Daenerys
Her brother had returned. As Daenerys looked out her window from her chambers in the Red Keep she could just see the outline of the King's party as it made its way back to the capital. She had received word by raven that she had been betrothed to the heir to the North, and this filled her with unease. Her brother no doubt had the best of intentions, but she had heard the septons say that the North was a wild and dangerous place, where men had forsaken the worship of the true gods to hang men's entrails from trees in black rites learned from the demons of the forest who had once inhabited Westeros. What's more, the Rebellion had started in part because of the forbidden love between Rhaegar and a Stark, and that as a result there had been little love between the Starks of Winterfell and her brother the King. Rhaenys had immediately sensed her discomfort when she learned of the news, and had suggested that Daenerys was simply worried her husband-to-be would take her like a savage wolf in the bedchamber. This had not been among her concerns, but had been added to them after her niece's jape. She had never understood how Rhaenys could be comfortable joking about such things. But then as daughter to the King, betrothed to the Crown Prince, and grand-niece to the Hero of the Rebellion and Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, she was used to saying what she liked.
"You know, if father really did need to go fetch his bastard from the North, then the least he could do was leave his bedwarmer and her brood up there to freeze in his place." Speaking of the Queen of Volantis. Daenerys was never liked the fact that Rhaenys always found a way to enter her chambers unannounced.
"I don't think Lord Tywin would appreciate that," Daenerys offered meekly.
"The Hand that Pulls the Strings is an old man whose days are numbered. I've already spoken with Egg about finding a suitable replacement when I am Queen and he is King."
"When Egg is king? If Lord Tywin's so old, don't you think my brother would outlive him?" Daenerys asked. Rhaenys sighed and pursed her lips before responding.
"No, I don't." Rhaenys draped herself over the couch beside Dany to get a better look at the royal caravan, uncoiling herself like a serpent in the morning sun. Daenerys sighed as she saw how comfortable her niece was with her body, how easily and gracefully it moved, attracting the attention of nearly every man at court. Rhaenys had inherited her mother's slight frame and olive skin, but she also had the Targaryen features of amethyst eyes and silver blonde hair, which had combined to make her a truly exotic beauty. Daenerys was told she was attractive by some hoping to gain her favor, but such praise always seemed to ring hollow whenever she compared herself to Rhaenys or her good-sister the Queen.
"I've heard it said my nephew is no bastard," Dany said. "That Rhaegar and the Stark girl were wed before she gave birth." Rhaenys scoffed.
"Before one of those hideous white trees the Northmen call gods," she spat. "From what I understand, some kind words were exchanged and then the deed was done. That's hardly a wedding. I've even heard the High Septon might not recognize it."
"But surely he must! Besides, it's not as if the Faith hasn't made exceptions for our family in the past."
"The Faith has not been forced to make an exception for polygamy in some time, Daenerys," Rhae reminded her sternly. "And when last they were, the King's actions were backed by Balerion the Black Dread." She paused for a moment to think before looking at Dany with a wicked expression.
"You know, perhaps you should get to know your new nephew," she said huskily before leaning over and whispering into Dany's ear. "See if the Starks really take their women like a wolf takes his bitch." Dany recoiled at the thought.
"Don't you think we should get ready to greet them?" Daenerys asked, desperately wishing to change the subject. "I'm hardly dressed for a public reception."
"Nor I," Rhae seemed to think aloud as she stared down at her dress, a loose red slip in the orange of House Martell. "Something with a plunging neckline, I think. It's always good to remind Cersei how old she is. I'll send for my things and we can get ready together, you simply have no idea how much gossip has reached my ears since breakfast." Rhae called to one of the attendants waiting outside and gave him instructions to get her a selection of dresses, enjoying watching him blush as she described what she was looking for. Dany also had her servants bring out a selection of gowns, though she felt it necessary to be very clear she would not be following her niece's lead. Ultimately she decided upon a light blue dress in one of the new fashions from the East, with a small while mantle to drape over her shoulders. Like Rhaenys, she painted her face somewhat, but she again she tried to be more restrained than her niece, who smiled as she applied red coloring to her full, sensuous lips. Dany gasped when she saw her niece hang a sapphire pendant about her neck in the shape of the Fiery Heart of R'hllor.
