She did not often come to the capital.
Since Rhaelle Baratheon was sent away as a child to Storm's End, the Targaryen princess only came to her first home sparingly and even then, never for long. That was perhaps why the memory of when she first left was so firmly ingrained in her mind.
Betha Blackwood had tried hard to set her children onto good paths for marriage, arranged as they were - and all for not. One by one, those plans fell away. It was the night before Rhaelle's departure when she saw her mother speak to her father like no one ever dared. Rhaelle, tiny as she was, had snuck into her father's solar and hidden herself away behind a cabinet in the corner as she watched her parents.
"If you had only said no to Dunc, none of this would have come to pass," her mother had yelled at her father. Her mother's dark hair was loose and wild, flowing strong. "But you let him do as he pleased and now the others follow suit - and we lose our little girl before she has even bled!"
"It had to be done, you know that," King Aegon had bemoaned. "Do you think I want this?"
"Your reforms will hold no sway now, surely you know that," she scoffed. "And all because you let our children do as they please."
His face was solemn - though unyielding. "Who was I to say no when we married for love?"
"The King!" Betha answered resolutely. "And our children have a duty to respect the agreements we make with the noble houses - what is our word good for if it crumbles to dust so easily?" She paused to collect herself but her breath was already broken. "How do we ever explain this to her?" Then her mother collapsed onto the chair with a small sob. "Rhae is so young," she whispered, shaking her head in sorrow, her dark locks still and quiet now.
The King walked over to her, placing a hand on her shoulder carefully. "She has always been dutiful and strong. I'm sure she will do well with Lyonel and his family."
Rhaelle had inched away then, her mother's sobs fading into the air as she crept back to her bedroom.
The next day she was sent off to Storm's End, watching as the red castle grew smaller and smaller, blurring into nothing eventually in her tears.
Now as a woman decades older, sitting once more in the Red Keep before her brother's grandson, she could not help but think back to that moment.
So many men who hold power abandon their duty and then foist it upon others.
No more.
Rhaegar was staring at her in shock. "What do you mean - 'he is no longer in the capital?'"
Rhaelle Baratheon looked upon her great-nephew, now King, with a dull expression. "Robert has left." Surely that was clear enough.
The only response she was given were owlish blinks of the eye.
"He is literally not here," she continued, observing what appeared to be befuddlement on his face before taking a seat at the table. "Neither body nor soul. I'm not sure how much clearer I could be." She watched as the young King clearly found himself frustrated by her words.
"We had thought he would be here, aunt, as he is the head of House Baratheon. Are you -?"
"Am I going to represent him? No, I just came here to see if you think this dress flatters me," she answered with a small flourish of her hand across her skirt.
His lips formed a tight, thin line.
"Consider me his envoy," Rhaelle answered resolutely. "Or do I need to explain that as well?"
"I understand," Rhaegar replied in a somewhat strained tone. "Let us begin then."
Good, she thought to herself in satisfaction. Now you may learn what it is to not have every being around you fall at your feet.
As they all took a seat around the table, the older woman took in her crowd. There was the King, of course. Next to him was Queen Elia, who Rhaelle greeted with a genuine smile and look of respect. But why have the gods cursed you to be saddled with this man, my dear? Entering behind the King and Queen had come a man she believed to be the Master of Coin. Chelsted, is it not?
Then there were the ever loyal knights - Dayne and Whent - standing sentry by the door. And finally there was one more, she observed, now sitting on the other side of her nephew.
"Lord Connington. I did not expect to see you here."
The young stormlord with hair ablaze and eyes a cool contrast gave her an obliging bow. "My lady."
"Lord Connington thought he could be of service in our...discussion, aunt. He knows the stormlands better than I and offered to be of service, if he could."
"Well, I am near thrice his age and know the stormlands enough for us all, but if this is what you want, so be it." Rhaelle appraised the man. She wondered if this was his audition of sorts to be Hand. The fool Merryweather had been sent off - is a follower to take his place? Where is Tywin? Surely Rhaegar would have asked the arrogant lion to come back.
