Chapter Twenty-Nine: Rhaenyra VII
Rhaenyra's father, King Viserys, sat on the Iron Throne, wearing his customary black surcoat atop a red doublet, and his golden crown on his head. In his good hand, he held the Valyrian Steel sword Blackfyre.
Underneath the shadow of the throne, a raised dais was placed, and the Small Council sat upon on it, facing the crowd of petitioners, highborn and lowborn alike. Rhaenyra was sat on the far end of the table, on the right of Viserys, but to the left of everyone in the audience. Next to her was her husband, Lord Jason Lannister, and then Grand Maester Orwyle next to him. Directly beneath the King sat the Hand, Lord Lyonel Strong. After him was Lyman Beesbury, and then Jasper Wylde. And on the opposite end of the dais, sat Larys Strong, the Clubfoot.
"All stand for His Grace, King Viserys, First of His Name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Ruler of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm!" declared the royal steward.
Everyone aside from the King stood up, and bowed their heads to their king. Rhaenyra and the other council members turned and did the same, until Viserys stood up too.
"This court is now in session!" declared her father, sitting down again. Once he sat, everyone else finally lifted their heads, and the Small Council sat down.
The first man to step forwards in front of the Iron Throne was an older man whose face seemed familiar for some reason. His long hair and beard looked more white than it did brown, and his belly had started to stick out a little. He limped slightly when he walked, and had a scowl painted on his face. On his hip, he carried a Valyrian Steel blade, decorated with a bronze hilt. The man wore a bright bronze armour, that was engraved with runes written in the script of the First Men, words that Rhaenyra would never understand.
"Your Grace." The man said sternly, kneeling. "I am Ser Gerold Royce."
Uncle Daemon married a Royce, did he not?
"You may stand, Ser Gerold." Her father said, pleasantly. "What brings you to King's Landing on this day?"
"Thank you, Your Grace." The man paused, taking a breath. He seemed to be shaking somewhat, even though it was quite warm in the throne room today. "In the Vale, men are made to answer for their crimes."
"I... do not understand what you mean to say, Ser Gerold." Jasper Wylde asked to the man.
"My niece, the lady of Runestone, Lady Rhea, died some moons ago in a hunting accident."
"That was a tragic accident, yes, Ser Gerold. The Lady Rhea shall be missed. But how does this concern His Grace?" the Master of Laws asked.
"The man responsible for her death was no other than His Grace's brother, Prince Daemon Targaryen."
The entire hall gasped.
"This is a vile accusation, Ser..." Rhaenyra added in. "Surely, you cannot be accusing the King's brother of such a crime, killing his own wife?"
"Do you have any evidence of Daemon Targaryen being guilty of this crime, Ser Gerold?" asked Lyonel Strong.
"Lord Hand, no..."
"You do not?" Rhaenyra asked, smiling.
"No, but..." he stuttered.
"Then how do we know that you are not guilty of this crime? You may have killed your niece in order yourself to put forth your own claims to being the Lord of Runestone!" Rhaenyra said.
"Gods!" he shouted. "I would not do such a thing! Princess... I loved Lady Rhea as if she were mine own daughter, I would not harm her, not ever!"
"Then if it were not you, Ser Gerold, why accuse the Prince of such crimes? It is a heavy accusation you make." Jasper Wylde calmly said.
"Just a few weeks after Lady Rhea's passing, Prince Daemon arrived at Runestone to put forth his claim on it." He replied, his face turning red.
"As he is well within his rights to do, that is not evidence of any misdeeds of my nuncle's part." Rhaenyra retorted. "My uncle could not have committed this atrocity; he would have been in Essos around the time Lady Rhea passed, and simply travelled to the Vale to pay his respects to his late wife."
"He has not dared step foot in the Vale once in his life, not even to consume his marriage! And now, he suddenly cares about visiting his wife, to claim her home? He must have sent an assassin..."
"How do you know that Lady Rhea's marriage was not consummated, Ser Gerold? Did you check her maidenhead?" Jason asked, much to the laughter of the audience, as Ser Gerold became even redder than Jason's silk cloak.
