ALICENT
Rhaenyra is dancing when they enter.
"Oh look, and I can do this!" Rhaenyra frolics around a now webless Valyria. The Grandmaester simply watches her in silence. "And I didn't even get tangled! How generous." She then comes to a stop in front of them. "Oh, and look at this." She spins around in a circle. "You sure you want to grant me all this freedom? Who knows what I can accomplish with this maneuver at my disposal." She then takes note of her guests: Alicent, the Hand, and Ser Criston. "Tell me, is this really about image, or did Cole's armour just need a rest? Be honest, I don't need chains and sentries. I'm getting a little tired of you indulging this one's repressed desires at my expense."
"Privacy and mobility are a privilege," her father says. "After that stunt you pulled the first time when we rewarded you with both, you need to earn our trust back. Behave yourself today, and we might revisit your living conditions."
Rhaenyra offers only her adolescent sneer, then continues her sarcastic celebration. Alicent does not care for just how similar it is to Aegon's bullying-Aemond-dance or Prince Daemon's I-just-did-a-murder-dance.
Apparently, Alicent is not the only one. "Enough," her father says, and speaks his favourite line of the day. "Have some decorum." Then he mutters something under his breath that sounds like, this whole family…
Ser Tyland then follows them in. Rhaenyra stops and glares. "Where's my ice?"
"Ask your husband," Ser Tyland snaps.
Once she concludes that he bears no gifts, she turns to Ser Criston. "Get him out." Ser Criston actually nods, then turns to Ser Tyland and gestures toward the exit. Ser Tyland leaves without protest.
Alicent exchanges a look with her father, and they both decide they don't need to understand. Besides, Rhaenyra's dance had brought something more pressing to her attention. Because the skirt she now twirls is from one of the dresses Alicent had painstakingly searched so Rhaenyra might have clothes. And despite the fact that she'd had the entire trunk sent over — save for the books which would take more time — Rhaenyra wears her blue and gold brocade dress.
The dress she'd worn the day Joffrey was born, when Rhaenyra, always intent on making herself suffer out of spite, had stubbornly dragged herself across the castle through throngs of onlookers to make a point. The day that Ser Laenor had proceeded to spend telling all who would listen that Alicent had ordered a still-bleeding Princess out of bed against the advise of the midwives, and marched her across the castle.
And one of those onlookers, and listeners, had been Lady Fell.
"Rhaenyra," Alicent warns. "You cannot wear that dress, and you know it." Which is probably why she'd chosen it. Come to think of it, she now wonders if Prince Daemon ordered his daughter to pack it for just an event like this.
"Agreed," says her father, who approaches Rhaenyra. "This is a highly informal tea, and you are ill and fatigued, and spend most of your time in bed. You should be wearing a nightgown and robe."
Rhaenyra coughs to clear her throat before she replies. "I've been living in nightgowns and robes," she complains.
"Then you should find yourself quite accustomed to it," her father says. He steps within reach of her. "And why are you wearing a scarf? It looks like you're hiding something."
Rhaenyra glares. "That would be because we're hiding Cole's enthusiasm from the other night."
Her father sighs and actually reaches to look beneath the scarf. "Father, no!" Alicent warns, for he was not there to witness just how fast Rhaenyra can be. He manages to just escape Rhaenyra's chomp, and Alicent is surprised. She caught Aemond when he was at full health, after all. But upon further appraisal, she sees that Rhaenyra seems a little dazed. Mayhaps the cough and chills have slowed her reflexes — though they've clearly done nothing to cool her temper.
Her father wisely retreats behind Alicent. Aegon laughs. "Worry not, Mandia, you'll get him next time."
Alicent turns around to the door. "Aegon," she snaps. "What are you doing here? You should be leaving for the dragonpit." Or still getting pummeled by Aemond, at the least.
"Aemond shoved ice down my pants!" he whines. Not to Alicent, but to Rhaenyra.
Alicent follows Rhaenyra's eyes that move to appraise Aegon, and she then notices that his clothes are wet. "My ice?" Rhaenyra exclaims. "Bring me the squid; we have a debt to settle."
"What?" Aegon asks, then he looks around the room. "Hey! It took us all morning to make that tonic." He shakes it off and the whine returns to his voice. "Aemond knocked it over and I said he was wasting it and he said it would be a shame to waste it and then he started shoving it down my clothes! Anyways, I need the exploding rocks." He proceeds further into the room, but not before removing the diplomatic jar of Honeyholt Honey from his pocket and setting it on the tea table. "Oh, there's your honey." He then launches deeper into the room.
They turn their attention back to the problem at hand. Alicent decides that the room is in sufficient condition and dismisses the maids, as their midday tea will be delivered by the kitchen staff. Lady Fell would no doubt question their lack of tongues, and Alicent finds their presence unsettling.
Since they did not want to risk word spreading further should the meeting go wrong, Alicent is reduced to the role of cupbearer, as her father claims that a guard should not be expected to serve whilst on duty. Which meant Alicent had the duel role of serving and steering the conversation. Honestly, she was looking forward to the Baratheon girl's arrival. Unlike her other ladies maids, Alicent would be able to delegate tasks such as this to the girl. If her sister was betrothed to Daeron, Alicent would be able to disclose the intricacies of their predicament to the girl without worry.
Because she would be complicit.
No. She would be… trustworthy. And having another woman's voice in the circle might help Alicent bring some compassion to the situation. She would insist the girl be sent forth at once when she speaks with Lord Borros. Despite his reticence, he has little reason not to accept.
Because Lord Borros is already complicit.
It was a regrettable accident, Alicent reminds herself. At least that much is true.
"Valonqar," Rhaenyra calls in a warning voice. Alicent starts out of her ruminations, panicked that she thinks of such things in Rhaenyra's presence. Fortunately, Rhaenyra pays her no mind. Because Rhaenyra is currently watching Aegon trying to leave the room with a heavy-looking sack. "What are you doing?"
Aegon comes to a stop, but he hops in place in enthusiasm. "I'm going to put these in his fireplace while he's out seeing to his saddle."
Alicent jumps at the opportunity to use the explanation they'd decided upon. "His saddle was old, and a part broke off whilst he was climbing onto Vhagar. He took quite the fall."
Rhaenyra spares her only a side-eye. "Fascinating." And then she folds her arms and begins to question Aegon in that too-soft tone she'd use when her sons were on the brink of savagery. And she questions him in Valyrian. Aegon responds with an indignant rant, then the two trade replies, Aegon's enthusiasm deflating just a bit each time he responds with the Valyrian word for no.
Until his eyes flash with… understanding? "Oh…" he says. And then he puts down the sack.
Meanwhile, her father's eyes flash with anger. Alicent guesses he'd understood much more than the word no. "I beg your pardon?" he demands of Rhaenyra.
