Never Get Involved in a Land War in Essos
Yes I had to cut off the last word of the title because of the character limit
Yes that is a Princess Bride reference
RHAENA
The curse of being quietly observant in a family such as Rhaena's was that you eventually lose the ability to be surprised. She'd long given up on wishing for an uneventful life, but she would sometimes find herself wishing for surprise.
She wishes she'd been surprised that her relatives had called Luke's claim into question whilst bypassing that of her sister, she wishes she'd been surprised that her stepmother had been kidnapped by usurpers, and she wishes she'd been surprised that the family was a hopeless mess without her.
More than anything, Rhaena wishes she'd been surprised when she'd returned to her sister's pyre to find her father with his hand around her stepbrother's throat.
Jace had been surprised, that much was clear. Even her father had seemed surprised that he was capable of falling so far. But worse than surprised, it was clear that Jace had been hurt. Because despite how often the two quarrelled, he still clearly craved the approval of the Rogue Prince. Rhaena too, had held onto hope of her father's approval for far longer than she should have.
"Jace, are you alright?" They had returned to the family study out of habit, and Jace had spent the better part of an hour staring into the fire.
He still does not look away. "That depends."
"Pay no mind to Baela."
"Baela does not make that an easy task."
"I do not know if this helps or not but… I do not believe he even realized what he was doing until after. I don't think he meant it. But don't you see? That's what makes him so dangerous."
Jace rubs his neck yet again. "I know, I know." There are no bruises that she can see, but she assumes it's a different type of hurt that lingers.
"We cannot control him; he is not in control of himself right now."
"But he is capable of acting level-headed. That is the Daemon we need."
"That Daemon is locked away with Rhaenyra."
He turns to her. "Alright, what would my mother do?"
"Put him in time-out, not at the head of a council."
"As much as I'd like to lock him up in the dragonmont," Jace says wryly. "It's not an option. The Kingsguard are backing him, and it would present the wrong message."
"So does having him run around in this state," Rhaena says.
Jace turns back to the fire as if searching for answers. "How else do we get him out of it?"
Rhaena considers. "He needs sleep, to begin with."
"Good luck with that," Jace says. He finds no answer in the flames, but he apparently finds a question. "How long has it been?"
Easy question; Rhaena had been monitoring him. "He didn't go to sleep with the rest of you, he was awake the whole night before, and he'll probably be awake for all of tonight as well."
"So," Jace does the math. "He last slept… on the ship the night we left King's Landing. Two days ago."
Two days ago. What a long two days.
Rhaena shakes her head. "I don't know if he slept then either."
"What do you mean?"
"I was in the cabin next to them." She skillfully skips over the memory. "Before that, remember Father said he was going to teach her the 'Dothraki thank-you' for dealing with Uncle Vaemond?"
"But there is no word for thank-you in Dothraki."
"Jace."
"Ugh. Why."
"He is only so obnoxious about it because he knows it bothers you. Stop letting it bother you, and he'll lose interest. Serious matters aside, this whole conflict is escalating to a very strange and, honestly, inappropriate place."
"He is inappropriate. Look, you simply cannot understand until you have walked in on Daemon fucking your mother — and him being so smug about it."
Rhaena's patience wears thin. "Jace, who do you think you are talking to?"
"Oh, right."
"Returning to matters of actual importance; we need to do something. Now."
Jace rubs his throat again and continues to implore the fire. "I only, I wish he would not do this when we need him the most. We need to make him see what he's doing."
"I don't know if we can. I don't know if he is capable of that kind of self-awareness right now. You wouldn't understand, Jace. Your mother raised you too well."
He turns to her. "What does that mean?"
"She raised you to manage your own emotions and to express them to others in a healthy way. But for men like my father, one woman alone is the acceptable outlet for emotional vulnerability and intimacy. One. First their mothers, then their lovers, then their wives. And even so, they are unable to reciprocate that support."
Jace is following her logic. "Which was workable while we had your mother, and then my mother. But now…"
"He's a volcano with no vent. If he cannot stabilize himself, we need to neutralize him. At least until he calms down enough to see reason. Or long enough for Grandmother to assume control."
Jace leans back into the sofa, considering her words instead of the fire. "And how do we do that? Hold another meeting that he can call to an end by provoking people?"
"Better than waiting to see what madness he concocts. Because the problem is not only the fact he comes up with insane plans. The problem is that he is very good at persuading just enough men to follow him — without questioning the insanity."
Jace nods. "Very well. Let us find Rhaenys; mayhaps she will know what to do."
Despite the late hour, Dragonstone is still alive with activity, so it comes as no surprise that Grandmother is not in her quarters. The staff is in such disarray that they decide to separate so Jace can locate her whilst Rhaena tries to bring some order to the castle.
Rhaena had spent enough time as Rhaenyra's shadow to know who to speak to and about what, and the knights and stewards recognized her well enough to obey her. With most of their resources deviated to defences, she arranges for additional staff to be procured from the fishing villages and Driftmark. She also realizes, rather unpleasantly, that they have an untapped well of staff in Rhaenyra's maids and ladies-in-waiting. They are familiar enough with Rhaenyra's daily routines to take on organizational roles.
She tries to ignore the fact that whilst her relatives are preparing to be war heroes, she has settled into the role of glorified steward.
At the very least, the war heroes will now be able to locate one another, she consoles herself.
They are deep into the night, and the castle is still well awake, when she encounters Baela in the corridor. "Have you seen Father?" Baela asks.
"No, and I would like to keep it that way."
She tries to walk away, but Baela steps in front of her. "He is nowhere to be found in the castle. He has not taken to sleep. Where would he be?"
"Why do you need to find him so, Baela?"
"Because we're at war, almost, and we're running in circles! I need to know what he plans. I need to know what is happening."
"What is happening is that Father is losing his mind, and if we let this power struggle paralyze us for any longer, we are going to lose the war before it starts."
"You don't know that, Rhaena."
"We've achieved nothing today!"
"I mean Father. You do not…." she looks around, wary of potential witnesses. "We do not know why he acted so. There's no doubt some explanation."
"Baela, your betrothed is as innocuous as they come. Do you truly believe he is capable of driving someone to those actions in any way that could be seen as justified?"
She can see that Baela's conflicted. But she is also desperate. "We don't kno—" she cuts herself off and looks at Rhaena anew."You knew something was going to happen. That's why you brought us back, isn't it? What is it, Rhaena?"
"I simply know how our Father can be."
"No."
"Baela, you know him as well as I do! He loses control. He has lost control." She looks around, then pulls Baela into a corner before continuing in a low voice. "How do you think I came by my injury, all those years ago?"
"You fell. Seasmoke rejected you and tossed both you and Father aside."
"And you think that explains why he was absent for so long after? Why Rhaenyra was so angry with him for even longer?"
"She was cross that he let you try Seasmoke so quickly and got the both of you injured."
"Seasmoke didn't hurt either of us, Baela."
Baela ponders the implications for only a moment, then she shakes her head. "It must have been an accident." She asks for no further information.
"Baela!" Rhaena snaps. "That's the point! You cannot blindly support him right now. I love our Father, I do. And I know you do too. But you have to think of him the way you do Moondancer. You cannot always trust him. You cannot trust him now. He should not trust himself right now. We must find Grandmother and support her claim to regency before Father gets us all killed."