It was no matter. In fact, it was better this way.
"Princess," Rhaegar began. "Aunt." Now his tone had become familiar, warm.
The prince-now-King would fare as well with honeyed words as he would with his harp with Rhaelle.
Something he would soon find out.
"I would like to begin by offering my most sincere and ardent apologies for my actions and for interfering with the betrothal between Lord Baratheon and Lady Stark. It was not - "
"That will do," Rhaelle cut him off, ending her words with a bored sigh. "I care not for your reasons nor your false words of apology. You'll surely spout nonsense to me of your deep love or something of the like." He could only look at her in shock, that she dare interrupt him so. "It is done and cannot now be undone. How shall you make amends, pray?"
The King's eyes flitted briefly to Chelsted before returning to her just as quickly. "To compensate for the betrothal, I would like to offer to pay the dowry you would have received from House Stark."
Silence enveloped the room. Chelsted moved and his chair scratched the stone floor and it sounded like the harshest noise imaginable.
"That is a good start," the former princess noted. "But I think to show just how keenly you feel the sting of your insult upon House Baratheon, it would do to increase that. Unless the Crown has the same paltry finances as House Stark?"
Chelsted scoffed in offense. "Of course not! The treasury is dripping in gold! We - "
"What our Master of Coin means to say…" Rhaegar gritted out, breaking the second fool's words before more was revealed. "Yes, we can accommodate that. Would doubling suffice?"
"It might. Though..." Rhaelle pondered for a moment. "Do you remember what happened the last time House Targaryen broke a Baratheon betrothal?"
"These circumstances are different." The Griffin lord decided to insert himself then. "No Targaryen was promised to a Baratheon in this case," Connington argued.
Bold, you are, boy. So be it.
"Do you know, you're right," Rhaelle seemingly concurred with a false cheer before a harsh chill took over her face. "This is different. The Crown has disrupted the betrothal and agreement between two noble houses. I wonder that our new King has so little respect for the noble houses of the realm - and when one of those houses is a familian branch no less." She added the last part with 'tsk' and chastising tone as her eyes shifted to Rhaegar. "And after all his father did as well? It says much of how you mean to begin your reign."
Rhaegar looked at her, his indigo eyes betraying every ounce of annoyance he surely felt. "I assume you have a suggestion for resolution?"
"Of course," she noted casually. "As you seem to have forgotten both the past and our family's history, I wonder if we would not do well to examine it once more at present to find a way forward."
"You would ask for more than the dowry?" Connington asked with righteous skepticism.
"If you look back, it took a rebellion, a trial, Duncan relinquishing his claim and then…" Then she paused. Her jaw tightened momentarily before she settled herself and continued. "And then the mistakes of my father and brother were only resolved for good when I was sent away as a child. Is that how we should resolve it now, hmm?"
Elia let out a short gasp. Rhaelle hated that her theatrics caused her this pain - but she hoped the purpose would be served upon her nephew-King.
"You...you cannot mean," Rhaegar began and the older woman found herself genuinely interested in his expression for she had not expected it. He seemed not only upset - but worried. "Rhaenys is too young."
After a few moments of silence, letting him stew in his thoughts, she finally spoke. "No, that is not what I mean. I shall not ask for your daughter, even as a ward or bride for young Renly as they are near in age together." She watched the King let out a short sigh of relief. "I shall not demand that which was forced upon me. Nor shall I inflict another wrong upon your true wife after all you have committed. Though I must say, I find it quite surprising that you dare to show such concern for your daughter now when you disappeared without a word for the wise and left behind both your children. I did not think you cared a lick for them. Why start now?"
Rhaegar's face winced as though she had slapped him and she knew she had aimed true. Perhaps it was petty, but Rhaelle relished seeing foolish men stew in anger - and all from the truth. Always a bitter concoction to swallow, the truth.
"So if you do not mean my daughter, what are you suggesting, aunt?"
