Both Arya and Sansa were for once in agreement. They did not want to leave King's Landing. Although for very different reasons, Rhaena personally could not pack her things quickly enough. She was prepared to leave far sooner than the girls and set about helping them though each complained. "It is not fair. I need to stay here with Joffrey so that I can marry him as soon as I flower! How am I to be a queen when I am all the way in the North?" Sansa fumed as she rather angrily threw her dresses and gowns into the chests where Rhaena picked them up and folded them more neatly so that they would all fit.
"Perhaps this is for the best, Sansa. You do not know Joffrey as I do. He is very good at playing the innocent until he no longer needs to pretend. I would have thought you would hate him after the incident with the butcher's boy and Arya." Rhaena reasoned which gave Sansa pause, however she was too lovestruck and naïve to realise just how vile a boy Joffrey was. She excused his actions with petty reasoning, her head far too high in the clouds to even begin to think rationally. Rhaena had grown to love Sansa, however the girl did irritate her so sometimes with her ignorance. She had not been raised here. She did not know any better. Rhaena excused her girlish notions with the knowledge that soon they would be away from the Red Keep and King's Landing with no intention of ever coming back. At least Arya had a better reason for not wanting to leave. She did not want to abandon her lessons with Syrio Forel, something that Rhaena could very well understand.
From time to time Rhaena would go to watch Aarya with her lessons and Syrio always greeted her with a smile and an offer to join them, however Rhaena always declined. This was for Arya, and also, she did not wish to betray any kind of knowledge that she knew a little swordplay herself owing to Ser Barristan's tutelage. All the same she would watch and listen, taking in everything that the dance master would teach Arya who was admittedly getting rather good at the style Syrio taught. It suited her frame and size, allowing for quick and rather elegant movements that were timed to perfection and always to the point. As for leaving King's Landing, Arya was consoled that Syrio might be persuaded to go with them to the North at least to finish her training, so she packed her things as she had been bidden so that when Rhaena came to check in on her, there was little else to do other than neaten things so that the lids of the chests would close smoothly rather than be caught on the jumbled mess of thrown clothes and mixed items. "Have you hidden Needle?" Rhaena questioned as she folded some of Arya's clothing for her, the girl sitting quietly on her bed.
"Yes, it's safe."
"Good. Well, I think you are near enough packed. Are you glad to be going home?" To this Arya was unsure.
"A little. I like it here because of Syrio, nothing else really. I do miss my brothers and mother, so I shall be glad to see them again, but there is nothing for me to do in the North. Here is where all the action is happening, the tourneys and the fighting, I want to be part of it someday!" Lifting her eyes as her hands stilled in her work, Rhaena gave Arya a look of such sadness and exhaustion that Arya clamped her mouth shut and blinked at her friend.
"Believe me, Arya, you will one day wish you could take back those words if you become locked in conflict." Saying nothing more on the matter, Rhaena resumed her task and did not speak again until she was finished. Her mind was full of thoughts, dwelling particularly on the dark tunnel that Arya had shown to her down in the dungeons. She had been lucky to make her way out that day. Had the tide been in then she would have likely drowned. The tension in the air which hung around the keep only worsened with the king's return, for he had gone hunting only to become the prey of his own sport, skewered by a wild boar. Death was in the air, and Rheana now feared for everything and everyone she cared for. Soon the king would be dead, and Joffrey would be crowned the new king where his mother would sit behind him and rule in his stead until he was of age, if she got her way which of course, she would. Rhaena did not know what to do and Varys had not come to her with any helpful information in some time. Perhaps he was distancing himself from her for safety as they could not been seen conspiring together over secrets otherwise, she would be dead sooner than she could blink. As far as she knew, the Starks and the Lannisters were at one another's throats, the king was dying, her sister was pregnant with assassins chasing after her and her child's life, Tyrion was still held captive as far as she knew and before long there was to be a bloodbath in the Red Keep. Cersei would not allow anyone else to rule other than herself, so even if Lord Stark were to remain as Hand of the King as he had been reappointed before Robert had left for his hunt, she would never hand power over to him.