Aegon decides to help him translate. "She's talking about needless escalation, Grandsire," he explains as if talking to a child. "The last time someone in this family escalated a quarrel with a rock, they lost an eye." And then he laughs. "Seven Hells, Aemond might be the King of needless escalation."
"Aegon!" Alicent shouts. For both comments. She's guessing Rhaenyra left out the part where Lucerys ambushed Aemond with a knife. She's also hoping Aegon left out any part of the Small Council fight relating to Lucerys.
Aegon ignores her. "So what do I do?" he asks of Rhaenyra.
"I don't care, Aegon," Rhaenyra says. "And why do you? If you're going to the dragonpit, doesn't that mean you're changing into riding clothes anyway?"
"Well, I'm not going while he's there!" Aegon declares.
Alicent opens her mouth to order him to get going — he's running short on time as it is. But Rhaenyra is faster. "Just remind him that it's fine to have brotherly shenanigans, but you're both adults with jobs to do. And I'll be honest, I am not enthused about being held hostage by imbeciles who shove ice down each other's pants at their evil-kidnapping-planning meetings. For the sake of my pride and probably all our safety, you need to find a balance between work and play."
Aegon scoffs. "Please. Like you never fucked Prince Daemon on the Painted Table."
Rhaenyra remains stern. "Not during a council meeting. There's not just a place for things, there's a time for things."
Aegon sighs. "Alright. Can I shove ice down his pants?"
"I don't care, Aegon." She blinks. "Wait, I do. Ice is valuable to all of us. Why don't you focus on something that's valuable to him." And then she twirls her hair around her finger and gives Aegon a meaningful look.
Aegon's enthusiasm is renewed. "Of course!" And then he scampers to the door, without the rocks. "Oh!" he says, and turns once again to retrieve a pitcher from the table. "I'll have this sent to chill in the lower levels until Helaena gets back with more ice."
"Kirimvose, Valonqar," Rhaenyra calls as he leaves.
Alicent exchanges a stunned look with her father and Ser Criston. How did she do that? Is there some kind of rule that dragons only listen to dragons? Would Aegon have turned out decently if Viserys had only paid enough attention to actually put his foot down?
If only he'd put his foot down with both of his two eldest children. They would not be in this situation to begin with.
Her father turns to Viserys's other unruly child. "Find something to change into that still covers your neck. The bruise from the…"
"Collar?" Rhaenyra helps. Wryly. "Sorry. Does Cole need to go change into dry pants now too?"
Her father ignores her. "Is likely too recent to attribute to your fight with Prince Daemon." Though he makes no move to check.
"You really fucked that part up," Rhaenyra says. "Daemon isn't a striker. He's a heat-of-the-moment grabber. Until you throw him the dragonmont a couple times, or…" her eyes light up as if something occurs to her. Something of interest. She considers that something for a sly moment, before trying to hide it. "If only your shark had only left me alone after that first day, you could have used my arm."
Alicent does not have the energy to process all that, so she settles for processing that day, and the promise she'd made to Rhaenyra regarding her face. Because while no one had struck her again, she certainly hadn't been protected. If she won't hear an apology, she can hear this. "Rhaenyra, I just want to assure you that what happened the other night—"
"Which part?"
She ignores her. "Will not happen again."
She smiles and sways. "I don't know, I rather enjoyed poisoning you with your own venom."
"The ocean, Rhaenyra. And anything else…" she had a bad feeling and didn't want to ask what Ser Criston had meant by 'taken it too far.'
Rhaenyra half resumes her dance. "Well, I'm sure glad that incredibly specific thing won't happen again. I can certainly rest easy until the next incredibly specific fucked up thing that will never happen to me again. And I cannot wait until I wake up to discover what fucked up thing you've done to me in my sleep!" She stills and hold up a finger. "Don't tell me, I want to be surprised. I don't get much novelty anymore, and I suspect with this new husband swap, I will see little of it in that regard. At least by the time this child's time rolls around, I should be completely desensitized to all things fucked up and uncreative."
"That's the idea," says Ser Criston. Who now pointedly rolls a coin between his fingers. "Let's get on with this."
Rhaerya does not show fear in the face of his threat. But for all of her sarcasm, she lacks her usual fire when she replies with "Wow Cole, it was so nice of your family to lend you their entire life's savings for a jape." She seems merely too tired to be scared, rather than defiant. And then Alicent sees that even though she tries to stand still to face them, she sways. Rhaenyra then sees her notice, and she resumes her whimsical pacing to disguise her lack of balance.
Despite the lifeless delivery, Ser Criston still takes the bait. "Do you want a muzzle to match your leash?"
"Ser Criston!" Alicent and her father both exclaim. Even gone, Prince Daemon's words and depravity haunt these walls, threatening to corrupt them all.
Rhaenyra turns from her pacing and offers a smile. "The ones from the dungeons? Please," she scoffs. "If those things actually worked the way you think they do, there wouldn't be half as many rumours about my sons' parentage."
"What?" Alicent, her father, Ser Criston, and the so-silent-he'd-been-forgotten-Grandmaester blurt.
"What?" echoes Rhaenyra.
"Hah!" honks Aegon from the doorway. He's a quick dresser, she'll give him that much. He makes for a shelf on the wall. "I need you to hide these. Oh, except this one." He slips something from the box into his pocket. "Aemond's afraid to come in here."
Her father jumps, but composes himself and addresses Rhaenyra. "Because… it would be inappropriate, having yet to establish a sufficient level of familiarity," her father corrects.
Rhaenyra turns to look at him, but does not cease her pacing. It's as if she's on ice, constantly catching her fall, afraid to stop and hit the ground. "Are you saying he's going to take me to dinner before he r—"
Her father cuts her off. "I've brought the contract your uncle signed. We need to go over it. And your story."
Rhaenyra rolls her whole head with her eyes. "Might I say, this is ridiculous? You have me, you have two of our dragons, why bother with the mummer's farce? For the lord's conscience? I suppose there are as many Alicents as there are Ottos. But if you're so worried, cancel the meeting. The type of person who asks questions will not be the type to accept your answer."
"I concur!" says Aegon. "And you don't even know the half of it."
Her father seethes. "It was never supposed to be this convoluted. Prince Daemon should have been killed, and your sons claims might have been upheld. That man is always begging to be killed, yet refuses to die."
Rhaenyra twirls. "What can I say, he must have nine lives. Oh, Valonqar, remind me. We're to start a drinking game based on your Grandsire."
Aegon pumps his arm. "Yes!"
Unfortunately, her father refuses to stop. "But time will bring truth to our words. As time gave House Baratheon the Stormlands."
Rhaenyra stops and sways and Alicent regrets telling her father about that sensitive topic. Rhaenyra does not fall, but her face does. She takes several more steps and grabs a chair for balance, and then she waves a hand as if to test the air. "Why does the air ripple like water?" she asks. She turns to the Grandmaester, who is now refusing to look at Rhaenyra. "What did you give me?" she demands.