She smiled pleasantly. "A Baratheon as the next Queen."
Silence. Again.
"You have no girls to speak of though," the griffin lord said slowly and with confusion.
"How observant you are. But I do have two grandsons who both shall surely be married soon - one of them shall do to produce a girl within the next few years, I'm sure. And then that which was destroyed by my father and brother may now be rectified. And until a girl is born and the betrothal fulfilled, I propose the Crown's taxes from Weeping Town's port go to House Baratheon."
Rhaegar looked to Elia then to Connington and then to Chelsted. They all seemed to mull it over before looking back to her.
It was Elia who spoke next. "Princess," she began with a steady voice. "What if neither of your grandsons has a girl?"
"Ah, now one of you speaks sense. I'd thought of that. If neither Robert nor Stannis produce a girl who would be of a suitable age with your young prince, then the tax agreement remains."
"The dowry payment is one thing. But this is too much, my king," Connington argued. "Simply because Robert Baratheon lost the girl he wanted?"
"You think this is about the girl?" Rhaelle scoffed. "This is about the realm knowing that the Crown respects the houses of these lands. Should all lords now fear that House Targaryen can simply take their daughters when they want? That they will be forced to break sacred agreements?" Then her eyes narrowed as she looked at Rhaegar once more. "And this is about House Targaryen acknowledging insult upon insult against House Baratheon. You may also consider a Baratheon as queen payment for the price my son and good-daughter paid to find a bride for you."
After a brief moment of tense silence, Chelsted cleared his throat. "I believe the treasury can handle these changes," he added, looking to the King.
"Yes, fine. Let's settle this now," Rhaegar concurred, moving his chair back to rise.
So impatient to be done, are we? "I am not finished," Rhaelle said resolutely, holding up one hand. "The remaining point is what shall happen if the betrothal is broken by the Crown."
The king had reclaimed his seat and gazed at her steadily, with utter certainty. "But we shall not."
Before she could stop herself, a snort of incredulous laughter escaped Rhaelle. "You'll forgive me if I do not believe you, nephew. Look where we find ourselves. Surely you must know we require some guarantee of your word - for your word alone is not enough."
"Perhaps a fostering could be arranged in such a case, my lady," Connington offered, as though it were in his power to do so. Arrogant boy.
"No, no fostering. I think perhaps a bit of land will do - with a tidy sum to build it up. That should suffice."
Rhaegar's shoulders seemed to ease then. "Well, I think that can be accomplished - only in the event it is necessary, of course. We shall look upon what tracts may serve best."
"That won't be necessary, I think I have an idea for that which may serve."
"My lady?"
She looked at him plainly. "Why, Summerhall, of course."
And there came the silence again - before it was slain by pomp and anger.
Rhaegar rose from his seat quickly. "You can't be serious!"
Of course it's those blasted ruins that inspire this theater. "If my tone has confused you, let me be clear." All humor had evaporated from Rhaelle's face then. "I am quite serious."
"That is not possible. You ask too much."
"I ask less than you have dared."
"Summerhall is a Targaryen keep."
"And I am a Targaryen."
"You are a Baratheon," Connington argued.
Rhaelle's head whipped to the red-haired man. "Do not presume tell me who I am, boy." She held his gaze, harsh and unyielding. "I am a Targaryen, I am Dornish twice over, I am of the First Men and the Riverlands and I am of the stormlands, as well. I am the realm. I know exactly who I am and what has come before me." Then her attention focused on Rhaegar. "And I know what I want - to ensure that enough is done to make sure the heirs of House Targaryen do not commit such acts as you have. What is clear is that the past was not enough to chasten you."
He shook his head at her slowly. "Do not ask me for Summerhall, aunt."
"I am not asking for Summerhall. I am asking for the Crown to honor its obligations - and seeing as it has a tendency to do otherwise, perhaps an incentive is needed. Are you anticipating the Crown reneging on its obligations?" she asked quizzically.