She shakes her head. "You have it wrong, Rhaena. Just because you don't get along, it doesn't mean that he is… like that. I've never, he's never been like that to me."
"Of course not; you're just like him."
Rhaena meant it lightly, but Baela's expression grows heavy. "Exactly, Rhaena. That's what everyone has said for as long as I can remember. I'm just like him. And… and if he were truly to be capable of…" She lets the thought sit before continuing. "Then what would that say about me?"
"Baela…"
"No. It is fine. I know him," she tells herself. "I know him," She looks back to Rhaena. "He will get us through this, Sister. Wait and see."
Rhaena is about to say she'd done quite enough waiting for the day, but the sudden rise in noise and activity demands her attention. Voices travel out from the central keep and people are moving to congregate there.
She flags down a knight. "What is happening?"
"Prince Lucerys," he says as he walks. They exchange looks and follow with haste. They encounter Jace along the way, who walks next to Grandmother and supports…
"Grandsire!" both girls call. They rush towards him.
"You are well?" Rhaena asks. She notes his cane and the bandage around his neck. But he is awake, at least.
He kisses the cheeks of both the girls. "I will be soon, I hope."
"Why are you awake at such a late hour?" Baela asks.
"Daemon has called a meeting," Jace replies.
"It's the middle of the night," Baela objects. "I thought we might discuss matters in private."
"I suspect it pertains to the mission he assigned to Luke," Jace adds, glancing down. "We were told it's urgent."
At this, they all start moving forward.
"A meeting, called by Daemon, regarding a midnight return from a mission he assigned to a child, that cannot wait. Sounds promising," their Grandmother grits.
The mood grows more and more somber as they approach the Chamber. Calls of urgency and anticipation shift to whispers that range from fear, to horror, to anger.
"The usurpers certainly waste no time," she hears in passing. Informed onlookers look piteously upon Jace — not a good sign.
Ser Steffon stands at the Chamber door in wait. He announces their arrival as they enter.
It appears they are the last to arrive, save for Luke. All previous attendees have taken newly provided seats where they earlier stood. Baela immediately crosses the room to sit next to their father. Rhaena takes Jace's arm to keep him at their end, but there is no need; he takes his place next to Rhaena and their grandparents. It's clear that the news requiring this meeting has already spread, as few seem to be affected by the Sea Snake's return.
"So what is it," Grandmother asks. "That could not wait until a decent hour?"
But then they see her father's face, and any further words fall away.
He's livid; still as stone, but fire seeps through the cracks. He makes no answer and instead folds his hands upon the table, staring at the entrance behind Rhaena.
No one dares speak after that. They simply sit.
After what may be either a few or many moments, the Kingsguard shift behind her.
"Prince Lucerys Velaryon of House Targaryen," Ser Steffon announces.
Rhaena turns as Luke strides into the room; there is a sense of urgency in his steps she has not see in him before. He makes straight for her father and drops a leather folder of papers on the table before taking a seat next to him.
And then he starts trembling.
Her father remains as stone. "Prince Lucerys has just returned with news from the capital."
Grandmother is aghast. "You sent a child to King's Landing?"
"No, I sent a prince with the least conspicuous dragon to a village outside the capital. Do you think me a fool?"
She simply looks at him.
Jace takes the lead. "What is this news?"
"It appears you have a new stepfather, Young Prince." Jace looks as if he'll faint yet again. Her father continues. "This marriage is getting too crowded for my tastes."
Rhaena gives him a look. She cannot imagine who else he expected to understand that comment. Luke sees Rhaena looking in his general direction and works to calm himself before speaking. It charms her to know he holds her in such regard. "I was there to deliver instructions and wait upon replies. I suppose we should have expected, it is not as if they could hold the coronation beforehand."
"How did you receive word?" her grandsire asks.
Her father answers. "My contact procured accounts of the event from various nobles in attendance. They passed the accounts on to Luke along with the…" her father suspiciously surveys the room "logistics we need for tomorrow night. He turns to Luke. I assume you were successful?"
Luke nods. But then he turns to glare at her father. "You might have warned me about that message, though!"
"What do you mean? It was only a small addition to your tasks."
"Yes, but before deciding to read it because I didn't trust you, I wrote ' What Daemon said — Luke', in initials on the outside to be encouraging!"
Her father actually laughs. "Wonderful. Worry not, Little Prince. She knows there are lines even Targaryens do not cross."
Luke gags in jest. Rhaena knows it's selfish at a time like this, but she still cannot help but resent being the only family member he has no pet name for — even if most were chosen in hopes of annoying the recipient.
The two princes cling to that levity for one last moment before it falls away. Luke hands Daemon a long scroll, and he reads in silence.
"Very good," her father says. "This is workable,"
"There is still much left to be determined," Luke says.
"Then we will adapt as needed. She gets but one attempt with that exit; this is our best opportunity to make it a good one."
Everyone else is lost, but Luke nods. Then his face darkens. "There's… something else."
"What?" Jace demands, likely more for context than the specific answer.
"There were already whispers before the… ceremony even ended. They made it to me as quickly as the messages."
Now the room understands. Everyone waits with dread, except her father, who looks like Caraxes waiting to hear dracarys.
"They have already named it the Black Wedding ."
"How inspired," Rhaenys sneers.
"No, it is not because of the obvious, not entirely. There were… differing accounts, some more believable than others. Someone sitting in the front of the sept sent word that…" Luke actually smiles, "Mother and Aegon ruined the service by getting drunk at the altar. Another claims to have seen Aemond looking very uncomfortable as mother told him that since he'd be unable to…" his smile drops, "consummate for some time, he might 'slake your hungers with our uncle, I hear he is newly available.'"
Everyone is horrified except for the Rogue Prince, who actually softens for a moment. "That is my wife," he says with pride.
"But… what everyone agrees on, on what they saw and heard… They spread word that she did not wish to speak about it, ordered everyone not to ask, told everyone that she just wanted to quietly move on."
"Convenient," her grandmother comments.
"Not just…" Luke clearly does not wish to continue but knows he must. "They spread word that she fled Dragonstone upon word of her father's death — to escape you. " He turns to Daemon. "Because she suspected, and that you were… guilty. Dangerous. And that she remarried quickly for protection and because it would be inappropriate to ascend without a consort."
"Not unimpressive, as far as lies go, I suppose," her father allows.
There's something else. "But," Luke continues. "They're saying you were violent. That you hit her."
Jace and Rhaena share an uneasy glance; Baela sees them and shakes her head. Her father has turned back into stone.
"They said that you hurt her, and she fled back to her family."
Her father had taken the kinslaying accusations in stride, almost encouraging them in the past. But he does not receive this one with the same nonchalance. "I have never struck Rhaenyra."
"Are you certain?" Jace challenges.
"Yes. Unless you count —"
"Ugh, enough. We get it."
"It is not even believable," her father says. "The Kingsguard answer to her; she would never need to flee. Besides, I even taught her how to break my arm herself if I ever tried anything."
Oh.
"Oh…" Jace echoes aloud. Rhaena kicks him.
But Luke is not finished.
"Daemon, they call it the Black Wedding because they call her the Black Bride, or the Black Widow; I've heard both."
