Rhaenys I
The room was alive with music, talk, and merriment. All around Rhaenys everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves, well maybe with the exception of Lord Baratheon at the head table. He looked as grim as ever. From time to time people, especially those from the North and Dorne, would come up to her and tell her how pretty she looked and Rhaenys would smile and say thank you. They had no idea, could have no idea that this was torture to her. For all over her life, people looked at her differently. They told her she looked just like her mother. That she was kind and sweet and gentle. She also heard the stories of how her father kidnapped Lyanna Stark, had raped her, and helped start a war that ended with her father killed and mother murdered. It was those times that her blood, her Targaryen-Dornish blood, boiled. Up until three months ago, she was a the child of a dragon and of a snake in a land of wolves. She was an outsider. Yet, Lord and Lady Stark had done the best they could with her. She loved them and believed they loved her. But she was still an outsider.
Jon is the only one who understands, Rhaenys thought to herself. She was so consumed with thoughts that she didn't even notice as Sansa and pretty young girl with brown hair and large brown eyes approached her. Sansa was wearing a fine, if conservative, grey dress, while the other young woman was wearing a gorgeous green and gold dress that clung in all the right places and had small roses stitched in along the seams. "Princess," Sansa said formally, "I'm sorry for interrupting, but their is someone who wanted to meet you." "Sansa, dear, you needn't be so formal. We're practically sisters," Rhaenys said softly with a warm smile on her face. Rhaenys watched as Sansa blushed "Of course, I'm, I'm sorry. Anyway, this is Margaery Tyrell, daughter of Lord Mace Tyrell." Rhaenys smiled as the brown hair beauty approached and curtseyed perfectly. "Your Grace." "It's a pleasure to meet you m'lady," Rhaenys responded with a nod. "Would you care to join me? Both of you?" Rhaenys said to both girls. They smiled and sat down.
Rhaenys was happy for the company and Sansa was always a sweet girl, following her around Winterfell and attempting to be the perfect southron lady. However, before a conversation could start, a servant appeared and requested Sansa's presence. Rhaenys watched as Sansa was led over to Lord and Lady Stark for what looked like a serious conversation. Rhaenys couldn't focus too much, though. She felt Margaery trying to get her attention. "Your Grace, Lady Sansa has been kind enough to tell me about life in the North, at Winterfell. It all seemed so bleak to me, until she told me of its beauty. You're family is from the South, but you grew up in Winterfell. What is it like for you?" Well that's a loaded question, if ever there was one. "The North is hard, my lady, but that is what gives it the beauty Lady Sansa described. The people don't have the same luxuries of the South. So they rely on eachother. The warmth they have comes from their families and friends. North is, in my opinion, the most beautiful of the Seven Kingdoms for that reason alone," Rhaenys responded with a depth of love that not even she knew she had. Maybe I'm not such an outsider, after all. "Well, when you put it like that, it does sound lovely. What of Lord and Lady Stark, what of Sansa's kin." Rhaenys suddenly realized their was more to this conversation than idle curiosity. Rhaenys was old enough to know what was going on. She had heard the stories even before the Northern host had arrived in King's Landing. Their was to be a Great Council and the Tyrells were fishing for information. If this girl is half as smart as she is beautiful, she will be formidable in the future. On the other hand, I suppose a few tidbits wouldn't hurt.
"The Starks are a kind, fair, honorable family, Lady Tyrell," Rhaenys responded simply. "Oh please, Your Grace, call my Margaery," the brown haired maiden responded with a little too much sweetness in her voice. Rhaenys smiled. "Very well Margaery, but then you must call me Rhaenys. At least when it's us girls," Rhaenys said. Margaery smiled back. "As for Lord Stark," Rhaenys continued after a moment, "I think he would sooner die than break an oath. Lady Stark is a good and dutiful wife. Despite not being from the North, she has adapted well. She and Lord Stark are a wonderful couple and I think he trusts her council." Rhaenys saw Margaery nodding.
"I see, what of the Stark children? Besides Sansa that is," Margaery asked. Rhaenys caught Margaery eyeing Robb from across the room. Rhaenys smiled. Perhaps it's more simple than I originally thought. "Robb is looks like his mother, but acts like his father. He has a keen sense of honor and justice. He will make an excellent Lord of Winterfell one day, Lord Stark's bannermen already respect him a great deal. After Sansa is Bran, he is a sweet boy, but stubborn and curious. Arya is after that, she looks more like a Stark than any of them. She, I'm told, is like her aunt Lyanna, strong and fierce. Lastly, Rickon is a small babe, and was left in Winterfell."