"Well, no, but -"
"Then why should this be so upsetting to you? You'll only need forfeit your ruined keep if you break your word. Surely by now you would do everything to ensure you keep your word?"
Before he could speak, it was Elia who rose to the occasion. "Aegon will honor this agreement. I will ensure my son does not renege on his promise. And if for some reason, should anyone interfere with this - then Summerhall is forfeit." She looked to her husband then. "But that day shall not come to pass, do you not agree, my king?"
"It shall never come to pass. Never."
"Are we in agreement?" Lady Baratheon asked imperiously.
"We are in agreement. Let us be done with this once and for all," he said impatiently.
Rhaelle stood then, peering at her kin with her chin raised. "Good. I hope that what takes place now humbles our family for generations to come." Then she stared pointedly at her silver-haired nephew. "And that the lessons of the past shall not be necessary ever again."
She gave a short bow as she began making her way to the door. "Oh, and I shall relay this to Robert upon my return to Storm's End. If there is anything lacking, he shall reply. And as for House Stark, he can raise that with his companion."
"Companion?" Lord Connington asked as Rhaelle got to the door.
She turned to look at him. "Well, yes. Lord Eddard. He left with Robert as well. Did you not know - where one goes, the other follows?"
The reception hall was grand and decorated with flowers that sought to compliment the black and red drapery all around. Lords and ladies flitted about, swirls of silk and velvet spun with fine thread of gold and silver.
In a past life, Brandon might have relished a celebration such as this.
But this was not that life.
He hadn't wanted to attend the coronation reception. How could he ever raise a glass to the new King?
But Jon Arryn had tried to convince him that it was better to show a face open to reconciliation, no matter that there was none to be had. Or none that he could see. The Vale lord had stayed while Robert and Ned left, wanting to gain a sense of the new layout with Aerys gone, he said.
He did not completely trust Lord Arryn - not after what Ned had told him about what he heard of him and Lord Tully's conversation. No, he did not trust him as Ned did. But he would be lying if he said he did not want to see how Rhaegar was perceived and accepted with his mad father gone.
Did they think him to be as bright a star as before? Or was he tainted by his actions with Lyanna.
By some miracle, only those in the room that day knew what had been said. But he did not know long it would stay that way. He had told Lyanna he did not want her to attend. And by some larger miracle, she listened. Likely because she was sick of being gossiped about.
Marriage. He loved his sister but even he knew this was folly.
So he too wanted to get a lay of the lands of the court. That - and he'd grown restless. In body and mind. Most of him wanted to be done with this place. He had hoped to begin negotiations quickly, but Robert's grandmother had wanted to go first. Saying no to her did not seem an option, and so he was meant to meet with Rhaegar and his lickspittle councillors tomorrow.
And so he was restless, though in different ways. He wanted to leave - and yet.
His eyes crossed the room then, centering on the crowd of people surrounding the king and queen and his gaze settled on the latter. Elia was dressed in a fine red gown, lined with black and gold thread. He found himself thinking that she could be dressed in a sack and would like a queen.
The northern lord took a quick but deep sip of wine, and it rippled through him, spurring him like he would a steed. And so he rose from his seat and approached her where she stood with her husband. The king tensed immediately upon his arrival.
"Lord Stark - " Rhaegar began before he was cut off.
"My queen," Brandon interjected, not sparing a second glance to Rhaegar. "Would you do me the honor of a dance?"
If he'd been asked to swear it before the gods, he would say he had seen happiness for a mere moment in her eyes when he asked that question. But just as quick, her face was the epitome of courtly politeness. "Of course," she replied steadily. "it would be my honor."
He took her hand and led them to the floor. And as the music began, he seized the moment to lead them as one. Elia looked up at him with raised eyebrows curious for an answer. "You know this dance?"
A mischievous half-grin tugged at the side of his mouth. "Should I be offended you're surprised? I didn't know you thought me a heathen, my queen."
With their hands clasped together and one pair raised above their heads, Brandon turned her and Elia smiled as she gazed over her shoulder at him. "I shall take that as a yes, then."