These worries and woes unsettled Rhaena to her core, however when a heavy knock came upon her door the last thing she expected was to be summoned by the king. The Hound himself had been sent to fetch her, the grim faced giant of a man looking down at her sourly before tilting his head to signal that she should hurry. All the way there Rhaena feared that the king was summoning her to give his final order, that she was to be executed. Hoping that someone would have the sense to go and alert Lord Stark, Rhaena near enough held her breath the entire way before she was standing before the doors which were all that stood between her and the dying king. "What you waiting for, girl, an invitation? Get inside." The Hound growled at her gruffly with a shove to her shoulder, pushing her towards the door even as she trembled. A terrified look was sent back his way and even the infamous Sandor Clegane softened a little to see the girl tremble in terror. "He's too weak to hurt you now, and no one else is with him. Whatever orders he gives…I'll not hear it." As he spoke the Hound had looked away from Rhaena and refused to make eye contact with her, standing stiffly outside the door with his back to it in order to keep guard. If she had understood him correctly, then the Hound had more or less told her that whatever the king said to her now would die with him. It was a relief, a sweet and euphoric relief that she could not hide.
Reaching out her hand, she dared to touch the Hound's arm lightly, so lightly at first that he did not feel it until she applied a little pressure which made him jump so sharply that Rhaena almost laughed. She did smile at him, a teary smile as she gazed up at him. Although she wanted to thank him, Rhaena knew his temperament well enough that he'd only grow angry if she tried to thank him so instead, she pulled her hand away and entered the king's chambers before he could respond, though she was fairly certain she heard him growl. Usually, the Hound was protecting the prince, so she found it curious that he should have been sent by the king. Unable to think of an answer, Rhaena became distracted by the stench of blood and infection, hand jumping to pinch her nose shut until she adjusted well enough that she could tolerate it and looked upon the swollen form of the king who had terrorised her for the past seventeen years of her life. "I know you're there. Get over here, girl." Robert spoke with the same gruffness of tone however it was now weakened, barely a remnant of the booming voice he had once possessed. Bowing her head, Rhaena crept forwards and moved herself so that she was within sight of the king as he opened his eyes, looking at her directly. For a moment neither did nor said anything, simply looked at one another until eventually Rhaena dipped a curtsey.
"Your Grace."
"I'm no king anymore girl…everyone is just waiting for me to die so my son can be crowned the new bloody king." He swore then and winced, his injury clearly giving him a great deal of pain. "Wine." Looking to the table beside his bed, Rhaena moved towards it in order to fill a goblet with the rich red wine that the king loved so much before offering it to him. Robert began to shift, grunting and gasping from the pain it caused him and could barely even lift his hand in order to take the cup from her. In the end Rhaena felt enough pity to step forwards and slide her hand under the pillow which rested the king's head and lift it so that he was tilted forwards and brought the wine to him instead. He drank all of it, gulp by gulp before demanding another. "You must be wondering why I asked you here."
"I expect it was to tell me that I would be following you to the grave, Your Grace." Rhaena replied bluntly as she poured more wine into the goblet and helped the king to drink some more. "It would come as no surprise. You ordered my sister and her unborn child to be killed. My brother too, but he is now already dead." Thinking of this, Rhaena had a sudden urge to strangle the pathetic excuse for a man and a king in front of her. To wrap her small hands around his bulging necks and squeeze until he twitched and writhed no more, or to smother him with one of his own pillows. No one would care, no one except Lord Stark, but then no one would know. He was dying anyway. No one would know the difference.
"In my defence, I asked Ned to put a stop to it. Probably won't make much difference now, but there you have it." Drawing herself away from the king, she allowed herself to look upon him with all the disgust and loathing she had harboured since the moment she was able to feel resentment towards someone. "Don't blame you for your look, girl. If I were you, I would hate me too."
"I do not hate you." Rhaena corrected as she set the goblet down and did not refill it again. "I despise you with everything that I am. You disgust me and I curse you for every waking moment I lived in terror of you and your wife. I loathe you. I want you to know how immeasurable my pleasure is to watch you suffer like this, and how I laugh joyfully to know that of all things it was a boar that brought you down and ended your life. Had I known sooner this was all it took to kill you I would have raised pigs." She wanted to spit on him, to beat and curse him as he had done her, but she was so shaken in anger and fury that it had locked her arms to her side. She could not think of how to move, only glower and seethe with the dissatisfaction that Robert would die this way and soon suffer no more.
"Had you raised pigs, I'd have slaughtered the buggers and made you watch as I ate them." Now Rhaena snorted dryly, knowing that this was very true indeed. Blinking his watery, bleary eyes under the thick blubber of his face, Robert tried to focus on the girl before him. "I hated you as much as you hated me, you know. Hated all your kind for what they did to my Lyanna." There it was. The name of the person who had been the source of so much suffering and bloodshed even if she was unaware of it. "When your brother took her…I was ready to set fire to the world to bring her back. You have no idea what it is to love someone so fiercely you would gladly break your bones and shed your blood for them." To this Rhaena had no answer, studying the dying king as he closed his eyes to reminisce. "I should have died back then alongside her."