"What?" asked Rhaenys, feigning confusion. "It's no secret I have no love for the Seven. The septons can prattle on about the Father's place in the Godhead mirroring a man's place in the household, but if the Lord of Light offers me the kind of freedom he gave the Red Woman I think I'll take it."
"But Rhae, you'll cause a scandal!" This caused Daenerys' niece to chuckle.
"Oh Dany, you sound like an old woman. I'm hardly a stranger to scandal. Really, it's times like these when I can actually believe you're my aunt."
Rhae gossiped on and on about this lord and that lord, about how Jon Conington had finally gotten his wife pregnant with an heir to the Stormlands, but that the rumors swirled that the true father of Myranda Caron's child was Lord Jon's cousin Red Ronnet, and how Preston Greenfield had been meeting a draper's wife while her husband was away. As Dany brushed her hair and chose which bracelets she would wear to greet her brother she realized she was only half-listening. She could not help but wonder now her brother and the rest of his family would treat her now that she was betrothed to a Stark.
Cersei had always been kind to her, and had instructed Daeron to do the same, but Rhae had always said that was because she saw Dany as a prospective bride for her eldest son. Daeron had been a gentleman during the time they spent together, but Dany remained off-put by the way he treated the servants and the jealous glares he would give Aegon whenever he thought he wasn't looking. If Rhaenys had spoken true, any pretense of a wedding would be gone and any motive for kindness gone with it. She considered what the Stark boy coming south would think of her when they met. She chided herself for that thought. Rhaegar's son was a Targaryen, just as much as she was. But there was no denying that he had been raised in the North his whole life, and that he would have a Northman's opinions of King's Landing, and of her. Perhaps Rhaenys was right, thought Daenerys. Perhaps I should get to know my nephew. He knows his cousin better than anyone at court, and Northmen are known for plain talk. He might be able to tell me if I'll be happy at Winterfell, if I'll make a good wife for Robb Stark.
Finally ready, the two girls rose to leave Dany's chambers. Rhaenys smiled warmly as she opened the doors to find her great-uncle waiting for her. Prince Lewyn the Huntsman, Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, stood at attention before bowing deferentially. Rhae was quick to throw her arms around him in an embrace as her own form of greeting.
"Your Graces," he said respectfully.
"Oh nuncle, must you be so formal?" Rhaenys asked him. "If you're going to escort us to this horrid spectacle, at least allow us some levity first." The old Kingsguard couldn't help but smile as his niece's daughter pouted.
"Very well," he said, leading them down the steps towards the throne room. "I did hear an amusing jape about a chicken attempting to cross a road, though I'm sure it's much funnier in the original Norvoshi." As Prince Lewyn told it, Dany didn't think it would have been, but Rhaenys laughed all the same.
Once they entered the throne room they saw the court entire court had gathered, anxiously awaiting the return of the King and the new Prince. Daenerys was not surprised to see Lord Tywin Lannister, Hand of the King, sitting on the Iron Throne scowling anywhere the whispers among the courtiers became too loud. Feeling the weight of his gaze instantly, whole segments of the room would fall silent and turn their attention to the doors. As she looked up at the mass of jagged spikes that was the Iron Throne, she was amazed by the poise that Lord Tywin displayed while sitting it. Her brother had told her that it was designed by Aegon the Conqueror so that no man could sit easily, and that their father had even cut himself on it. But Lord Tywin showed no physical discomfort, just frustration at the murmuring crowd.