"Well, it sounds a bit familiar. Though this is something new for me." He turned her once more so that they were facing each other. And his voice had become ever so slightly lower, softer, as he looked at her. "All together new - but I think it good."
Elia watched him for a moment and he could see something fall away in her eyes at his words and as his hand cradled the small of her back. "Good," she repeated quietly. It seemed to be all that she could muster. Then her face changed in expression. "Your brother is gone," she stated.
"He is," Brandon confirmed. "With Robert. There was no point to him being here, he should not have come to begin with."
She nodded though looked at him with a curious expression. As they spun, he looked about the room and his eyes landed on Robert's grandmother and somehow he instinctively straightened his back.
"That woman scares me," he muttered.
Elia followed his gaze and then seemed to stifle a laugh. He could tell she was biting her cheek then, trying to hide the smile attempting to escape.
The young Stark lord looked at her with curious but intrigued eyes. "Does that please you?"
The Queen looked away into the crowd, but the smile had escaped by that point. "Of course it does. How could I not revel in a man trembling before a woman?"
"I never said I 'trembled ,'" he clarified but laughed all the same. Seeing her smile felt as good as when they teased each other, he found himself thinking as he looked upon her.
Elia's eyes shifted from Rhaelle Baratheon back to him. "Why are you looking at me like that?"
With a quick shake, he woke himself. "Like what?"
"Like that," she intoned.
Then he simply smiled, turning her once more though holding her gaze. "This is how I look I can't very well change that."
"You know what my words intended," she exhaled with a frustrated sigh.
"Do I? I'm not sure that I do," he replied innocently as they moved about the dance floor.
Elia schooled her face to neutrality. "I think you take pleasure in vexing me."
He smiled again. "I take pleasure in seeing you amused." He turned her once more, then a spin, before they were back facing the other. Then he looked across her shoulder to the dais where the King sat. "Your husband on the other hand - I would take pleasure in 'vexing' him, as you say."
"I have little trouble believing that," she replied easily.
He looked to Rhaegar once more. "The women here fawn over him. I suppose he is a pretty man, your husband." That earned him a scoff of laughter. "Is that what you prefer?"
"What I prefer does not matter. We cannot always live as such."
"And if you did? What would you choose?" he pried. They turned and her gown spun above both their feet.
"That is not how I think," Elia reiterated. "What good could come of that?"
"Well, it would entertain my curiosity, for one," he answered as their joined hands raised above their heads and their heads turned to face each other.
"And that is reason enough?" she inquired.
"It is a reason. And surely you would not deprive me of such joy, Elia." Whether he realized or not, Brandon had pulled the queen a bit closer as they continued their dance.
She looked away as couples circled around them. "I...I'm not sure there would be any point to answering."
They turned again, and their eyes held to the other once more. "Your words hold great value for me. I am alive because of them, aren't I? If you're the knight who saved me, then I suppose words are your sword, my queen." A wolfish warm smile crossed his face.
That brought a genuine smile back to her as they stared at each other and turned around the floor. Then within a moment, her smile fell away as she blinked and shook her head slightly. She pulled her body away a bit. "You're doing it again."
"What?"
"Looking at me."
"Well, I have to look somewhere, don't I?" he reasoned.
"Not like that," she pushed, her voice beginning to shake slightly.
His smile fell away then, but his face remained warm. "Perhaps it can't be helped," he attested, his voice deep and quiet. His thumb gently swiped along the silk of her dress. All of a sudden, the feel of his hand on her waist, of holding her, felt more pronounced. And when she looked at him, he suddenly felt unmoored and yet utterly grounded.
He couldn't decipher what was in her eyes when she spoke however. "I'm sure you mean it as a jape," Elia uttered quietly, "but when you look at me like that - "
"I didn't mean -" 'A jape?' His eyes were honest, he wanted to declare.