"It seems that Lady Jeyne Arryn has decreed that Prince Daemon is to not inherit Runestone, and that it is to pass to a younger nephew of Lady Rhea." Lyonel Strong said, to quickly break the tension.
"Yes... my lord, it is not the succession I care about, it is bringing my niece's murderers to justice!" Ser Gerold angrily declared.
"With all due respect, Ser Gerold, there is not enough evidence that Prince Daemon committed the crime, but there is also no evidence that you did either, judging from Lady Jeyne's raven. The mountains of the Vale are dangerous, with steep hills and wild clansmen roaming around. It is most likely that Lady Rhea's passing was in fact, an accident, or work of those savages in the mountains, and not the intentional work of anyone." Lyonel Strong replied.
"But... Your Grace..." the Valeman pleaded.
"The case is dismissed, Ser Gerold. You may return to Runestone." Rhaenyra's father said, standing up. "The next petitioner may come forwards!"
Gods, it has been too long since I saw my uncle. It is good to know he is well.
The last time Rhaenyra had seen Daemon was that bloody night, almost five years ago now. Since then, Rhaenyra had gotten married to Jason Lannister, and they had a child together. That was not even mentioning everything about Harwin Strong. The large knight was not present in court today, likely off on duty protecting the city. Even though she visited Harwin multiple times per week, sometimes even more than that, the sight of the man still brought butterflies to her stomach.
His arms...
Ever since he recovered from that fight with Criston Cole, he had become stronger than ever, and Rhaenyra enjoyed his company more than ever.
"Princess?" Lyonel Strong asked.
"Y-Yes? Sorry, please..." she spluttered. It seemed Rhaenyra's mind had wandered whilst the court were busy discussing some bandits active in the rainwood.
Seven hells, I have to suffer even more of this court session for another three hours. At least the subject regarding my uncle was somewhat interesting.
The council went on for another four hours, in fact. Some smallfolk were complaining about a pack of wild hounds terrorising the lands outside Maidenpool, and Lord Staunton and Lord Buckwell had a dispute over where their borders end. Then there was something about the Sealord of Braavos' son being betrothed to the daughter of the current Prince of Pentos.
Refreshments were served for the King and the council during an interval, but then they continued again with even more mind-numbing discussions. Rhaenyra instead chose to think about Ser Harwin and make up a story in her head about what Daemon was up to in the Free Cities.
After she had finished imagining a grand tale about Daemon conquering the Dothraki Sea on Caraxes, the council had finally come to an end.
"If there are no more petitioners, then we can end this council here." Her father said, his voice echoing around the great hall.
Gods, I hope so.
"I have a petition." A woman's voice called from the back of the hall, up on the second floor. At first, Rhaenyra did not recognise who the voice belonged to, but when she walked up to the dais and the throne, she realised who it was.
Queen Laena Velaryon wore an all-black dress, studded with black gemstones as well as a silver necklace that matched her long silver hair. She calmly walked up to the throne, the footsteps from her boots echoing with every step, until she reached the dais. Slowly, she kneeled in front of her husband and king.
"Queen Laena... what... petition do you have in front of this court today..." Rhaenyra's father asked sheepishly, while Rhaenyra perked up in her chair.
Finally, this will be interesting.
From the other council members, Lyonel Strong maintained the same neutral expression that he always had; Grand Maester Orwyle looked concerned; Jason leaned back with a smug smirk on his face (though that was his normal expression); Lyman Beesbury had fallen asleep; Jasper Wylde raised an eyebrow; and Larys Strong had his usual smile that reminded Rhaenyra of a baby puppy. Meanwhile, her father leaned forwards, clutching Blackfyre tighter with his gloved hand. As of late, whenever Viserys sat the throne, he made sure to cover up any exposed areas of his skin to avoid being cut anymore, since the cut he received all those years ago had now eaten away most of his hand.