To the left of the throne the rest of the small council could be seen waiting as well. Lord Mace Tyrell, the Master of Laws, stood uncomfortably closest to the Iron Throne, doing his best not to bump into any of the barbs and wishing desperately that he could take a seat. Beside him was Paxter Redwyne, Master of Ships, who seemed less than interested in the goings on at court, but nonetheless seemed to understand that his attendance was mandatory at events like these. The place for the Master of Coin was empty since Rhaegar had sent the Imp to the Wall, but she paid it little mind as her gaze moved to Varys, the master of whisperers, who watched the goings on as if it were a cyvasse board during his opponent's turn. The Spider was no doubt weaving webs even now, plotting and scheming to keep Rhaegar on the Throne. The doddering Grand Maester Pycelle remained seated, seemingly weighed down by the chain of his office. The cane in his hand suggested that he still would rise for the King. As Prince Lewyn took his place in front of the Iron Throne as Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, Dany looked to the most recent addition to the Small Council. The High Septon stood patiently, the light that came through the hall's windows refracting through his great crystal crown. Though he did what he could to appear serene, she had no doubt that he was secretly quite troubled by the arrival of the Northern Prince.
Egg stood to the right of the throne, looking every inch a prince as he always did. The young man destined to become Aegon VI Targaryen had kept his long pale-blonde hair down and flowing, and was wearing a black and red tunic with dragons sewn into the shoulders. His wine-dark eyes appraised everyone at court, lingering on no one, which was not to say there weren't eyes lingering upon him. Chief amongst them were those of Margaery Tyrell, who had just been summoned from Highgarden at her father's behest. The Tyrell girl blushed fiercely when she received a smile from the prince, but this was to be expected. Aegon was always friendly, and from what Daenerys understood Margaery was at court to win him over. The girl was pretty, without a doubt, but Daenerys doubted she would be successful. Where beauty was concerned Dany doubted any could hold a candle to her niece. Moreover, even if he weren't betrothed to Rhae, Aegon was the Prince of Dragonstone, he could have had any maiden he wanted. Including me? She asked herself. She tried to put the thought out of her mind. She and Aegon were not meant to be. She took her place with Rhaenys to the right of the Throne beside Aegon as part of the royal family and turned her attention back to the great doors to the throne room, which were finally starting to swing open. Whatever the future held for her, she would have a much better understanding of it if she looked through those doors than if she stared back at her nephew.
"All hail His Grace, Rhaegar of the House Targaryen, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm!" All kneeled as the King entered first, still mounted on his black destrier. He dismounted and stared up at Lord Tywin on the Iron Throne. The Hand rose slowly and carefully descended the steps, kneeling before the King.
"Your Grace," he said dutifully. "We welcome your return to your city." Lord Tywin assumed his position to the immediate left of the throne, Mace Tyrell wordlessly stumbling out of the way. Rhaegar walked up the steps to the Iron Throne and took his seat, lifting his hand to signal that all might rise. The King was dressed in the red and black plate he had worn when he had left the city, a circlet of Valyrian steel gracing his brow. The melancholy in his expression seemed to deepen once he had settled into the throne. Now, he too turned his attention to the doors.
The rest of the royal family was processing in after him in order of seniority as the herald continued to announce them. Cersei of course came in first, her head raised and her nose pointed towards the ceiling. Daenerys thought the Queen was doing her best to maintain her royal bearing in light of what she no doubt considered a great insult, for walking immediately behind her was Rhaegar's northern son.
"All hail Prince Jaehaerys of the House Targaryen, trueborn son of King Rhaegar and his late wife Lyanna!" Murmurs could be heard throughout the crowd. He did not look at all like a Targaryen. Rhaenys had maintained the family's hair and eyes, and Baelor Breakspear of old was said to have his father's features, even if he had the Dornish hair and coloring, but there was only the North in the boy standing before her. His hair was dark brown and his eyes were black as coals. His face seemed cold and impassive. Daenerys wondered whether his features would have been so striking had he not been accompanied by the white wolf at his side. A walking symbol of the North, the animal was magnificent; it was already as large as some of the hounds in the royal kennels, and if it truly were a dire wolf she had been told it would grow to be as large as a pony. Its white fur was beautiful and smooth, and though they were bright red its eyes matched those of its master, regarding everything without the slightest hint of emotion. As the Stark boy knelt before the Iron Throne and remained there, the wolf seemed to recognize the gravity of the situation and sat down beside its master, head lowered in what looked like the deference a man might give his lord. Cersei had already bowed civilly to her husband and took her place beside the women of the royal family to the right of the King.
