Rhaenys did not expect Rhaegar to be so easily manipulated by a see through dress and battering eye lashes, though he fell into her hands with such ease that one so unversed in manipulation and feminine whiles such as herself did so with ease. Though, it was when she and her supposed betrothed reached the capital that she realized that Rhaegar was not conned into a tour of the Seven Kingdoms, but rather that he had already been planning one. And who could blame him for attempting to secretly flee from his father?
The Targaryen king fit the description her proud father had given her quite well, he was a husk of greatness, not worthy of his throne. King Aerys, the first of his name, was hideous to Rhaenys. The girl had grown up in the center of Slaver's Bay, where the Masters were descendents of Valaryia or the Summer Isles, all possessing otherworldly beauty, while the plain faced slaves were easily labelled as the lesser from more than just simple collars. Where was the blood of the dragon in the king before her? Aerys stooped down upon his throne, hair and nails long, eyes leering at everyone near him. He was no picture of beauty, just a man wracked with paranoia. Rhaegar had tried to warn her, to speak of his mother with such love and devotion, yet graze over details of his father as if he were a secondary character and not the seed which resulted in his birth.
As Rhaenys was presented to the court, she attempted to ignore the king's lustful gaze down her chest as she curtsied deeply, a trained dog doing her tricks. She knew her courtesies, to smile and blush as the king commented on her looks. 'Beauty will attract them to you, but charm will keep them loyal' Her mother's advice echoed in her mind as she smiled coyly, listening to Steffon Baratheon give a detailed report of their travels to the king, who looked as if he could not care less of his cousin's words. Instead, he leered at her, drinking in her silver hair and pale blue eyes. Rhaenys chose not to answer his looks and instead studied the Queen. Like her own parents, Rhaella had wed her brother to keep the bloodline pure, though the love reflected between Valaar and Aelora was nowhere to be seen between Aerys and Rhaella. The silver Queen was beautiful, no one could deny that, although Rhaenys noted the slight creases from worry and stress that gathered about her eyes. Dressed in the silks of her house colors, Rhaella stood tall and proud beside her husband, eyes never once leaving Rhaegar's.
In the weeks spent riding to King's Landing, Rhaenys learned more and more of the royal family, both from Rhaegar's own lips and those whispered by servants. Amma, her handmaiden and a former slave from Lys, had passed on gossips of laundry maids and cooks alike, and soon Rhaenys learned that the family she traveled to Westeros under the guise of joining was cracking at the seams. Magic flowed through the veins of Valyrians, giving them strength, fertility and beauty, and house Belaerys was not the only family to suffer from the loss of it. With every generation, the yield of children had diminished, leaving stillborns and childhood death in their wake, for both Belaerys and Targaryen. 'Our fate is a shared one.' She thought to herself, 'If I fulfill the pact, perhaps a child of Rhaegar shall hatch a dragon, or perhaps it means he shall have the chance to have children at all.' Queen Rhaella, she learned, had been barren most of her life, giving birth to children who did not see their first name day.
Rhaenys was reminded of her own mother in the Queen, both preached to her of duty and gazed upon her with motherly affection. It was Queen Rhaella who approached her first once court was dismissed, stepping down from the dais next to her kingly husband to loop her arm with Rhaenys's and invite her for a stroll in the gardens before they had their midday meal. The heiress could feel eyes watching her, and she wondered if they were of the nobles or of the spies reporting her every move to whomever their master may be. No doubt her father had instructed a servant or two to relay information on how well Rhaenys played her part. It was almost too easy to believe that the future the court laid before her was hers in truth, that she would wed Rhaegar and become Queen, that their children would rule over seven kingdoms and be happy.
Yet the future was not so bright, and she knew that she was destined for the North, for a marriage bed of ice, not fire, so she smiled demurely and followed the queen as they flitted through the gardens. "My son tells me you both shall be leaving within a moon's turn, to tour the seven kingdoms." The Queen's voice was neutral, but her gaze held a calculating look that made Rhaenys weary. What was it the Westerosi called their plays for power? Ah yes, the game of thrones, and it seemed Rhaella played it quite well. The Queen had been groomed for her crown since birth, and the effortless steps in which she spun through the gardens made it very easily known, the Red Keep was Queen Rhaella's home, her seat of power, and she walked it with a practiced grace. Rhaenys played her part, feeling more of a mummer than a princess, and blushed with a small smile.
"I look forward to stepping upon the same soil King Aegon once conquered." Rhaenys supplied dutifully, courtesies and manipulations swirling about her mind. The dragon rulers were proud of their heritage, and Rhaenys's love for history had quickly been turned into reading the history of Westeros during her years under tutors. It was a strange childhood, one with two sets of goals in hand, to be the bride of fire and to be a bride for fire. She was raised to be poised, regal as a queen but submissive as a servant, so she played her part, staying a step behind Rhaella as they walked but a step ahead of her in their mind games.