Ser Criston's smile returns. Aegon's smile falls. "Wait," Aegon says. "That's what you used it for?"
"What did you think?" Ser Criston asks.
"That even Maesters like to party. Do you even know how to brew it? Why would you even…"
"We need to ensure the meeting goes as planned," Ser Criston says. He smiles at Rhaenyra's wavering form, who is now focused on Ser Criston. "This will help."
The world turns upside down. Because Aegon turns serious. "That's not how it works," he insists. "If you'd asked me, I would have told you it's not how it works."
"He doesn't understand," Rhaenyra says. Alicent looks to her father, so they both might tell each other that neither of them understand either. But Rhaenyra understands. And Rhaenyra is scared, yet refuses to be. "I guess your youth wasn't that adventurous," she says to Ser Criston.
"Adventurous doesn't mean depraved. I have limits of propriety. Judging from the fact that you recognize the effects, you clearly do not."
Panic flashes across Rhaenyra's face for but a moment before she turns to stone. Then she turns to Aegon. "I didn't know," he tells her. Alicent tries to convey the same message.
"Who did?" Rhaenyra demands. She surveys her guests. "Did you think you'd give me this and I'd start shouting about the tiny mushroom people?"
"Cole," her father says. "What is this?"
"You said yourself we need to rely on more than just her acting. This will do the job for her."
"Uh oh," Aegon says. "Someone doesn't understand how certain substances work. I thought the idea was that you didn't want her to seem like a hostage?"
Rhaenyra's emotions are seeping through the cracks. "I'm already pretending that I'm not surrounded by monsters. All you've done is make it harder."
"Try harder then," her father says.
What did they give her? Alicent turns on Ser Criston. "I remind you that she lost her last child due to stress."
He shrugs. "She's not with child yet."
"You don't understand," Rhaenyra repeats. As an appeal this time. "Just because the walls are gone doesn't mean I don't remember where to stand. I'm not going to go running around with sea monsters on the loose. Swimming is best done among friends."
"She is correct," Aegon says. "She's a kidnapped trophy queen surrounded by sea monsters; you cannot subject her to that level of introspection. And you certainly cannot make her an addled person surrounded by sober people. You're not going to get the result you're looking for."
"What are you talking about?" Alicent asks.
Aegon resumes his lecture mode he'd used for the chains. "The first instinct of anyone addled by substance is to conceal their state from all sober observers," he says as he paces with his ams folded behind his back. "She's not going to look crazy, she's going to look nervous. And now you're about to demand she not look nervous, which is only going to make her truly nervous." He stops pacing and throws his hands up. "Has no one here partied properly before?"
Rhaenyra, does indeed, look nervous. "I'm already sick," she says to Alicent. She clears her throat with a cough to emphasize the fact. "You could have just used that! But now…" she shakes her head. "You need to cancel."
"I might have to agree," says the Grandmaester. "She is still quite lucid. It does mostly seem like nerves. I fear it will present as if she's… concealing something."
"No," her father says. "Our window is closing. This could be our only chance."
Alicent knows he's right. But that doesn't mean she likes it. She turns to Rhaenyra. "Rhaenyra, we just need you to get through this meeting. I promise, after the funeral you won't need to —"
Rhaenyra's eyes widen in horror. "The funeral?"
We never told her.
Her father decides that now is the time. "The King's funeral is tomorrow," he announces. "You will attend under a veil of silk and a veil of silence."
She shakes her head. "I thought, or I assumed… How long have I been here?" She gasps for air. "I have no idea how long I've been here."
Aegon starts counting his fingers, which could take quite awhile, so Alicent intervenes. "Eight days, Rhaenyra."
Whether she thought she'd been here for much longer, or much shorter, Alicent is unsure. But the answer horrifies Rhaenyra. Alicent reaches for anything. "Mayhaps we could… say she is unwell."
"We've already said she is unwell!" her father says. "That's the point. What else can we say? We addled her? She's nervous? This is our last chance." He turns to the Grandmaester. "Get her sober."
"Uh…" Aegon says. "You do realize that shit lasts for hours right? When did you give it to her? How much?"
"Two cups before the meeting," the Grandmaester says.
"Show me the tea," Rhaenyra says. "The dry version." She sways. "Fuck, nevermind, show Aegon the tea."
He does, and also explains how he steeped the tea. Aegon grits his teeth and turns to Rhaenyra. "You're in for quite the journey, Mandia. And you're probably going to get sick on that journey. He put way too much in." He turns to Alicent. "I recommend you cancel, and then we lock ourselves in here, and all drink the remaining tea to make her feel better."
Rhaenyra perks up. "Oh, I like that. Let's all do that."
Ser Criston scoffs. "I'm not touching that stuff. Besides, if you're lucid enough to claim this is a bad idea, you're lucid enough to pretend it isn't."
"What?" Rhaenyra says. "No. Fuck you. I'm not doing this. This will not benefit any of us."
"Rhaenyra," Alicent says. "If we cancel with such short notice it will be too suspicious. Just… do the best you can."
"No," Ser Criston says. "Do what you're supposed to do. You have great motivation, after all."
"What's he talking about?" Aegon asks.
Rhaenyra answers in a dead voice. "Cole's going to flip a coin and order our baby brother to destroy the wing of one of the dragons."
This is news to Aegon. "Does our baby brother know about this plan? I thought the dragons were for if she tries to escape or makes a spectacle, not if you set up a spectacle."
"What if we give her more?" her father suggests. "If she's had too much to seem sober, perhaps we need to go the other way."
"That's not how it works," Aegon and Rhaenyra both say.
Rhaenyra pleads now. "You are putting me in an impossible situation. I'm going to give everything away in the first ten minutes."
"Just think about how much dragons enjoy flying," Ser Criston suggests.
Rhaenyra is now trembling as much as Aemond did that morning. Her father sees it, and mutters so only Ser Criston and Alicent might hear. "Perhaps if she's pushed enough, it might come off as madness. Or at least grief. We can even spread word that Rhaenyra already knew about Lucerys at this meeting."
"Father, I don't know…" This does not feel right. But he is also right; this is their last chance. Once word spreads they cannot have Rhaenyra engage with the public. Lady Fell will keep asking. Eventually, she and the lords around her will become suspicious of their excuses. But if they can offer this meeting now, that might be enough.
Rhaenyra raises another matter Alicent had not wished to ponder. "What are you going to do to Alora if she clearly doesn't believe me?" she demands. "Oh gods, you're dooming her. You're dooming all of us. You're all imbeciles, and you're going to kill me by accident."
Alicent and her father brush of the insult, but Ser Criston bristles. "What are you going to do about it? Cry and cower into your Uncle?"