"Perhaps if you had, then the kingdoms would not be in such debt and ruin." She muttered bitterly, lowering her head as the weight of their past lay heavily upon both their shoulders. "I never hurt her." Whispering weakly, Rhaena shook with her emotions as she began to weep. "I never hurt Lyanna Stark, nor would I ever have done. Yet for all these years, you have blamed me and hurt me as you could no longer hurt my brother for taking her from you. Did you ever…have you ever regretted your actions towards me?"
"What do you want me to say, girl? To beg forgiveness and tell you that I regret all I have done to you and your house?" If he had the strength Robert would have laughed, but he had not, so all he could manage was a guttural growl. "Your brother took the only woman I ever loved, your father killed Ned's own father and brother. Your bloodline is a filthy one and it is swallowed with madness. Mark my words. You too will turn to insanity one day." Gaping at him, Rhaena finally bowed to her will and balled her fist which she ploughed into the king's chest to strike him with all her might. She was still small and thin, but the blow was well aimed and caused the king to choke and cough from it as he stared at her in shock before finally managing a weak laugh. "Mad. All of you…mad."
"I am not mad. If I can live as long as I have with you and that lioness haunting me wherever I went then I can hold onto my own sanity." Rhaena argued rather hotly, a spike of her childishness rising as she bit her lip and almost stomped her foot to try and emphasise her point. Sniffling, she angrily wiped her tears away before returning to glare at the king before her. "Is this why you called me here? To satisfy your hatred of me and my family one last time?"
"In truth, I do not know why I called for you." Feeling the place where she had struck him ache, Robert touched it briefly before settling back down. "I should be calling my children here at this point, death is near to me. I can feel it. I haven't got much longer."
"Then I shall send them to you."
"I don't need them mewling over me. Never was any good with little ones." A silence followed, neither one knowing exactly what to say to the other though both felt there was a great deal more that they wanted to say. Perhaps Robert had ordered the girl here in order to see if he would want to ask for forgiveness, or to reaffirm his hatred for her house as he always had done. Or perhaps it was because he did feel some guilt for all that he had made her suffer, for beating her and starving her, releasing his anger and heartache onto a frail and innocent child as there was no one else who could take her place. If that was the case, then perhaps deep down, Robert had called her here to offer her a chance at revenge. Gods know he would deserve it. "I hate you, girl."
"I hate you too, Your Grace." Rhaena responded flatly, her hands beginning to twitch as she looked once more at his neck and his pillow, wondering if she should dare kill him herself.
"I don't regret anything I did. To you or your wretched brother. May his body rot and his soul never find peace, the bastard." Her fingers twitched once more. "May your sister miscarry that whelp and die along with it. May you suffer every waking moment of your life until you come to a miserable end…to die in a ditch somewhere alone and friendless to be pecked and picked by crows and wolves." Clenching her jaw, Rhaena's rage continued to escalate despite the fact she knew he was taunting her.
"May you suffer in death as you have these last days, Your Grace. May the gods punish you for every sin you carry and return what you inflicted upon me tenfold and more. May you know thirst and hunger, suffering and pain." She returned to him, both of them glowering with every scrap of loathing they possessed. Rhaena stepped closer and leaned over the king, sneering down upon him. "May you never find Lyanna Stark beyond the veil, that you will remain lost and alone until the gods are turned to dust…that you will never again see your love or take her in your arms." This was a step too far and Robert used the last vestige of his strength to snatch at Rhaena's throat in order to squeeze but the infection had spread far and sapped at his once mighty strength. The little girl effortlessly peeled his fingers away where they did not even leave a mark as Robert heaved and laboured for breath. It was coming. His time was near.
"Forgive…forgive me…" He muttered, eyes rolling in his head as Rhaena lifted herself up. She glanced towards the door.
