looking down on Laenor Velaryon, who was, for the time being, shorter than her. His grin was bright and mischievous, so similar to his sister, and his eyes shone with the elation of their flight. 

'Princess Rhaenyra,' he returned, remembering his manners. He bowed, voice more somber than before, and she chuckled in response.

'No need for such formalities, Laenor. Rest assured, you may call me by my name.' She told him, eyes and voice warm, doing her utmost to mask her disconcert. She had known, of course, that Laenor was as much a child as Laena, moreso since he was younger. But by the Old Gods and the New, she could not recall him ever being this young. 

Laenor nodded, his white locks bouncing, and for a brief moment, only a fraction of a second, she saw Luke in his place, just as bright, just as innocent, and just as dead. 

Rhaenyra forced her face into animation, smiling at her Velaryon cousins, full of life and joy, and cast the shadows in her mind into obscurity. 'Well, as I am sure you did not sneak off to follow us, and do not have the entirety of the Velaryon household searching for you this very moment, I shall not sternly remind you of your duties and send you right back to the Keep. Since you obviously have permission to be here, I instead welcome you to join Laena and me for a picnic, as the dragonkeepers have certainly packed more than enough food in Syrax' saddlebags.' 

Laenor's eyes twinkled mischievously as he replied, 'I am honored to provide you with company, as the Lady Heir's comfort and security certainly takes precedence over the hundreth rendition of the same swordplay motions.' 

Laena snickered, and Laenor raised an eyebrow at her. 'No need to worry, sweet sister, I shall of course gallantly see to your comfort as well.' 

'Why thank you, dearest brother. Now that you are here, I feel far safer already, for I am certain Syrax alone could never scare off as many bandits as you, as long as you have your sword in hand. Speaking of which, where did you leave it?' 

Laenor winked. 'I have no need of a sword, for Seasmoke is most protective. Should anyone dare approach us with nefarious intent, he shall take immediate action.' 

Laena nodded wisely. 'I see. Thank you, brother, for your selfless devotion. Princess Rhaenyra, might I present Ser Seasmoke, the bravest warrior of House Velaryon? He has sworn to defend you and yours with all he has, for as long as he might live.' 

Rhaenyra laughed and mimed a curtsy. 'Why thank you, my heart is much eased by his valiance. I am certain no harm shall befall me with two dragons guarding me.' She prayed that the tears she knew had gathered in her eyes would be taken as tears of laughter, rather than her bone-deep grief expressing itself without her consent as she beheld her cousins, their gentle teasing and obvious affection for one another reminding her of her own sons, their brows smooth for lack of worry and their laughter loud for the joy that had not yet been sapped by the lives they would lead. Could she do but one thing, she would want to preserve this moment and its innocence forevermore. 

Incapable of such feats as she sadly was, Rhaenyra instead opted to invite Laenor to join them for a picnic, an offer which was promptly accepted. As she retrieved the meticulously wrapped small cakes and breads and meats from Syrax' saddlebags, alongside a large cloth upon which to place the foodstuffs, she pondered her younger cousin. He was a free spirit, like his sister, and evidently did not enjoy the stifling air of the Keep any more than Rhaenyra herself, and would, sooner or later, be forced to wed an appropriate match, with whom he would be expected to beget at least one child. 

He would not manage, that much she knew. He could not find anything between a woman's legs enticing, nor could his desires be stirred by sharing a bed with both male and female. It was only his own sex that drew his eye, and as such, any hopes for a fulfilling marriage would be dashed for his future wife. The best he could hope for was one who would not begrudge him his pleasures, as he would not begrudge hers. 

She vowed to help him find such a woman.

Blissfully unaware of the gears turning in the princess' head, the Heir of the Driftmark chatted away with his sister, the sunlight turning their hair to pale flame. Syrax and Seasmoke had both settled down, rather than flying off, which was just as well as Rhaenyra had neglected to inform Ser Steffon that she would be landing anywhere. Had she done so, he doubtlessly would have ensured a proper site be set up, with chairs and a table and cups rather than wineskins, and at least four knights to guard the princess and her ward. 

No, this was much preferred. Smiling, she gracefully sank down onto the cloth, her flying leathers spread out around her, and listened to Laenor as he recounted the way a squire of House Lannister had almost dunked Lord Reyne's son into the Blackwater on accident as he lost control of his master's horse. 

'Which was especially funny because Robert is a right prick,' Laenor finished his tale, nodding in satisfaction. 'He might not have been pushed into the sea, but he was still almost felled by a horse, and I, for one, do not plan to let him forget it any time soon.' 

Rhaenyra laughed into her the back of her hand, eyes crinkled in mirth. 'I see. He deserved it, then.' 

'Oh, definitely.' Laenor grinned brightly. 'Did you really not hear about it yet? All the squires talk about it.' 

Rhaenyra raised an eyebrow. 'Indeed? And here I thought there would be other topics of discussion more fascinating to young men than the misfortune of one of their own.' 

'The misfortunes of others is, at times, the only topic of discussion on the training field. The more embarrassing, the better.' 

Of course, Rhaenyra already knew this quite well. There was nothing more enticing than gossiping over the missteps of one's betters, especially the proud ones. 'I will take your word for it, cousin. But tell me, as you are so well versed with the sword that you no longer require the tutelage of the master-at-arms, for which gallant knight shall you squire? Certainly, Lord Corlys already has one in mind.' 

Laenor shrugged, a light flush suffusing on his cheeks. 'I must admit my skill is not so great that I could not be bested by others my age. But, while I enjoy the company of new acquaintances, I do not care for the rigidity of Court, or the constant petty fights the others get into.' 

Rhaenyra tilted her head. 'Surely, there must be some who are at least tolerable?' Even among the many vapid courtiers she knew, there were those who could hold intelligent conversation for at least a little while. She would not consider them friends or allies, but they were pleasant in their neutral obscurity. 

'Of course, some of them are alright, but none I wish to form a deeper friendship with.'

'You would have to spend more time with them to make that determination,' Laena reproached him gently, her voice warm. 'You will return to Driftmark soon, and be among the same people you have known all your life. Why not take this opportunity and form other bonds?' 

Laenor sighed somewhat dejectedly. 'You sound like mother.' 

Laena snorted, most unladylike, making Rhaenyra hide a grin. 'Thank you.' She replied sincerely. 'Mother is right about this, and you know it. You cannot tell me that every single one of those boys is so very abhorrent that you could not stomach the thought of being called their friend.' 

Laenor shrugged his shoulders, looking off to the side as he took a swig of the wineskin Rhaenyra had passed him earlier. 'I would not know where to start. Many of them are being fostered together, and as such already close as brothers, while others scatter when I approach them as though they fear my very presence. The few that came to speak with me are rude and arrogant, so I prefer to be alone.' 

Rhaenyra watched her cousin intently, the withdrawn look in his eyes, the hunched shoulders, the tightened lips. She knew the feeling he was describing well, the detachment others practiced when she came near. They recognized that she was their better, and so naturally assumed the distance of their stations must mean distance of themselves as well, and while there were always those ambitious enough to attempt obvious ploys to garner her favor, none bar the most rare of them actually had any interest in her as a person. She could count those on one hand. 

But it would not do for Laenor to remain as isolated as he had been in the previous time. She would make allies through him, she had determined, and after all, who would say no the son of the most powerful Lord of Westeros? 

She put on a beguiling smile. 'You could start with someone you already share common interest with. Houses Redwyne and Greyjoy have great fleets, although of course not of House Velaryon's caliber, but even so, you would at the very least have a topic for conversation ready at hand. If that does not strike your fancy, House Dayne has plenty of sons who are excellent fighters, which is a talent you share. Or, if all else fails,' she thought of a young noble she had just recently met, 'there is a son of House Buckler, of the stormlands, whose acquaintance I have recently made. He wishes to become a knight, and he is kindhearted. There are worse friends to make.' 

Laenor tilted his head. 'He is sworn to House Baratheon?' 

Rhaenyra inclined her head, agreeing quietly. 

Laenor scratched his chin, thinking. Rhaenyra chuckled lightly. 'It is not so heavy a decision. I merely wished to offer you some advice.' 

'And if all else fails, you can always say you were so busy training you did not notice time fly by.' Laena chimed in, coming to her brother's rescue. 'And before you know it, you will be back home, and at the maester's mercy, who will drone on and on about all the Houses and their history, without me by your side to cover for your embarrassing lack of knowledge on the subject.' Laena smiled sunnily. 

Her brother all but squawked in offense. 'You are slandering me! Right before the crown princess! My lack of knowledge is not of embarrassing proportions, it is merely unbecoming.' Laenor assured Rhaenyra, mock-glaring at Laena all the while. 'I am more suited to the sword and sailing than I am to sit at a desk all day, memorizing the lives of those long dead.' 

Rhaenyra stifled a laugh. 'Of course, cousin. Those of us who are allowed to train with the sword should indulge their freedoms, but remember that few have the privilege of education.' She reached over and patted his arm. 'You will one day be Lord of the Tides, and as such, you cannot allow yourself to be perceived as lacking in intelligence.' 

Laenor's shoulders sagged, his posture radiating acceptance, if only reluctantly. 'I am fully aware of that, Rhaenyra, I assure you. It is merely... stifling, at times. The expectations of my House chafe at me, and even now, when we should have a merry time, I am reminded of my duties.' 

Before Rhaenyra could offer a response, Laena took advantage of the brief silence Laenor's words had invited. 'Brother, you are forgetting who you are talking to. Our cousin will one day sit the Iron Throne as Queen, and her duties loom heavy. The expectations of the entire Realm lie upon her shoulders, and she is not so much older than us. Perhaps instead of bemoaning the shackles of your position, you should seek advice from one bearing the same, and take her words to heart.'

Rhaenyra could not have said it better, nor been received as well, had she spoken herself. 

Laenor had listened intently, if sullenly, yet without prejudice to his sister, and although it would be more comfortable for him to ignore or dismiss her, he did no such thing. Instead, he straightened his posture, and for a brief moment, Rhaenyra saw the knight he would become sitting before her, tall and handsome and proud, the Heir of House Velaryon. She put on her most encouraging smile as her cousin turned his gaze to her, now devoid of petty complaints. 

'Any advice?' He asked cheekily, yet sincerely, to which Rhaenyra nodded seriously. 

'Do not discount others simply because they seem below you. Give your love to your people, and they will return it a hundredfold. Know your friends, but also your enemies, and when to speak and when to listen. Trust few, and never tell secrets to one whose silence you have not already tested.' Rhaenyra smiled and put a warm hand on Laenor's shoulder. 'Your father is a well-respected lord, who enjoys not only the Crown's confidence but the love of his people. Take care to learn as much from him as you can, while you can.' The princess' smile turned wistful. 'I still wish I had taken more time to listen to my mother, rather than be so caught up in my own petty complaints that I disregarded her words when I should have been grateful for her guidance. Mistake not my meaning, I still would have forged my own path, but I would have more of her advice to fall back on when my own wisdom is lacking. Which is why I would advise that you surround yourself with those who will tell you the truth even when you do not wish to hear it, and give you advice that serves you better than it flatters you.' 

Laenor nodded along, a frown pulling at his smooth brow, while Laena had her eyes fixed on Rhaenyra with an intensity that seemed out of place on her youthful face. Both Velaryon siblings were her captive audience. 

'I wish someone had told me this before I trusted the wrong person and paid the price for it. Alas, I had to find out for myself, and learn this lesson the hard way, which is something I would dearly love for neither of you to ever experience.' 

She did not elaborate further, content to let the siblings draw their own conclusions about who she meant, watching her words sink in. She knew that no matter how intensely she may wish differently, she could no more protect them from the horrors of the world that she had been able to protect her sons from their deaths, yet she could not help but strive to do so as long as she may. She would do all she was capable of to let them both have long, fulfilling lives. 

'Rhaenyra,' Laena said into the quiet that had settled around them, only broken by the sounds of nature, 'you know that I do not resent you or the King or the Queen for his choice, don't you?' 

