Chapter 5: The Maiden's Heart

The hot summer sun blazed down upon her, as Rhaenys waited along the dock to see her young uncle and the other soldiers off to war. The occasional gust of salty air brushed through her hair, and tickled at her nose. It made her want to sneeze. The occasional shuffle or call to the departing came from the assembled crowd beside her. Indeed, half the remaining court seemed to be assembled at the docks today. Perhaps among the more imposing members of the court was Mathis Rowan, who had even taken time out of his busy schedule to attend. A stout, clean-shaven man, with a great golden tree sewn upon his doublet. Rhaenys had been told the assembling of the armies and fleets had its price. And Rowan, as Master of Coin, was the man to see that price paid. Next to him was old Lord Willem Darry, the Red Keep's Master-at-arms. A bear of a man, even leaning on his long cane as he was. Willem could be heard lamenting how this was the last war he was like to see, what little he could see, and how he would not see any of the fighting.

There also was Ser Damon Lannister of course, the man representing the Lord Hand while he was away in the West. Beside him, were his wife, Ella, and grandson, Lucion, the latter of which had been quickly attached to Aegon at the first opportunity. A fellow squire to partner with Aegon in the practice yard. Rhaenys didn't like the way he acted around her, but he'd been welcome enough with Aegon and Jon. The thought brought Rhaenys' attention to her brothers. Aegon stood up front with his shadow, Ser Barristan, close beside him. The young king was being coached through giving his blessings to the notables that were sent off to war.

Rhaenys frowned. Aegon looked tired again today, despite the staff's efforts to make him presentable. Rhaenys could not help but think the nightmares were haunting his nights again. Their mother's… death had been hard on all of them. But surely things were made even worse with Jon whispering in Aegon's ear. Perhaps it was Jon's ludicrous story that brought these terrors upon Aegon. Some cabal plotting a murder within the Red Keep itself, how absurd. That's what the White Bull had thought. He would have none of that insanity. Besides, he'd said there were more pressing concerns, with news of Fair Isle and now even attacks upon the Riverlands flying in. Dark wings, dark words, as the old saying went. The castle itself still retained three Kingsguard knights, and a good number of knights and men-at-arms. A few men left over from the Hand's entourage, the Crownlanders, and of course the Dornish retainers brought in by mother, and Lord Taubert Vaith. More than enough to keep everyone safe.

If Jon was telling the truth of it, who would dare make good on such a threat? Balon and his ilk? They have few friends here. No, Jon was letting his overactive imagination get the better of him once again. The little fool, crying about a conspiracy he'd dreamed up. He stood there now, shuffling impatiently, not far from Rhaenys. Seeming to sense her gaze, Jon glanced at her, and gave a nervous smile. Rhaenys looked away with a huff.

This was just another morning of bustling activity as lords and knights shouted and men-at-arms and sailors loaded supplies and weapons onto the fleet of ships that docked at the pier or anchored offshore. It should calm somewhat after today though, now that the fleet was departing.

It had been a fascinating sight, seeing the castle empty throughout the day. The Red Keep and the surrounding city had been filled to bursting for the past week as soldiers and knights from across the Crownlands gathered to board the waiting royal fleet. Ser Jaime and the Lord Hand had already set off with their own retinue along the Gold Road to join with the forces that Ser Kevan Lannister had roused from across the Westerlands.

Parmen, Oswell, the Lord Commander Gerold Hightower, and Viserys where now preparing to board their respective ships. The Lord Commander of the Kingsguard was to have command of the campaign, he would lead the royal forces to victory. But, Rhaenys had heard said that Lord Lucerys Velaryon was truly the man in charge. The Velaryons had always been a prominent house, a chief ally for the Targaryen family ever since the flight from Valyria a century before Aegon's Conquest. Their blood was of Valyria near as much as Rhaenys' own, they had even been made family with the Targaryens on more than one occasion in the past. And while the Targaryens flew their dragons, the Velaryons sailed their ships. It was natural, their seat resided on the island of Driftmark after all. After so many years of such experience, it had become almost expected, even traditional, for the Lord of Driftmark to be made Master of Ships. And this was a war that would be won at sea.