"Your Grace, I wish for there something to be done about the Stepstones." Laena said curtly.
Jason scoffed at that. "Something to be done? It is not the Crown's war; your father started it without our leave, he can finish it."
"The situation there has become critical. From reports, the Crabfeeder has dug base at Bloodstone and is slowly eating away at Velaryon and Hightower ships through Dornish style warfare. No shipping lanes are available as of now, and that is crippling our finances. Lord Beesbury can attest to that." She continued, ignoring Jason's remark.
"I have not sent aid to the Stepstones because it is not my war-" Viserys said, before Laena interrupted her.
"It shall become your war if you allow the Crabfeeder to win, Lord Husband. Yes, my father should have received your approval before attacking the Triarchy, I agree, but should he lose, the effects would be devastating and would be felt everywhere. Magister Haratis, has this war not affected Pentos, too?" Laena asked to the Pentoshi envoy, much to the murmurs of people in the hall. "Your Grace, you must forget about any past slights my father made and aid him to defeat the Crabfeeder."
"Put aside any past slights? What sort of nonsense is that?" Jason laughed. "You are suggesting His Grace should ignore the insult to him by Oldtown and Driftmark but instead lend support those who connive behind his back?"
The audience continued with their whispering, and it seemed that most agreed with Rhaenyra's husband's notion.
"Your Grace... the Queen may be correct..." the Pentoshi man said, as a hush fell across the room to listen to the Essosi's opinion. "A victory for the Hightowers and Velaryon would be much to the preference to Pentos, as well as Volantis and Qohor, that I can attest to. I know it is not my place to interfere with the Iron Throne's politics as an envoy, but the Triarchy's incursions over the past decade or so have been devastating to Pentos' trade too, and a victory for them would cripple Westeros as well as Pentos. It would shift the pendulum well in the favour of the Triarchy, something I know is undesirable to everyone in this room, and also most of the Free Cities."
A couple of nods and whispers from the crowd showed that even more people had been swayed by the Pentoshi's words.
Fickle bunch.
"You are correct, Magister Haratis, it is not in your place to with the Iron Throne's politics as an envoy." Rhaenyra curtly reminded him, as he bowed his head in silence.
"Please, Your Grace!" Laena begged. "Not just my father and brother and cousins fight, but the kin of the very people in this room. Lady Costayne, your husband is in the Stepstones, is he not? Lady Massey, your husband was killed there, but your two sons still fight there, don't they?"
More of the audience nodded, and there were even some cheers this time.
"I have already made my mind up on this, Laena." Rhaenyra's father said. "I shall not be sending support to the Stepstones, If Lord Hightower and Lord Velaryon were so confident of winning this war, they can do it themselves. And it was unseemly of you to bring this matter in front of an audience… you should not do that again, understand?"
Laena looked at her husband with contempt, clenching her hands into a ball, until her knuckles turned pink.
"Yes, Your Grace." She coldly said, before turning around and storming out of the throne room. She slammed the door behind her, which echoed all across the hall and left a small ringing sound in Rhaenyra's ears.
"Then this council is done, if there-" her father announced before cutting his finger on the throne again, the rusted blade cutting through his black leather gloves. "If there are no more petitions, we are finished."
He stood up to display his authority, with red blood dripping from his gloves and back onto the Iron Throne.
"This court session is now complete!" the royal steward announced, as everyone knelt before getting up to slowly make their way out of the hall.
Later, Rhaenyra was in her quarters with her father and husband, and the babe.
Her father carried little Baelon with his bad arm, rocking the boy gently. Baelon wore a small red doublet, with black and cloth-of-gold sleeves, and tiny maroon breeches and boots on his little legs and feet.
"He shall grow to be a strong man one day, and a brilliant king." Her father smiled, whilst stroking his wispy hair.
"Yes, you shall certainly take after your father, won't you?" Jason whispered to Baelon, carefully taking him back from his grandfather.
Rhaenyra rolled her eyes.
"The boy's a baby dragon." Rhaenyra's father smiled. "But he has lion's blood in him too."