That was about the last response Rhaenyra had expected, but before she could answer it, her ward continued. 'I am aware that many consider his decision to wed Lady Alicent an insult to my father, to our House, but I do not. As far as I am concerned, no wrong has been done, I want you know that.' Her mouth pulled into a smile, genuine and gentle. 'Please don't be sad, cousin. It makes me sad also, to see you like this.' 

Rhaenyra knew she must look a picture, the disbelief written clearly on her face, her hands lax and eyes wide. Laena, somehow, had the uncanny ability to see right through her, like what she felt was written on her skin, an ability which she shared with Jeyne and Rhea, and it would have made the princess deeply uncomfortable if she did not think that Laena would not use the knowledge against her, would only seek to better the princess' moods. Rhaenyra swallowed drily and dredged up a smile. 'I will try my utmost, Laena.' 

Laenor, who had been looking between the two of them with furrowed brows, sighed and let himself fall back onto the grass, effectively dispelling the suddenly somber mood. 'Thank you for your advice, cousin, I shall endeavor to implement it whenever able.' He stared right up at the clouds drifting across the clear blue sky. 'Is is really such a risk to trust others? Everyone warns me against it, Mother, Father, you. Like no mistake could ever be as awful as trusting the wrong person.' 

A sad smile came unbidden upon Rhaenyra. 'Few mistakes are as costly as misplaced trust, Laenor. It could cost your life.' 

Her cousin strained to look at her without lifting his head, and Rhaenyra could not help but smirk at how adorable he looked right then. 'But you trust a lot of people, and seem perfectly at ease.' 

Rhaenyra tilted her head. 'How so?' 

Laenor shrugged, crossing his hands behind his head to use them as a pillow. 'There's mother, Laena, me.' He counted. 'Lady Arryn and Lady Royce. Queen Alicent, King Viserys, Prince Daemon. Ser Cole.' He laid back down, seemingly satisfied. 'That is nine people at the top of my head, which seems quite a lot for someone who says trust is dangerous.' 

Seven at most, my dear, she thought, and realized with a stab of pain that in truth, it was closer to five. Which was perfectly alright, five was more than enough, she told herself, why should she desire more? She exchanged a quick look with Laena, and found her cousin with her head tilted at her as she raised an eyebrow in Laenor's direction. Rhaenyra shrugged elegantly. Contradicting Laenor would serve no purpose. 

'I suppose so, but do not forget, I share blood with over half of them, and the strength of a family, much like that of an army, lies in their loyalty to one another.' She told him, voice lilting and calm. She could see Laena nod along out of the corner of her eye.

Laenor scoffed. 'Then my family isn't very strong,' he muttered, anger coloring his tone. Rhaenyra's brow knitted in concern. 

'How do you mean?' She wondered, looking at her ward in askance when her brother did not answer for a moment. Laena had her lips pursed in small pout, a crease between her lovely eyebrows. Apparently, she was not sure what Laenor was referring to either.

'It is merely that my uncle's sons,' he began, 'have already begun sailing with their father, and now seem to fancy themselves suited to tell me what to do.' He sucked in his cheeks, expression hardening, 'As though that means anything. I am my father's heir, a dragonrider, but they don't see it that way.' He blew out a breath in annoyance, his young face contorting with it. 'It is bothering me somewhat.' He confessed, subdued. Rhaenyra felt a shudder of sympathy. She knew the feeling.

She reached out and placed a supportive hand on his shin. 'Perhaps if you ask our lord father, he will teach you.' She lowered her voice conspiratorially. 'If he refuses, you can always just sneak on board,' she made a big show of whispering, fully aware that Laena could hear her anyway as she began to giggle. 'And since you will already be there, he might as well show you how to sail.' 

Laenor sat up, face brightening. 'You think that could work?'

Rhaenyra nodded seriously, face solemn. 'I do, indeed.' She proclaimed, and watched a grin stretch over her cousin's face, his eyes gleaming in glee. He was all but bouncing in place as the idea took hold in his mind, probably already imagining how to best sneak aboard his father's vessel. She felt it necessary to quickly remind him, 'Do not forget to ask first.' 

He nodded, hair flying. 'Of course, I will.' He said, and Rhaenyra could not help but doubt he truly would. She sighed, only mildly exasperated. 'Of course, you will,' she echoed. 

The princess rose, smoothing out her clothing, and motioned for her cousins to mimic her. 'We ought to get back. We have already been out longer than I had planned, doubtlessly we are already worrying Ser Westerling quite a bit.'

The letter Sara offered to her on a silver tray bore a wax seal depicting a leaping trout, the sigil of House Tully of Riverrun, Lords Paramount of the Trident. Next to it lay a small polished knife, most commonly used to slice open such seals, a method more elegant and refined than simply cracking it as so many did.

There was something to be said about the efficiency of her servants, Rhaenyra thought as she thanked Sara for her work. The girl curtsied with a pretty blush, scurrying off to busy herself with fixing Rhaenyra's bedding as the princess carefully broke the seal of the letter the girl had delivered before any other had the chance to spy it. She wondered if Lady Tully's servants were as discreet as her own, or if they flaunted themselves when they delivered their liege's correspondence, basking in the importance of their task. She hoped not.

It was sweet and showed that Rhaenyra's gentle encouragement of loyalty worked well. She smiled a little to herself, settling down in one of the many plush chairs by the windows, sunlight flooding onto the strip of parchment in her hands. She opened the letter, her slim fingers carefully smoothing out the creases where the parchment had been folded, and read the message. 

Just as Jeyne had promised, it was an invitation to speak privately to Lady Tully, a seeking of an audience, almost, citing her daughter's fascination with the princess' wardrobe as the reason for the meeting. Should any unfriendly eyes read through the letter, there was no evidence of any illicit motivation, something Rhaenyra definitely respected. She had no doubt that there was an ulterior motive to the meeting, and she quite looked forward to finding out what it was. 

Putting the letter down gently, she took a quill and some parchment. She had wondered where she might invite Lady Tully and her daughter to, and ruled out both her own solar and the Ladies' Hall, but weighed the gardens and the weirwood tree against one another before deciding against both. The walls of the Keep had ears, and there was always someone watching, which usually suited Rhaenyra fine. But Lady Tully had asked for privacy, and that was a precious, finite resource in the capital, especially when you were royalty.

Rhaenyra tapped her foot, considering. There were many crevices and nooks in the Keep, but one in particular came to mind. Behind the royal sept was a keep within the keep of sorts, with a slate roof and tall carved doors. It was perfectly comfortable and could house a large entourage, although it saw little use in recent years - there were no visitors hosted there even now, with the Red Keep almost overwhelmed with nobility. 

The tapping stopped as an idea took hold of her, her mind's eye envisioning what she would create in the long halls. A keep within a keep. A court within the court. It was almost too perfect. 

Rhaenyra began to write, her script elegant and unhurried, her words precise and careful. Yes, she knew where to meet Lady Tully.

Chapter Text

Rhaenyra stood in front of the keep behind the sept, Lady Rhea and Ser Cole by her side, hands on her hips. When she had written to Lady Tully, she had offered to meet her in three days' time, if only to give the impression of being too busy, but it turned out the extra time would be direly needed. She tilted her head back so she could behold the building in its entirety as they stood in its shadow; The morning air misting in front of her face as she breathed, and the slate roof glinting in the just awakening morning sun.

Built with tall carved doors, the high glass windows ran the circumference of the keep, ensuring light could always enter it, even if the glass was in desperate need of a good wash - the keep had been neglected in recent years, and it had sat unused since the Red Keep had finished construction. 

Well, no longer. Rhaenyra ascended the short set of stairs to reach the doors, and Ser Cole, who had moved ahead to pull them open the moment she had started to move. Rhea stayed half a step behind her, moving in sync with her, and together, they entered the keep.

Rhaenyra had decided to have no expectations of the space, which served her well, as otherwise she would have been sorely disappointed. There were almost no furnishings, the drapes along the walls were threadbare and the hearth, although numerous, were covered in soot. A layer of dust and grime covered almost every inch of the interior. Adding to the ominous atmosphere, the cold of the night had sunk into the building, and consequently Rhaenyra's limbs. 

While the doors opened to a wide vestibule, from which three tall doors again led further into the building. Rhaenyra walked right through the vestibule and the entrance in front of her which opened into what appeared to be the main hall. It was just as barren as the room before, yet there were plenty of stonehewn staircases lining the walls, some leading down and others up, and were she not convinced lighting a candle might set the hall ablaze, she would have immediately set out to find what lay beneath the keep. A rat ran past her foot and her nose wrinkled despite herself. At her back, she could all but feel Rhea's eyebrows raise as she, too, beheld the hall. 

'Well,' Rhea said, 'it could be worse.' Her voice echoed through the empty space as she stepped forward and leveled a critical look at the walls and floor. 'It needs a good scrubbing, of course, but it is large enough. You could comfortably host a court of your own here, once it is furnished. The upper floor as well as the cellars must be inspected first, but I daresay you have chosen well.' 

Rhaenyra blew out a breath through her nose, barely choking back a sneeze. 'How long do you think it will take to make ready?' She poked at some leaves on the ground with her foot, half expecting another rat to leap out, but thankfully, the leaf was just a leaf and not a hiding place for vermin. 

Rhea turned around herself once before offering an uncertain wave of her hand. 'I suppose it would depend on how many servants work, and what sort of furniture you would like, as well as the furnishings. The hearths alone are a nightmare, but doubtlessly there are rats in the cellars, spiders in every nook and cranny, and what other vermin has made a home here, I do not wish to know. But again, all those issues are easily fixed, and the building itself is quite beautiful.' 

Rhaenyra hummed. 'I shall consult with my maidservants. I would like this to be ready when I return from my tour.' She looked at Rhea. 'I want this keep to be a testament to the splendor of House Targaryen, the Crown Jewel of the Red Keep. It shall rouse the envy of those who are barred from entering and inspire awe in the ones beholding its beauty. Yes,' she said, stepping further into the hall, 'the drapes will be golden silk, the door handles ivory. Those carvings,' she pointed to the mantles above the fireplaces, 'will be covered in gold leaf, and the ceiling will be painted with a portrait of the conquerors and their dragons in flight. One of the rooms will be my personal salon, where I may receive guests for private audiences, and here my private court will be entertained.' 

No matter what Alicent said or did, her power was almost broken from the start. Rhaenyra establishing her own court would only hasten the process, though that was certainly not how Rhaenyra would frame it when asked. All the same, that was what would happen.

Rhaenyra turned back to Rhea and Ser Cole, a proud smile on her lips. 'They all shall flock to me.' 

Rhea nodded thoughtfully. 'Certainly, they will, but to be clear: This will be an expensive endeavor. I do not mean to curb your enthusiasm, but how do you intend to pay for this?' 

A valid concern, one she would have waved off had anyone else asked. The princess settled her expression into something more earnest before she answered Rhea. 'I have had an income for years now, which only increased when I was named Heir. I will pay for the renovations myself, do not be concerned.' 

Rhea shook her head. 'Not at all, I am aware you do not lack funds. But you might wish to consider announcing this project to the nobles.' She stepped a little closer so her voice would not echo off of the bare walls. 'Those eager to gain favor will want to take part in these renovations, if only to impress you with their generosity. The savvier ones will understand that supporting your endeavors will result in your support in turn, and you can use these very walls to showcase that.' 

She pointed to the spaces between the windows, which reached all the way to the back of the hall, where the largest, most imposing window sat. 'Why not display the sigils of those you favor close to you, while carefully omitting others, ones you know stand against you?' 

As Rhea spoke, Rhaenyra could see it in her mind's eye. A magnificent hall decked out in glimmering gold and gleaming ivory, filled with tapestries lining the walls depicting the symbols of the Houses great and small which she could count as her allies. The window at the back of the Hall remade with stained glass to show the three-headed dragon of House Targaryen to head them all.

Rhaenyra's eyes lit up as the images consolidated into a plan. 'Indeed. Like the throne room in the Keep, I could arrange a dais under that window, and put up tapestries with the House Sigils arranged like you propose. Yes, that will work splendidly.' 

