Chapter Text
Since the death of her mother, Rhaenyra has been plagued by a series of monstrous dreams. In these dreams, she sees herself engulfed in dragon flames, with the desperate screams of a young boy, her son, echoing in her ears. He watches her, reaching out in vain as the flames consume her.
She knows, deep in her bones, that he is her son. Her baby and he is gone when the flames reach her eyes.
Rhaenyra is then forced to watch as her family’s words come to life around her, flames licking up the sides of great keeps, the stone walls crackling and blackening under the intense heat, blood staining the ground.
Her horror mounts as she witnesses the great beings, the very symbols of her house, crumble into ruin, a sight that pierces her heart with a deep sense of loss.
How?
How has her house, their pride, fallen so hard?
Then she sees. She sees all.
The past, her mother’s death in the childbed.
And the future, her responsibilities, Alicent’s betrayal, her subsequent marriage to her father, and the children from her union. Then come her sons, her brave little boys with dark curls and big hearts, dead within two years. These were the children she bore from her union with her father, a marriage that was more political than personal, and the betrayal of her closest friend, Alicent, added another layer of complexity to her already tumultuous life.
First came fire and then blood.
Her legacy left in ash and ruin.
****
Then she wakes.
Rhaenrya lurches forward, bile rising. “My Princess!” Annora, her dear maid loyal to the end, rushes to her side. Rhaenyra can feel the hands upon her, running through her hair, touching her clammy skin, sending further bile up her throat.
The thought of hands against her after what those men did to her makes her sick.
She pushes Annora’s hands from her and stands on shaky legs. “I am well. I am well.” She sits heavily by her vanity. She sighs, gazing at her reflection in the mirror. Her appearance appears somehow younger than she remembers. Her cheeks are full of girlhood fat, and freckles dot the bridge of her nose, those leaving as she ages.
She is so young and so alone.
Who can she trust? Enemies within the keep surround her. She needs to get ahead quickly.
“Will you deliver a message to Lady Rhaenys? I would ask to break fast with her.” She turns to Annora.
Summoning Rhaenys to her will do Rhaenyra no good. Like all Targaryans, Rhaenys is a proud woman, and their last interaction wouldn’t endear Rhaenyra further to Rhaenys. Going to Rhaenys will at least assuage her hurt pride, showing her cousin that she can listen and learn.
“Of course, my Princess.” Annora quietly bows, leaving Rhaenyra.
The truth does not matter, Rhaenyra…only perception!
She understands now what her father meant. The court doesn’t care what the truth is or what the lies are. They care for the drama, the salaciousness of the unknown. It is worse for a woman; once there is a stain, as untrue as it may be, it will never be removed. It shall follow the lady until her death. For Rhaenyra, it was a death sentence. The moment that she chose to follow Daemon into the brothel, her fate was sealed. It gave legitimacy to the rumours that Alicent spread when she was pregnant with Jacaerys, damning her reign before it began.
This time, she cannot Alicent to win.
In her dreams, Rhaenyra was a fool. She thought that the words wouldn’t prevent her ascension and that they were merely whispers, empty words to placate the courtiers’ boredom.
Rhaenyra twists a ring, scowling at the thought of her lady-in-waiting… Alicent, dear Alicent.
Her heart aches at the thought of her betrayal. Out of all of this, Rhaenyra thought that she could trust Alicent, her closest friend and confidant.
How could she betray Rhaenyra like this? Lying to Rhaenyra that she was the Sept praying for the Queen’s soul, all the while visiting her father in his chambers.
“My Princess?” Comes Annora’s hesitant voice, her dark brown eyes wide with concern.
Rhaenyra hums, pulling her thoughts to the present.
It’ll do her no good to wallow in the dreams now.
“Yes Annora?”
“The Princess Rhaenys has accepted your invitation, shall I aid you in dressing?”
It is astonishing that a royal princess is left alone with merely a single maid. That cannot be right.