There was the Lord Velaryon now, speaking a few words with the Lord Commander. An old man, Lucerys was, age lined his face with deep wrinkles. His ancient image was completed by a top of wispy white hair.

'Mother had never liked that man.' Rhaenys knew. Her mother and the Master of Ships had worked closely on the Small Council, but in private, Elia had shared her opinion of the man. An opinion that bore a taint from the reign of Aerys, from a court that had once been bitterly divided. 'But was court any less divided now? With these Westermen provoking the Dornish?'

There were bitter fights, even now. So many attempting to influence the Crown, a child, or the men of the Small Council.

Viserys shuffled impatiently beside the Lord Commander. A hand tight around the sword at his hip.

'Viserys will not be missed.' Rhaenys had thought. Indeed, the prince had been in a foul mood of late, squiring for Gerold seemed to do little to cheer him, and Viserys had never been particularly close to the rest of their family. But even as she thought that, Daenerys stepped forward, to speak her own words to her brother. A mournful and worried look was set upon Dany's face. What was said, Rhaenys could not say, but perhaps Viserys would be missed by someone after all.

'What does she have to be sad about?' Rhaenys couldn't help but think. I've lost my mother, and now even my friends are leaving the city.

So came the time for Rhaenys to say her own goodbye. She wasn't leaving herself, but her good friend, Sylva was journeying home to Dorne. Alongside her father and… Rhaenys' mother.

"I'm so sorry to leave you like this." The freckled young girl began, a quiver in her voice. "My dad has to, you know. And he doesn't want to leave me in the city alone."

"It's okay." Rhaenys knew she was expected to say, but it wasn't. She felt tears well at the corner of her eyes. "I'll write to you; I do wish you'll be able to tell me all about the Spottswood and Sunspear. All this panic over the war is getting to me."

Sylva gave a strained smile, Rhaenys was sure she saw through her.

"I will. Please, stay safe."

As they bid their last goodbye, Rhaenys watched her friend join Ser Symon and board the ship which would take her south to Dorne.

Lord Velaryon, soon followed in his flagship, the Pride of Driftmark.

And finally, Lord Commander Gerold and Prince Viserys boarded their own ship, and set out to sea. Viserys shouting something stupid about bringing back Balon's head.

With a subdued mood clinging to everyone, the royal entourage began to leave the docks.

In a tower of the Red Keep, Rhaenys watched the ships grow smaller and smaller, before they dropped below the eastern horizon. They had seen them off, and bid the brave soldiers a safe voyage on their way to bloody battle. Now the keep was empty, and so much quieter.

It was… peaceful, calming, to listen to the waves crash upon the shore below. In and out, never ceasing. A rolling and rising and ebbing sound only disturbed by the occasional call or clutter from the yard below.

"Mrow!" Came a squeak from the door.

Rhaenys' face lit up as she rushed from the windowsill to the door. She paused there a moment, hand hovering at the door's latch, before she fell to her knees instead. Rhaenys peaked under the door to see the black paws of the kitty she knew would be there. Swiping a few fingers under the door, she was met with a return pounce and counter swipes reaching under the door. This elicited a bubbly giggle from the little princess, as the two played their old game.

With another cry from the cat calling to her, Rhaenys hopped up and swung open the door. Her old friend quickly padded into the room and made for the nearest sunray.

"Balerion!" Rhaenys greeted him. Balerion the Black Cat, she had dubbed him in years past. The Black Dread, as he was called by those who had displeased him. Indeed, his fur was as dark as the scales of his namesake, the greatest dragon the Targaryens had ever ridden. A small black feather betrayed his most recent conquest. "Is that a feather I see? I hope you haven't been playing in the Rookery again, Pycelle will be most upset." The princess added haughtily.

Balerion was unashamed, a smug look upon his face as he curled up under the room's window.

"What am I going to do with you?" Rhaenys asked, knowing exactly what she'd do, while trying to hold back a smile. Sitting beside Balerion, she picked him up to lay him in her own lap, with only a noncommittal cry from the cat in response. Ample pets and scritches were quick to follow, the princess smoothing out stray hairs, and the feather soon laying discarded and forgotten upon the floor.