Ser Criston, who had in his unmatched vigilance moved to inspect the many stairs leading away from the main hall, returned to his mistress' side with a flutter of his cape and clinking of his armor plates. 'If I may,' he began, 'I would ask for your leave to oversee the security of the keep. As you intend to stay here often, I would be remiss in my duty if I did not ensure you were safe, if not safer, here than you would be in your very own chambers.' 

He looked so earnest, so diligent in his desire to see her protected, that she could not but give him what he wished for then. It would keep him quite busy while still making him feel integral to her plans, even as he was carefully left out of most of her plotting. 'Your devotion is commendable, as always, Ser Criston. There is no man worthier of this honor than you, and I shall rely on you fully to complete this task to the best of your considerable abilities.' She told him, voice warm and smile as genuine as she could muster. Ser Cole bowed with a flourish, and Rhaenyra saw Rhea's lips quirk out of the corner of her eye. 

Rhaenyra clapped her hands decisively. 'The sooner we begin, the better. I will instruct my maidservants to organize the cleaning. I will need metalworkers and carpenters, so I may as well go to visit the Street of Steel. I have not been to the city proper in years, and even then I was accompanied by a veritable host of knights to keep me from harm. I shall like to go with less fuss, this time.' 

Rhaenyra was well aware that she could simply send for workers and have them come to her, but it would do her no good to sequester herself in the castle, separate from her people as she had been. She would like to see her city, even if only for a little while, without fearing the jeers of the crowd or the hunger of the citizens. She saw Rhea nod in her periphery. 'If that is what you wish, I shall gladly accompany you.' 

Rhaenyra smiled sincerely. 'That would be most appreciated.' 

Ser Cole stared, utterly aghast, at them both. 'You cannot possibly mean to go down into the city by yourselves? I must protest this, my princess! You cannot be without protection, especially not in the capital. Prince Daemon has led a purge of the worst criminals, it is true, but many remain, and I fear that they may come upon you.' His gaze turned hard. 'It is my duty and honor to keep you from harm. I shall escort you both.' 

The intensity with which he spoke discomforted her, truth be told, as did the almost feverish look in his eyes. Briefly, Rhaenyra wondered how Ser Cole would react if she forbade him from chaperoning Rhea and her. Instead, the princess smiled, swallowing her unease. 'Of course, Ser. As I had assumed your presence, I did not think it necessary to ask you along. Forgive me, good Ser,' she said, bestowing upon him an apologetic smile which worked wonders. Cole's features immediately softened, his relief palpable. 

'Thank you, Rhaenyra. I am glad you know that I will guard you always.' 

Rhea cleared her throat, rescuing Rhaenyra from having to come up with a suitably sickening response. 'As am I. Rhaenyra,' she said, turning towards the princess, 'Lady Arryn and I spoke yesterday, and my lady told me you expressed an interest in Ser Harwin Strong. As he wishes to join the gold cloaks, you might command his presence also. He has already made himself familiar with the capital, and his reputation precedes him.' 

The stab of pain in her stomach his name evoked was familiar in its intensity, and just as unwelcome. 'Yes, indeed, another splendid idea. Two knights for two ladies, it is only proper,' she smiled at Cole before he could open his mouth to protest his ability to protect them all by himself. 

'I had meant to visit the training yard as well.' She looked at Criston. Though she did not speak it, she thought it was nigh time for her knight to pick a squire. Not the Buckler boy, she would rather he be trained by Harwin, but maybe one of the sons of House Tyrell would suit, or one of the riverlands Houses. Another way to show her favor to a House - or to keep a hostage. 'I wish to observe the future lords of the Realm.' 

Rhea, for her part, only allowed herself a slight smile. 'They will be honored,' she said. 

Ser Cole grimaced, but kept quiet. Rhaenyra tilted her head at him, but he looked away, which was quite curious for a man as confrontational as him. But it was no matter, she would get whatever it was out of him soon enough - perhaps when the Lady Rhea was not with them. It seemed neither Ser Cole nor Lady Rhea were fond of the other. 

'We shall be off, then.' Rhaenyra declared with one last glance at the farthest window, a longing settling under her ribcage. She could hardly wait until her vision for this place became reality.

With her head held high, flanked by her Sworn Shield and chief lady-in-waiting, she strode from the keep along the stone pathway, back towards the royal sept, where some lords and ladies were deep in their prayers. Those who kept the Old Gods went to the heart tree within the Red Keep, and Rhaenyra wondered if she might catch Lord Stark there if she waited long enough. She would like to visit Winterfell, after all, and she had enough respect for House Stark to not simply command them to host her. She would like to be invited. 

As though she had heard Rhaenyra's thoughts, Rhea spoke. 'I have been wondering,' Rhea began, voice calm, 'if you intend to visit the Wall. Queen Alysanne was the last Targaryen to do so, I believe.' 

Rhea was correct, as she usually was. Good Queen Alysanne had visited the Wall on Silverwing, and even attempted to ride her over the Wall, though the dragon had refused to go over. Since then, no Targaryen had seen fit to grace the men of the Night's Watch with their royal presence, though now that Rhea mentioned it... perhaps it was time for that to change. 

Rhaenyra hummed under her breath. 'I had considered it. I should like to see the Northern border of the Realm, and the men who guard it. The Wall is said to be the tallest structure ever built, and while harsh and unforgiving, I imagine the view must be overwhelmingly beautiful.' 

'I am sure. On a clear day, it is said, you can see a thousand leagues beyond the Wall, but if you look too long, you are blinded by the way the sun reflects onto the snow.' The image her words evoked caused Rhaenyra to smile a little. 

Her son had quickly become most fond of the North when he traveled there to secure House Stark to her claim. Lord Cregan and Jace had become close friends, their mutual respect obvious to anyone with eyes. In turn, Rhaenyra had also developed a fondness for the House that her son held in such high esteem, and though all the Realm agreed that there was no family as honorable as the Starks, Rhaenyra had silently agreed with Daemon when he'd told her that having too much honor killed one far faster than having too little. 

'Queen Alysanne was most loved by the people, and her name is revered by them still,' Rhea continued, their footsteps crunching the white gravel beneath as the air around them warmed the higher the sun rose. 'She nary put a foot wrong, and she firmly believed that no ruler required a cock to sit the throne, a sentiment with which I heartily agree. She often held what came to be called women's courts, where all women of the realm, the highborn and the low, came before her to tell her of their troubles. You could do something similar, only instead of just the women, your courts ought to offer everyone the chance to speak to you.' 

Rhaenyra had known of Alysanne Targaryen's laws, forbidding the right of the first night and the implementation of the widow's law, both of which had come about because the queen had been told of the plight her subjects suffered and taken action by convincing her husband to enact such laws. While King Jaehaerys was remembered as the wisest of the Targaryen kings so far, her father had once told her that without his queen, he would not still be loved so well. Alysanne had been responsible for the cisterns, wells and pipes that fed clean water into the queen's fountains which supplied King's Landing's smallfolk with drinking water to this day, the construction of which had never been attempted because of the enormous costs, but the queen had not allowed such reasoning to stand while the people suffered. So she had convinced the king and his master of coin to finance the endeavor. Without her, the common people living in the capital city would still be drinking the befouled river water, polluted and filthy as it was. 

The memory warmed Rhaenyra to Rhea's idea. 'I had already planned to hear the lords' troubles on my tour, but I agree that it would be wise to extend the smallfolk the same courtesy. They should see that their future queen cares for them, just like Good Queen Alysanne did.' 

'With fewer assassination attempts, I hope,' Rhea said, and Rhaenyra laughed.

'Yes, I have no desire to experience one of those.' Though the words were spoken in jest, Rhaenyra knew her lady meant for them to be taken seriously. There was a very good reason Jeyne had gifted her a mare trained to navigate treacherous terrain with ease.

As they walked by the sept, Rhaenyra briefly considered entering for the pretense at prayer, or, more accurately, to gauge who was pious enough to while the morning away making pleas to gods who never listened. Other than Alicent, of course. One look at the stained glass windows, depicting the seven-pointed star of the Faith, disabused her of the idea. There would be another time. Instead, she continued on to the Keep, her two companions faithfully by her side, as she wondered where to go first: The training yard, the Street of Steel, or the Royal Library? Anywhere but the Ladies' Hall, for now at least. 

While she had been occupied with her Velaryon cousins the previous day, Lady Alerie Frey had been hard at work telling everyone who asked her - which were many - about her conversation with the crown princess, if only one specific part of it. 

Rhaenyra herself had heard all about it from Sara, who had done precisely as the princess asked and kept an ear on the rumors swirling around the keep, and had as such immediately known who was responsible for the veritable wildfire of speculation engulfing court. With every iteration, the story grew more absurd and as such more memorable, and as fact became fiction, the whispering grew ever louder, only to become conspicuously hushed when any Hightower was near, or, Gods forbid, the king. 

Seeing as her part was essentially done, Rhaenyra had decided to let things take their course and not pour any more oil into the flames, lest anyone accuse her of uncharitable intentions. As far as the court was concerned, Sara had told her, most nobles sympathized with Rhaenyra, whose speech at the wedding feast had been well received, and who had dutifully defended her father's new wife even when it would have been easy to condemn her. Since the servants talked to one another, and heard more than most lords realized, Rhaenyra was reasonably confident that she could allow these tales to spread without further interference. 

As she entered the Red Keep, cheeks flushed and ears rosy from the chill morning air, footsteps hurried towards her. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Ser Cole tense, hand twitching towards his sword, while Rhea shifted her weight so she may shield Rhaenyra at a moment's notice. Rhaenyra did not react at all, confident that her companions could ward off any threat that could accost her in her own father's castle.

It turned out they needn't have worried. It was merely a servant, a child really, though his face was gaunt and hair limp. He looked malnourished, and when he bowed deeply before her, she could count the vertebrae of his spine from where they peeked out from under the collar of his ill-fitting shirt. 'Your Highness,' he said, voice reedy, 'I bear message from Prince Daemon Targaryen. He asks that you meet him at the Heart Tree, alone.' He enunciated every word with great care as to not misspeak, and kept his eyes on the floor, all but quaking before her. Rhaenyra found herself gently smiling at his frightened face.

Behind her, Ser Cole bristled, though he wisely kept his peace, while Rhea somehow managed to cloak herself in a silence so condescending Rhaenyra would not be surprised if Daemon were to shiver right this instant. 'Thank you.' She told the boy, making her voice soothing and kind. The boy immediately bowed low again, 'You have done well.' She looked him up and down. He wore clean clothes, though none fit him well, and his shoes were obviously worn. He could not be older than eight. 'I do not believe I have seen you before,' she said. 'Which master do you serve?' 

The boy's eyes flitted to hers, widened in what she could not help but label as fear. 'I- I serve you, m'lady, and the king!' 

His answer was quick and clearly heartfelt, but he had mistaken her meaning. It was not his fault, she should have made herself clearer. 'I am glad to hear that,' she assured, voice still calm and kind, smile in place, 'but I wish to know whose Lord's retinue you belong to.' 

The boy kept his head down as he started shaking, clearly afraid his failure to answer correctly warranted punishment. 'I serve at the Keep, m'lady. I scrub the floors and scour the pots, and carry things around.' His voice was small and Rhaenyra felt her heart crack a little at how forlorn he sounded. 

'I see. What is your name, boy?' She asked. 

The child stared at her, and did not answer. 

'Your name,' Ser Cole barked, 'your princess has asked you a question!' 

Rhaenyra did not spare her knight a glance as she leaned down. 'Do not be afraid,' she told the boy. 'You will not be punished. I promise.' 

He glanced up at her, eyes quickly darting away again as he once again lowered his lashes. 'Arthur,' he whispered. 'My mother named me Arthur.' 

The princess nodded. 'Arthur,' she repeated. 'It is nice to meet you.' She once more swept her gaze over his thin boney build and sunken cheeks, and added, 'You will report to my maidservant, Roslyn. Tell her I sent you, and that you are part of my household from this day forward. She will handle the rest.' She straightened up. 'Go now,' she told him, when he just stared at her with wide eyes. He quickly bowed again and darted off, gone from sight before she could say one word more.

