Rhaena swatted at her sister's hand. Although the girls were twins, born only a matter of minutes apart, Baela acted as if she were many years her senior.
"Will you stop it." Rhaena huffed, taking to the mirror.
"You really are no fun. I'm trying to avail your spirits!" Baela responded, hugging her. She gave a smile at their reflections.
"I do not-" she sighed, peeling away from Baela, "need to be availed."
She continued, "It is a mistake to think that Lord Borros will fall suit with theplausible wishes of his late father."
Baela retorted, "Plausible? Lord Boremumd was steadfast in his belief that our grandmother, Lady Rhaenys, be named Queen. Lord Borros will recognise his own blood."
Rhaena restrained the contempt that she felt toward that comment.
"Is it not our own blood we fight against, sister?"
"That is true, but that blood has grown sour, septic. Deadly. There's no such grievance between us and the Baratheons. There is still much love there."
"Ambivalence can be just as deadly. When last did his aunt visit Storm's End? That love has not been nurtured and it is not ours to call upon."
Baela drew breath, but did not find fault in what her sister had said.
"It is a weak claim to begin with. But Lord Borros is a proud man with four daughters yet to wed. To enter his halls empty handed is..."
"An insult." Baela supplied.
Rhaena met her twin's eyes. Her purple irises often sparked with lightening, like those in Storm's End. But they had dulled at the conclusion. The excitement of being envoys giving way to the harsh reality of Westerosi politics. Rhaena thought to provide some comfort, mayhaps she had been too pessimistic.
"Then leave it to us to win the great northern houses. Once we have their numbers, he will surely follow." Baela nodded as if it were a foregone conclusion. Rhaena thought of the many reasons as to why that would not suffice. But she remembered that still purple staring backing at her.Best to send her off in good spirits. Even if false.
--
Rhaena secured an errant coil with yet another pin. She wondered how many would be lost in the thickness of her hair. She inspected her reflection in the mirror, searching for any flaw, any fault to set right. She looked time and time again, as if her eyes had fooled her. She never left a thing to chance. She practiced her smile, her gaze, the tilt of her head. She gave a satisfactory nod, smoothing her dress for the upteenth time. It was time for the last dinner.
Rhaena walked down the grand stairs from her quarters. The foyer was filled with knights, lords and ladies alike. The talk and bustle slowed when she descended. She had worn her mother's house colours this night. In a sea of black and red, the spring green was a sight to behold. With the evening candlelight, the dress shimmered like waves. The aquamarine gems adorned her exposed neck. They were striking on her dark skin. She could feel the leers, noting those who dipped their heads or kneeled and those who indulged.
Yes, Rhaena knew she was beautiful. She and her sister were their mother's daughters, it was undeniable by sight alone. And she always thought her mother the most beautiful woman. If only her lady mother Laena were here to help her bear the weight of the stares, their expectations.
"And here I thought you were still preparing in your chambers." That familiar scent of white jasmine and sandalwood could only mean Baela.
Rhaena smiled at her twin, "come, let us go together."
They walked in arms, heads upright and shoulders back, united. Just like their mother had taught them. Until finally they were alone in the following corridor.
"Grandfather will be pleased." Baela played with the gems about her neck. Her eyes were all lightening and thunder.
"It was not for him."
"Oh, I know. I suspect many a lordand lady will be thinking of you fondly tonight."
Rhaena scoffed at the comment. But made sure to see that they were truly alone.
"They would do that regardless of what we wore. You forget, we are twins."
Baela smirked at the response. She whispered into Rhaena's ear.
"But it's you they want."
Rhaena did not muster a response, because her sister spoke the truth. Baela's interest in court started and stopped with regard to the wellbeing of the family. Beyond that, proprietary, diplomacy, court fashions, allegiances, it all bored her. Like their father, Baela was more concerned with dragonriding, swordsplay, authenticity and histories.
Baela wore a striking red gown, with fine black detailing on a very low bodice. Her face was framed with chin-length locs. Although cut with a dull blade in haste to make it easier to see on dragonback, it accentuated her perfectly. She was the talk of the Red Keep for weeks.