"You're looking lovely today, Rhaenys," the Queen said acidly as she looked at her husband's eldest daughter. "I just love your dress." Rhae smiled at the barb, relishing the prospect of combat.
"Why thank you, Your Grace," she replied. "I must say I'm fond of yours as well. Very appropriate for someone your age." Cersei scowled as Dany tried to suppress a laugh.
Daeron, Visenya and Baelor were right behind the Northman. Cersei's eldest did his best to keep an even expression, but to someone who knew him as well as Daenerys did it was obvious that he was perturbed. He and his full-siblings kneeled before the throne and were bid to rise and join the rest of the royal family. The Northman remained on his knees even as the rest of the party filed in, kneeled, and took their places amongst the courtiers already present. Noticeably, none came as close to the throne as Jaehaerys and his wolf. A group of Northmen who had no doubt accompanied Rhaegar's son entered last, either bearing the sigil of their houses or in the livery of House Stark, a grey dire wolf on white. When they knelt it was noticeably forced, and they took a position dangerously close to the royal family among the courtiers, no doubt to be close to their prince when he sat beside Aegon. Prince Lewyn turned to them venomously, his hand tightening around the hilt of his sword. A middle aged balding Northman simply smiled back at him and patted his own weapon, a large sword with a bear's head on the pommel. Finally, Rhaegar bid his son to rise.
"My lords!" Rhaegar's voice resounded throughout the hall. There was something of his singing in it, and Daenerys was glad to see that it commanded the room and kept any of the assembled lords and ladies form gossiping.
"Since the beginning of my reign there has been much change in the Seven Kingdoms, but one thing has remained constant. The Realm has remained whole. It has remained united, from the Wall to Sunspear. Today we have the pleasure of showing the truth of that unity by welcoming our Northern friends to the capital, and I have the pleasure of introducing to you my second son, Prince Jaehaerys Targaryen!" The crowd looked to the boy now. Rhaenys and Lewyn stared daggers at him, as did Daeron and Cersei, though Visenya clapped happily and bid little Baelor to do the same. Daenerys looked to Aegon, whose expression was almost unreadable. She then looked to the Small Council to see their reactions. Lord Tywin was unhappy, but that was nothing new, while Lord Tyrell and the Grand Maester appeared genuinely confused as to what their response should be. Varys seemed to be sizing Jaehaerys up, dissecting the boy with his eyes. The High Septon looked as if he were about to burst, he turned to the King and opened his mouth but after a quick glare from Rhaegar fell silent. The old priest narrowed his eyes at this.
"I thank you, Your Grace, for this honor," Jaehaerys said weakly. The wolf at his side slipped its head beneath his hand. Jaehaerys ran his fingers through the thick white fur, seemingly gaining strength from it. When he next spoke, his voice was much deeper and more authoritative. Out of the corner of her eye, Dany could see the middle-aged Northman smiling.
"Your Grace has offered me more than I could have ever hoped for," he went on. "I swear upon my honor that I shall not disappoint you. I shall be ever mindful of my duties as a prince of the Seven Kingdoms. I look forward to undertaking this new service to Your Grace and to your heirs after you." Egg's face lit up at this. Before either Jaehaerys or Rhaegar could say anything further he descended the steps towards his new brother and embraced him warmly. Jaehaerys' wolf recoiled but remained calm. The boy himself seemed shocked, his eyes only widening in confusion when Aegon whispered something in his ear. Turning to the assembled courtiers, the Prince of Dragonstone addressed them as a player might an audience.
"It is no doubt common knowledge by now that the Princess Daenerys will go north to marry the heir to Winterfell," he began. "And while I needs must bid farewell to my aunt, words cannot describe the joy that I feel, that we should all feel, at the return of my long-lost brother!" Rhaenys' mouth hung agape.
"Jaehaerys, I welcome you to this, our home, and promise that you shall always have a place here as a trueborn son of my father when my time comes to succeed him. To Jaehaerys! To the Prince who was lost, but now is found! To my brother!"