"There is much more to Westeros than being seven kingdoms united under the Targaryen banner. Each kingdom has it's own history, it's own people and customs, and most importantly, it's own morals and source of livelihood." Rhaella informed her as they walked, and Rhaenys idly wondered if this was the queen's way of grooming her to one day take over the position, or merely a method of letting the girl know she was in over her head. "Each is held by a warden or lord paramount, some of which were kings themselves before, as you said, Aegon conquered them."
"Of course your grace, in the year of talks of betrothal between your princely son and myself, my father sought out a number of Westerosi tutors so that I would be well versed in the customs of the lands and her people." Rhaenys recited dutifully, half truth and half lie. Yes, her farce of a betrothal to Rhaegar was a year in the making, but her tutoring had always been more of a Westerosi education than that of an Essosi.
"And what did you think of the people of Westeros?" There was a test hidden in her words, and Rhaenys felt her stomach clench with anticipation, if her plan were to work, she needed to be in the Queen's good graces. "Surely they are different than what you have read about."
Rhaenys allowed their turn in the gardens towards the thicket of rose bushes to distract from the pause in her answer, giving her a moment to think her response over before giving it. "I believe what you said before is true, my Queen, the seven kingdoms are just that, seven. Because they are united under the three headed dragon banner, foreign historians lump them all together, when in reality, each has it's own set of customs, traditions and source of livelihood. I am thankful for your Maesters and Septons for serving as your continents historians, for they are of the same blood, and write of their own people most of all."
Rhaella did not speak right away, but the corners of her mouth tilted up ever so slightly, and Rhaenys felt victory burn within her. Perhaps she was a bit too eager to please, but the fate of her house rested on her shoulders, and she was desperate to fulfill her duty. "It is good of you to notice how a person writes of his own people, though when such a thing occurs, a bias is presented." The Queen reached out a hand and plucked a rose from the bush, a soft peach color with petals of satin in perfect arches. "For example, a Reachman Maester will no doubt write that Highgarden possesses the best roses in the Seven Kingdom, which would be mostly true."
"Mostly?" Rhaenys questioned, curiosity getting the better of her as she stared at the rose in the royal's hands.
"It would depend on the type of rose. Have you heard of the Glass Gardens?" The Queen's smile was secretive, and for a moment Rhaenys wondered if the woman was onto her.
"It is in the North, I believe." She replied, choosing to look at the white armor of Ser Harlan, a joke of a kingsguard in Rhaenys's eyes, for he was old and could barely keep pace with the women.
"In Winterfell, the seat of the Starks. No dragon has travelled so far north since Good King Jaehaerys, my son is rather looking forward to changing that." Queen Rhaella informed her, and Rhaenys absorbed the information silently. Rhaegar had spoken to her of their travel plans, and how they would travel north to Winterfell, travelling through blackwater rush in order to appease the Reach and stop at Riverrun, before they would cross through the Twins and onto the seat of House Stark. From there, Rhaenys would need to convince either the Starks or her betrothed to take her to the wall, where she would fulfill her duty and wed the Night's King. Pulling her from her thoughts, the Queen continued to speak, "In Winterfell, winter roses as blue as the night bloom in the Glass Gardens. They only grow in the north, but their wild beauty is known throughout the world."
"I shall ask Lord Stark for permission to bring a blue rose back to the capital for you, your grace." Rhaenys offered, but the Queen shook her head.
"No need, my dear. My son has already promised to return home with one." Though the words held good meaning, Rhaenys could not shake the feeling of dread from the comment. "Still, you shall not leave for a fortnight, giving the seamstress plenty of time to outfit you in Westerosi gowns."
Queen Rhaella wished to see her outfitted in Targaryen garb no doubt, for most of Rhaenys's wardrobe held sheer or cut out panels with glimpses of milky flesh visible, a selection of Essosi dresses meant to mark her as exotic, foreign and unattainable, yet another method of manipulation to keep Rhaegar's thoughts clouded when it came to her. Thus, she was not surprised by the second offer of Westerosi style clothing. Instead, she merely smiled and curtsied, gratefully accepting the offer of the Queen.
A/N:
Bit of a filler, sorry for that. I wanted to get them to King's Landing, so Rhaenys can have some time to see what her life would be like if she married Rhaegar. My end game is leaning more towards Night's King/Rhaenys, but if enough people ship Rhaenys/Rhaegar, I'll embed more cutesy stuff between them that gives Rhaenys a reason to defy the pact.
Next chapter will be Rhaegar speaking to his father on Rhaenys, and the future of the realm. The Defiance of Duskendale has already happened, so Aerys is mostly mad by this point.
My plan is instead of Harrenhal, Rhaegar uses Rhaenys's desire to see the Seven Kingdoms as a cover for going to the Lord Paramounts to get them to agree on a coup.