It did not matter. Baela, like herself, was the blood of Old Valyria. Their lady mother and father taught them their tongue, their histories, the importance of the dynasty. Some power was wrought through that of dragons, like Baela's Moondancer. Others through the fire of the blood. Envy, awe, rage, lust. It just so happened Rhaena excelled in one and Baela the other. Together they were unstoppable.
Anxiety overwhelmed Rhaena then. A deep, worry, that she had been staving off since the envoy assignment. They would be apart. That could not bode well.
Rhaena brought herself to hearing the footsteps of a passing servant. "You will be Queen and all they will want is your favour."
Baela tutted as they arrived at the banquet hall. "Yes, a court full of arselickers." Before Rhaena could protest, Baela pulled her through the doors.
"Another time, dear sister. We're late."
--
Baela was correct. All but them were gathered in the hall. Their lord father, Daemon Targaryen, was the first to see them enter. His battle hardened instincts had his hand ready to draw Dark Sister. His face was suspect and sneering, until he at last recognised them. The coldness thawed and his eyes held pure admiration. He moved towards them at once.
"My girls." He pressed a kiss on each of their foreheads and held them close. A hand rested against Baela's cheek and he took Rhaena's hand in his.
"I had thought to renege your attendance, but you will both make splendid envoys." Rhaenyra said from a distance, looking fondly at the sight. She wore a dress of deep black. It looked eerily beautiful against her paleness. Rhaena wondered whether she wore black for their alliance, or to mourn her late father.
"They look just like Laena, don't they?" Daemon smiled, turning to face his Queen.
Rhaenyra approached the trio, considering the question in earnest. Rhaena could feel her stare, but it did not feel unwelcome. The twins were near age of majority when their father and Rhaenyra married. But Dragonstone had been home to them well before. Her lady mother Laena and Rhaenyra had a sort of friendship that mirrored her and Baela's sisterhood. And with Laena's passing, Rhaenyra had mothered the girls in her stead.
"So very similar, but distinct. Even as twins. You present all sides of Valyrian beauty splendidly." Rhaena saw the same pride in Rhaenyra's eyes as when the Princes had sworn their oaths. She could not help but preen at the compliment. Rhaenyra took their hands into hers and squeezed.
"I am sure no man or woman could look on you two and deny your requests." Rhaena tried to find any flourish in her words, but just found trust. She squeezed back.
Shortly after, the twins rounded to their grandparents, Lord Corlys and Lady Rhaenys.
"Wearing our colours, Rhaena?" The Sea Snake smirked. The old man had not even fully recovered from a deadly fever, but was still proud to a fault. Her frequent visits to Driftmark had taught her that Corlys could nurse a grudge for decades, to strangers and kin alike. So she indulged his indiscretions.
"They are beautiful. It should be worn more often." Rhaena and Baela gave him a full curtsey. He surveyed her with a satisfied grin. A less than satisfied one to Baela. A quiet fury filled her.
"There is a reason why, beloved." Her grandmother said. Rhaenys always had an air of bemusement. As if she knew something everyone else did not. She often did. She leaned away from her lord husband.
"It is a spectacularly difficult shade of green to attune to. Even for him." Baela released a trumpet of laughter then, Rhaenys' shoulders shook with the effort to contain herself. Rhaena only donned a small smile.
"Our Laena once begged us to do away with her long hair. She was never all too fond of it. I wish I had allowed her, seeing how it suits you just fine." She placed a stray loc behind Baela's ear. The gesture was simple, but profound.
Rhaena saw her grandsire give the Lady Velaryon an unamused stare. She thought little of it but a bruised ego until she saw his jaw working. She was aware that her grandparents did not have the best marriage in her stays at Driftmark. But it seemed that the gulf had only widened during Lord Corlys' sickness.
"Oh, do cheer up. See, here comes our princes." Indeed, Lord Corlys perked up at the sight of Prince Jacaerys and Lucerys strolling up beside both her and Baela. Rhaena turned to Luke to find him already staring. She felt herself tense but gave him a warm smile.