'Lady Rhea,' she said, 'when I meet the Master of Coin next, remind me to tell him to increase the budget for the servants. I will address the issue with the Head Maidservant also.' 

'Of course, Rhaenyra,' Rhea replied, voice warm with approval. 'Anything else?' 

Rhaenyra chuckled. 'Many things, in fact. But for now, kindly inform Ser Strong that I command his presence for our trip to the city, and prepare for the same. I would like to get it done today.' She wanted to ensure that while she was away on her tour, all the repairs and improvements on the small keep behind the sept could be finished without her presence. The sooner she chose a metalworker, a carpenter and so on, the better. 

'Certainly. I will see to it the instant you have concluded your business with the prince,' Rhea assured, and Rhaenyra bit her tongue against her instinctive dismissal. She knew Rhea only meant well, but she had no intention to take her along to see Daemon. Those two together were a scene waiting to happen, and Rhaenyra would rather not it happen today. There was only one scandal she wanted the court to focus on, and it was not the state of the Rogue Prince's marriage. 

Rhaenyra turned and laid a hand on Rhea's arm. She knew Rhea harbored as much desire to see her estranged husband as she did to throw herself off the battlements. 'I would spare you the indignity, Rhea. Ser Cole will keep me safe and sound, you need not fear for my well-being.' She offered a conspiratorial smirk. 'I shan't be long, and then we will all be off to the city. We will be back before midday, and spend the afternoon riding.' 

The look of worry in Rhea's deep eyes did not abate, but her face eased out of the pinched frown it had taken on at the idea of leaving her princess alone in Daemon's clutches. Rhea bowed her head slightly, shoulders stiff, but did not rebut her. 'As you will, Rhaenyra.' She clasped the princess' forearm with her hand, a gesture Rhaenyra gladly returned. 'I shall await you here with Ser Strong.' 

The princess stepped back, Ser Cole silent as a shadow and just as unshakable behind her. 'Until then,' she said, taking her leave alongside her sworn shield, as Rhea split off from them to find Harwin, and she went to find Daemon.

'My princess,' Criston started, and from the tone of his voice Rhaenyra already knew he had been holding back his words until Rhea was gone, 'is it wise to indulge the prince this way?'

Rhaenyra, of course, knew what he meant. She decided to pretend she did not. 'However do you mean, ser?' 

It was quite amusing to listen to the silence as Ser Cole tried to find a way to word his objections tactfully, before clearly giving up in favor of a blunter approach. 'Do you think it appropriate of Prince Daemon to summon you, even though only the King has the authority to do such a thing?' 

The princess hummed in response, voice pensive. 'Perhaps it is not appropriate, but when has he ever been?' She smiled to herself. 

Ser Cole did not respond, perhaps because he was aware that there was nothing to be said in the Rogue Prince's defense. He was a force of nature, and could not be contained or tamed, much to the king's chagrin and the princess' delight - for a long time, there had been nothing she enjoyed more than watching the chaos her uncle brought unfold, to giggle quietly at the angry muttering of the courtiers as Daemon crossed every boundary he could find with relish. Especially since he always treated her with kindness. He never had a bad word to say about her, indulged her in whatever struck her fancy, brought her books and jewels and stories.

She felt seen by him, and when they spoke he never dismissed her thoughts and opinions, asked after them, in fact, and when she grew frustrated with her lessons and the relentless tedium of court, he took her for rides and walks, and distracted her from her dark thoughts with an ease that was to be envied. 

He understood her, and she understood him, and a thousand deaths would not change that. 

'I meant to ask,' she said, knowing Criston was listening, 'did anything come of your confrontation with this Hightower knight? Tuy, was it?' 

She remembered the knight's name, Ser Cuy, but she wished to give the impression that he was so far beneath her that she could not be bothered. 

'Cuy, actually,' Ser Cole replied, though his voice was tinged with amusement. 'It was not much of a confrontation, I assure you.' 

Rhaenyra sighed through her nose, making sure there was disappointment in her voice when she spoke again. 'Indeed, I am glad to hear that. All the same, it is concerning that a vassal of House Hightower thinks himself in a position to reprimand a member of the Kingsguard, especially when that Kingsguard is my own Sworn Shield.' 

It was also most interesting that the point of contention, if it could be called such, had been Laena's protector. Why would a lowly knight sworn to the Hand's House care about who Laena Velaryon's sworn shield was? Unless, of course, the Hand had ordered him to investigate. Rhaenyra might not yet know what sort of role Emmett Cuy played, but she would make sure he had a hard time of it. 

'They are emboldened by the new queen. Many allies of House Hightower are, and they flaunt their imagined status.' She could see him shake his head out of the corner of her eye. 'From what I have seen, the Houses most affected are the same that have always been the staunchest supporters of Oldtown - the Lannisters, Tarbecks and Reynes. It is most obvious on the training yard - they behave without chivalry, especially towards your own allies.' 

Rhaenyra stopped dead in her tracks, and turned towards her knight. She fixed him with a look as cold and hard as ice. 'Elaborate.' She demanded. 

Ser Cole, to his credit, did not avert his eyes. 'I have only witnessed it directly one time, and I immediately interfered. Three of them banded together and attacked Lord Laenor, who defended himself admirably, but was outmatched.' At the memory, Cole's eyes filled with a cold anger, offended at the lack of honor the noble lads had displayed. 

In another life, Cole himself had encouraged her half-brothers to mistreat her sons under the excuse of training, had hardly taught them anything - if he taught them, it was to hate swordplay, and it had fallen to Daemon to teach them different. Jace had taken to it like a dragon to the skies, but Luke had never found the passion for fighting his older brother had, though the strength, the potential, had been there. He had put a morningstar into the training yard's wall when he had barely reached her hip, and the hole he had left had still been there when she had taken King's Landing in the Dance. 

Rhaenyra forced her shoulders to stay straight, to not slap Criston across the face for an offense she should have had him beheaded for. He had not done anything of the sort... yet. Indeed, he had now even protected her darling cousin. He was not that beast yet, though she saw its shadow in his dark eyes. 

He was her beast, now, and she could unleash him however she pleased. As long as she played her cards right. 

'I am pleased to hear you put a stop to their disgraceful behavior, ser. I should like to have a word with the master-at-arms of the Keep about the matter, and why he did not prevent such a thing from happening. The boys who train at the Keep at this moment are the future lords of the Realm, and the knights who will serve and protect them. They must be taught that there is more to knighthood than swinging a sword. A knight must be chivalrous and honorable, dutiful and brave. Being a good fighter is not enough.' Rhaenyra looked at Cole and smiled with pride, knowing he craved her praise and approval. 'Like you, Ser Criston. Perhaps you would assist in their training, so they can learn from your example.' 

He all but glowed at her words, as she had hoped he would. 'Thank you, Rhaenyra, you are too kind.' He shook his head ruefully, curls bouncing. 'I have no experience teaching, and would not wish to offend those who have served for longer than I. If anything, Lord Commander Westerling is the man to ask, and I am sure he would be pleased to aid you. He is much more experienced, and far more patient than I, not to mention he has seniority.' He offered her an apologetic bow. 'Your confidence and trust humbles me, my princess. I strive for nothing but to prove myself worthy of such.' 

At times, he stunned her, no matter how certain she was that she had him figured out.  

She sighed before tilting her lips upward just a tick. 'My apologies, Ser Cole.' She replied smoothly, 'I did not mean to imply any lack of respect on your part, or indeed mine. Perhaps it is our close proximity, or the fact that you are sworn to me, but I find myself considering you my first choice for matters dear to my heart, such as my cousin's well-being.' She resumed her walk, the Heart Tree growing ever closer. 'All the same, I am glad you brought this to my attention.' 

Ser Cole murmured his assent, and they sunk back into amicable silence as they traversed the Keep. The sun was still rising, chasing the cold of the night from the sky to replace it with heat only the sea breeze alleviated, and Rhaenyra found herself longing for the cooler temperatures on Dragonstone, the open space and vastness of the sea, so far removed from intrigue and schemes, and the place she had spent the happiest years of her life. 

She ought to pay a visit once Daemon went off to war, for she was certain that his concubine, Lady Misery, still resided there. Her Mistress of Whispers. 

Mysaria had given her excellent advice, and never shied away from telling her cold hard truths. She had been an advocate for the people, and Rhaenyra hoped to kindle her loyalty early this time around, to enjoy her wisdom once more. The White Worm had had a hard life, but she hadn't allowed that to harden her heart, to turn a blind eye to those less fortunate. Instead, she had striven to help them in the small ways she could, and there was no better ally for Rhaenyra if she wanted to endear herself to the smallfolk than to take Mysaria's advice.

Before long, they arrived at the Heart Tree, and as expected, Daemon Targaryen stood under it, resplendent in his fitted black gambeson with Dark Sister by his side, his hair like molten silver, a mischievous slant to his mouth and sly gleam in his eye as he beheld her. She could feel the weight of his gaze from where she had come to a halt, the tilt of his head a dare, a challenge. She was not afraid to meet it. 

'You may guard me from here, Ser Cole. I will speak to Daemon in private.' 

'As you command, Rhaenyra,' Ser Cole said, his voice tinted with displeasure. All the same, he did not follow her when she approached her uncle, nor did he try to persuade her to allow him to follow her along. 

Although she wanted to rush at Daemon, she kept her steps slow and dignified, her head held high, though she did not bother to restrain the grin she felt stretching her cheeks as his answering smile beckoned her closer, the mischief having made way for true fondness. The instant she was close enough, he reached for her so he may caress her cheek, and she tilted her head into his touch as she always had. 

Should anyone else attempt this, they would lose a hand. Yet Daemon's touch was always welcome to her, and she delighted in the knowledge that for her, he would curb his baser impulses, that for her, there would always be fragility in his eyes, gentleness in his touch. He was always careful with her in ways he afforded no one else, and though he was far from perfect, he was in many ways perfect for her. 

'Princess,' he greeted, his voice smooth and familiar as velvet on her skin as sharp eyes swept over her face, tracing the shape of her lips, the slant of her cheekbones. They lingered on the angle of her jawline, sharpening, before travelling lower, down her slender neck, her straightened shoulders, her exposed collarbones. The swell of her chest, the tight cinch of her waist. All over her body, she felt his gaze as though he were caressing her with hands calloused from fighting. She repressed a shiver and met his eyes boldly as they finally returned to her face. 

'Prince,' she returned, proud that her voice did not tremble. This younger body was even more reactive than she remembered, and she felt aflame with his attention on her.

He chuckled, his hand leaving her face with some reluctance, and she mourned its warmth instantly. He leaned back against the tree, irreverent as always, one of his eyebrows pitching high. 'Left your guard dog, have you?' He jerked his chin towards the spot Ser Cole still occupied, tactfully having turned his back to grant them the illusion of privacy. His white cloak fluttered lightly in the gentle breeze, sunlight gleaming off his polished silver armor. He was striking, but then, Rhaenyra was not a foolish young girl anymore who thought she could have whatever she liked without consequences. She knew better than to desire Criston Cole. 

'I know not of whom you speak, uncle.' She teased. 'I only see a gallant knight defending my honor, and you, of course.' She watched him like a hawk for his reaction. Even after all this time, she never quite knew what would amuse, and which words would irk her husband. 

To be. Husband to be. He was not hers yet. 

'Ah, but of course. Nothing but chivalrous, that one.' Daemon retorted, a scoff following the words. 'Whereas I am but a scoundrel. Will you forgive me my reputation, dearest niece?' 

Rhaenyra laughed. 'Certainly, uncle. Far be it from me to imply any untoward intentions on your part. I know your attention stems from love, nothing more.' The seconds the words left her lips, she fought against the blush that wanted to rise to her cheeks, for there was too much truth in what she had let slip, voice too honest and raw. He had noticed it as well, eyes narrowing and mouth pursing. 