Until now, Rhaenyra was in her mother’s household. All her maids, her Septa, and even Alicent were under the purview of her mother’s control. What’s going to happen to her now?
Now…now, Rhaenyra is alone.
“Yes. Fetch me something simple, please.”
Annora bows and disappears without another word.
She swiftly returns with a simple black gown. The gown and kirtle are both deep black, with grey embroidery adorning the fabric. Rhaenyra stares at the gown unhappily, as it is a constant reminder of her mother’s death. She dresses silently, choosing a simple moonstone pendant and earring set in the colour of Arryn blue, honouring her mother, not desiring any of the frivolities she’s become used to. This act of simplicity in her dress is a reflection of her mourning and her desire to distance herself from the courtly life she’s accustomed to.
“Thank you, Annora.” Rhaenyra winces at how hoarse Annora’s voice sounds. She can see Annora frown slightly, but the expression smoothes over quickly. Never before has Rhaenyra felt the distance between their stations than at this moment.
Ser Criston stands to attention when Rhaenyra exits her rooms. “Princess?”
Rhaenyra almost throws up at the sight of him. Kingmaker. No matter what happened between them, his retaliation was to murder Lord Beesbury, a man who had been nothing but loyal to the crown and crown a usurper.
She needs to get him away from her as soon as she is able without suspicion.
“I am to break fast with my cousin, Ser Criston.”
“Of course, princess.”
Rhaenyra hides a grimace as she feels the weight of his eyes settles on her back. Before, she didn’t mind the feeling, and she even welcomed it for a moment, but now it sends disgust rattling up her spine.
The halls of Maegor’s Holdfast are silent as Rhaenyra walks through them; the court had been unofficially suspended whilst the King grieves.
Well, unofficially. Rhaenyra damn well knows that Otto Hightower is enjoying this newfound freedom to do whatever he wants, taking advantage of her father’s grief.
The thought of her father turns his sadness into anger. How dare he mourn for Mother. He was the one who ordered her death…Rhaenyra shuddered. Childbirth has always frightened her, seeing her mother hobbled by her duty, each babe draining more and more of her strength, but her father’s actions…she did not have the words to put into existence how it furthered her horror. How could he do this?
Rhaenyra pushes the thoughts from her mind and forces a docile smile on her face, directed at the Driftmark guards in front of Rhaenys’ door. “Good day, sirs.”
“Princess.” They inclined their heads as they let her pass. She nearly sighs in relief when Crison takes up his position at the door. He didn’t want to at first, protesting that as her sown shield, he ought to be in the room with her; Rhaenyra shuts down that idea as soon as it leaves his lips, assuaging him that no harm would come to her while dining with her cousin. There is no way that she wants him in there.
“Princess, I was not expecting such an invitation this morning.” Cousin Rhaenys’s voice is chilly yet polite, and Rhaenys inclines her head in greeting.
“Cousin Rhaenys. Where is your Lord Husband and children?”
“Coryls is campaigning for support in the Stepstones, and the children are gallivanting off in the keep.” Rhaenys gives a bored wave, sitting in an almost overly ornate chair. These chambers were always kept for the Velayrons, so Rhaenyra assumes that this comes from Corlys’ personal collection, given that even her father doesn’t use such ostentatious furniture. Lord Corlys does have taste to rival the Lannisters.
Rhaenyra follows Rhaenys’ suit and takes a seat across from her cousin.
The meal consists of an assortment of flaky pastries, porridge with cinnamon, a platter of cooked meats, and fried tomatoes.
The room is silent except for the scraping of cutlery against plates. Rhaenyra tries to enjoy the food, but it settles painfully in her stomach. This will not be a comfortable conversation.
“Might I inquire why you wished to dine with me, cousin? We are not close enough to warrant this spontaneous visit.”
Rhaenyra sighs and puts down her spoon. She makes deliberate eye contact with Rhaenys and then casts a gaze at the servants around them. Unlike her father, no matter how well-meaning he was, Rhaenys caught the silent ask.