"But that is good news," Rhaena says. "It means they acknowledge it as Maegor situation — not her choice. At least, if Black Bride sticks. Black Widow … presents a less advantageous image."
"I believe we are past images," Baela says.
"Still, we can use this."
"Rhaena, that is not it," Luke says. "It is not so sophisticated a reference, not for most, at least. The Black comes up in both names because…" he trails off.
"It is not a faction reference either, is it?" Rhaenys prods.
"No. It is…" he looks towards Daemon. At first, Rhaena assumes he is afraid of his reaction, but then she sees Luke's face twist with his own outrage. "Her face was black, Daemon! That's what all the accounts say. They tried to hide it with a veil, but half of her face was bruised. And she couldn't lift one of her arms! We saw her leave, Daemon. She was fine when she left. But they all say… they…"
"Cole," is all her father says. All he can say — which is still impressive because no one else seems to be able to speak at all. It's too uncomfortable and too hopeless. What could anyone say?
Rhaena breaks the silence. "Does this… does this mean they caught her trying to escape?"
"No," Luke says. Her father breathes in relief, then he seems to remember that the other option is that it was done in cold blood, and he stiffens. "She was in that state before the messenger even reached her. They are still unaware." He turns to Daemon. "We still have our chance."
"And we're taking it," Daemon declares.
"Wait," her grandmother says... eagerly. "So we know for certain that they still believe me to be a prisoner?"
Luke nods. "We have someone helping now until it's time. They believe you are unwell and need isolation."
"This is our opportunity, then. To force a diplomatic, bloodless resolution. My Lord Husband can demand they release Meleys immediately to ensure my safety — should they kill me in their custody they would risk Rhaena claiming her, after all."
Her grandsire follows too quickly, and Rhaena wonders if they'd devised this plan before the meeting. "Precisely. And I can say that Meleys's captivity worsens your health problems due to the psychic bond. It has a cumulative effect, so it is essential the dragon be allowed to fly free to prevent ill health in her rider. That is my demand. My demand to… consider their demand." He looks to Baela.
Baela asks like she already suspects. "Which demand, Grandsire?"
"The demand they issued for my wife's release. The demand for your hand in marriage."
Their father straightens in his seat. "I would sooner feed my daughters to Caraxes than have them wed to a Hightower."
"Not necessary," Baela says. "I would feed myself to Caraxes."
Their grandsire raises his hands in assurance. "No, no, of course not my dear. But we can offer to come to the table. But only if Meleys is released immediately, before they discover my wife's absence."
Her father leans towards the Sea Snake and folds his hands upon the table. "There are two outcomes: It works, and they eventually discover Rhaenyra misled them — so they take it out on her . Or it doesn't work, and they discover Rhaenyra misled them — so they take it out on her . Not you. Her. She will never have a chance at escape after that. And she will definitely not be safe."
"Daemon," the Sea Snake says. "I am sorry to point this out, but they have already decided to take it out on her. They still cannot hurt her beyond…" He looks away. "What they need her for."
"Of course you would say that. You care not for her well-being. Only what her being can offer you."
"Daemon," her grandmother demands. "Be reasonable. With Meleys, they no longer own the skies. They will have to carefully consider her treatment once that happens. They will have to consider their position. We can bring them to the table. Once the powers are balanced we can force them into a Grand Council and resolve this diplomatically."
Her father scoffs. "Do you truly believe the answer is to go: pretty please, can I have my wife back? Thank you!"
She ignores the mockery in his voice. "It is if the realm will back you."
"Will they?" he prods. "What would this Grand Council entail? Inheritance would not be disputed. So… the freedom of women, mayhaps? You want to hold a Grand Council of lords in the hopes they vote for the freedom of women ?" He laughs. "Tell me, how did placing your faith in those lords work out for you last time? Are you incapable of learning from your mistakes? Are you so determined to lose the throne for a second time?"
"I am not so naive," she says. "I have learned not to be so charitable in my hopes. But that is not the case we will present. We must simply make the case that Rhaenyra was not free to remarry, and the Hightowers have no claim to the position of consort."
"And how do you hope to do so, Rhaenys? They are snakes. Prove one point wrong, and they'll bend another point in their favour."
"All we need do is prove beyond any doubt that you did not kill Laenor."
Rhaena looks to her father. He cannot prove he didn't kill him without invalidating his own marriage , she realizes.
If he indeed, did not kill him.
But he didn't.
Did he?
He makes a different argument. "Rhaenys, you do not win a conflict by proving the other faction technically incorrect. They will simply find another technicality. And even should my trial go in our favour, they will turn their eyes to Jacaerys."
"It matters not, so long as I claim them as my heirs," her grandsire argues.
Her father is unconvinced. "This Council, would it take place at Harrenhal? What happens, pray tell, when the Hightowers call the Strongs to stand on one side of the boys, and you on the other? How much weight will your claim carry then, against the eyes of the realm? And do not consider trying a sleight of hand, my wife said no more to that after the mummy incident."
Rhaena, Baela, and the Kingsguard cannot contain their chuckles. Luke and Jace both wince at the memory — Luke, at the pain; and Jace, at the embarrassment.
"The what?"
Her father is smug. "Precisely. You have no idea because you have not been here. I have."
Her grandmother's voice is as dry as a mummy. "Yes Daemon, you are a true family man."
Her father is losing whatever patience remains to him; he scrunches one of his papers into a ball. "You truly think the battle comes down to who the piece of paper says she is married to?"
He whips it at her grandmother, and it hits her on the shoulder. She refuses to react.
"That is the weight your precious paper holds. And you think to win the throne with it?"
Rhaena sees her father's point. More importantly, she fears they are about to talk in circles whilst being unsure of how much knowledge the other possesses. She decides to put an end to it. "Father, if it is… uncertainty over the outcome of a Council, we have other ways of resolving this diplomatically. Addam can help us create a front of strength, enough to convince the realm that they should side with us. We don't need to advocate for your marriage or your innocence. We put the focus on Rhaenyra, Jace, and House Velaryon. We can convince the lords one by one that she is being held against her will."
She thinks a moment and then adds, "with fire and blood."
He'll like that.
"Wait," her grandsire interrupts. "Who is Addam?"
"Your bastard," her father says too casually. "He came to know Seasmoke in your absence, and your wife wants him to join our cause in the skies."
"I have a bastard?" Clearly, Jace's briefing did not extend that far.
"Addam of Volantis," she, her father, and her grandmother say in unison.
"Worry not," her father assures him. "Your wife knows he was sired before your marriage."
I hope Uncle Laenor grew a beard.
"Wait, when—"
"Leave it be, Lord Husband. We will discuss this later."
The poor man just woke up from blood fever.
"This is all irrelevant," Luke says. "Once we have Mother back, she will decide how we proceed against the Hightowers."
"Lucerys is correct," her father says.
"Is that what this is," Rhaenys gestures to Lucerys and his papers. "How do you intend to extract a royal hostage and two dragons from a fortified city?"
Her father relaxes back into his chair now that the off-limit topic is behind them. "By extracting them from the inside. Rhaenyra has the tunnels and I know another way into the keep. We have an opportunity tomorrow for the dragons."
"What would that be?" her grandmother asks.
"They're holding a public coronation in the dragon pit. All we need do is have our people sneak in during the ceremony. You can hide there for the day and break out under the cover of darkness. They won't be guarding against an attack from the inside."