Daemon looked her over again, and this time, Rhaenyra found herself, however irrationally, fearing he found her lacking. She took a deep breath through her nose and smiled up at him as she always had done at the age she was currently perceived as, and though a glint of suspicion remained in his sharp violet gaze, his expression softened yet again. He shook his head and laughed, as well. 'My dearest niece, I feel nothing but devotion for you, you must know.'

Rhaenyra's smile grew serrated. 'Ah yes, which is why you asked for Alicent's favor. Did you deem me too obvious a choice, or did you merely wish to make her uncomfortable? Or perhaps,' she stepped closer, a mere breath away, 'it was both. Perhaps I am too easily swayed by my fondness for you, Daemon, and that is why you find it so easy to believe I exist at your whim.' 

She knew her smile was a knife's edge, that her words were harsh, but she meant everything she said. For as long as she could remember, Daemon lived for chaos and disorder. He loved his rogue reputation, loved to unsettle and discomfort others with his mere presence, yet despised being likened to a rabid dog. He was loved and hated in equal measure, and flaunted that fact with alacrity. 

Still, she did not doubt his loyalty or devotion to her, or at least, she had not. But, she recalled with startling clarity as she looked at the man before her, the Daemon she had taken to husband, the Daemon that had fought a war for her, who had died to avenge her son, was not the same man that was with her now. This Daemon was younger, wilder, less secure about his place in the world. She was not afraid of him, never would be, nor did she think he would ever betray her, but as she beheld him, for a second all she saw was his daring smirk as he asked for Alicent's favor when she had been right there.

How childish of her. 

Yet Daemon surprised her again. 'Do not fear, Rhaenyra.' He murmured, soft as silk. 'Your will was never in question, and I would not play with you as I did with her. If you think differently, you do not know me as well as you think you do.' 

For as gently as he spoke into their shared space, his words were a reprimand. He looked at her with hooded eyes, purple on purple, and Rhaenyra willed herself to remain undeterred. She would not be swayed so easily, and she saw the second the realization settled in her uncle, for his gaze brightened and his lips widened into a genuine smile. He always had loved that she was willful and determined, even when he had not appreciated it, and for a split second she saw desire flare up in his gaze, strong and honest, and knew without a doubt he was imagining having her then and there, rough and passionate, before he leaned back with a furrowed brow. 

Ah. So he was still at odds with his desire. 

'Still, the question remains: Why did you call for me, uncle?' Were she merciful, she would have called him by name. But she enjoyed the conflict in his eyes as he tried to reconcile his image of her as his precocious child niece and the reality of their mutual attraction in light of her newfound confidence. 

Yet Daemon Targaryen was not known for his timorousness, and so did not hesitate to answer her. 'You have made it quite clear that I would risk your displeasure should I fail to inform you when I leave the capital. Well, to keep you content, if not pleased, I have come to tell you of my departure.' He smiled, a bloodless thing, and cupped her cheek. 'I would hate for you to think me an oathbreaker.' 

Though Rhaenyra had known he would leave sooner rather than later, she still felt her blood grow cold at his words. She cleared her throat. 'So would I, uncle. Do not forget the second part of your promise.' She said, taking hold of his wrist with both hands, encircling it with slender fingers. 'It is a strange time to leave, I will say, especially since Lord Corlys is not making any moves to join you. Or are you not leaving for the Stepstones after all?' 

Daemon huffed a laugh through his nose. 'Oh, the Sea Snake will follow, I assure you. I am going to scout ahead, and raise more supporters on the way.' He shook his head at her dubious look. 'I will be back before you know it, Rhaenyra.' His other hand joined the first, and he had her jaw in his tender grasp, angling her head upwards so she could not but look right at him. He moved his face ever closer to hers, and she was almost entirely certain he would kiss her, before he stopped a hair's breath from her lips. 

She stood as still as a statue, not daring to even twitch as the intensity in his gaze almost burned her alive. 'As you say, uncle.' She whispered. 'You shall write to me as often as you are able,' she told him, not even pretending it was anything but an order. She recalled what it had been like, the last time. With nary a word from Daemon or Lord Corlys, it had seemed as though they had both simply vanished into thin air until Daemon showed up to court one day with a driftwood crown to lay at the King's feet. 

He laughed. 'As you wish, Rhaenyra. I fear I shall bore you terribly, all these letters with little to tell.' 

Rhaenyra raised a brow and smirked. 'You could never bore me, Daemon. Fear not, for I shall answer each letter faithfully.' 

His eyes twinkled. 'Nor could you ever bore me, Rhaenyra.' He leaned forward once more, and this time, he did kiss her. A brush of lips upon her cheek, so low he almost touched the corner of her mouth, as his fingers crooked under her chin to keep her still for his attention. For a moment, time stood still as she fought not to tremble, and she felt his lips turn into an amused curl at the reaction he had drawn from her.

He made to disentangle himself, but she swiftly turned her head so that she barely caught his mouth with her own, the touch soft as a feather and gone as quick as it had come, so very fleeting that it could not be said with certainty it had happened at all. He stiffened in surprise, and triumph welled in her. 

'Keep this as my favor, and carry it to victory,' she murmured, eyes low and fixed on Daemon as she watched him swallow. It filled her with pride, that she was able to unbalance this unflappable man, if only for a second. 

He raised her hand to his lips and pressed another kiss into the skin there, and Rhaenyra knew the heat his mouth left would keep her warm the entire day. 'I shall guard it jealously, and return it when the fighting is done,' he promised, gaze dark and intense. She shivered at the sheer hunger in his voice, his desire so clear and obvious that Rhaenyra was glad the Heart Tree was usually a place for solitude, deserted and oft left without visitors for days on end.  

He released her and stepped back with a gallant bow, affecting chivalry in its purest form. 'My princess,' he said, and she curtsied to him in return, a shared mockery of the customs of court that had no place between those who shared the blood of the dragon. 

Daemon shot her one last smile, and departed for what she assumed to be the Dragonpit, so that he might mount Caraxes and be off to war. She refused to turn and watch him leave, instead fixing her eye on the face carved in the white bark of the tree before her, watching with foreboding as a single resin tear made its way out of the carved eye to run down the length of the tree's trunk all the way to its roots.

She took a deep breath and willed the unsettling atmosphere to vanish. It would do her no good to brood about the Stepstones, or the fate of her allies there until they gave her something to worry about. The Sea Snake was an experienced, capable commander, and Daemon a formidable warrior. They had prevailed once, and would do so again, she did not doubt - although she vowed silently to keep Laenor at court as long as possible before his father inevitably called upon him to join their efforts. 

'Rhaenyra?' Ser Criston asked, closer than she had expected him to be, causing her to startle. 

She turned to him, not bothering to put on a smile. 'Yes, Ser Cole?' She knew she sounded displeased, and rightly so, as she mulled over Daemon's words. The two of them had always understood each other on a fundamental level, and she did not begrudge him his glory. She knew he wanted his brother's attention, his adoration, his trust. She knew he craved the same of her, and that she gave it more readily than her father. Yet even though she knew such, at times she could not help but resent Daemon for how freely he could act. She had done the same, once, and paid dearly for it. 

Cole's face was filled with concern as he looked her over, as though searching for physical injury. Yet the anguish she felt could not be remedied with any medicine, or alleviated by removing its source - all she could do was endure, and pray it would diminish with time. Still, it was sweet how obviously worried her Shield was, how clearly he wished to ease her discomfort. She shook her head and sighed softly. 'Worry not, ser. There is nothing to be done, for no affront was given. My uncle has merely had the courtesy to personally inform me of his plans, and I, much to my shame, must admit I find myself worried. I have lost much these past weeks, and I fear to lose more; Though there is nothing to be done about that.' 

She raised her chin and told her knight, 'Fret not, Ser Criston. I shall be perfectly alright, especially once I, also, leave this Keep, if only for a few short months.' 

Cole inclined his head, though his brow remained knitted, his eyes shadowed and posture tense. 'Has he said something to upset you, my princess?' 

Rhaenyra wanted to scoff, but kept tight control of her features. She knew Cole meant well, yet she was aware he was prone to reaching above his station, unintentional as it may be - it was not for him to pry into her private affairs as he was, despite the fact she knew it was only his care and affection for her that prompted him to do so. If she didn't know any better, she would be comforted by his care. 

'Not at all, as I said, I shall be fine. You worry too much, ser.' She offset her words with a smile so he would not think to be slighted, and motioned to the tree. 'At times, when I look into these carved eyes, I feel like the Old Gods are staring back. I do not know whether the thought unsettles me or not,' she told him, hoping he would let the matter lie before she had to order him to do so. 

He looked at the face, then back at her, probably wondering about the change of topic, but she refused to elaborate. He could take the out she offered or ignore it in bullheaded stubbornness, and though she was prepared to deal with the latter, she hoped for the former. It seemed the Old Gods had listened, for Cole lowered his head with a rueful expression. 'Do you think they are watching?' He asked, hushed and careful, and she wanted to laugh at him. Like most Targaryens, she cared little for the Faith of the Seven or the Old Gods. She did not pray to the Gods of Old Valyria either - she had never been particularly religious, though she pretended to pay service to the Seven, as even the conquerors had done, and visited the sept every once in a while.

Although she did not derive any satisfaction from worship, or claimed she felt cleansed by confession, she understood the appeal. To blame all issues, all misfortunes, on the whim of forces beyond one's control, to give up any and all responsibility and autonomy under the guise of devotion, and to be held as divine as a result must be tempting. Yet she wondered if the same presumption held true for all worshipers, as a shared delusion of sorts, a charade they upheld as a community, or a masquerade they all agreed to indulge. She wondered if any of them truly believed in the Gods, or merely found solace in the pretense they did - giving themselves up to the idea that since so many others professed belief, all had cause to, and therefore they were justified in worship as well. 

They need not seek redemption or vengeance when surely, the Gods would see to it in the next life. They need fear only divine retribution, and meekly kneel at their altars in devotion, and so be forgiven for their sins once they had had the courage to confess to them. Bravery such as theirs must surely receive absolution. Thus, they would serve the Gods, and in doing so serve their lords, for the nobles were in their positions because the Gods had willed it so, as though they had not carved their seats from blood and bone and suffering. 

In the end, even Rhaenyra's own power came, in a large part, from her blood, and her blood's power in turn came from dragons. Had House Targaryen not such control over their dragons, should they lose them to tragedy or war, their power would vanish as certainly as mist in heat. Yet the High Septon proclaimed their House to be the greatest of them all, and  what else could he do, when the Gods favored them so obviously? Should he stir discontent, one visit from Syrax, Caraxes, or even Meleys would be quite enough to remind him of his place. And as all worshipers derived their absolution from the leader of the Faith, his words were to those who fancied themselves truly devout as though the Seven had spoken personally, for he was their mouthpiece. 

In contrast, as far as she was aware, the Old Gods no longer had priests, and those who worshiped them no set rites. They went to the godswood when they felt the need, and hoped their Gods would listen. As Rhaenyra stared into those weeping eyes, the eyes which ostensibly belonged to the Old Gods, she wondered if there was truly something, someone, more than man, something that shaped history before it was. Whether there was another place, the Seven Hells or just one, or even more than that. 

The Old Gods of Valyria had lost nearly all their devotees in the Doom, yet their names lived on in the dragons of House Targaryen. At times, a High Priest of those same gods found his way to Westeros to serve at Dragonstone. They were few, and to shelter them was expected of all Targaryens as dragonlords, not that Westeros would care if their House failed to pay the priests this courtesy. Still, for all the show her family made of being devout to the Seven, Rhaenyra had not known how to pray until Alicent had shown her, and she had no urge to do so again. 

If she wished to see a god, she simply had to visit her dragon. 

She sighed, turning her back to the Heart Tree. 'Well, Ser Criston, we have dallied long enough. We should make haste to meet Rhea and Ser Strong.' 

Cole, still with a knitted brow, bowed and gallantly stepped aside so she might take the lead as always. He kept his place to her right, as always a step behind and ready to defend her at a moment's notice, silent but deadly, young and brave and so chivalrous she wanted to gag. He had none of the honor he held in such high esteem, and she had none of the trust she assured him of. 