“Out, I wish to speak with my cousin alone.”
The servants bowed and left without another word.
“So?”
Rhaenyra sighs once more. She cannot afford to be cowed; dragons are not cowards. “You told me recently that the men of the realm would rather put it to torch than let a woman rule, and I disregarded your advice. For that, I am sorry. You were trying to warn me, and I looked down at you.”
She closes her eyes, steeling herself for what she’s about to say. “My father is weak, and I need help.”
Rhaenyra wants, so badly, to relish in the astonished look that graced the face of The Queen Who Never Was, but she needs to stay the course.
“And you believe that I am?”
“You are the first-born grandchild of Jaehaerys; you were educated to assume the throne by some of the best. Despite being named heir, I have yet to be given the same opportunities. My father will remarry soon; I am not ignorant. As you told me, soon, she shall have a son, and the lords will be clamouring to name him heir in my place. I need help, cousin, please.”
She can see Rhaenys hesitating and silently curses. This is not good timing. Right now, Coryls is presenting Laena as the next future Queen Consort. Rhaenys is forcing herself to choose between a future grandson and Rhaenyra.
“My father won’t choose Laena, cousin.”
“No? Why not? She is of the noblest blood, the blood of the dragon, and comes from the wealthiest houses in the realm. What better bride is there?” Rhaenyra can see Rhaenys’ pride begin to swell.
“Alicent Hightower has been visiting my father’s chambers at night in her late Lady Mother’s dresses,” Rhaenyra said, dropping her eyes to the plate in front of her.
The tension in the room is palpable.
“My daughter is being pushed aside for her?”
“Do you think I like this? My lady-in-waiting is debasing herself with my father after the death of my mother,” Rhaenyra snaps, slamming her hands on the table and rattling the dishes, annoyed that Rhaenys is getting mad at her. She likes this even less. “You want to talk about being humiliated? What will the realm think of me when they hear the news?”
Rhaenys purses her lips, anger still simmering in her eyes. “And how have you become are of Lady Alicent’s trysts?”
Rhaenyra scoffs. “What kind of lady would I be if I didn’t know where her employees are?”
The look that she receives tells Rhaenyra that Rhaenys doesn’t believe her.
“Fine.” Rhaenyra sighs. She folds her hands in her lap, casting her eyes downward. “Do you believe in our family’s magic, cousin?”
“You’ll have to be more clear. Do you mean our bond with the dragons?”
Rhaenrya shakes her head. “Before the doom, many noble families of Old Valyria rode dragons. I am speaking of the dreams, cousin. The dreams that allowed Daenys to see the doom and help her family escape.”
“Are you telling me that you have Dragon Dreams?”
“Believe my claims or not, cousin, I do not care. That is not the matter at hand.”
“It’s not?”
Rhaenyra gives her a tired glance. “Not right now. The Dreams showed me the truth. My father never learns the correct lesson from his mistake, and it will continue to affect the realm long after his death.”
She can tell that Rhaenys won’t come back to the dreams at a later date; she can see the curiosity burning in her eyes. “And what does Laena have to do with your father’s decision making?”
“He married my mother when she was one-and-ten, and he bedded her too early. My mother lost many children because of that, and then, eventually, her life. No matter how noble and wealthy Laena’s house is, or how much this marriage will fix the tensions between our families, you being passed over for the crown during the Great Counsel, and his indifference towards the situation in the Stepstones, insulting Coryls’ concerns over the situation, my father will only think of her age. He will think this as a favour to you, sparing her from this marriage. He won’t think to wait a couple of years until her body is ready. He will want to choose someone of a more appropriate age.”
Rhaenys tuts, scowling at Rhaenyra’s explanation. “And with Otto in his ear and Alicent in his chambers. It will not take much to figure out who his bride shall be.”
In the Dreams, Rhaenyra had no plans for her succession to the Iron Throne. Now that she has the foresight of what Otto plans, she will not allow him to succeed. Once, when she was younger, she believed in the laws of the realm, not wanting to stoop to Alicent’s level. Now, she knows what she must do.