The ' you' seems to know they are being referred to. "Who is 'you'?" she still asks to make a point.
"You, Rhaenys. You will keep Meleys calm and ride her out whilst leading Syrax. The Kingsguard and I will meet with my men and see to Rhaenrya's rescue through the tunnels, and the boys will meet us on their dragons."
"Daemon," her grandmother says. "That is insane. We would all be effectively trapping ourselves in the city. So many variables could go wrong. Especially the timing ."
"I hold the loyalty of many of the men of the City Watch. Should things go wrong, many will side with us."
"It would be a bloodbath."
"Better a quick one than a drawn out one. Especially whilst we're overmatched in the skies."
Her grandfather speaks. "You're asking my wife to walk back into the viper's nest she has only just escaped."
"You mean the nest she abandoned my wife to?"
Baela flinches, but their father does not notice.
"Daemon, enough," her grandmother snaps. "We can only carry out one of the plans, and my plan offers far less risk."
"Less risk to you. If we try this, we are effectively giving up on ever rescuing her from the city. We will be at the mercy of the realm, and she will be at the mercy of the vipers."
"We already are," she implores him. "At least this gives us a chance at Meleys. We will set a deadline so they have little time to question it."
"Right," her grandsire says. "I'll time the raven to arrive after they affirm Rhaenyra's claim on the morrow."
"They've already sent the ravens to the more distant houses," Luke informs them. "A whole cloud of them."
He nods. "Good, then we can have it arrive early, with a demand of our own: release Meleys by midday, or we wed Baela and Rhaena to Jace and Luke immediately, eliminating whatever hope they might have at severing our alliance. Should they release Meleys, we will say… we'll take the marriage into consideration, and not consider wedding them to the boys until the conflict is resolved."
"It will force them to act quickly," her grandmother adds. "And I spoke with Alicent, they're desperate for the support of House Velaryon. We have a good chance."
That is not the point her father disagrees with. "And all this rests on Rhaenyra's efforts to maintain an avenue of escape for herself, an avenue you will be closing off to her."
"It was never truly an option, Daemon. I truly do not think we would have made it out if not for Baela. The city is too guarded."
"And when they refuse your demand?"
"We show them we are true to our word."
So much for the double-wedding of the century.
"They are far too young," her father objects.
"They need not consummate," her grandsire assures him, as if that was what concerns the Rogue Prince about marriage. "There is precedent for a delay with political marriages between youths. And it would protect the girls from whatever plans they might harbour."
"But," Lord Bartimos bravely speaks — Rhaena had near forgotten they were not merely among family. "That would still leave you vulnerable. Should they manage to apprehend Lady Baela, all they need do is prove her a maiden annul the marriage."
Her father does not try to help it, he throws his head back and laughs. Then Baela laughs. Then Luke. Then Rhaena. Then Jace. Even the Kingsguard and the Maester laugh.
This should have been a family-only meeting, Rhaena realizes too late.
"Enough!" her grandsire shouts. He clearly does not appreciate the implication that his granddaughter takes after her father.
Grandmother tries another approach. "Daemon, Rhaenyra is the safest of any of us in their custody. They need her alive."
"That does not mean they need her unharmed."
"All the more reason for a thought-out plan and a diplomatic solution."
Her father sighs. "I will make you a compromise — let us try to get Rhaenyra out tomorrow. Should we fail, we will go with your plan."
"Should we fail, we all die, Daemon."
He appraises the people in the room and mouths numbers the way he does whilst doing mathematics. "Very well," he says once he's reached his calculation. "Let us take inspiration from the Freehold. Everyone in attendance here is someone of consequence — let us hold a vote."
Rhaena knows where this is going, because her father was not the type to call for a vote that would not go in his favour. Also, she sees that whilst the men-at-arms remained awake, some of the older lords and officials are absent at this late hour. The older nobles responsible enough to go to bed when tired.
Whom her father had not deigned to rouse.
He looks each occupant in the eyes before continuing. "All those in favour of rescuing your queen before she can be further beaten… or raped —"
"Daemon!" Grandmother scolds him.
"Raise your hand."
Baela, Luke, and both the Kingsguard raise their hands immediately. Obviously the Kingsguard — Queensguard, would favour a risky but glorious rescue.
Lord Darklyn seems unsure until he sees Ser Steffon Darklyn vote, and he raises his hand with him. Gerardys accedes as well, along with Lord Bartimos, Lord Massey, and some other nobles of the Princedom.
Her father looks expectantly to her and Jace, and they look to each other. It is very clear that the Hand thinks having her dragon would strengthen her position against the Consort. But voting for his plan now would essentially grant him authority for their cause.
Grandmother's plan is selfish, but Father's is incredibly dangerous. And I do not trust him right now.
Rhaena keeps her hand down. As does Jace. But it does not matter; her father has the majority. Not yet the two-thirds commonly accepted as consensus, but still enough to force his way.
If we let him.
"Daemon," her grandmother now pleads. "Be reasonable. Let us start with careful moves before escalating."
"If you're so scared of escalation, what of Rhaenyra? They've already done that to her, what else? You think the viper and the dog will not escalate?"
"Think of her condition," her grandsire reasons. "She would have to run fast and far. Have you ever given birth and then run? And after that ridden a dragon?"
Her father glares for but a moment, then swaps it for a dark smile. "No, but I did ride a dragon into war after a night with your heir. Not advisable, but it is achievable in a crisis."
Rhaena, Jace, Baela and Luke all move to stop the Sea Snake from walking into his trap — but they are too late.
"Laena wasn't my heir," her grandsire says.
The shared " no… " evaporates from their lips.
"No, no she wasn't."
Lord Beesbury cracks. "Dear me…"
Her father clearly assumes that he's made the room uncomfortable enough to end the meeting — yet again. The Rogue Prince has a powerful presence, that much has always been clear. So much so that he is usually able to overpower, redirect, or end any conversation with most people.
The Sea Snake is not most people.
He straightens in his seat, and all attention turns to him. "Clear the room. I need speak with my family," he says in a way that makes it clear he sees himself as the head of his family.
Everyone not bearing the name Targaryen or Velaryon files out of the room.
We honestly should have began in this manner.
The Sea Snake lets the silence linger for a moment, until the Princess breaks it. "You cannot speak like that in mixed company, Daemon. Not in times of peace, and certainly not right now. Those rumours of Laenor's preferences are the reason we find ourselves at a war council; you cannot fan those flames for your own amusement."
To her father's credit, he makes no jape regarding the Stepstones, Laenor, and his own amusement. "No, we are convened in a war council because the Hightowers want to usurp the throne. Whichever veneer of righteousness they choose, it matters little in the end."
"Daemon," her grandsire warns, "I am already disinclined to support you. Do not test me."
"And why would that be, Good Father?"
"Daemon," is all he says. But his tone speaks volumes.
Grandmother never told him, she realizes. He truly believes they killed him. She only realizes then that she took for granted that her grandmother had something to tell. She needs confirmation before she goes insane.
Her grandmother tries a softer approach, with a softer tone. "Daemon, you cannot always embrace your first impulse. Sometimes, you need to compromise."