"What was that?" Rhaenyra says. She wanders towards the barred window.
"I said, w—"
Her father sighs, having picked up Dreamfyre's familiar greeting only a moment after Rhaenyra, and a moment before Alicent. He was well-attuned for it, mostly because of how much it annoyed him. He follows Rhaenyra to the window to confirm. "How many times do I have to tell you all, the gardens are not a landing pad!"
"Mayhaps there should be a landing pad, then," Rhaenyra suggests.
"Yah!" Aegon says. "I don't mind flying in the shadow of my indulgences, but I despise the carriage ride in that state. And Helaena despises the carriage ride regardless."
Rhaenyra whips around to him, apparently forgetting he was there. "Valonqar," she pleads, and then launches into an appeal in Valyrian. All Alicent recognizes is Aemond's name.
"No you will not," her father orders. "You're running extremely late as it is. Go to your sister, tell her the gardens are not a landing pad, and have her bring you straight to Sunfyre. Then get going!"
"What?" Rhaenyra asks.
"I'm supposed to pick up the other squid; he'd visiting Silverhill," Aegon explains. But his eyes are not with his words. He's considering something.
Rhaenyra turns to the Hand. "At what point did the House of the Dragon become the House of Flying Hightower servants?"
Her father ignores her and turns to the Grandmaester. "You may leave us. Send in one of the maids to help Rhaenyra change."
"Absolutely not," Rhaenyra says. "I'm not spending time around Larys's gargoyles in this state. I'll manage." Alicent finds herself inclined to agree; their presence is unsettling.
"Very well," her father says, and the Grandmaester makes his grateful escape. Oh how Alicent envies him. And then her father does turn to her. "Alicent, Cole. Take Aegon to Dreamfyre now. Then rouse Ser Willis and send him here; his presence will hopefully smooth the meeting over. You two might then personally escort Lady Fell and explain Rhaenyra's delicate disposition. Rhaenyra and I have some matters to discuss."
Rhaenyra gives a weak approximation of her mocking smile. "Worry not, Alicent. It will be nothing I either haven't heard before, or at least nothing I won't expect. More importantly, I'm sure it's nothing you want to hear."
Rhaenrya is correct. But Alicent worries she might be correct about much else. Still, she has little choice in the matter, so she reluctantly leads an even more reluctant Aegon from the room.
RHAENYRA
The air has turned fully to water, and Rhaenyra must swim once again. And those wretched waves now erode at her strength.
The Old Viper trails her through the suite with his threats — and the contract. Rhaenyra is not clear-headed enough to determine whether Daemon managed to include loopholes, but she is clear-sighted enough to see that the Greens included redactions. She decides to pay him little mind, lest he accidentally disclose something that Rhaenyra is not in the right mind to ignore.
But he calls to her even as she disappears behind the annex curtain to change. And she finds it so strange that even though she is Rhaenyra, she is the one to disappear when she leaves him. Stranger still is that her glass candle faintly flickers, even though she has never known a glass candle to flicker.
Fuck. Her glass candle is flickering. Why is it flickering? How is it flickering? She didn't even feed it!
What feeds a dragon's fire?
But mayhaps Visenya did. Fuck. It was probably the reason Daemon attached the ruby in the first place. Did he know it could lead to the candle burning all on its own? No. He would never risk it.
Fuck.
The Old Viper still reads his contract, and is hopefully absorbed in it. Will he see the light bleed through the curtain when he looks up? Rhaenyra knew from experience that fabric alone cannot be relied upon to block the light.
Ignoring her orders to change, she races to the candle. Fuck fuck fuck. She cannot hide it under the bed without taking the real candles off, which would draw far too much attention. She settles instead for trying to pry the ruby from the wax setting, hoping, praying, that freeing it will drain the candle.
But it will not come off with her bare hands!
If I bleed whilst trying the pry it off, will the candle light in full?
It doesn't matter. She has to risk it. While it does not burn like it did that night, it still flickers brighter and brighter. Eventually, she even attempted to use her teeth.
"What are you doing?" the Old Viper demands.
Rhaenyra jumps, and lands back on the bed. How long had he been looming over her? "What are you doing?" she demands in turn, desperate to distract from the flick—
The candle no longer flickers. But she cannot trust it will lay dormant for long. She needs that ruby out. "I need this," she says, pointing to the ruby.
The Old Viper rolls his eyes. "Get changed. Now."
She tries to affect the most addled expression she can manage. Which isn't difficult. "I need this to get changed," she explains.
The Old Viper sighs. "Gods be good, Cole."
"Actually," Rhaenyra says, "I'm willing to bet it was the squid's idea."
"What? Nevermind. Get dressed."
She holds the pillar out to him, praying it does not flicker. Praying even harder that the Old Viper continues to not understand how mind-altering substances work. He sighs once more and removes a fancy dagger from his coat. "Fine. But you'd better not throw a fit when you find it missing later."
Don't bleed. Don't bleed. Don't bleed.
Fortunately, he manages to pry it off without bleeding, and drops it into her hand. "There," he says, and gives her an indulgent look. "Now you have the power to get changed."
"That's how it works," Rhaenyra agrees. She rubs the ruby between her thumb and pointer finger, and wonders if any of her family also hold one in their hand. And then she looks up, and sees that the Old Viper still looms over her as she sits on the bed.
Her father's bed.
Her father's deathbed, that the Old Viper had abandoned him to die in. Her father's deathbed, that the Old Viper had abandoned his body in so he might steal his throne.
And his daughter.
"Did you ever truly care for my father?" she asks, expecting no answer. She gets none, so she continues. "Have you ever cared for anyone?"
The Old Viper glares down at her.
"Do my brothers know you don't love them?"
The Old Viper strikes. Mayhaps. It's hard to tell, because he immediately returns to his stance. Or he never left. Regardless, he struck the exact same spot the shark did, the spot that still offers a dull ache from time to time.
Or did he even strike? She opens her mouth to ask him, but then thinks better of it. It matters not. There's nothing she can do about it either way, and she doesn't want to give him ideas if he didn't. So she takes the same approach she took with the squid mystery, and decides that if it doesn't matter either way, best to just decide it didn't happen.
The Old Viper still does not blink. He just stares, and she just stares back. Because it truly doesn't matter. She doesn't matter. Not to anyone here, at least.
ALICENT
"My Lady," Alicent says as she escorts Lady Fell into the Holdfast. "Before we begin, I need point out that Her Grace has had an extremely stressful… fortnight. I must insist you do not bring up Prince Daemon or her children. Nor their… parentage." They all knew better than to expect Rhaenyra to deliver on that aspect.
Lady Fell eyes her. "Then what might I bring up?"
"Anything else. Perhaps condolences over her father?" Alicent suggests.
"And what of the children?" Lady Fell asks.