She needs to succeed; she cannot allow the Dance to happen again, and gods know what Otto will do if he gets his blood on the throne. She needs to cut them down before they can even stand.
“I can’t believe how far our house has fallen,” Rhaenys mutters—Rhaenyra grunts in agreement.
“This is why I’ve asked to meet you. I need help, cousin. I don’t know what to do.”
Rhaenys purses her lips in consideration.
Rhaenyra starts eating, her stomach twisting at the tension brewing. She slowly forces bite after bite of her porridge down.
After a couple of moments in silence, Rhaenys speaks up. “There are a few things that I can believe you must take care right away.”
“Hmm, what are those?”
“Your marriage.” Inwardly, Rhaenyra cringes. She knew that this issue was going to come up soon. It’s awkward with Rhaenys around. “And gathering allies. Often that comes with marriage, but it can come in other forms.”
“What other ways can you gain allies?” She sounds so childish that it makes her cringe. Despite having those dreams, Rhaenyra can’t help but feel like a total shield in front of Rhaenys.
Half the realm rose in defence of her claim due to their oaths to her father, but that still did not stop Otto from staging a coup.
For a brief moment, Rhaenyra can see unfiltered pain on Rhaenys’ face. “Your mother really should’ve been the one to educate you, not me. I am sorry child.”
Rhaenyra puts her spoon down and drops her hands to her lap to hide their trembling. She hates it when people mention her mother.
“Marriage alliances bind two families together and, hence, are the strongest. Some, like the North, their oaths are strong enough. Not everyone can forge a marriage alliance with the Royal family. Instead, they send their children to join the royal household to show their allegiance. Occasionally, the crown will take wards from quarrelsome families to ensure loyalty.”
In the dreams, Rhaenyra didn’t have ladies; she never truly cared to have their companionship. Alicent had ladies, all of them from the Reach if she remembers correctly. Rhaenyra only ever had Elinda Massey, who acted more as a governess to her boys than a lady-in-waiting.
“I see. I should focus my efforts on building my household then. It is too early for marriage talks. My father won’t allow it.” She wasn’t pressured to start looking for a husband until she was five-and-ten.
Rhaenys’ hesitant look returns. Rhaenyra knows that Coryls wants a marriage alliance, especially after Laena gets rejected in favour of Alicent. On paper, Laenor would be the perfect husband. It would merge Rhaenys’ claim with Rhaenyra, and it would tie the only other dragon-riding family back to the crown. Unfortunately, unless Laenor can give her trueborn heirs, their marriage won’t work.
She will not repeat the same mistakes that her dreamer self did.
“Cousin… I would take Laenor in a heartbeat. He is my best marriage candidate, but…” Rhaenyra doesn’t know how to bring up the situation delicately.
Rhaenys sighs. “Yes, his preferences, I understand. Your dreams, they showed you, didn’t they?” She sounds so defeated.
“Laenor and I wedded due to a scandal on my part. Neither of us was truly prepared for what our positions demanded. He couldn’t preform his duty.”
She doesn’t want to demean Laenor; she loved him, not in the way that a wife should love her husband, but as friends. He was a comfort to her soul.
“I will speak with Laenor.”
“If you think that is wise. I believe that I should look for other spouses as insurance.” Rhaenyra picks up her spoon again and begins eating again, her stomach settling a little as a weight lifts from her shoulders. She didn’t want to ostracize one of her few allies in the keep, but she couldn’t hide this fact. If she was to marry Laenor again, they needed to be smart about it.
“That is wise. But for now, let us focus on forging alliances.”
“Cousin… shouldn’t we focus on Otto and Alicent?” Creating alliances is all good, but shouldn’t they focus on sabotaging Otto’s schemes?
Rhaenys gives her a wicked grin. She reaches across the table and grips Rhaenyra’s wrist. “Don’t worry, I will take care of it. Focus on your ladies.”
“I will.”