"This idea is my compromise," her father says. "You do not want to know my first impulse. The realm is not ready for my first impulse. Even the mere knowledge of my first impulse could destabilize the realm and promote widespread confusion and disorder. And despite how great that sounds, I have endeavoured to compromise. So, save Rhaenyra then kill the Hightowers."
"At what cost? Let us at l—"
"In regards to success, law and truth are against us, Rhaenys. Admit as much. The best we can do is glasslight the realm — which would be much for difficult in an actual council."
"Glasslight?"
"Seriously?" He waits to confirm she seriously does not know before continuing. "When the Valyrian sorcerers would use the glass candles to play with people's minds. We can do the same without. It's easy to define the truth when you hold the dragons. Until then — I suggest not making a spectacle of what is 'right.'"
Grandsire slams his fist upon the table. "Daemon! If you truly wish for me to believe you played no part in my son's death, mayhaps you should not so openly devalue the idea of truth."
Her father was losing his own veneer of calm, and petulance was quickly rising to replace it. "Very well. Yes. I did kill your son."
Baela, Luke, Jace, and even Rhaena coordinate their face palms, but her father pays them no mind. He. Just. Keeps. Pushing. "I killed him because he was a liability that could not even sire heirs upon his wife. He was putting us all in danger. And I killed him because I wanted to. There. Are you content with the truth now?"
Grandsire shoots up from his seat, but he is still bound to his cane. Grandmother holds him back. "Let us go, husband. We all need rest." But Rhaena knows they have no intention of sleeping tonight. Their window for Meleys is closes as quickly as her father's plan.
I have a feeling the rookery will be locked down. Her father controls the men-at-arms, her father holds the Maester's support. Her father holds their means of communication.
The Rogue Prince is now alone with his children.
"I believe we are at an impasse," is all Jace can manage.
"You truly trust the Hightowers with your mother?" her father demands.
"No," Jace admits. "But I do not trust you right now, either."
Her father just stares at him, unwilling to process what he refers to.
"Jace," Luke says. "We can have her back tomorrow."
"We do not know that. This isn't the Stepstones, we cannot simply cut a bloody path to victory. And Rhaenys is not going to cooperate; how do you intend to get the dragons out without her?"
Before her father can reply, Ser Steffon returns to the room.
"Prince Daemon, Ser Erryk has just arrived in the Grand Hall."
Baela sighs. "He made it. At least I did not leave everyone behind."
They emerge from the Chamber and make their way to the center of activity. It appears that Grandmother and Grandsire never made it past the Hall.
Ser Erryk raises his hands. "I mean no harm."
Ser Lorent greets him. "Of course you don't. We heard about your midnight ride."
"And my midnight rescuer, I assume," he gives Baela an appreciative smile. Then it drops. "I hear that I missed the ceremony."
"Yes," her father confirms. "And another on the morrow when they crown that Hightower usurper."
"But they will not be doing so with this crown, at the very least." He opens his satchel and holds up its contents.
The crowns of Jaehaerys and Alysanne.
Whispers rise in excitement. Ser Erryk approaches and kneels at Prince Daemon's feet. "My King."
"There goes our impasse," Jacaerys whispers.
Rhaena swears she sees her grandsire mouth "fuck."
Fuck, indeed.
After their mother died, Rhaena had been alone. Baela and Father continued as they were, and her father continued to ignore her. After they left Pentos she'd become desperate for his affection. But the more she demanded it, the more he pulled away. The more affection she showed him, the less inclined he was to return it.
"You won't get what you want this way," Baela had once warned her. "Father doesn't want his children to bring him refreshments in the training yard; he wants them to plan an ambush."
But that's not me, she would think.
Her hope had been renewed when they'd come to Dragonstone. She'd seen the many clutches of eggs incubating on her first tour of the island. When no one made a move to offer her one, she assumed it meant that her father wanted her to claim one of the grown dragons. The Cannibal, Grey Ghost, and Sheepstealer were unwilling mounts, but both Vermithor and Silverwing had seemed promising.
But neither had taken to her. Eventually, her father had concluded that the dragons were so bonded, one was unlikely to accept a new rider if it meant leaving the other one alone.
Rhaena had then expected to be given an egg, but no egg was ever offered. Rather, both of her younger brothers were presented with eggs — despite the fact that if both of their eggs hatched, Rhaena would never have a second Targaryen to help claim the mated dragons. After Aegon's egg hatched and still none was offered to her, Rhaena knew she had to act.
If you wish to be a dragon rider, you must claim that right.
Her father had claimed a dragon, as had her mother and grandmother. So could she.
And there was one dragon left that was more promising than the rest.
She dismissed Seasmoke in the beginning; I am no Aemond, she resolved. She would not insult her family by claiming her uncle's dragon so soon. There was no rule against it, but there was definitely an understanding.
Once she had judged that enough time had passed to be appropriate, her opportunity came shortly after Baela and Luke had mounted their own young dragons. They had paid their grandmother one of their uncomfortable visits, and she'd taken all her dragonriding grandchildren for a flight. Rhaenyra and Father had stayed behind to walk the beach, and she'd let them believe that she would be joining her grandmother on Meleys.
But Meleys was not her intended mount that day.
Once both parties had departed — each believing Rhaena was with the other — she made her way.
Unlike the Bronze fury that terrified her, Seasmoke had a calm, agreeable disposition. And as her uncle's mount, he knew her by blood. Most importantly, her father had spent years flying with Seasmoke. Seasmoke and Caraxes were comrades in battle. In the months leading up to her attempt, she spent many an evening dreaming of flying next to her father.
Not once had her father suggested she claim Laenor's dragon. In fact, he had on multiple occasions dismissed her desire to claim him. His reasons were always changing.
First, "it wouldn't be appropriate, think of how your grandparents would feel."
Then, "wouldn't you rather claim one of the larger dragons?"
And when those attempts bore no fruit, he said, "mayhaps you would fair better with an egg." But no egg was ever offered.
And finally, after he'd run through all his options, he'd settled for, "I simply do not believe you are compatible with Seasmoke. Wait for one of your brothers to grow, then we can try Vermithor and Silverwing together. Or mayhaps that pretender will fall from the sky."
At that point, she could only imagine he no longer thought her capable of claiming a dragon — she would prove him wrong. She wasn't born with her father's approval the way Baela, and even her stepbrother Joffrey had been — but she could claim it.
Today I claim my future , Rhaena decided. A dragon, and a father.
Had only she done this several years prior.
She was mine to claim.
Then you should have claimed her.
She should have claimed her.
Her father had forbidden her, told her that Vhagar was no mount for someone so young, especially someone in mourning. Her will was so strong, she'd easily overpower a novice rider. And so she had done as her father bid — as she always did.
And after, when that pretender had flown away with her mother's dragon, she'd seen it in his eyes: why did you have to be the type of child who actually listens to me? Why couldn't you be more like Baela? More like me?
She did not have to search for long; Seasmoke rested on the beach near the castle. She'd have to act quickly once out in the open, she realized. Before someone saw her from the castle and tried to call her back. After all, her father had technically told her no. She once again let herself picture his surprise when she landed her mount in front of him. "Seasmoke."
He perked his head up and responded in an agreeable enough manner. Far more like her family's dragons than the ambivalent Silverwing and Vermithor. Rhaena had thought it promising.