"They never should have been placed in the line of succession. She knows that. She did it for survival, under the king's blind insistence. But please, let her rest. She has thought the matter over quite enough as of late, I assure you."
Lady Fell makes no attempt to argue against their parentage. "Still," she shakes her head. "She is the Queen now. They are still hers. Has she no wish to… legitimize them, if that is the case?"
"She is the Queen now," Alicent echoes. "She would never dream of crossing the Faith even more than she has."
"And what dispute does the Faith take with her sons with Prince Daemon?"
Alicent hates that part. This was supposed to be simple. No playing with the laws, but restoring the laws. Aegon or Viserys might even have been king one day, or at least Maesters or Septons. Not doomed to exile with a father likely to neglect them to death — or worse, force them into whatever power play he now plans. At the least, they should have their name. Because no matter how much Alicent tries to convince herself otherwise, the objective truth still remains.
Whatever their father's crimes, whatever games they must now play with the law, Aegon and Viserys were born within wedlock. Aegon and Viserys are legitimate, and they deserve to be treated as such.
So Alicent makes no insistence on their bastardry. The deeper they dig that hole for the boys, the harder it will be to restore their honour when the opportunity comes. She simply says, "I was not privy to that debate," hoping it vague enough.
They ascend the steps in silence, and Alicent overtakes her. "Let me just see to her state first. We'll let you right in." She leaves Ser Criston to escort Lady Fell, and passes by Ser Willis to enter the suite.
Rhaenyra sits in the now-prepared seating area, though to call it sitting is generous. More like she sways in place. Her composure is there, barely. But it's as thin and brittle as crust on the lava on that cursed island, and she frantically rubs a ruby between her fingers.
Aegon was right. She looks like a hostage.
"Give me that," her father says, snatching it from her hand. He drops it into the tiny, steaming brazier Rhaenyra keeps going, and then picks up the whole thing.
"That's my fire," Rhaenyra objects.
"You clearly cannot have distractions around," her father explains. And then he turns to Alicent. "That goes for you as well. No picking your nails."
Alicent nods, and her father then disappears behind the curtain where he might act as an invisible observer. She then turns her attention to Rhaenyra. "You can do this," Alicent assures her. "One meeting, and then you never need to it again." And then she sees the gravity of that promise register on Rhaenyra's face, and knows that was a mistake. But Rhaenyra has lived half her life lying about her children, lying about her life. Alicent has faith in her.
She returns to the door and opens it. "Come," she says, and Lady Fell and Ser Willis Fell step through. Ser Criston takes his post at the door.
Lady Fell takes in her surroundings, and makes a slow approach to Rhaenyra, who has admirably managed to compose herself, though her throat definitely clenches tighter than it should. Fortunately, Lady Fell does not seem to notice that one small crack in the stone. She curtsies. "Your Grace," she says gently.
Rhaenyra blinks and leans back as if struck, and Alicent realizes that likely not once has someone addressed her as such in sincerity. But Rhaenyra is highly practiced in the art of deception and quickly covers for her slip. "Still not accustomed to those words," she says with a tight laugh. And then her hands grasp for the ruby that is no longer there.
Worried that her hands will give them away, Alicent retrieves a blanket for Rhaenyra's lap. "The chills, Your Grace," Alicent reminds her. "He said you are to keep warm."
Lady Fell takes her seat, and Rhaenyra sighs for her benefit, and evokes the late King's frequent complaint. "I'm being endlessly fussed over. It's a wonder I can visit the privy alone." But there's no bite behind it. Her words are stiff, but they are not sharp. She then punctuates her statement with a cough. "Worry not," Rhaenyra assures them. "I am not contagious."
"I'm afraid Her Grace's sleep-walking has worsened with the stress," Alicent explains. "She unknowingly spent far too much time outside the other night.
Rhaenyra laughs too stiffly. "Yes, we should really develop some kind of code. Else the Queensguard have no way of telling sleepwalking from my typical Targaryen aloofness. Some day they'll follow me straight into the sea!"
Alicent gives her a warning look as she serves the tea, and it actually registers with Rhaenyra. Mayhaps the Seven Hells truly have frozen over.
Lady Fell laughs politely, and turns to her kin. "I imagine that must be difficult, discerning waking orders from sleeping orders."
"It's been an adjustment," Ser Willis agrees.
"Fortunately," Rhaenyra says, "I have yet to sleep-order them into war." Though her smile is not as natural as it should be. She compensates with a cough, which turns into real coughs. She then clutches at her lower throat, the part hidden by a shawl thrown over her robe.
Lady Fell watches her with concern. "It is fortunate you have your family to support you in this difficult time. I admit I was surprised at just how… quickly you all adjusted."
Thankfully, Ser Willis is ready. "You wouldn't understand this, Cousin. But there is a certain unspoken understanding where if a turn of fate leaves a Lady as heir before her worthy next male relative, she marries that relative to share the inheritance." And then Alicent remembers that Lady Fell had opted to marry far outside her House, rather than follow encouragement to wed Ser Willis's father. She did not even reconsider when widowed in her fertile years.
"Ah, yes," Rhaenyra says, still clutching at her throat. "First my cousin, then my uncle now my brother. If this escalates any further I'm just going to have to marry myself!"
Lady Fell smiles in return. "You must trust your siblings quite a lot, to instill such authority unto your consort."
Two decades in this family, and Alicent still found certain combinations of statements jarring. Fortunately, this does at least give Alicent a way to bring up a point they'd discussed. "We've never had a Queen before. Viserys thought it would be best if…. The power were shared as equally as possible. For the comfort of the Lords."
Rhaenyra offers a weak smile of agreement, but no further avenues for conversation. Lady Fell then takes it upon herself to go through a list of leal lords and gives updates on their lives. But she's careful not to only mention the lords who stood around her, and makes great effort to include many Hightower supports.
She means not to give away a list of names in Alicent's presence. Which means she is unconvinced.
Rhaenyra receives all the news in silence. At first Alicent wonders if it is sorrow or defiance or fatigue, but the more she studies Rhaenyra the more she sees the silent battle she fights. She is nowhere close to clearheaded enough to truly act calm if pressed, yet she clearly is not manic either. Nothing she says, and no way she acts, will be right.
Rhaenyra is immobilized by impossible options. Just as she'd warned. And the more the meeting goes on, the more she's clearly suppressing the urge to act like a cornered deer.
Lady Fell does not press for a reply until she reaches an invitation. "Perhaps you might take the air with me one morning."
Rhaenyra hopefully squelches the longing in her eyes before Lady Fell sees, but she does not do so before Alicent sees. "Mm," she says. "My last excursion did not go so well, and left me in even poorer health." She coughs for effect.
She 's had fresh air but once — and was then thrown into the ocean.