As they made their way back through the winding corridors and halls of the Keep, Rhaenyra kept thinking about the Stepstones. Not many Houses had been involved in the conflict the last time, mainly the Velaryons, Celtigars and, well, Daemon. The greater part of the realm had mostly kept away from what Daemon still believed would amount to nothing more than a skirmish. 

Perhaps, were she not so very certain it would be taken as an insult, she could convince other Houses to join House Velaryon's efforts. But she knew her former good-father and was well aware that he would not take kindly to the mere implication he was not capable of defending his territories on his own alliances and merits. Helping them was not worth the price of losing their trust or respect. 

She tilted her face upwards with her eyes closed to catch the dapples of sunlight the blood red leaves allowed through to bathe her in warmth for a moment, pausing briefly to relish in the feeling of wind through her hair and the scent of the sea it brought, before she opened her eyes once more to take her leave of the Heart Tree and the gods it supposedly served, her back straight and face set in a pleasant expression. She chanced a glance back at her knight, who had taken his cue from her and straightened up similarly, though his figure was made more imposing by the exaggerated shoulders of his armor, the white cape, and, of course, the sword that hung from his hip. 

Without another glance, without another word, she strode from the small garden, the only sound accompanying her the clatter of Ser Cole's armor as he kept his post by her side. Their walk back to the great entrance of the Keep was just as undisturbed as their walk to the godswood, strange as that was. She would have thought that far more people would be around, but then again, her uncle had probably chosen a similar route, and as such, it was perfectly conceivable that most had chosen to not risk an encounter with him, even if only by chance. 

Rhaenyra did not mind. She quite enjoyed being left alone for the time being, for she was certain that the feast in the evening would be filled to the brim with opportunities to attract more allies. Even if not, it would be ripe with the possibility to continue to sow resentment towards the queen and her family, and she might manage to catch Lord Corlys so she might propose to him Jeyne's solution to keep an ally on the Small Council even in his absence: She knew him well enough to assume that the suggestion to pick his own replacement would appeal to his pride, as well as hopefully strengthen the loyalty of whom he chose.

As they passed tapestry upon tapestry, Rhaenyra did her damnedest to not let her thoughts spiral out of control at the prospect of Rhaenys leaving court in the aftermath of her husband's departure to rule over Driftmark in his absence, more likely than not taking Laenor with her. She wondered how long Lord Corlys would wait before leaving. The last time, he had not attended the wedding at all, and all the planning for war had happened on High Tide, far away from the king that had insulted him so. Therefore, to her chagrin, she was not privy to the specific timeline her former good-father meant to keep to, the strategies he meant to employ, hells, even the strength of his army was a mystery to her. She hoped he would be willing to indulge her questions, but even if he was not, she was certain she could find a way to help him destroy the Kingdom of the Three Whores... after the conflict had grown large enough to be of concern to the Crown. 

'My princess, may I present to you Ser Harwin Strong of Harrenhal,' Rhea's voice cut through her musings, and just at the right time, for had she not interrupted Rhaenyra's thoughts, the princess might have embarrassed herself and stumbled at the sight of the father of her three eldest sons, as tall and strong and kind as he had ever been, a twinkle in his dark eyes as she came into view. 

Stood besides Rhea Royce's slighter frame, Harwin Strong seemed even broader by comparison, only matching Rhea's height as he bowed gallantly. The movement robbed her of the sight of his dearly missed features, and stole the air from her lungs in doing so, only allowing her to breathe again as he straightened back up. He was younger than she remembered, his hair shorter and eyes less sorrowful, but he was undoubtedly her Harwin, loyal and fierce and true. She fought back tears and the lump in her throat as she reminded herself that as far as he was concerned, they had barely met. She smiled and prayed it did not look as grotesque as it felt. 

'Ser Strong,' she greeted, and as he stood at his full height, for an instance, she did not see the man at all. She only saw the deep eyes Jace had inherited, Luke's pug nose, and the dimpled chin all three of their oldest sons had possessed, the dark curls they'd all had, and the undeniable kind and gentle demeanor all four of them shared. Rhaenyra swallowed hard and refused to let any of her pain show as she inclined her head towards the knight. 

'Princess Rhaenyra. I am most honored to meet you.' He smiled, and Rhaenyra felt as though no one could hurt her as long as he kept doing so. 'It will be my honor to accompany you and Lady Royce to the Street of Steel.' 

Gods, but he even sounded young, or at the very least younger than she thought she ever heard him - which, of course he would, but the reality of it still left her with an odd sense of vertigo, a displaced feeling of bewilderment. She kept smiling all the same. 

'We are honored to have so fine a knight join us.' She paused a moment, wondering if she should leave it at that, but decided against it. 'I have heard much about you, Ser Strong, and am most pleased to welcome you to King's Landing. Your father told me you intend to join the City Watch?' 

The man grinned broadly, showing perfectly white teeth. 'Indeed, I do. No use sitting around looking pretty when there is real work to be done.' 

Had he said it in any tone other than the one he used, she would have taken it as an insult. But he was earnest in his word and deed, and she knew he meant no harm - he simply had not been at court long enough to refine his manner of speaking to the ever-courteous level she had grown accustomed to. 

'I agree. Which is why we should be off at once, do you not agree, Lady Rhea?' Rhaenyra smiled at her good-aunt, who agreed with a sharp nod, softened by a twitch of her lips. 

Rhea fell into step beside Rhaenyra as the four of them set out to descend the serpentine steps, which separated the Keep into upper and lower parts. The steps were strenuous to climb, downright treacherous after a downpour, and many a man had slipped and cracked a bone when trying to navigate them in a haste. If one wore heavy armor, a fall down these steps could easily lead to a gruesome demise. 

The main gate, through which they would pass to get to the city, was conveniently located close to the outer yard. Though the Keep was heavily fortified, as was proper for the seat of the King, Rhaenyra had always been fascinated by how intricately it had been built. Unlike many other castles, the Red Keep was akin to an endless maze even to the naked eye, not to mention the secret tunnels that went through the walls, ran under the halls and so were like hidden veins through the castle and the ground below - she did not doubt that many had found only death in their desire to learn its secrets, just as she did not doubt that her uncle knew more of the Keep's secrets than any man alive since Maegor. 

She would learn those same secrets, slowly but surely, so that when the time came, she could slip through the castle like mist, unseen and unheard.

As they made their way down the steps, Rhaenyra gazed at Rhea out of the corner of her eye. Though she was relaxed, there was a hint of tension in her posture, tension Rhaenyra assumed had accumulated because she had left the princess alone with Daemon. Though Ser Cole had guarded her, Rhea was still uncomfortable with the idea of Rhaenyra being alone with her uncle, as though in fear he would put a dagger to her throat, or worse, ravish her where she stood, without a care for who saw or heard.

Rhaenyra wanted to dismiss those doubts, but she could not help but remember that night at the brothel, the lure of the forbidden, the thrill of Daemon's hands on her body, his lips on her own. She could not help but remember the cold dread that had settled into her limbs as she realized he had left her there, trembling, half-naked, vulnerable - in the heart of Flea Bottom, exposed and without a protector, to find her own way back home. She had vowed to take it to the grave, that bone-deep feeling of terror she had felt that night, the genuine fear that something unspeakable might be done to her.

She loved Daemon, she knew that with the same certainty she knew the sky was blue, but she had never forgiven him his abandonment that night, and though she had known he had come to regret his thoughtlessness, no such affirmation had ever made it past his lips. For now, he was the same man who would leave the Crown Princess amid whores with her breeches down, and so she did not reprimand Rhea for her worry. It was perfectly justified, and to pretend differently was folly.

So lost in thought was she that she almost missed the stable boys, among them Oleg, who had brought her and Rhea's horses up from the stables - as well as two others for the knights. Rhaenyra shot a look at Rhea and got a little smile in return, and once more the princess found herself glad that her lady-in-waiting was possessed of copious amounts of foresight. 

Rhaenyra smiled as Oleg bowed at her approach, his arm still holding onto her horse's reigns and not moving an inch, a feat some of the other boys struggled with as they almost pulled the horses' heads by accident. The stable boy smiled shyly as Rhaenyra greeted him by name and inquired after his well-being, cheeks turning a soft pink hue as he kept his eyes on the ground and answered quietly. 

'All's well, Your Highness, thank you for asking,' he mumbled, still holding the reins. 'Will you be needing help getting up?' 

Rhaenyra chuckled softly. 'No, but thank you for offering. I shall be fine.' She smiled at Rhea, who had stopped next to her and made no move to saddle her own mount whilst Rhaenyra remained standing. Neither did the men, she noted with amusement. 'Shall we?' 

She swung herself up onto her mount in a single, fluid movement, the mare keeping still obediently underneath her, and took the reins when Oleg handed them over. It took but a moment until her companions were also mounted, and they set off at a gentle pace, cutting a doubtlessly dignified picture.

She rarely left the Red Keep, and certainly not to go into the city, if anything, she took a litter or carriage to the Dragonpit for a flight. With good reason, of course - the city was hardly safe, especially for a lone young girl, and a pretty one, at that. Had her father been informed of her intentions, he would have been like to order at least five knights to accompany her, as well as Ser Cole and possibly Lord Commander Westerling - that was, if he permitted her to go at all. There was a not insignificant chance that he would have instead commanded whomever she wished to consult to come to the Keep instead, rather than letting her visit the workers. 

Come to think of it, Otto Hightower would likely be informed of her little trip in no time, and promptly report it to the King, which some might say was his duty. Yet Rhaenyra could not help but feel that the good Lord Hand took some of his duties more seriously than others, especially when it came to her, and would be sure to paint her adventure in a disadvantageous light. Though she believed her father would not pay much heed, it was a concern she would need to address at an opportune time, though she knew she would be able to sway her father into seeing things from where she stood, even in the unlikely event he became cross with her.

They took the Hook to Fishmonger's Square, to which the Street of Steel crossed. The city was bustling with life as they descended Aegon's High Hill, a cacophony of sound and organized chaos blanketing every bit of space available. This close to the Red Keep, King's Landing's wealthiest resided. The same could generally be said for all elevated spaces in the city - as it encompassed the three hills, the lower areas between those hills was occupied by the poorer folk, whilst the higher one went, the richer the residents became. 

The capital was the most populous city in the Seven Kingdoms, and arguably the dirtiest as well. Few streets were kept clean, the main road to the Keep being one of them, and had Rhaenyra announced her plans of venturing into the city, servants would have been sent to clean the streets she would traverse at least superficially, which was one of the reasons she had decided against informing anyone. She wanted to see her city, the truth and grime, not the polished vision her father's advisors would prefer. 

The farther from the castle they got, the more crowded it became, and she was glad to have two companions well-versed in combat by her side, as well as Lady Rhea, whose capabilities when it came to self-defense Rhaenyra had no proof of, but the same amount of doubt in. She knew Rhea to be self-sufficient, and had not missed the dagger that hung from her belt, nor the bronze breastplate of House Royce she had taken the time to put on. Should anything happen, Rhaenyra would be the last to come to any harm. 

Apparently, despite this certainty, a certain someone sought to ensure her safety more than anticipated, as when they reached about the halfway point of the Hook, two mounted gold cloaks awaited them. 

They were quite a comical duo, one of them tall and fierce and muscular, with a face that prompted avoidance despite its rugged handsomeness, whilst the other was short and stout and jovial with a wide smiling mouth and a thick short neck. 

'Well met, Princess Rhaenyra,' the taller, older man greeted her once she was close enough. He bowed in his saddle, and Rhaenyra nodded in acknowledgement. He looked familiar enough, but she had a spot of trouble placing him, even as she was certain he was not an enemy. 'I am Ser Luthor Largent, Your Highness, captain of the King's Gate. My prince Daemon sent me to provide you with protection and guidance during your visit to the city.' 