"I wonder what your mother was like." Rhaenys spoke softly, almost in a whisper, as she looked down upon the content feline. "Did you know her well?"

The only response from the cat where the purrs given in return for Rhaenys scratching under his chin.

She picked the cat up once more, turning him to face her. Hands under his arms, the cat's paws sticking out towards her. "Did you ever have a mean old uncle bully you? Probably not." She added, looking into Balerion's eyes. "A fierce dragon such as yourself could scare anyone off."

A rumbling purr acknowledged the truth. The two lifelong companions booped noses.

A knock upon the door interrupted them.

"Come in." Rhaenys called, hugging her Balerion close.

Ser Damion Lannister entered the room, Damon's son. Although he had a handsome visage, golden hair and emerald eyes all, like so many from his family, Rhaenys had laughed at him when he was introduced. Damon and Damion, curious names indeed. Much like Damion's daughter, Lanna Lannister. Rhaenys and Dany had shared a giggle over that one as well. It seemed as if the Lannisters had run out of names!

"Princess Rhaenys, please pardon the intrusion. Your presence is requested, it's time for your lessons."

"I had hoped to have more time to myself today." Was her simple response.

She sighed. 'I bet Jon is off exploring his secret passageways right now. Probably roped Aegon into it too. And here I'm going to be stuck in lessons.'

But she rose all the same, hugging Balerion to her shoulder before setting him down.

"Well, Balerion? Shall we journey to our lessons with the old septa?" The little princess questioned. "Very well then. Let us go, Damion."

And with that, the Princess left the tower room, Balerion quickly trotting at her side, and the pair's escort followed with quite the mystified expression.

The halls of the Red Keep, now sparsely peopled though they may be, still saw the busywork of the servants. The occasional coal boy, launderesses, and other attendants, all stopped to acknowledge their princess. Many good afternoons and well wishes were returned.

As they reached the castle courtyard on their way to the royal sept, Rhaenys couldn't help but think this would be another bright full day about to be lost to the good book. If it was anything like tha-

"-now that he's gone from the capital, I expect these Dornishmen to lead us to ruin." A man in the yard muttered angrily, his voice suspiciously loud for the companions so near his side. Their heraldry marked them as men from the West.

"Aye? And he's done so well, why the good Lord Balon decided to pay his lands a visit to express his sincere thanks!" Came a call from across the yard, from a man of with the image of a red cockatrice sewn upon his breast. A Gargalen man.

The chuckles from the Dornishman and his companions seemed to cow the first man, but a second red-faced Westerman seemed to take it as a challenge and stood up, knocking over the shield at his feet. It had three ships painted upon it. "The late Queen was holding him back, stopped him from doing what needed to be done. We should have rooted out Balon and his ilk long ago."

"They only joined the war when they knew it was over." Another Westerman added, unhelpfully.

"What company they must keep?" The Gargalen man gave a hoot. "Treacherous cravens, the lot. Our esteemed Lord Hand and the loyal men of the West would never stoop so low." If the man's voice didn't give away his insincerity, the brazen grin upon his face surely did.

The rest of the Westermen rose to their feet, all but fuming now.

"Settle down now, lads." Ser Damion tried to intervene, but was brushed aside.

Rhaenys did not like where this was going.

"Better now than serving under that arrogant woman! To flog a holy septon?!"

"The gods themselves battered us with storms to punish her. Perhaps that chill was the gods' blessing."

A punishment of storms? A chill for a blessing? Rhaenys had stopped walking now. Damion vainly tried to stop the men.

"Stop this at once, you're in the presence of-"

"Guard your tongue, fools, you might soon find you've lost it." The Dornishman said sharply, a hand inching towards his dirk.

"It wouldn't surprise me if she'd killed the good king, lusting after power!"

Rhaenys gasped. Mother, the man meant mother! "Stop!"

"Go to your room, little girl." Someone uttered.

A deadly silence had fallen upon the yard now, no one said a word. The Gargalen man and the red faced man locked eyes. A manic grin sprouted on the Westerman's face.

"Kennett… Don't you dare" Damion warned.