"I've been there before," Lady Fell says. "I know it may seem draining right now, but you'll be better for it in the long term. Once a day, the Maesters told me. And my health has certainly improved since I decided to hold myself to it."
With each breath Rhaenyra now drops her mask, with each breath Rhaenyra now puts it back on. And in those brief flashes between the mask, a caged animal hides.
Because we've been caging her like an animal.
Rhaenyra has not bothered with her tea for quite some time, nor has Alicent for that matter. She then takes a sip and pointedly looks to Rhaenyra. You can do this, she tries to tell her.
Not for much longer, Rhaenyra's eyes reply. But they're barely through their cups, and have barely touched the tier of refreshment sent by the kitchen. They cannot end yet without suspicion. But they might have to. One way or another, Alicent sees, this will end only in further suspicion.
And what of Lady Fell's fate? Alicent wonders. And she sees Rhaenyra must wonder that too.
Aegon bursts through the door. "Got it!" he yells, bearing a large block of wrapped ice. He sighs dramatically as he drops the whole block upon the table nearest the entrance. "Cole!" he calls. "Would you be so kind as to fetch Rhaenyra's tonic from below?" For a moment Alicent wonders why Ser Criston would allow Aegon to enter and cause such a disruption.
Until Aemond follows him through the door, bearing a smaller block with his two arms and one good hand.
Aegon takes it and sets it beside his own. "There! Happy now?"
"She's allowed to give you orders now, Aegon," Helaena reminds him as she follows him in. Also bearing ice. Ser Arryk then enters to actually put the ice in basins.
"I don't see how it's my problem too!" Aegon declares. "Aemond's the one who knocked it all over, yet I too get banished to ice world."
"Hand and saddle," Aemond reminds him, refusing to look in Rhaenyra's direction. "And you started it!"
"Seven Hells," Rhaenyra laments, sounding more natural than she had all morning. "I sent you away to send my headache away." She turns to Lady Fell. "I apologize for my brothers, My Lady. I think they only mean to help. But do not worry, I am well accustomed to treating my husbands as children."
"Does anyone hear hissing?" Helaena asks as she investigates the room. "Or cracking?"
Aemond nervously eyes the annex curtain, and guides Helaena back towards the rest of them. He too looks like a trapped animal. "Helaena," he says gently, still not looking at the dragon. "This isn't Father's room anymore; you cannot just go wandering around."
Rhaenyra coughs as forcefully as she can. "I do apologize for the disruption My Lady."
Aegon chooses that moment to realize Lady Fell sits there. "Oops. Sorry Rhaenyra. But you said to bring it at once!"
"I had not thought you'd make it back yet," Rhaenyra says.
"We caught a ride back with Helaena," Aegon says. "Since you were so dramatic about it."
Ser Tyland rushes in. "I heard you have ice?"
"For fucks sake!" Rhaenyra exclaims, in actual frustration. "I am this close to undoing the entire point of the renovations. Even once past security, do none of you know how to knock at someone's personal space?"
"No," say Aegon, Aemond, and even Helaena dejectedly, still not willing to accept that there's nothing one should be doing in the daytime that would warrant a family member knocking.
Rhaenyra does not need to pretend to look exhausted. She gestures to the blocks. "Aegon, ice," she says pointedly.
"Sorry," Aegon taunts. "I don't have any eggs to put on the ice. Should I go get some?"
Rhaenyra throws a scone at him.
"Alright!" he says. "Ser Arryk, take the spare blocks down to chill. Tyland, see that the smaller block is crushed right away. Rhaenyra's getting cranky without her special tonic."
Lady Fell sets her tea down. "I can see you have quite a lot to deal with. Perhaps I should return another time?"
Rhaenyra dodges the question. "My apologies." And then she coughs once again.
"Very well then," she says, rising from her seat. And for a moment Alicent dares to hope it's over, until Lady Fell steps around the table and takes Rhaenyra's clenched hand into her own. "I assure you, there were many others who wished they could be here too. I was merely the lucky one." And then she kneels. "I, Alora Fell, Lady of Felwood, promise to be faithful to Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen. I pledge fealty to her, and shall defend her against all enemies, in good faith and without deceit. I swear this by the old gods and the new."
Helaena claps.
And despite all she trials she'd passed that morning, despite every obstacle she'd refused to no more than flinch at, that is when Rhaenyra truly loses her mask. Her grip softens, her face softens, and she tilts her head back to stop the tears. "Thank-you, My Lady," she breathes, and her voice is no longer stiff. Because Rhaenyra's weakness, the way through Rhaenyra's armour, and the reason she would not allow Alicent in her presence has always been — kindness.
"Oh!" Helaena says as Lady Fell rises. "Was I supposed to pledge this morning? No one told me. No one tells me anything." She hesitates. "As of late," she adds.
"Not necessary, sweetling," Alicent says. "You were front and centre at the coronation."
Helaena blinks. "But Rhaenyra wasn't."
Something then does crack before anyone can respond. Cracks loudly. Her father yells in pain from behind the curtain.
"Oh…" Aegon says. "I guess that was the bag from the beach."
Rhaenyra's mask has yet to return, but her confidence has. "Ah, I suppose the Old V— the Hand has risen. I asked him to try my mattress to help me decide whether to keep it, but in his exhaustion, he fell asleep. I did not have the heart to wake him."
Ser Willis turns to his cousin. "Allow me, My Lady." He escorts her from the room as quickly as he can manage whilst remaining casual.
Her father emerges from the curtains the moment the door is closed. "What was that?" he demands.
"I think I mixed up the rocks," Aegon admits. But Rhaenyra seems unconvinced. She rubs her fingers together once more, as if remembering that ruby she'd held. How Rhaenyra thinks a ruby would shatter in heat is beyond Alicent, but then she does remember that Rhaenyra is addled.
Rhaenyra also remembers she's addled. "Aegon, I would appreciate if you would remain by my side today. I fear I may need your… expertise."
"Aegon is due for Silverhill," her father declares.
"I can go," Helaena offers. "Dreamfyre is already here."
"Very well," Aemond says before anyone can object to Helaena flying so far by herself. "But Ser Arryk will accompany you. No one flies outside the city alone." He gestures for her to leave the room, which she mercifully does without further urging.
Ser Criston enters as she leaves, and her father turns on Rhaenyra, absolutely livid. "You do not give orders." He turns to Aegon. "You do not follow her orders. Is that understood?"
"I saved us all from your idiocy," Rhaenyra says.
"Do not forget my daughter's mercy saved you first," her father growls.
Ser Criston might not have been witness to all, but he could clearly infer that Rhaenyra had undermined the Hand. "We need to hold true to our word," he says to the Hand.
"Right," Rhaenyra says. "Your word…" She waits a moment. "Valzȳrysītsos," she calls.