"My prince, how are you this evening?" Her voice sounded sickly sweet to her own ears. If Lucerys noticed he paid it no mind.
"Better having seen you, my Lady." Rhaena could not dampen her smile, the response being so quick and heartfelt. Luke's eyes did not fall to her attire, or the fussy hairstyle she had. He simply looked at her. It felt good. Knowing that it would be futile to feign naivete, Rhaena replied.
"Then it is best I stay by your side. So that your mood does not falter." Try as she might, she could not help but fall into those warm, brown eyes. Lucerys was sweet and true, more timid than his older brother, but no less brave. When the war was done, Rhaena knew she would be happily married. She did not doubt Lucerys felt much the same.
When he offered her his arm, she did not hesitate to take it. When she did, he drew her near. His gaze was utterly ablaze with the sight of her. He had never been so forward! When they were first bethrothed before her mother's passing; when they were both not even six and ten, Lucerys had continued doting on her the way a brother did. They would jest, debate, fly on Arrax. She would help him with lessons and his hers.
But since she and Baela had returned to Dragonstone from treating at the Red Keep, the boy had become man. He no longer shied from the bethrothal, rarely mentioning her name without it. My betrothed, he would say with such strong conviction. He did not flinch at her piecing gaze anymore. He often met it in kind. It was only moments where their skin touched that revealed his nerves. She loved to watch him shiver at the contact. Their fiery gaze broke when the Sea Snake coughed.
Rhaena wanted to stare daggers at Corlys but managed a bashful glance instead. It was not proper to be so... enraptured, in front of him. She breathed a silent sigh of relief in seeing his eyebrows were raised in humour.
"Once you return, Luke, we must resume our seafaring lessons. This illness has taught me I will not endure forever." Luke nodded, but Rhaena could feel the strain in his arm. She knew why it was there.
Following her father's wedding, they had all travelled back by ship to Dragonstone. It was a cruel irony. The heir to the Driftwood Throne, with the best navel fleets Westeros had to offer, suffered with crippling seasickness. Having had to suffer the sight herself for close to a week, Rhaena did not wish to see it again.
"In the meantime, I'm sure the younger princes would do well to learn our practices." Rhaena suggested. Lucerys smile pinched when Lord Corlys patted at his back.
"An excellent idea! You truly are our daughter's daughter, Rhaena." He laughed, pressing a calloused hand to her cheek before turning to the young scrabble. His eyes set determined to whip them into fine naval commanders by year's end. He was blissfully unaware of the uncomfort he left in his wake. Rhaena was positive she saw disdain in her grandmother's eyes as he left.
"I had better go with him, you know how he gets. But you do look beautiful, both of you." Their grandmother said, looking at Baela pointedly before turning on her heel as well.
"How does he get away with being so arrogant?" Jacaerys scoffed, brushing at the shoulder of Luke's Lord Corlys had just clasped.
"When you're so rich and powerful you can defy the crown." Baela said, the dejection almost undetectable. Her grandsire always made sure to disapprove of her boldness, as if it were a detriment. Rhaena was about to intervene before Jace did so first.
"You're a Targaryen. Black and red are your colours. Our colours. Yours is the blood of the dragon. And there's not a maiden in Westeros who can match your beauty." Jace held onto Baela's forearm and gaze. The two reminded Rhaena of her and Luke just before. The moment felt entirely too intimate so Rhaena walked with Luke to the balcony.
Once they were outside, Rhaena closed her eyes. Her betrothed did not have the constitution for the sea, but she certainly did. Without a dragon she had formented it through will alone. How else would she travel timely when neither Baela or her seasick Prince were free? But her grandsire never thought to teach her his trade. It was a bitter thing. Whilst they covered the skies, why should she not guard the seas? The Sea Snake saw little but her beauty and demeanour, tailored though it was.