"Here here!" came the cries of Egg's men from the crowd. Soon they spurred the rest of the court into cheering. Aegon raised a still-confused Jaehaerys' hand in the air. Daenerys saw Egg's warm and friendly smile become much more devious when his gaze fell upon Cersei and her children. Rhae smirked.
"Well, at least he's putting the bastard to good use," she said. Aegon and Jaehaerys took their places beside the King, and what followed was anti-climactic. Rhaegar heard petitions and addressed grievances: those of the Stormlords and Reachmen who wanted land claims resolved, a Gulltown Arryn seeking a new royal charter for his city, and a million other things besides. Dany was glad when it was all over. She turned to look at Jaehaerys and saw that he had already returned to the company of his Northmen.
"He seems much more comfortable among them," she thought aloud.
"And that's where the bastard should have stayed," interjected Rhaenys. "Down here he's only one more piece in the game." Dany was disappointed in her niece.
"But Rhae, my brother said he's no bastard, and even if he were I thought you were fond of Dornish customs. Isn't respect for bastards one of them?"
"Oh yes, my mother's family respects their bastards, but they do not give them things they do not deserve. At the end of the day, a Sand is still a Sand. They know their place." She stormed off in Aegon's direction as Daenerys sighed. If she was honest with herself, it was hard for her to believe Jaehaerys was a Targaryen, but the least she could do was be kind to him.
The rest of the day proved uneventful. The feast in Jaehaerys' honor was not scheduled until the following night, to allow various lords and dignitaries more time to arrive and settle into the capital, so Dany practiced her needlework and sought out Septon Lyonel, the Red Keep's chaplain, to ask whether Rhaenys had had the right of what she had said earlier about the Father's place in the Godhead. He had told her it was a useful bit of oratory, but he was not of the school that held the Father to be the first principle within the Seven. Rather, he explained, just as light refracted through a prism into Seven colors, so the unapproachable light of the One was refracted into the Seven when It stood in relation to the world, and just as no color was prior to any other, no Person among the Seven could be called prior to any other. This only left Dany with more questions, but she decided that they were of little consequence so long as her devotion was sincere. She decided she would look for something to read in the library to pass the rest of the day before dinner.
She did not expect to find him there. Jaehaerys was sitting at a table in the Red Keep's library, utterly engrossed in a heavy volume. His white dire wolf lay at his side, resting comfortably. It silently raised its head and looked at her with what she assumed was curiosity. Jaehaerys seemed to notice this and turned to face her.
"H-hello, Jaehaerys," she stammered.
"Your Grace," he replied courteously.
"What are you reading?" Dany asked him.
"Just looking at a family tree." He tried a warm smile, like he had no doubt seen on his father and half-brother. It didn't suit him.
"May I ask why?" The confused look she received immediately made her worry that she might have said something insensitive. The wolf looked up at its master as Jaehaerys pondered his response.
"I'm trying to understand what Prince Aegon said to me in the throne room." Daenerys nodded for him to go on.
"When he whispered in your ear, you mean?" Jaehaerys nodded.
"He told me 'at long last, I've found my Orys.' I assumed he was making some reference to the family history like Daeron does from time to time, but I can't find anything about an Orys Targaryen."
"Orys Baratheon," Dany corrected. Jaehaerys raised an eyebrow at this.
"The founder of that house," she went on. "He was one of Aegon the Conqueror's most trusted generals." She hesitated, wondering if she really should tell him everything. "And rumored bastard brother." His face sank.
"I see." He closed the book with a thud and made to leave before stopping himself and turning to face her. His eyes seemed to have hardened into a resolve she had not yet seen in him.
"It seems my ignorance of the family history is something that needs to be corrected."
"It is the history of the Seven Kingdoms," Daenerys added not without some pride.
"Then tell me," he requested, offering her a seat across from him. "Who was Daeron the Good?" Dany resisted the urge to groan as she sat down and began to leaf through the book Jaehaerys had been reading. She knew where this was going.