Ah, of course. It came back to her slowly but surely - Ser Largent, the then Commander of the City Watch, had supported her side during the Dance, and had personally killed Gwayne Hightower, Alicent Hightower's brother, who had been his second-in-command at the time. Ser Largent's act of loyalty had prompted Rhaenyra to ennoble him. She offered him an inclination of the head, quietly torn between gratitude for Daemon's protective streak and vexation at his blatant disregard for her autonomy. How lucky for him, that he would be spared her wrath by virtue of his absence. 

'Well met, Ser. My uncle must have great confidence in you, to entrust you with my safety. I shall follow his example, and be eased by your presence.' She smiled slightly. 'You will be pleased to see I have brought protection of my own. This is Ser Cole of the Kingsguard, and Ser Strong of Harrenhal,' she introduced.

Ser Largent eyed them both up and down, clearly assessing their built and poise. She knew which of the two he considered more capable from the way his eyes lingered on Harwin. Ser Strong wore less armor than Cole, and thus had greater mobility and reach. Though Ser Cole's armor was thick, it was also heavy, and to move extensively while wearing it would exhaust him quickly - Ser Largent's choice of a simple, sturdy breastplate - black with golden disks, she noted, unlike his companion, whose breastplate was mere metal - but lack of cuisses, poleyns, graves, and solerets struck a balance between protection and mobility, and Rhaenyra was reminded that Rhea favored the same look.

'And you might have heard of the Lady Rhea Royce.' Rhaenyra looked over to where Rhea scrutinized Ser Largent's companion, and grinned a tad. 'Now, shall we? I would like to return before dawn, if at all feasible.' She joked. Ser Largent nodded without fanfare, and turned his horse to allow her the lead, falling into pace at her left, with his brother-in-arms taking the place on Rhea's right, shielding the two women between them. 

Rhaenyra did not have to look to know Ser Cole was displeased by this new arrangement, but he did not protest. Rhaenyra, oddly enough, found herself mirroring his discontent - she had not told Daemon of her plans, and yet here they were, escorted by his men. Daemon must have sent the city's quickest runner to get the message to the city watch that fast, and Rhaenyra wondered how he had found out. Had he stopped by the training yard and overheard Rhea and Harwin? She thought back to their conversation, but no, she had not given away her intentions. Maybe he had known even before they had spoken, as she knew for a fact he had informants in the castle who kept him appraised of particular developments. Perhaps he even employed one especially to spy on her, not that she would be surprised to find the idle thought true. 

She should be affronted by the audacity, but could not help but feel warmth gather in her core instead, as well as annoyance at herself for feeling in such a way. She was happy that he would seek to protect her, yet as usual he went about it the most insulting way. 

'Tell me, Ser, what would you have done had we taken the direct road to the River Gate instead? Did you have men posted there also to intercept us?' Rhea asked, voice cold and cutting. It was obvious she disapproved of Daemon's actions, clearly considering them condescending. Rhaenyra could not fault her, for she herself was rather miffed by the realization that Daemon did not think her capable of seeing to her own safety. 

Ser Largent admirably did not hesitate in his answer, but then again, she had expected nothing less. 'Yes,' he told her curtly, eyes ahead as they moved through the smallfolk and knights and merchants who traversed the road, paying no heed to their curious stares and hasty bows when they realized who they had seen. 'It is my order's duty and honor to defend the King's city, and the watchmen take pride in seeing the King's Heir safely to where she wishes to go.'

Rhea scoffed. 'I am sure.' She said. 'You must be doing your job poorly if the Heir is in danger even with two knights by her side. Unless the city is on the verge of rioting, I would think she has protection enough.' 

Rhaenyra ordinarily would have at least pretended to placate Rhea and assure that she welcomed the additional security the gold cloaks provided, but she found that she had no wish to indulge such pretense. Rhea was completely right, and the princess was glad she cut to the heart of the matter, namely that there was no need whatsoever for the watchmen to accompany them other than Daemon's orders, which they would not disregard for obvious reasons - and which Rhaenyra could not revoke for fear of inviting speculation about a divide in the House of the Dragon which did not exist. It was infuriating. 

Flattering, yes, but infuriating. 

'Forgive us,' the short watchman offered, 'but neither Luthor nor I want to risk the Commander's wrath, not to mention the King's, should anything happen to the princess. I quite like my head attached to my shoulders, and would rather not have it decorate a spike.' He sounded humorous, but Rhaenyra heard the real fear underneath. She sighed. Of course blaming the watchmen for following their orders was a foolish thing to do, and indeed most men would err on the side of caution when it came to the King's only child. There was no such thing as too much protection where she was concerned, and she grudgingly had to admit, at least to herself, that neither her uncle nor his men were in the wrong. 

'Reasonable,' Rhaenyra hummed before Rhea could reply. 'You have only recently conducted a cleansing of the streets, I have been told. It saddens me that such drastic measures were deemed necessary to ensure the safety for the city's population, yet I find myself grateful that the Watch has men possessed of a strong enough will to see to the enforcement of the King's Law. The citizens may rest easier, knowing the gold cloaks protect them with zeal and vigor.' 

The short watchman nearly puffed with pride, and even Ser Largent seemed to straighten at her praise. 'We are honored to hear you say so, my princess. Not all share your understanding,' the captain replied. He sounded resigned, and with good reason. She knew that many, courtiers and smallfolk alike, criticized the watch for the steps it had taken when Queen Aemma had last been pregnant. The Tourney of the Heir had seen many nobles invited to court, just like during the King's wedding to Alicent Hightower, and though no one had said it aloud, many had feared for their safety in the capital. Daemon's purge had been quietly welcomed as a necessary evil, yet been loudly decried by those who lacked an understanding of the circumstances. 

King's Landing, and Flea Bottom in particular, was a wretched hive home to all sorts of scum and criminals. Sometimes, there was no other way to restore order than brute violence, and those who claimed otherwise were either hopelessly naive or lying through their teeth. 

'Rest assured, your commitment to the city is appreciated, sers.' 

It was no lie. Even if the methods were extreme, the results were unquestionable, and the city watch was as essential to keeping the city in order as the Kingsguard was to protecting the royal family. Though Daemon no longer commanded them, Rhaenyra knew full well that the watchmen were still loyal to him, just as she knew he occasionally sent money and equipment to the watch. It was only under his leadership that the watch had been turned from a ragtag crew of rabble that could barely be called soldiers to a force to be reckoned with, a unified brotherhood with a clear structure of command and a reputation of effectiveness. Though few of them were knights, they had gained a sense of loyalty and honor, and their presence inspired a sense of dread in criminals as well as security in ordinary citizens. 

There were around two thousand gold cloaks in King's Landing, and they would rise as one should Daemon give the word. Rhaenyra had to admire that. 

Whilst they rode, Ser Harwin engaged in quiet conversation with Ser Largent, Rhaenyra surveyed the people they moved past. Most of them, recognizing the gold cloaks, moved out of the way quickly, and bowed with the same speed once they saw the silver of her hair, realizing that their princess was among them. They stopped and stared, awe in their eyes, and Rhaenyra sat straighter, knowing that her people were watching her. 

'They admire you, Rhaenyra,' Rhea told her quietly, eyes shining, cheeks gently flushed from the heat. 'They are eager to love you.' 

Ah, yes. She was the Realm's Delight, not the Whore of Dragonstone. She had her people's love, for no other reason than that she had not given them cause yet to despise her, and to keep that love, and make it grow, it would take little but some consideration. Regularly sending the leftovers from feasts to the Keep's servants, many of whom had family in the city, was a good first step. There were surely many other ways to endear herself to her people, and with a look at Rhea's contemplative face, she knew her lady was already noting them. They would discuss these matters later. 

Rhaenyra kept her head high, and wondered how long it had been since her people had seen a Targaryen other than Daemon among them. Years, most likely. 

'Ser Largent,' Rhaenyra said, 'the Street of Steel is long, and my time is short. I wish to see the most skilled craftsmen - I care not for their age, the size of their shops, or their lineage. If the apprentice has more vision than the master, I wish to consult with the apprentice. You know the smiths, the carpenters. I would like you to show me to those who would provide me with excellent work, no matter their prestige.' 

The knight, though still grim-faced, seemed surprised at her words, though his agreement came quick. 'As you wish, Highness. The higher up the street you go, the more expensive the shops, as a rule of thumb. If you want skill, all the workers on the street possess it in some measure, but they each have their specialties. For fine metalwork, you'll want to try Sal Sixfingers. For engraving, Ugly Tom. Should you need something big done quickly, Melk Morr has the most apprentices - they are quick but not sloppy, and he'll give you their time almost for free.' 

Rhaenyra turned her head to meet Rhea's gaze, before she asked, 'And should I require discretion and skill in equal measure?' 

Ser Largent hesitated, but his fellow watchman did not. 'There's a small shop about halfway between Morr's and Tom's. The smith that works it is mute, and only has one apprentice, but he's worked in the Keep before, when he was younger. Never told anyone what he did there, even when he could still talk, so everyone's got their story about it, but he never told no one nothing. You could try him,' he flashed a guileless grin, 'but he's the grouchy sort.' 

Rhea snickered, and Rhaenyra found herself sharing the sentiment. She held no fear of crotchety old men, and if this one was as discreet as the watchman said, he might be just what she was looking for. 

'We will visit the mute first, then. Should he be what I require, we need not bother the others.' Rhaenyra declared, spurring her mare on a tad. She did not wish to spend the entire day in the city, if only because she had to prepare for the evening's feast. There was much to do still, and although she had Jeyne and Rhaenys to support her, and she knew they were in talks with lords and ladies even now so they could prepare for her tour, she also knew that some of the more prideful Houses would not take kindly to being deprived of the opportunity to personally invite Rhaenyra to their seats. They would take it as a slight.

Like that turncloak cunt Borros Baratheon, who had been so insulted by Rhaenyra's quite reasonable assumption that he would declare for her that he had run right into Aegon's arms for the promise of a royal marriage. When Aemond had arrived in Storm's End on Vhagar's back, he had been welcomed with feasts and jousting and entertainment, so the reports had claimed. Lucerys had found them haggling over dowries upon his arrival, yet all of that she could forgive. But his failure to intervene when Aemond mounted Vhagar to kill her son... No. 

'Forgive me, my princess,' Harwin's voice rang out, 'but I daresay none of your people shall be bothered by your visit. I'd wager it to be the opposite. It might serve you to allow all appropriate smiths to present their skill and give them the chance to impress you. Doubtless, half the city already knows you are here, and a single visit from you could propel them towards notoriety, let alone your patronage.' Harwin shrugged his shoulders. 'All of the workers would be honored to be chosen, and the more of them you peruse, the more informed your decision will be.' 

Rhaenyra pursed her lips. He was right, she knew it, but saying so aloud seemed too much like an admission of inadequacy, or naivete. She did not turn her head when she answered. 'Perhaps you are right, Ser Strong. The day is young, and we are in no hurry.' 

She wondered, idly, if she ought to make trips into the city a more regular occurrence. From the way people were staring after them when they passed by, it would be prudent, for they were awed, not angry. Children pointed at her, exclaiming at the brightness of her hair, and boys gaped at Criston's polished armor and white cloak. Farther ahead, citizens began lining the street, eager to catch a glimpse of the royal in their midst, and Rhaenyra suddenly came to the realization that her lack of announcement did not equate to a lack of excitement. 

Soon enough, clamoring could be heard as the people began waving at her, and when Rhaenyra lifted a hand to wave at them, cheers went up as though she had thrown silver stags. Cries of 'Princess!' and 'My Lady!' rang out, and Rhaenyra wondered if her maids had anything to do with it, if they had spoken about their treatment at her hands and in so doing facilitated goodwill towards her among the common folk of the capital. 

For a moment, Rhaenyra worried that some of the bolder folk would attempt to get in their way, but they stayed back respectfully, cheering and waving at her. Daemon's purge was still fresh on their minds, and the goldcloaks that accompanied her did their part to ward off unwanted advances, though Rhaenyra made a mental note to have the leftovers from this evening's feast given to the Keep's servants again - under her orders, it would become common practice. She looked ahead, noting that they were getting ever closer to their destination, and turned to Ser Largent. 