"You are dying, and the gods teach us to be merciful to our enemies. My hatred of you will do me no good once you are gone for you will no longer be alive to bear it." Beginning slowly, Rhaena began to pace up and down the bed slowly as she began to make her decision. "I know many honourable people who would choose the path of forgiveness and I idolise them for their morals. Ser Barristan, Lord Stark, they have taught me a great deal. For their sake, I should forgive you." In the softness of her tone, Robert thought that perhaps she would forgive him after all. She was better than he was, he had known it all along, it had only added to his loathing of her. Laying back his head, Robert began to make peace with himself and his death, but then he felt a weight dip the bed beside him before it moved closer towards him, and he looked to see Rhaena Targaryen looking down upon him with such a fiery passion that the heat of his fever ran cold. "But I am not them. I am a Targaryen by blood, and now I shall have what is owed to me. For my brother, Rhaegar. For his wife, Elia. For his daughter, Rhaenys, and for his son, Aegon." Leaning in so closely that their faces almost touched, Rhaena's face twisted into a deadly smile. "Your life."
Before Robert could truly begin to struggle, Rhaena grasped hold of one of his pillows and shoved it down into his face. So great was her fury that she did not even care if the Hound or anyone else was to barge in at this moment. All she wanted was to avenge the death of her brother Rhaegar and that of her sister and unborn child. She wanted revenge for herself, and nothing satisfied her more than to know that King Robert would meet his end at the hands of a little girl he had held prisoner from the moment of her birth. The only sourness in this sweet moment was the fact that Robert was dying regardless of her actions. At the very least this way it was on her terms. She smothered him with all her strength pressing down to cover his mouth and nose even as Robert grunted and tried to call for help but the sound was muffled. He grasped and clawed at Rheana, but she only pressed her knees into his arm and swatted the other away. Robert, the great and powerful Baratheon who had overthrown her entire family and taken the throne for himself, was utterly helpless. Rhaena relished in the sensation of power which flooded through her and for the first time, she understood why men enjoyed bloodshed. The power over life and death in the palm of her hands, and here she was starving a king of the air he needed to breathe.
Continuing to hold him down, she did not once waver in her resolve as she watched the king twitch and struggle against her, gradually going still until finally he made no more movements. His barrel-sized chest did not rise and fall with air, but still Rhaena remained still in order to ensure that the king was truly dead. She counted the moments, the minutes, until finally she pulled back the pillow and looked into the face of the man who would now only haunt her memories and nightmares. His eyes were sightless, staring into the oblivion with a swollen and red face which looked no different to how he looked when he had drunk too much wine. Suddenly Rhaena remembered to breathe, scrambling away from the bed and staring at the result of her actions. If Ser Barristan or, gods forbid, Lord Stark ever found out, she would never regain be the same in their eyes. Lord Stark may very well withdraw his promise of protection as no matter the excuses, Rhaena had just murdered his oldest friend, a man he called his brother. Now Rhaena felt slightly sick. It was her only regret, but the immense satisfaction she felt completely overshadowed any regret. Glancing to the door, Rhaena quietly replaced the pillow where she had taken it from then closed the eyes of the king to make it seem as if he were only sleeping.
She looked at him for a few moments longer, wondering if she should say something but could find nothing of worth to speak aloud. So, she simply left. Opening the door Rhaena stepped through to find Ser Barristan also there with the Hound, though now both looked to her as her heart leaped with an instant of fear. She trembled slightly, staring at Ser Barristan before deciding that she could not falter now. If she was to live then she needed to be stronger than she ever had been before, and she had survived in the heart of the most dangerous place in Westeros for seventeen years. Drawing herself up, Rhaena no longer trembled. "Spread the word. The king is dead, may the gods grant him mercy." Immediately Ser Barristan froze, staring at Rhaena before hurrying past her so she stepped aside to give way to him, glancing over her shoulder as Ser Barristan went to the king's side to confirm his death, leaving her with the Hound who was now studying her carefully. Rhaena did her best to remain as natural as possible, remaining composed as she lifted her eyes and met the Hound's without flinching, almost daring him to say something as Ser Barristan then returned.
"It is true. The king is dead." A heavy grief overcame him as Ser Barristan then turned to Rhaena and placed a tender hand upon her shoulder. "What did he say to you, little dragon? What were the king's final words?" Taking in a slow and measured breath, Rhaena removed Ser Barristan's hand from her shoulder in order to hold it in her own, looking up into his face whilst hiding her own guilt. Perhaps one day she will tell him the truth, but today was not that day. Today would be the first in a long succession of events which would begin from this moment, and Rhaena intended to one day be free of imprisonment and take revenge on all those who had ever mistreated her and brought her family to ruin. Beginning with the Lannisters. Let us see if a Lannister truly pays their debts. She thought ruefully to herself before then returning her attention to Ser Barristan, and offered him a convincing yet fake smile of tenderness.
"Forgiveness." She told him truthfully. "He pleaded for forgiveness."