"Kingly ambition Lady Elia had, and once she had her crown? She filled the court with her favorites. And then she lied and cheated noblemen across the Seven Kingdoms! A sickness took to King Rhaegar's wound? Or did a poison? Poison is a woman's weapon, a weakling's weapon, a coward's weapon, a Dornish weapon!"

The Dornishman screamed and charged the fool. Balerion hissed. Kennett tried to defend himself, but with Damion holding him, he couldn't bring his fists up. The full force of the man's charge was sent through his fist to hit Kennett on the nose. A loud 'Crack!' exploded across the yard. Kennett's head flew back and he stumbled, and pulled Damion down with him. Rhaenys could already see the blood gushing from the man's broken nose. She drew some satisfaction from how painful it looked.

"Son of a Dornish whore!" Kennett slurred through the blood and pain, finally throwing Damion off him. He scrambled to his feet, ready to return the Dornishman's gift. But Gargalen had already drawn his blade.

The faint hiss of steel on leather.

A flutter of white.

A clang.

And suddenly the dirk was clattering on ground, and Gargalen was thrown on his back.

"What is the matter with all of you!" Ser Daemon Jordayne shouted, his sword drawn with a flourish and pointed at the Gargalen man's companions. "I ought to gut you now Raymond."

"If he isn't careful the Lannister is going to get a knife in his stomach." One of Raymond's companions said.

As the heroic Kingsguard knight stared down the unruly man-at-arms, and Ser Damion dragged Kennett back, Rhaenys found the breath she didn't know she'd lost.

"You didn't hear what he said, ser." Raymond found his feet and spat towards Kennett. "He insulted the queen, rest her soul; I was only teaching him good mann-"

"I don't care what was said! Now is not the time to be starting fights in the middle of the yard!" Ser Daemon shouted him down, before looking to the rest of them, "not while we're fighting a war. We mustn't fight amongst ourselves and lose sight of our true foe."

Then, as if noticing Rhaenys for the first time. "And you committed this violence in front of our own princess? Shameful." He looked upon Raymond with disgust.

"Thank you, for your concern Daemon." Rhaenys managed to squeak out. "And for bringing an end to this."

"A drunken brawl in the yard. Tempers high because of the war, ser." Ser Damion said. "The men's homes are being pillaged by the Kraken. And Raymond got a good slug in to repay the fool's words. What should be done about them for this?" He added, giving Kennett a shake, blood dripped upon the man's doublet.

Rhaenys eyed the cur with disdain.

"I wasn't here for the start of it." Ser Daemon answered. "Perhaps our Princess would give us her opinion as to who's in the wrong, and how they should be punished."

Rhaenys' felt her ears warm at being put on the spot.

"Well… Kennett said some dreadfully awful things." Rhaenys began.

Daemon gave her a nod of encouragement. "Go on."

"But Raymond and the rest were provoking him, they were egging each other on. Raymond hit him pretty hard -broke his nose, looks like. But Raymond also pulled out a knife!"

"So, you think both hold some blame?" Daemon lifted a brow.

"I-I do."

"And how would you think they should be punished?"

Rhaenys gave that some thought. When Rhaenys had done something bad, her mother would often send her to her room.

"Have them spend the night in a cell, if you please. Give them time to cool their tempers."

Ser Daemon erupted into a grin. "Splendid! A wise decision, princess. Now, Damion, you were escorting the princess, yes? Best see her on, while I deal with these miscreants."

"A night in the cells? I-uh, I mean, yes, ser, princess." Ser Damion stuttered, before shoving Kennett along. "You're a lucky one, Kennett, best thank the princess for her mercy."

And indeed, the man did thank her, most profusely. Even as Ser Damion brought a hand to her shoulder, and guided her on towards her lessons. She hated how little she could do during such a scuffle, how she was only an afterthought once Daemon had settled things, how everyone was so weird and surprised by her judgement, how they were yelling and beating each other bloody. But most of all, how could someone say such things about mother? She was the kindest, most generous, and noblest person Rhaenys had ever known. To speak such rot… When did everyone begin teetering on a knife's edge?

As they passed the royal sept, Rhaenys grew curious. "Are we not to have lessons in the sept today."

"They've got it set aside for some service; Lady Hightower's I believe."

"Oh."

"They didn't give folks proper time to mourn her, what with -uh," Ser Damion had the grace to blush.