'I am certain I need not worry, but you will not face any untoward trouble when I dismount, yes?' 

Ser Largent shook his head, eyes cold and flat. 'Fear not, my Princess. King's Landing has learned to fear the color gold, and my brothers are up ahead. You are well protected.'

Indeed, Rhaenyra could make out spots of gold in the sea of people, and nodded at Ser Largent. 'Your vigilance is appreciated, ser. I admit I was not prepared for the people's enthusiasm,' she smiled at said people, 'or their quickness. I had thought they would be more ambivalent regarding my visit.' 

Ser Largent's brother-in-arms laughed, chin wobbling. 'You're well-loved, my princess. All the Realm knows of the King's beautiful daughter with her clever tongue and amethyst eyes. Prince Daemon, also, only tells us tales of your wits and fearlessness. Add to that the fact that many have relatives working in the castle whom you treat well, and nary anyone has anything other than admiration for you.' 

Rhaenyra stared at the man, flabbergasted. She had hoped, of course, that her treatment of the servants would be noticed beyond the castle's confines, but she had not had any inkling it would be received so well, and so quickly. Rhea chuckled softly at her expression, and the watchman shook his head. 'You're an odd one, princess. Most noble folks expect to be loved for just existing, and here you are, astonished that your benevolence gains you admiration.' He sounded charmed, even a tad smitten, and promptly ducked his head when both Ser Largent and Ser Cole glared at him. Harwin laughed quietly.

Despite his cutting glare, Ser Cole was markedly silent, and otherwise appeared deep in thought, though he did not seem troubled. Rhaenyra imagined briefly what a picture the six of them must make - the Crown Princess and the Lady of Runestone, flanked by goldcloaks and followed by two tall, dark-haired knights in polished armor, one of them a member of the Kingsguard. No wonder a crowd had gathered. 

She shook her head, dispelling such thoughts. 'How kind of you to say,' she replied, not bothering to keep the hint of chagrin out of her voice. They came ever closer to the Street of Steel, and the goldcloaks awaiting them. There were around ten men, all armed and mounted, and Rhaenyra found herself relieved there weren't more. Futile though the effort had proven, it stemmed from her lack of desire to make a spectacle of herself. 

Be that as it may, she had not exactly been hiding her intentions. She had not announced them, no, but she had not sneaked out of the castle in the dead of the night dressed as a page. Therefore she was fairly certain that Otto Hightower had been informed of her little escape, and was already on his way to inform the king, as was his duty. She wondered how her father would react to the news, and found that she was fairly certain he would not see an issue. Though he would probably want to know where her sudden desire to see the people had stemmed from. 

As they arrived at the lower end of the Street of Silk, Rhaenyra turned to Ser Cole, who was perusing the shops he could see with a calculating eye, clearly considering the many blind spots and nooks perfect for ambushes that lined the cobblestone path. When he felt her gaze on him, he looked her in the eyes, and she could see the fierce protectiveness and determination to do his duty in his dark eyes. When her gaze flitted to Harwin's face for an instant, she saw the same expression there, and something in her settled she had not known was in turmoil. 

'Before we continue on,' she began, 'I would like to be clear on one thing: Ser Cole will enter first, then myself and Lady Rhea, with Ser Strong,' she had to catch herself not to call him Harwin, 'taking the rear. The men of the City Watch will remain outside, and ensure we are not disturbed.' 

Cole nodded with steely focus, a hound that had scented blood, and maneuvered his horse to ride by her side. Ser Largent made way begrudgingly. 'As you will, princess. We are at your service,' he said, before turning to his brothers and relaying her orders. 

Rhea leaned closer to her and murmured, 'I am aware you had no plans to keep the restoration of your small keep secret, but I daresay this is rather more fuss than anticipated.' She shook her head with an amused smile curling her lips. 'Would you want to go deeper into the city after? Visit some shops, see the markets? King's Landing is quite lovely, if you avoid Flea Bottom, or so I have heard.' 

Rhaenyra bit her lip, considering. She had not seen the city other than from dragonback, and the castle windows. It had not been too great a hardship, as the castle was vast and provided distractions plenty, but every time she had made the trip to the dragonpit, she had done so by carriage, accompanied by the Kingsguard, no detours offered nor desired. For all her curiosity, she had never particularly wanted for anything she could find in the city. Adding to that, the courtiers' whispers had made the capital sound downright disgusting, filthy people and filthier streets, crime running rampant and danger lurking in every corner. Flea Bottom was the worst of it, but its scum made its way to the rest of the city, and it was not until Daemon that the inhabitants of the capital could sleep soundly again. 

Yet now, Rhaenyra was surrounded by goldcloaks, flanked by knights, and the cheers of her people were ringing in her ears, making her cheeks flush with happiness and pride. Perhaps, whilst she was already here, it might be wisest not to limit herself to only one street. 

She nodded at Rhea, approving her idea. 'We shall at least see the market,' Rhaenyra said, before clicking her tongue in dismay. 'Although we cannot buy anything. I did not bring money.' She would never forget the night Daemon brought her to the brothel, or the merchant she had accidentally stolen from. Her uncle had not been best pleased, but the fruit had been sweet, and she had bitten into it with joy. 

The Lady of Runestone smiled gently at her before motioning to the mare she was sitting on. 'There is no need for chagrin, Rhaenyra. Your saddlebags contain more than air.' Rhea winked, and Rhaenyra felt her blush spread. How fortunate she was, to have a woman like Rhea in her entourage. 

'There's a market right between the three hills,' Ser Harwin threw in, a sparkle in his dark eyes. 'I hear they have all sorts of wares, and many merchants from across the Narrow Sea go there after they give first pick to the court.' 

Rhea nodded, a matching twinkle in her gaze. 'The Street of Sisters is littered with inns, and many of the knights who do not warrant accommodation at the Keep stay there. It is conveniently close to the Street of Silk.'

'Perhaps we should steer clear of that particular street,' Rhaenyra said, remembering her father's words from a lifetime ago. It rankled still, the many experiences she was forbidden from as a woman, the pleasures and dangers and excitements. Yet she knew better now than to openly disregard the rules of society, for she would surely lose the Game should she stray there. Although she was greatly intrigued by the prospect of visiting a brothel, if only for the novelty of it. 

Rhea nodded in agreement, and Harwin inclined his head. 

'My princess, we await your pleasure.' Came Ser Largent's voice, and when Rhaenyra turned to him, she saw the men of the City Watch, cloaked in gold, and watching her. They bowed as one when they saw her looking, and Rhaenyra offered them all a nod and slight smile. 

'So I see. I thank you all for your service, let us not dally any longer.' She spurred on her mare, and the men let her group pass before trotting after them, quiet and concentrated. She would have expected some chatter, but they were silent, and Rhaenyra wondered how afraid they were of Daemon despite their admiration for him, that they dared not even whisper among themselves while they guarded her.  She chanced a glance at Ser Harwin, and saw respect and longing in his eyes where he was watching the men, and was glad he would find his place among them. 

The Street of Steel was a long winding path up the hill, and even from its foot it was easy to make out that the higher up one went, the larger the buildings grew. There was no mistaking that the craftsmen who had shops in the capital were busy, for the ringing of hammers on steel filled her ears, and the sight of men of all build and size came and went from one house to the other, carrying things, moving them, covered in sweat and soot assaulted her eyes. Knights and sellswords perused swords and other weaponry on display in the windows, women fawned over necklaces and earrings presented in small stalls along the street. All sorts of metalworkers were at home here, and Rhaenyra found herself impatient to see their craft. 

As she made her way towards the mute smith's shop, Ser Largent and Ser Cole were the picture of vigilance before and behind her and Rhea. Assured she need not be on guard, she let her gaze wander over the shops and stalls and people. It was lively, almost chaotic, but there was an order to the mess - for no matter how many bodies occupied the cobblestones, no one bumped into one another, and no one brawled. It was quite different from the stories she'd heard, but then again, the sight of the goldcloaks was enough to dissuade any man from behaving rowdily in the presence of their princess. 

Rhaenyra sighed. How wonderful it was, to be surrounded by such life, such beauty. It was not the gilded cage of luxury the way the court was, instead, the honest and noisy vivacity of common life filled a piece of her heart with hope she had not known was hollow. The civil war had sucked the life from the realm and replaced it with desolation and despair. The smallfolk had been made miserable, with men dying in battle, women raped and starved, and children made orphans and thieves. All because one man had reached beyond his grasp. 

'Princess? We have arrived.' Came Ser Largent's voice, gruff and to the point.

Rhaenyra nodded absentmindedly, still haunted by her memory, when Rhea grasped her shoulder firmly. She did not say a word, but when Rhaenyra looked into her eyes, the fierce devotion and steadfast support that Rhea radiated rejuvenated her, and her back straightened at the same time her mind returned fully to the present.

'Indeed, thank you, ser.' She took a deep breath, and dismounted. Rhea and Harwin followed suit, Ser Cole having already done so without Rhaenyra's notice. Her shield bowed to her before he went ahead and entered the shop, the door open as was custom to invite in interested parties, his white cape almost blinding when the sunlight brightened it. His voice was loud and clear when he announced her and the Lady Rhea, but even so, Rhaenyra waited for a heartbeat before she abandoned the heat and bustle of the street for the coolness and quiet of the workshop. 

In doing so, she also traded the good cheer of the people for the glaring displeasure of the workshop's master, whose gnarled hands certainly had enough strength in them still to strangle her without exertion. Had she not been the Crown Princess and future Queen, she would have backed wisely away, yet as it stood, she kept her courage and dignity and met the contempt of the smith with an even, unbothered look and calm disposition. 

After a moment, the smith let go of his tool, which clanked to the floor with a heavy finality, and bowed, a scowl firmly etched onto his old face. Rhaenyra nodded at him, not speaking, before the sound of metal clattering to the floor broke the silence, followed by some truly vile curses that prompted Rhaenyra to raise an eyebrow while Ser Harwin whistled lowly. 

'Your apprentice?' Rhea asked, head tilted and tone gently amused. 

The smith nodded, before he picked his tool back up and turned, clearly resolved to ignore them as best as he could, utterly unbothered to insult his king's only child and future ruler. Rhaenyra had a sneaking suspicion that he was not terribly fond of her House. There were those she would have executed for this clear irreverence in the face of royalty, but despite the man's dour exterior, she had no sense of maliciousness from him, so she raised her hand to halt Cole when he, hand already on his sword's pommel made to advance on the man. He obeyed her silent command, and she stepped forward without worry as the man went to the back of the shop where many large chests and cabinets stood, to retrieve a large ledger bound in leather. 

He carried it back over to her, face still set in a fierce frown, and put it on the table, opening it at the very end before turning it so she could see it better. It was filled with dates and numbers - value of payments, she assumed - and as she read over it, she noted that many of the dates had not yet passed. 

She sighed. 'I understand what you mean to tell me, but certainly, if I were to commission you, your other patrons would show understanding for your commitment to the Crown?' 

The man grunted, and banged the handle of his hammer on the table twice. Not even a second later, the sound of footsteps was heard above them, before they descended what Rhaenyra would dearly hope to be stairs, to burst through a door at the back of the shop, cleverly hidden between the cabinets. Until a boy burst from the wall between them, she never would have noticed the door. 

The boy was younger than her, but his shoulders were broad and his arms muscular. His hair was cropped close to his head, and a single burn scar, thin but blotchy, dissected his forehead. He stared at her like a mouse at a cat, and bowed as quickly as his body allowed him, stammering out a greeting. 

Rhaenyra smiled gently. 

The smith banged his hammer again, and the boy shot right back up and hurried to his side, eyes flitting between Rhaenyra, Rhea, Cole and Harwin, obviously incapable of deciding who he'd rather stare at, the dashing knights or the beautiful ladies. His master took the decision from him as he slapped the ledger and pointed towards Rhaenyra. 

The boy bowed again. 'Forgive me, m'lady, but my master wants me to tell you that he cannot oblige you. He has taken on much work and must satisfy many.' 

Rhaenyra raised an eyebrow.