"You seem to care for them a great deal," Margaery said sincerely. "Yes, it seems I do." Rhaenys smiled again, feeling her olive cheeks flush. "You know, I doubt you would believe this, but Robb is an excellent dancer," Rhaenys said with a laugh. "You jest," Margaery responded with a laugh of her own. "I do no such thing. Lady Stark insisted that her Northern children would have some Southron refinement. She said that if Robb would learn to handle a sword, he would also learn to dance." "Perhaps I shall have to find out for myself," Margaery replied, Rhaenys seeing a mischievous glint in the girl's eye. Rhaenys simply waived her hand and watched as Margaery stood up, adjusted her dress, and began moving for the Stark heir.
Rhaenys's smile was just fading when she heard footsteps behind her and a quiet voice in her ear. "Be careful with those ones, especially the women, they will pour honey in your ears and sing sweet songs, all the while robbing you blind," the voice, a familiar voice, said. "Hello uncle," Rhaenys said dryly. Her Uncle Oberyn was one of the best fighters in the realm and one of its most mysterious. "My dear, have you been well since we last saw one another," Oberyn asked. "I'm very well, thank you. The Starks continue to be wonderful hosts." Oberyn grunted. He had never, completely, accepted the idea of being parted from his beloved sister's only living child. It was only a promise by Lord Stark to care for Rhaenys as if she was his own child and to allow Oberyn to visit whenever he chose that finally pacified the Red Viper.
As a result, Oberyn, his lover, and his children had become fairly frequent guests at Winterfell. It had also lead to warmer relations between the North and Dorne. Trade was up and both regions were prospering. Rhaenys had smiled in that regard, she liked to think her presence had helped both her mother's homeland and her adopted home.
"Good. I'm serious, though, the Tyrells are playing the same game as the rest of us right now. Even the Starks from what I've heard, Lord Stark huddling with the Hand all afternoon," Oberyn asked. "I'm sure they were just catching up," Rhaenys responded feigning ignorance. "Come now, niece, you're smarter than that." Rhaenys smiled. "She didn't seem so bad. She's playing the game, for sure, and playing well, but their was some sincerity in her voice," Rhaenys replied.
"Mayhaps. Now tell me. Will you allow me to put your name forward for the throne? You have the strongest claim. You should be Queen, not one of those Baratheon usurpers. I'm sure Lord Stark could be brought around," Oberyn replied. Rhaenys laughed. "Despite all your time at Winterfell, you clearly still do not know Lord Stark." Oberyn looked at her. "That doesn't answer the question, though. Allow me to make you Queen." Rhaenys shook her head. "Please don't uncle. I've thought a lot about this. I don't want to be Queen. I would have accepted marrying Robert's son, out of duty, but he didn't have a son."
"You would choose your own destiny then," Rhaenys uncle asked? "As much as I am able," she replied quietly. Oberyn smiled. "You will have whatever is in my power to give, dear girl. If you do not want to be Queen, you won't be. Is there someone else, a boy, mayhaps, that influences this? " Rhaenys blushed, but remained quiet. "Very well, my sweetling, keep your secrets. Let's talk about something else then," Oberyn replied with a smile. "Like who Dorne should back, mayhaps," Rhaenys replied sweetly. "Well, since you bring it up, yes."
"You can't seriously consider supporting Lord Baratheon. It would mean the Lannisters ran things," Rhaenys said as she felt her Targaryen-Dornish blood as she thought about the prospect of Tywin Lannister having more power. "Indeed, but not supporting Stannis is different than supporting the Princess," her Uncle replied. Rhaenys felt herself grew quiet for a moment. "Lord Stark is a good man, I trust he would help his niece become a good Queen. If I were Uncle Doran, I would have Dorne support Princess Lyarra." Rhaenys watched as her uncle nodded and gently stroked his black beard. "Well then, I guess I should discuss the matter with Lord Stark then."
Rhaenys was just looking back across the Hall, seeing Margaery's path to Robb being blocked by a young man with golden hair, green eyes, and an arrogant smile. Rhaenys couldn't hear what was being said, but Margaery looked frustrated, bordering on angry. When Rhaenys saw the young man grab Margaery, before she could do anything, Robb moved in an in one swift move grabbed the young man and punched him in the face. Suddenly the music stopped and swords were drawn. Tyrell and Stark men ready to square off against Baratheon and Lannister men. At that point, her uncle grabbed her and pulled her out the room. She didn't hear any commotion, so she was pretty sure no one was killed or maimed.