He watched her approach and made no effort to warn her away. He simply seemed… familar. The way Caraxes or Syrax responded when she happened upon them.
She stepped into his shadow.
He's so much bigger than Moondancer, Rhaena had celebrated. This was before Moondancer's growth had started to slow compared to Arrax and Vermax, before Rhaena had noticed that Baela cared much more than their father did. Before her father suggested that Moondancer was likely meant to be a small dragon.
"They pop up now and again. Never really grow big enough to do much in battle. Palace dragons, is what they called them. Great for throne rooms — they make for a convenient threat or a painful execution."
He'd been so unconcerned until he saw Baela's disappointment.
"Or… if that's not to your liking, they are also great for stealth. Or exploring caves. There's no shortage of ways to use her, Baela. You must simply be creative."
It was only then, with Father assuring Baela there were plenty of ways to wreak havoc without a large dragon, that Rhaena had realized — it had never been about the dragons.
But Rhaena had no other way to bond with her father. They had nothing else in common. She had nothing for her father to take an interest in.
Rhaena no fighter the way Baela was. She had tried, in the beginning, to join the training her father had begun with Baela. But it terrified her. And she wasn't good at it. And the more she struggled, the more she showed fear, the more impatient her father became. Finally, Rhaena had opted to spend her afternoons shadowing Rhaenyra.
"Dohaeris, Seasmoke," she ordered.
He made no objection.
Hesitantly, she outstretched her arm to pet his cheek.
He cooed. Rhaena smiled. The mated dragons never let me touch them so .
She knew then; it was Seasmoke she was meant for. Mayhaps her father and Rhaenyra would have more children. They could claim the bonded pair without making the older one wait so long. Good luck to them , she thought.
"Lykirī," Rhaena commanded. But she need not, Seasmoke still gave her no objection. She smiled. This is it, she decided. She trailed one hand along his neck as she made her way to his saddle. He seemed to like it.
How do I get him to lower for me? she wondered. Her siblings' dragons were too small for it to be necessary, and she had never seen her parents use such a command; the dragons did it on instinct.
Mayhaps it comes with the bond. First, I must climb. She grabbed the ropes that still hung from the saddle. Seasmoke made a noise that sounded curious.
I can do this. It's just like climbing on the dragonmont. Except Rhaena did not often join her father and siblings on the dragonmont — she found it terrifying to climb without support. She was the only one to have actually fallen. She'd grown scared on her descent, but her father had said it was too dangerous to reverse course by then, so he'd had to climb up and help her down. Then she'd panicked and actually slid the rest of the way.
This time she would not fall.
She grasped the rope with all her strength and jumped. Her legs dangled, and Seasmoke shifted. Not in a way that was helpful, but he didn't make it more difficult, either. She lifted herself as far as she could with her limited strength — that her father had criticized in their failed training sessions — and her right foot found purchase on his shoulder.
Only her left leg was now free. She shifted her weight to her right leg and pulled herself up further with the rope. Her left foot caught the other ropes for the saddle. She was now completely off the ground. Seasmoke stretched his shoulders and made another curious noise.
He's not objecting!
One more pull, and she was up. Seasmoke had started to move around, but he was still making no motion to buck. She threw her leg over the saddle and took the lay of the land. She could see High Tide and far down the beach. She could see Meleys in the far distant sky.
And she could see her father running towards her. Sprinting towards her.
"Rhaena!" she could barely make out the sound. She had some time before he reached her, long enough for him to see that she was the blood of the dragon. Just like her mother and sister. Just like him.
Seasmoke rose from his lounging position, presumably picking up on her agitation, and she buckled her harness before his fussing could send her tumbling from his back. There would be no hope of ever earning her father's respect if he saw her fall.
"Dohaeris," Rhaena reminded him. "Lykirī!"
But he does not calm.
I'm already mounted, though. All I need do is stay atop him as he flies, and when we land, we'll be bonded, she told herself.
She forced herself to believe it.
Seasmoke was squirming beneath her, but her harness kept her secured. It's now or never, she decided. Her father was either about to see her first flight, or her last flight.
She took her last breath meant for land. "Sov—"
Then her arm was torn from her body.
She had not realized her father had already made it to her, she hadn't thought it possible for him to come so fast.
But worse, her father had not realized she'd already secured the harness. He'd clearly expected to rip her from the dragon with one pull. But it was no gentle tug, he'd meant to pull her rip her away, and he did not stop when he met resistance. He did not stop to see why he'd met resistance. He just pulled harder. He pulled so hard he tore the harness from the saddle, and her shoulder from its socket.
Rhaena screamed.
He pulled her to the ground and away from Seasmoke. She kept screaming but he didn't let go, even when he'd cleared the dragon. Instead, he grabbed her by both shoulders and shook her. "What did I tell you about Seasmoke!" he'd screamed.
His eyes were crazed; she had never seen him so emotional. She made no reply, she couldn't. Not with her father looking at her like that, not with the pain and the shock she was in. She just kept screaming, until her screams turned to sobs.
He kept shaking her. "Rhaena! I told you to stay away from Seasmoke ! Why would you do this? I thought you were the smart one!"
He was so angry. She'd never seen him so angry. She couldn't understand why he'd been so angry. But the more he shook her, the more he screamed increasingly incomprehensible questions, the more that other emotion came to the surface.
Fear. He was afraid. And more importantly, he wanted desperately for Rhaena to be afraid. He was begging her to be afraid — for once.
I cannot do anything right. I cannot even break the rules right!
And then he was gone.
"What is wrong with you!" Rhaenyra yelled.
Rhaenyra was now standing beside her, and her father…
Her father was on the ground.
"Let me see it, Rhaena." But now that she had her arms free, she couldn't bear to stop supporting her shoulder. But she couldn't tell Rhaenyra that because she couldn't tell her anything; she couldn't say anything through her sobs. She could barely even breathe.
A dragon hissed.
Syrax and Caraxes loomed over them — that must have been how Rhaenyra caught up. For one horrifying moment, Rhaena feared that Caraxes had seen whatever Rhaenyra had done to get her father to let go, that he was hissing in defence of his rider and that they were about to be caught in the middle of a dragonfight.
But Caraxes wasn't hissing at Rhaenyra — he was hissing at his rider .
Her father stood and held his left forearm with his right hand. He made no move towards anyone — not to his wife, not to his daughter, not to his dragon. Seasmoke absorbed the situation and decided it was not his problem. He took flight and did not look back. Rhaena was not surprised, she'd been fooling herself earlier.
She was no dragon.
"Daemon!" Rhaenyra screamed. She had put herself between them. "What the fuck is the matter with you?"
"I pulled her off!"
"And with her, nearly her whole arm!"
"Would you rather see her dead?"
Rhaena was still crying, she couldn't stop. She felt like she would never stop.
"Daemon, look at her!"
And he did. For the first time. And it was only then that Rhaena realized what Rhaenyra already knew. That her father had no idea what he'd been doing. Until he actually looked at her. And oh, he was looking at her. The anger was gone, but the fear had remained.
And then he closed that off too. He closed everything off.
"Go!" Rhaenyra ordered. "Get out of my sight. Get out of my kingdom . I don't want to see you back here while you're like this." Without a word, her father turned around and left. He mounted a begrudging Caraxes, and he was gone.