"He is half lion." Jason laughed. "That is why red suits him better than black does."
He still wants to make his son more of a lion than a dragon.
Rhaenyra and Jason eventually managed to agree on the name Baelon for the babe, and that he would use the Lannister surname only up until he ascends the throne, where he would then become King Baelon Targaryen. Rhaenyra's father gasped when he heard what name Rhaenyra had chosen, but gave a small sad smile after that.
Was that because the name reminds him of his late father and son, and the pain of losing mother? I chose the name to honour them all.
Jason was insistent that he would name the child Joffrey, after a legendary Andal King, but Rhaenyra overruled her Lord Husband this time.
We disagree on a great many things, but I still bear a strange fondness for him.
She was originally disgusted at the idea of marrying Jason Lannister, but over the years, she had gained a liking towards him.
Mayhaps, it began when he honoured our agreement.
Once Rhaenyra was with child, Jason done good on his promise. He never entered Rhaenyra's bedchambers in the night and make use of his husbandly rights ever again. Once or twice, he drunkenly stumbled in thinking that Rhaenyra was his newest paramour, but when he realised his mistake, he profusely apologised and quickly left before he did anything. And ever since Baelon was born, she saw a softer, more fatherly side of him that she never did before.
That being said, I would still never invite him into my bedchambers, no matter how much I grow to like him, because I have too much pride to do that.
"Red are the colours of Targaryen's too, husband." Rhaenyra replied, smiling.
"Then we can agree that red shall be our son's colours. It does match with his eyes." Jason said, looking at their son, grinning.
Baelon looked more like his father, in truth. He had the bright green eyes of Lannisters, and his thin hair was a bright blonde, with small streaks of silver running through it.
The babe started to whinge a bit, and that was Baelon's signal that he wanted to sleep. Carefully, Jason carried him over, cradling him back and forth, before placing him in his bed, next to the dragon egg that they placed there when he was born. The egg was beautiful, it shone like beaten gold in the sunlight, and was speckled with pale pink scales. The gold of the egg almost looked like Baelon's hair.
"Gods..." her father said, clutching his head in pain.
"Father, are you well?" Rhaenyra asked, worriedly.
"Yes... Yes, Rhaenyra, it is time for me to take that bloody medicine Orwyle made... I shall take my leave now, daughter..." he groaned, before giving Rhaenyra a small embrace and looking at his grandson lovingly one more time before hobbling away on his cane.
Ever since Orwyle took over as Grand Maester, his health has definitely improved.
But he still is deteriorating away, no matter how much Orwyle tries to slow it down.
After he left, Jason went to a little box in the corner of the room and took something out of it.
"I must take my leave too, Rhaenyra. But before I go, I got this for Baelon." Jason said, smiling shyly. "In truth, Lady Chatana had this made for him."
Chatana Xho was the newest paramour of Rhaenyra's husband. She had not met the Summer Islander woman yet, but she had seen her once or twice from afar. She had skin as black as teak, and large breasts and wide hips. Her hair was thick and dark, just like her eyes, and was a daughter of one of the many Summer Islander princes.
He took out a small red doublet decorated with colourful feathers in the style of a Summer Islander cape. On the chest was stitched a lion and a dragon made with colourful feathers.
Of course it would have a lion and a dragon on it.
It was a nice gift, nonetheless, and Rhaenyra appreciated the effort made by Jason's paramour. He had only known Chatana for about two moons now, but the fact that she had gifted the piece of clothing made raised her standing in Rhaenyra's eyes.
Anyone would be better than the previous paramour.
The last mistress of Jason Lannister was a sour Braavosi woman, but the one before was a Dornish girl, who Rhaenyra took a liking to.
How many women would appreciate their husbands being so public about having a paramour?
Rhaenyra could not truly have a problem with Jason having another lover, in truth, considering her secret relationship with Harwin Strong.
But would Jason approve of my relationship with Harwin, though?
For some reason, Rhaenyra doubted that he would.
Then I must never let my secret get out.