"I already run the risk of the court believing I approve of Rhaegar's actions because they are all fools - 'she's Dornish,' they'll say," Elia whispered in imitation and with contempt. "I do not need them to believe the rest of their unfounded beliefs of Dorne are affirmed by me appearing to - to…"
"To what?" he pried with curiosity.
"To appear as though...I...because of how you are looking at me - " she cut herself off as her face flushed in annoyance.
Brandon looked at her for a moment as he took in her meaning. Then he schooled his face. "Is your husband a good lover?"
She looked away with a gasp, her face shocked and even redder now. "How can you ask me that after what I just told you?"
He looked up, away. "Better if you seem angry with me, is it not? And it seems I said enough to draw true ire, I believe."
She huffed in exasperation, her lips forming a slight pout. "You know more of the south than I thought, Lord Stark."
"So we're back to Lord Stark, are we?"
"For now."
"I shall pray to the gods - even your new ones - that it is fleeting." He smiled roguishly then, hoping to win back her levity.
She looked at him for a brief moment and he was given the comfort from the expression in her eyes that she was not truly angry. Then she looked away once more. "You are maddening, do you know that?"
"In a good way, I hope?"
She bit her lip, trying to hide a smile. "A good way," she admitted.
The song ended and the couples around them began to slip away from the floor, while some waited for a new tune. Their motion together came to a halt, and Brandon paused as he held her, knowing that in a few moments he would need to draw back. Finally he did so slowly, and took her hand in his, bringing it to his lips. "Thank you for the dance," he told her reverently, his eyes fixed on hers. "My queen."
"And you, Lord Stark," she said loudly, as though she wanted others to know they were simply a lord paying his respects to his Queen.
For that was what they were, were they not?
As she walked back to the dais, Elia tried to erase the thoughts and feelings flowing throughout her. Just as she was about to take a seat, she was approached by Rhaelle Baratheon.
"My queen, it is lovely to see you here after such absurd discussions today," she greeted her.
"I hope they were satisfactory?" Elia asked as she offered a seat and then sat beside her..
"Quite. Though unfortunate that all this was necessary," Rhaelle commented. "Though to be honest, your fool of a husband may have done me a favor."
Elia's eyebrows raised up in question. "Truly?"
"Lord Arryn put Robert onto this path before I had a chance to stop him. I think my grandson wanted to marry the Stark girl as much for her as her brother," she laughed. "Now I will try to steer him for the better." Elia nodded in understanding and then raised her hand to beckon for a server. "I hope I did not add to your stress. I have no intention of making life harder for you or for Rhaella."
"That is kind of you to say. And reassuring," the queen confirmed with a small nod. "When do you return to Storm's End?"
"I shall leave tomorrow." A server arrived then to pour each of them a glass of wine. "Tis a short journey luckily."
"How is Stannis? And the youngest boy, Renly?" the queen inquired.
Rhaelle smiled sadly. "Stannis." A slight sigh left her unbidden. "I'm not sure I remember the last time he smiled. He and Robert are complete opposites. Robert quite reminds me of my late good-father. Loud, daring - and easy to anger."
Well, Elia did not need to be told that. It was evident enough.
"Stannis on the other hand is quiet and somber." She took a small sip of wine. "Too much so for his age."
"And Renly? What is he like?"
"Sweet boy. Not a care in the world. Though I dare say he is quite lonely. He's much younger, you see."
"My brother has a daughter about the same age as him, I believe. She's a darling girl. She does not want for company either - my other brother has seen to that."
Rhaelle raised an eyebrow as half a smile tugged at her lips. "So I've heard."
Elia smiled fondly. "He's a bit unconventional, Oberyn. But caring and loving. He may be a second son, but in Dorne, he was the third child - your equivalent of a third son, I suppose. It can be hard for them to find their way - spare to the spare, so to speak."
"Indeed," Rhaelle agreed, taking a slow sip of wine. "Renly is a precocious young boy. I do hope to find a good...outlet for him in the future."
"If…" Elia paused for a moment before continuing. "If you should ever like, I'm sure my brother would be happy to host him, anyone of your family, if you like. Young Renly might like the Water Gardens. I've never met a child who did not."