The pain did not subside, but it no longer clouded her mind. Her eyes and her mind were clear. The truth was clear. "I am no dragon," she finally admitted aloud.
"What?"
"I'm no dragon, Rhaenyra! I didn't claim him! He noticed me but didn't care, just like Fa—"
"Rhaena, there will be other dragons. There is no need to risk your life like this. Still, he was wrong to react like that."
"He was the easiest one, Rhaenyra! The most docile, the one who knows me, my uncle's dragon . And I still could not claim him! If not him then who? I can't even hatch an egg!"
"Rhaena…" She reached to make her usual comforting gesture but withdrew helplessly once she remembered the injuries.
Those wretched tears returned, but they did not steal her voice again. "It's over. I'm… I'm… I'm not capable. Aemond claimed Vhagar at my mother's funeral! It's been nearly two years, and I still can't claim the easiest dragon? And Father knew! He knew I wouldn't be able to! He doesn't mean for me to have a dragon in the future! How could he?"
"You will have a dragon one day, Rhaena. It just can't be this one."
"Why? Why would Silverwing or Vermithor be any more likely to accept me?"
Rhaenyra couldn't even argue with her logic. She just stared helplessly, knowing that Rhaena was right, but too kind to confirm it.
So she changed the subject to the wounds that would heal. "Show me your arm." She did, and Rhaenyra inspected it as gently as she could.
"Is it…"
"I think it's dislocated. We need to get to the Maester." And then hesitated. Rhaena knew what she meant to ask.
"I'll… I'll say that I fell from Seasmoke."
Rhaenyra nodded, but she did not seem happy. Resigned, more likely. "I think that would be best. Not just— there are other factors, Rhaena. I'm sorry you were caught in the middle. But listen to me," she looked her in the eyes. Intensely. "Seasmoke is off-limits. Do you understand?"
Rhaena nodded.
"Good. I promise you Rhaena, you will have a dragon one day. It just cannot be this one," Rhaenyra repeated for effect. But she was holding something back.
She doesn't even believe it herself.
That was the day Rhaena gave up on ever having a dragon — or a father.
Her father didn't return for over a fortnight. Rhaenyra offered no explanation and grew cross whenever someone asked. He'd come slinking back in at suppertime one night, wearing a brace on his wrist and making eye contact with neither of them. No one asked him where he'd been, and he offered no answers.
He did not sleep in Rhaenyra's room for another turn of the moon. Two storms passed in that time, and they'd all run into the master bedroom to find Rhaenyra alone. None of them officially made up or even talked about it. They just let it fall farther and farther into the past. Never spoken of, but always there.
Much like Laenor himself.
I thought you were the smart one, Rhaena.
He truly had, Rhaena realizes. He always had. Mayhaps that was one of the reasons he was so uncomfortable with her. So she had to test her theory, she had to know. She'd pulled the lie from the top of her head and she knew not what would come from it.
Ah yes, that Addam. Addam of... Volantis. Corlys's bastard.
He'd agreed to each of her prompts without flinching. Even regarding that day. Because he knew as well as Rhaena did, as well as she confirmed at that moment — there had never been an Addam.
At least he didn't actually kill Laenor — small, small blessings. Because with that knowledge comes another uncomfortable truth: It doesn't matter. Her father would never defend himself. Her father couldn't even control himself. Her father would never cool down on his own enough to realize he had to bring Laenor back.
Rhaenyra wasn't here to lock him away, to send him away, to force him to look inward for even a moment. There was a desperate opening for a daemon-tamer, one no one wanted to fill. And she knows now, she will have to claim it.
I wish I could be surprised.
"Fuck!" Rhaena finally says aloud once they've left the Hall. "He has full control now; this is it. And he still has not slept."
Baela had excused herself to see to Moondancer's recovery (and her possible participation in tomorrow night's possible bloodbath), whilst her father had led Luke and the Queensguard away.
"We need… we need him to see reason," Jace says. "He's on a war path. What happens if we don't get Mother back tomorrow? Where does he lead us then? Where does he lead us until then?"
Rhaena keeps walking.
"Where are we going?" Jace calls.
"Rhaenyra's rooms."
No one is even posted at her door anymore — Rhaena made sure of it. She simply unlocks it with the master keys she acquired. "We cannot go on like this," she says on her way to the cabinet. "Father knows of a way to discredit the Hightowers — a peaceful way. And he's refusing to use it."
"What is it?"
"I do not think you would believe me if I told you." She shuffles through the contents at the very back. "But believe this — whenever he's gotten near this state, Rhaenyra has always intervened. Sent him away, locked him away, or at the very least made him go to bed."
"So how do we do that?" Jace asks. "Image-wise, we cannot do either of the first two, so ideally we get him to sleep it off. It would also give us time to plan behind his back — which is precisely why he will not do it."
Successful in her search, she turns back to Jace. "I'm going to get him to go to bed the way Rhaenyra does."
Jace turns greener than Luke on a ship. "Rhaena," he gasps. "I know we're Targaryens, but even we have our limits."
"What? Oh. No! Gross. Gross. Gross. Jace!" She hits lightly on the shoulder for each gross. "Get your mind out of the gutter."
"Impossible to do so when thinking of your father — that man lives in the gutter."
"Fair enough," she allows. "Now help me."
And he does.
Jace remains out of sight from the doorway, and she's relieved to find that her father saw no need for personal guards at the moment. "Understand?" she confirms with Jace.
"No one enters, and no one but you comes out. If I hear struggling, make noise to mask it."
"Good," she says, shifting the tea tray so she might have a free hand to knock.
"Enter," her father calls from the study.
She finds him in his usual chair, and Luke asleep on the long sofa with a pillow and blanket. He already has tea of his own — the dark, bitter variety from Yi Ti that he uses when he needs to stay awake or wake up early. He's clearly determined to not leave the castle in her grandmother's hands, but he's also fighting a battle with fatigue.
She sets her tray down and takes a seat on the short sofa across from him. Fortunately, the roaring fire has dried the water he used to wake Jace. "I thought we might talk."
"Did you now?" her father looks towards the shelves, then down to Luke.
"I believe he is out for the night," Rhaena says. "We may speak freely." She pours him a cup of her tea.
"I have my own," her father gestures to his cup.
"This is fresh, and better for your health."
She passes him the cup and he does take it, but he does not drink. She pours herself a cup of the same tea to reassure him.
He still does not drink. She's disappointed but not surprised.
He clearly has no intention of talking to her, so she takes the reins. "It is unfortunate that Addam is not here; it would most definitely strengthen our position. Have you any idea where he might be?"
"Rhaena," he warns. He has no interest in playing her game. He also has no interest in her tea.
She takes a sip from her own cup, which does earn his moderate surprise. "You let me believe I was incapable," she accuses.
"I told you to stay away from Seasmoke. Do not blame me for the outcome of the one time you decided not to do as I bid." He finishes off his own tea. He still will not touch hers.
She takes another pointed sip, this one longer and more obvious. "I have done as you bid all my life. But I will not stand aside as you go against the wishes of our Queen. If you don't tell the truth, I will."
He looks around nervously as if the gargoyles might hear, and he lowers his voice. "Rhaena, the truth will not help us here. You know that."
"His word will be enough to support Jace's claim. More importantly, his dragon will."