Rhaena let the salty air of Blackwater Bay bring her some respite. She released Lucerys and walked toward the balustrade. Darkness had fallen completely, and the narrow sea seemed endless. Beckoning. She felt a hand on her arm.
"You're tired." It wasn't a question. It was an uncanny thing Luke had. Where others weighed, observed, scrutisined, itemised her, he saw through it all. He knew that it was an elaborate ruse. They were both pretending.
"So are you." She had spotted him taking Arrax in the middle of the night to practice manoeuvres. They often ran into each other late at night in the castle's library. Rhaena remembered that scorching gaze he had given her. It would be best to return to her chambers with her books from now on.
He settled beside her, leaning over to look at the rocks below.
"We might be tired for a while." Rhaena sighed.
He looked up at Rhaena then. It was such a sweet and gentle look that Rhaena almost stroked his cheek. She pressed her hands against the railing, in hopes the cold stone would cool her.
"This is worth countless sleepless nights to protect." Her heart simply would not stop. She refused to ponder on his hidden meaning. Rhaena detested being controlled by her emotions. She could accept them, use them, but led by them? She had not built her political prowess by giving into her whims. The family, their ancestral seats, their rights, their honour, the throne, the realm. That is what he meant.
He straightened and came closer. He took her hand. Rhaena kept looking at the sea.
"I'll protect you, Rhaena." His words were so quiet that the wind almost stole them from her ears. She was not sure if he was saying it to her, or himself.
Rhaena could not bring herself to look at him. She hated that she could feel her tears brim and threaten to fall. If she were to look into the eyes, those safe, caring eyes, what else would she do but cry? She had been raised better than that.
Lucerys did not wait for her to look his way. He brushed them away, with such delicate, careful strokes. Rhaena could no longer resist and turned her head to him, pressing her face against his hand. Luke took it further and brought his forehead to hers. The tears came stronger then.
They stood like that until Baela called them back in. And Rhaena hated that too. Because she could not work out the painful knot in her throat to say, "and who will protect you?"
--
Rhaena was in an unrelenting staring contest with the roasted pig's head in front of her. Everyone had started enjoying the spread for a party of eleven that could rival a Great House's wedding, but Rhaena could not. Every morsel of food had turned to grit and ash in her mouth. The anxiety from before had turned into a deep dread.
And Rhaena was of two minds about this. It was an almost doomed mission, riding on the tailcoats of a passed familial love with little else. But in practice it should not pose a great threat. Rhaena knew this, and scolded her racing heart. What of her twin and heir select Jacaerys? The journey north was far more cumbersome, with many dangers along the way. To Storm's End, they could be back within days.
But the other, told her to do away with distance travelled. Where will your enemy go first? That was not a question she could fail to ignore. By any metric, the Red Keep and Storm's End were much closer than the Eyrie. But they were to travel on Arrax. If they met a delegation of the false King's men, what could they do? As envoys neutrality applied.
She almost scoffed at herself. If principles and integrity mattered to the Greens, they would not be here at all. She looked around the table. Her father had a hand at Rhaenyra's swollen belly, they smiled at each other like sweethearts. Somehow Lord Corlys and Lady Rhaenys had made amends and were talking about their travels with Jacaerys and Baela. To her left, Lucerys was embroiled in a heated conversation with his younger brothers about defensive sword techniques.
Her family were such an odd tapestry, but they were hers and they weregood.The Greens knew this. Why would they not use it to their advantage? Why not go for an easier target?
"Rhaena!" Baela's exclamation made her freeze. She could see the confusion in her grandparents, and Jacaerys looked at her with sympathy.
"Where did you go?" Baela queried.
"You seem very interested in that pig." Jacaerys answered jokingly. He was offering her a way out. She would gladly take it.
"Yes. I was just thinking it was time we carved it."
"Quite right." Rhaenys stood and began plating. As the roasted pig, lost its ears, cheek, the better part of its snout, Rhaena felt immense sorrow. When they all departed in the morrow, would they all return? She was not divided in her answer this time.
If they were moving to forge alliances, so to were the usurpers.