Aemond startles, Aegon laughs, her father huffs. Rhaenyra stares Aemond down. "Since I performed insufficiently after being addled and put on the spot, are you going to run back to the dragonpit, flip a coin, and order your dragon to maim either my dragon, or the dragon that belonged to our dear grandmother?"
"What?" Aemond exclaims. And Alicent realizes he was busy shoving ice down Aegon's clothing when Ser Criston disclosed his threat.
Rhaenyra tuts. "I think you skipped a step."
"Do not forget yourself," her father warns. "You live by mercy, not necessity. If you try to manipulate your brother into undermining me again, I will find a way to pass the crown to Aemond in full. And if Aegon tempts me further, I'll send him to the Watch to do so."
"Hey!"
"No you won't," Rhaenyra says, summoning all her royal airs, though her eyes and voice still hold an ominous vacancy. "I know why Alicent wants me alive, but it's not the same reason you do. You didn't do this to avoid a war, you didn't even do this because you prefer Aemond over Aegon. You did it because you like that Aemond's power is dependent on me. Because if you have control of me, it means you have control of him."
Everyone is taken aback for a moment, except for Aemond, who actually shrugs in agreement.
But Rhaenyra is not finished. She summons her fire now too. "And Daemon is not just a dragon, he's also a spiteful man. The only thing that stops that spite from burning this castle to the ground in the middle of the night is the fact that you hold me prisoner. If he gets words of my death, accident or otherwise, he'll cross the Narrow Sea faster than you can say Harrenhal."
She's right, and she knows it. And she can see that they all know it too.
Rhaenyra now sways even seated. "Alright, now get the fuck out before I undercut my message by crying or vomiting or whatever. And try not to spend the rest of your day thinking of new creative yet uncreative ways to kill me by accident!"
Her father motions for the men to follow him, But Ser Tyland hesitates. "Wait!" he says. "Speaking of creativity, what's a Dothraki thank-you?"
Rhaenyra sighs and rubs her face. "Aegon…"
"Sorry." But he still steps forward. "How many fingers?"
"Ugh," is all she says.
"Hallucinations?"
"We're past that. You need a canvas to project hallucinations. The fabric of reality has unravelled."
"Uh oh."
"I'll have the maids sent over," her father says.
"Absolutely not," Rhaenyra declares. "They're nightmare-inducing without this shit."
"Well we're not leaving you alone with Aegon," her father declares. No one argues. Not Alicent. Not even Rhaenyra.
"What about Ser Harrold?" Aemond suggests. And Alicent realizes it could work. She does at least trust Aegon's self-interest enough not to allow them to collude. And she trusts Ser Harrold to prevent any… Targaryen activity.
"Fine," her father says, clearly wanting to put this embarrassment behind them. But he's also clearly plagued by the same worry Alicent is.
Daemon still needs to die.
She suspects she will not be invited to the secret meeting he now plans for today. And she worries that her father's darkling schemes will not prioritize sparing Aegon or Viserys, or restoring their honour.
"I'll get the chains," Ser Criston says.
"Is that necessary?" Aemond asks.
"Do you want another mop near-miss?" Ser Criston challenges.
"But this place was a fortress even before you reinforced it," Aemond says. "She's not getting out through the windows, the balcony is sealed off, and even if she did escape the room, you have the Holdfast completely locked down with loyal men."
Aegon turns to Rhaenyra. "Yah, they even barred our windows!" And then he continues Aemond's speech. "And you have her watched every minute, day and night. I know you're not going to give that up, because she's far more dangerous unsupervised than immobilized, so why do you need both? Seems a little fucked up, and not in a fun carnal way. Just in an annoying, petty way. I tripped over her chains five times yesterday!"
"I'm inclined to agree," her father actually says. Though she's pretty certain he's just tired of Rhaenyra summoning whoever's on duty twenty times a night out of spite.
She'd be annoyed that Rhaenyra had yet again gotten her way by purposefully making everyone else miserable, had this latest development not occurred to her. Alicent has a way in. She looks to Aemond. "Come, let us leave her with some peace."
Aemond follows her in a grateful escape. They're going to have to practice their story. "What did she call you?" Alicent asks as they make their way to Aemond's rooms.
"Little husband," he replies.
Better than baby brother, at the least. But still a little condescending. Not that she'd expect much more from Rhaenyra. Still, why does Aegon get the respectful name? She is still troubled by how easily Rhaenyra manipulated him, and she fears Helaena's naivety will leave her open to much the same. So it has to be Aemond.
"What's happening?" Aemond asks as he follows her down the corridor.
"This is the way," she tells him. "You are the way to Rhaenyra. And Rhaenyra is your way to atonement, Aemond."
Because Rhaenyra might be prepared to block any kind gesture from Alicent. But she won't be ready for Aemond, the same way Argella was not ready for kindness from Orys. Aemond is their way past her armour, and Alicent knows just how to start cutting through that armour.
With Valyrian steel.
They reach Aemond's rooms, and she heads for the cabinet she'd stored it in. She'd been saving it for a dark moment. Honestly, she found it presumptuous that Prince Daemon would have it sent. Not to mention that Rhaenyra had been but a girl of four-and-ten, and already he was trying to worm his way into her heart — and her claim.
But it would be a significant gesture, that says they were not trying to erase her past. They were trying to give her a future.
Rhaenyra's future is not in the cabinet. Then where is it?
She leaves to intercept the one other person who might know. "I took it," Aegon says, apparently just on his way to change out of his riding clothes. "I'm pretty certain Rhaenyra's wearing it now, actually."
"Aegon!" she snaps. "I wanted to have Aemond give it to her."
"Eww, why? She hates Aemond." And then he points to Aemond, who'd been trailing her out of confusion. "And she says that taking the last chicken was at best inconsiderate, and at worse intentionally hurtful, and if it had been her boys, she would have pulled the perpetrator aside to explain that. Well, not Luke, because you know, you killed him. And she doesn't even know that yet. Honestly, you're best off limiting your relationship to three nights a month. And since it's you, I'd say… Two minutes each night?"
"Don't be crass," Alicent says.
"He might have a point, Mother," Aemond actually says. Aegon beams. "The dragon part!" Aemond clarifies. "She's going to find out."
Aegon pats his shoulder. "I suggest you make your heir before that happens, baby brother. And never go near her again once she does find out, no matter how nice she is. Our sister has a fierce bite and a sense of irony."
"Orys killed the Storm King," Alicent reminds them all. "Daemon killed her husband! Look, I'm not saying you need to have a grand romance, I'm saying she needs to see you as her… protector."
Aemond nods. "I can see the logic there."
"I don't," Aegon declares. "Has no one else been paying attention? Rhaenyra doesn't want you being nice to her. You're holding her hostage. She just wants to be treated like a person, and for you to acknowledge that her situation is not that great. And, you know… to be actually listened to. Don't worry, I warned her it's not going to happen in this family."