"It's alright." But it wasn't.

"Pardons, my princess. The -ah, lessons, will be held in the Maidenvault today."

Rhaenys gave a simple, "hm," to that.

"Shame about Leyla. Promising young girl, her whole life ahead of her. But sadness and Maegor's moat claimed her too soon, just like your grandfather. And Gerold, poor man, didn't get to see the service because of this war. Horrible. Just a few morning prayers and then he's shipped off to fight."

It was sad, and Rhaenys found her eyes growing watery. So much sadness these days, and for Gerold to not properly see his niece off… Terrible days of late. That was all Rhaenys was thinking as they drew up to the Maidenvault. Two men were there to greet them, flanking the tall carved doors of the Maidenvault. The images of holy men and innocent young maidens carved upon the doors were a stark contrast to those borne by the two men. One's shirt had a pin of a dragon eating its own tail, a Toland man then? The other had the garish image of a foot, hounded by snakes, painted upon the shield slung on his arm. A Wyl, it must be, the house that was infamous for what they did to the noble King Baelor. Mother had made sure to drill the houses of Dorne and their images into Rhaenys' memory.

"Ho, there." Damion said.

"Hello, ser." The Wyl greeted, a smug and all too pleased smile upon his face. The snakes of his shield bit at the foot, blood seemed to ooze from the wounds. "I've the honor of being Ser Aryon Wyl. This is my friend, Ser Cryston Toland. The Lord Commander ordered us to watch over the girl while she's at lessons. Something about a precaution, seems the young half-prince stirred up some worry."

"Yes, I heard about that. Well then, on you go, princess. No more of that violence will reach you with these men about you. Attend your lessons assured in your safety."

Rhaenys wanted to thank him, but felt she couldn't. The bloody foot was on her mind now. And as the man with the dragon pin ushered her inside, Rhaenys had the strangest feeling that she, too, was being swallowed up. The tall doors closed, with an ominous clasp.

And there we have a new chapter after a nice long rest. And Rhaenys' first chapter! Pretty cool if I do say so myself. I couldn't pass up the opportunity to have her play around with Balerion either, drew a bit of inspiration from my own cat for that scene.

Pardon the wait, I've been off graduating college, getting an Archaeological Technician certification, and trying to fix up an enduring computer problem that eventually required me to just get a new computer. Not to say I haven't been having a pretty good year since my last update. Aside from that nasty business of some crazies attempting the overthrow of my country, last year was pretty great. And isn't that a curiously relevant topic for this story. Anyway, wow, finally got the chance to pop this chapter out. I've been sitting on most of this one for a long time, since November 2020! About bloody time, I say.

A bit of a build up for the Targ family dynamic, the introduction of a few new big shots, a few notes on some dissatisfaction directed at the regents old and new, not a bad start. Tensions rising among the two big factions at court, as the star of the Dornish falls and the lion's pride rises ever higher. And poor Gerold, missing out on his niece's remembrance service, poor girl's death and funeral even got overshadowed by someone else's death. I wonder what in-story parallels I could draw with all this? Not to mention that ominous closer, what was that about? I probably should have written a blurb about the children attending that funeral service, but oh well, I'm not going back now.

Anyway, now that the slow walk to posting this chapter has concluded, I might have something to boost my confidence to getting the next chapter out relatively quickly. And that would be the fact that I can proudly say that I wrote up and published two other chapters for two entirely different fics this week! A story in the Elder Scrolls universe set just before the Oblivion Crisis, and a story in the Mount and Blade fandom focused on Neretzes' Folly. Both are from fandoms which seem have very little readership, but they are quite a bit of fun to write. I'll also say I wrote up a Viserys one shot for an au where he doesn't die to Khal Drogo, so if you're interested in that, keep an eye out. I'll be looking to publish that one next. That's what I did during some of my free time while waiting for my tech troubles to be solved, built up the universe and lore and outlines for two (3 if we count the one shot) entirely different fics, hurray! And I also wrote up a pretty neat analysis of the Golden Company, "The Golden Company's Change of Heart," which I posted on Reddit a while back. I'm rather happy with how that one turned out.

I hope you all enjoy, and have a happy new year!