The older Baratheon gazed at her with a shrewd smile. "It is a shame there is not more cooperation between the Stormlands and Dorne. The marches have been quiet as of late. Though It's always better to ensure such peace remains, of course. Peace should not be taken for granted after all."
"Of course. Peace is paramount," Elia agreed. "You know why the Water Gardens were built, I trust?"
"Of course."
"I used to spy on my mother and Doran when I was young. I wanted to hear everything she told him, how she taught him. When I was older, she took me under her wing as well, of course. But the one lesson I remember the most was when I was still young enough for the pools in the Water Gardens. I'd snuck off to find Doran and my mother. They were watching the children playing below. And she told him that she must remember them in everything he does. She told him it was Daenerys that said to her own son."
"A beautiful sentiment," Rhaelle observed. "One, I fear, is never a guiding force here."
"Indeed. Though I find myself always remembering that lesson - to think of the children. Mine own, the realm's."
The music filled the room and couples brushed past them in their dance. Elia watched the swaying of skirts and shoulders rising and falling in laughter around them. And before she knew it, as her eyes danced through the room, they inevitably met with the grey eyes of Brandon Stark.
When Elia tore her eyes away and looked back to Rhaelle, she found the older woman gazing back at her with a curious expression. Then the older woman took the Queen's hand, giving it a soft pat. "You have a good heart, my queen. Take care it does not go without a shield to guard it."
All she could do was nod in agreement.
"Well, I believe it is time I retire. I have enjoyed your company," Rhaelle said as she stood. Then she moved to embrace the queen and leaned her lips up to her ear.
"I can only steer Robert so much. He is not one to be controlled. Arryn was a fool for thinking so," she whispered quickly. "And your husband is pursuing madness. You know the Faith won't stand for it."
As they pulled away from the other, Elia looked at her trying to keep her face neutral while registering Rhaelle's words. "I...I understand," she replied as her mind began to swirl.
Rhaelle gave her a slight bow of her head in acknowledgment. "Well, I shall write to your brother about visiting the Water Gardens." She began to leave the dais but before she did, she turned to Elia once more.
"Sometimes, my dear, it is best to create new paths for ourselves."
As Rhaelle peeled back the sheets of her bed, she realized how tired she was. And how she yearned to be back at Storm's End. It was something the little girl who had left here would never have imagined would be possible.
She thought back to a few nights earlier when she bid Robert goodbye. He would not have been able to restrain himself during any negotiation with Rhaegar and so they both decided it was better if he left. As she lay down, a heavy sigh left her, wondering if he would restrain himself from any rash actions. She was not lying when she told the queen she was unsure how long she could hold him back. He never dealt well with being denied something - and Rhaelle did not believe he would start now.
Outside the window of her chambers, the waves of the Blackwater created a lulling rhythm. Perhaps the younger Stark will curb him some, she thought idly. Brandon Stark had wanted his brother out of the capital too, it seemed. "He says it is unwise for Ned to be here when he is here as well," Robert had told her before he left. "That he doesn't trust Rhaegar to not hold them all here or something of the like."
The young northern lord wasn't as foolish as Rhaelle thought, it seemed. Her lids were heavy as she closed her eyes, and her mind thought of watching her grandson ride away with his wolf companion. The moon had gifted them with just a sliver of itself, as they began their journey back to the stag's home. She hoped Robert would not do anything stupid, at least not before she got back.
Her hand floated over her loose hair, matching the rhythm of the waves. Her mother used to do that when she would not fall asleep - soothing and comforting. Safe. It never failed to send her to dreams.
As she began to fall asleep, Rhaelle went over the day's events once more. She felt good about what she had accomplished, that she had set in motion pieces that would grant her and her family - all of them - stability for the future.
Or so she hoped. For nothing was ever certain.
Would mother be proud, she wondered?
And so Rhaelle hoped once more. Because after everything that had happened in her life, that was her deepest reserve.