She can see he puts in a lot of effort to keep his tone soft. "I would have to leave you. During a war. Have you any idea how long that could take? And then what?"
"Glasslight; hope he grew a beard. Or… the truth. Either way, we need him."
"Mayhaps. But not now. We have other matters to attend to." He pours another cup of his own stale tea and adds his usual dollop of honey to make it palatable. He still will not touch hers.
"You're not in a state to attend to any matters, Father."
He just stares at her.
I'm running out of time.
She takes yet another drink. He feigns picking up her tea, watches her reaction, and returns to his own tea. He's already halfway through; he must be tired.
She swirls her cup for a time before looking up. "Do you remember when we hosted that Dothraki khal and some of his people? His wife spoke some Valyrian, and she noticed how you would linger awake. She said ' that is a man afraid to face his own mind .' Do you know what advice she gave to Mother?"
"Never get involved in a land war in Essos?"
She ignores his still-soft yet now-mocking tone. "Put that man to bed. And then she told her how to mix a tincture to do so. Then she told Laenor, then Laenor told Rhaenyra."
"That fucking tea. Rhaenyra was always pushing it on me when she wanted me to sleep. Do not think I did not recognize it; I would know that smell anywhere."
"I know."
"Is this you trying to be subtle then?"
"No." Rhaena finishes her cup. "This tea combats the ill-effects and ensures you do not wake up with a headache. She would put the sleeping tincture in the honey."
"Too bad you did not bring any honey."
"No, but the kitchen servants did, and they answer to me."
Alarm flashes in his tired eyes, and he looks back toward Luke's sleeping figure. Hopefully, Luke did not drink much. But even if he did, Rhaena is confident he will wake long before her father — Luke had actually slept these past few days.
"Rhaena," his father voice finally comes through: his cross father voice.
But it falters. He's having a harder time refusing rest now that he knows it comes for him. Honestly, she's amazed he even made it this long.
"We can… discuss this again when your mind is finally clear."
"Seven hells," he rubs his face with both hands in a futile attempt to stay awake. "You were supposed to be the smart… fuck." His eyes close and he falls back into his chair.
"Oh. I think I definitely overdid it." She wonders how much of that tea he drank, and how much honey he needed.
Jace enters only a moment after she calls. "Gods be good, Rhaena. Remind me to never get on your bad side."
"Don't be so dramatic. I did it for his own good."
"Rhaena, you technically just poisoned the King."
"King Consort," she says like it makes a difference. "Help me get him on the floor."
"No, he is ancient! You cannot leave him on the floor! He will complain about his back for a fortnight."
"Fuck. Right. Umm…" Luke is occupying the only sofa long enough for sleeping. "Alright, switch. Father on the sofa, Luke on the floor."
"Ugh," Jace complains after. " My back is going to pay the price for this." He rubs it for effect.
Rhaena moves to place another cushion under Luke.
"Rhaena no! Not that one."
"What?"
"That's the cushion from under Daemon's chair."
"And?"
"That is… the cushion Mother used for her knees."
She barely stops herself from gagging as she drops it. "I hate this family."
"I don't know," Baela chimes in. "I find it rather aspirational — to love someone so fiercely that it traumatizes the people around you."
Rhaena and Jace jump. Baela is standing by the back shelves.
"When did you get here?" Jace asks.
"I was here the whole time."
"Why didn't you say something?" Rhaena asks. They really could have used a third person for the sofa transfer.
"He looked heavy and I didn't feel like helping. And before that, it was getting interesting. I'm an eavesdropper — always have been. Did you know that Criston Cole deflowered Rhaenyra after Father showed her the secret sex tunnels?"
"I wish I did not," Jace says.
"I did not need to," Rhaena adds. Then she tries to remember what she said to their father, and wonders exactly what Baela pieced together.
Clearly, she pieced together something. She gives Rhaena a meaningful look, but Rhaena cannot deduce how meaningful it is supposed to be. "How long will they be out for?" Baela asks.
"Luke could be as little as a few hours. But Father… I think he dosed himself more than I intended. And he's been awake for three days… He's out for the night and the day, I think."
"So," Jace says, "I suppose it is Rhaenys and Grandsire then."
"I still do not like her plan for Meleys," Rhaena admits. "But I feel better having her in charge than…"
"Someone who just strangled me," Jace helps.
"He's already down," Baela says. "Her plan is better than nothing, I suppose. It's just…"
"We'll get her back, Baela," Jace assures her. "You did the right thing: you saved Ser Erryk, you saved Grandmother, and you saved yourself. And you brought us the warning we needed."
Baela nods, but Rhaena suspects she does not absorb his words.
Rhaena arranges for yet another meeting for anyone who may still be up. Surprisingly, that is near everyone from the previous one.
"Father has taken ill," she announces.
"How so?" Gerardys asks.
We need answer carefully.
Jace can barely contain his smirk. "He is half a century old and has not slept for three days, is how so. Apparently, he is unable to account for his own basic needs. Mayhaps when he wakes, we can assign Aegon or Viserys to his care."
"We cannot carry out his proposal without him," Rhaena says. "So..." she turns to her grandmother.
"Very well," the Hand says. "Let us make the arrangements. And then we should all find some sleep — let Prince Daemon be a warning."
"Wait," Jace says. Everyone turns to him. He's clearly nervous and inexperienced with all the attention, but he keeps himself composed. "We will act on your first plan because it is now or never. But regarding the long term, I think Rhaena has the best idea."
Rhaena just stops herself from jumping in surprise; she is not used to being acknowledged. Jace continues. "We do not need a trial, or a Grand Council. It likely would do us little good. We keep Daemon's name out of it, we act the neutral third party, and we approach the high lords individually with reason — and mayhaps a little fire and blood."
Mayhaps Addam's fire and blood, should her father see reason.
The Hand considers. "Very well, we will begin with that approach. On the morrow."
Rhaena, Jace, and Baela see little need to help with the Meleys plan. It is not as hopeful a plan, they agree, but it is a more cautious one. Rhaena gratefully finds her bed before dawn, and manages a few (though not enough) hours of sleep.
It is not the sunlight, or her sister, or even a servant that awakens Rhaena. It is Luke. "Rhaena, Daemon and I fell asleep and I still cannot rouse him."
She rolls over in search of more sleep. "And you likely will not be able to for quite some time, Luke." She is surprised that even he is up so early in the morning.
"Rhaena!" he shakes her back awake. "Why did no one wake us? We've missed our window!"
She begrudgingly opens her eyes. "Grandmother went with a different window."
Horror overcomes Luke. "What have you done?"
"We could only do one or the other."
"Rhaena, the arrangements were already made! It is too late to cancel."
"What do you mean?"
"The coronation was to take place first thing. That is now. Mysaria's men likely already hide there!"
"Who?" Rhaena is still barely awake.
"Rhaena!"
She finally picks up on his panic. Already there … "Oh," she says. Some of Luke's panic starts to transfer over. "How many men?"
"Dozens. It had to be dozens."
She sits up. "Too many to hide should they truly look."
"If they accede to Grandsire's demands…" Luke leads her.
Rhaena sees what he is trying to tell her. "If they find them there — they'll know we tried to play them."
"They'll know my mother played them. Fuck!"
Fuck, indeed.