"Who's watching Rhaenyra right now?" Alicent asks, realizing that Aegon's presence also means his absence.
"Until I get back, the shark and the squid. Don't worry, Rhaenyra says it's fine as long as it's both of them and not just one of them. Oh, and, in case you weren't paying attention on that pyre, she likes men who shed their own pride in solidarity, rather than talk down to her. She's a Nymeria, not an Argella. And that goes for you too, Mother. In fact, she said she appreciated that it was me instead of you, and that instead of trying to 'comfort' her, I was busy trying the mysterious cum water and talking about the chicken thief."
Did Aegon drink whatever Rhaenyra did? Alicent sighs. "Come," she says as she leads him back to the room. Best to keep them both contained under Ser Harrold's supervision, if that is the case. Hopefully, he'd remain lucid enough to prevent them from colluding. "Aemond will retrieve everything you need to change."
She's already sifting through her options. She can do this. Rhaenyra might resent her forever, but it was a price Alicent was willing to pay if it saved her life. There are other ways to help her, through other people. But as she thinks through those other ways, and other people, she cannot help but wonder.
Did Rhaenyra just play them all?
LORD CASWELL
"No," Lord Caswell orders Lord Hayford. "Do not poke your head out! It's suspicious enough that we're all gathered."
"We should have used my quarters then," he replies. "Far fewer witnesses."
"Your quarters are too cramped for any meeting there to seem natural," Lord Butterwell reminds him. Because Lord Hayford's seat was less than a day's ride away, he was never allocated much space. Lords Hayford, Merryweather, Harte, Buckler and Caswell would be hard-pressed to find comfort during their wait. And even harder-pressed to explain that wait.
Or so one might think, because their wait is far shorter than any of them would have suspected. Lord Caswell opens the door on the very first knock.
Lady Fell strides in immediately, checks to ensure the door is closed, and does not even sit before speaking. "I don't know what they made her take, but her pupils were the size of olives."
"And?" Lord Butterwell presses.
Lady Fell's face darkens. "And that's a hostage if I ever saw one."
RHAENYRA
The water does drain, eventually, at least from her tiny glass cage. Even the sea monsters retreat, though she knows they lie in wait just beyond the walls. The nausea has yet to subside, however.
She coughs, though not as harshly as before. She'd ordered that her steamer be kept close as she… swam blind for awhile, and apparently her orders had been taken! A nice return to form, though she suspected it was temporary.
She sits up in her bed, which she vaguely recalls swimming to. No leeches cover her skin, and no chains surround her limbs. Despite the claims she thinks she heard, she suspects that will also be temporary.
"They've agreed to leave them off," says that so-familiar, so-safe voice. "I think they actually feel bad about your past few days." And Rhaenyra can see in his eyes that Ser Harrold feels the worst about it.
"You did right," Rhaenyra assures him in a whisper. She knows not what or whom lurks beyond the curtain, after all. "You couldn't risk it. Especially not while…" she inclines her head towards that useful Kingsguard pocket. "Besides," she says. "This is a cause for celebration. The first time I've awoken after them doing something fucked up, with no new fucked up surprise awaiting me!"
"If you say so, Your Grace."
She frowns. "Something tells me I'm forever going to hate those words."
"Then we'll think of new ones." He smiles, but it does not reach his eyes. He looks her over the way he would when she was a child, always checking for scrapes and bruises. Rhaenyra has plenty of scrapes and bruises right now and she suspects there's more to come. Unfortunately, she's also counting on it.
Ser Harrold needs to understand that. "You cannot protect my body right now, Ser Harrold. But much to the ire of many, I am more than my body. Keep close. Try not to get killed. Protect my sanity, because Gods be damned is it in peril with these people. How did your sanity survive so long?"
"I tried not to ask too many questions," Ser Harrold admits. "I now believe it was not the best approach."
She raises her voice, deciding it's time to flesh out whoever lurks unseen. "So, did they leave you alone with me because they trust in the strength of my confinement, or did they just feel that bad?"
"Neither," Aegon says, striding into the annex. He points to Ser Harrold. "You were supposed to let me know when she woke — sober, that it. You fell asleep a couple times. You know, I think your body might be pretty exhausted still. Oh," he reaches into his pocket and lays her ruby on the bedside table. "That was in with the rocks when I switched them out. I still cannot believe I missed it! Anyways, Grandsire says you went into some addled trance and said you needed him to cut it off your reading light."
Her head has cleared with the air, and she no longer believes the candle was actually flickering. But that doesn't mean she thinks the ruby did nothing. She hadn't been lying, the odds should have been low. And she could not forget her dream from the night before, of fire and stone cracking into morning. But then she remembers her promise, and decides that dreams might be a dangerous window to whatever she was not supposed to see.
Your job, is to keep yourself as safe as you can. To make this as easy on yourself as you are able. To do whatever you think you need to do.
She's no longer sick. She's no longer addled. That promise starts now. But Aegon isn't enough. Aegon is the easiest, but he's not enough to keep herself safe. He doesn't have the power. It's time. "Ser Harrold," she says, "could you give us a moment?" She has no desire to further weigh him down with secrets. He was not built for it the way she was.
He eyes Aegon, clearly knowledgeable about at least some of his reputation. "I'll be on the far side of the apartment," he says. Far enough not to hear whispers, but close enough to hear… protestations.
She turns to Aegon. "Gargoyles?"
"Gone only for now. They'll likely send them back in with supper. Which should be in an hour or so."
She nods. "Anyone else?" she whispers. He shakes his head. Good. She's uncertain about his Valyrian, and doesn't want to risk anything lost in translation. "Your Grandsire is not going to be happy with you," she warns. "Taking my orders over his own."
He takes Ser Harrold's abandoned seat. "Your idea was better. If this goes wrong," he shakes his head, "we're all fucked. You know they'll kill you if they're cornered, right?"
She does.
Aegon continues. "And then what? Be it through Prince Daemon or the Velaryons, I have a feeling I'd lose my parts."
"Well," Rhaenyra says. "You could always let me go."
He laughs. "You're funny." But his tone is firm. "But worry not, Mandia. I will not share your request. Then they definitely would not trust us together, and you're the one interesting person here."
She pretends to appraise him, though she'd already spent quite a lot of time considering Aegon. "Tell me, is it concern for your family, concern for your own fate, or laziness?"
"I am a man of layers. Why can it not be all of the above?"
She then does shift to Valyrian, because Aegon curiously understands metaphors much better in that language. "Aegon… sometimes, when times become dire, we need to… pick apart the layers." She puts her hand up. "I'm not saying you need to cast a layer aside. I'm saying… you should be prepared to lose one. Or preserve one."
Aegon has no patience for metaphors today. "There's no one here, Rhaenyra. This might well be your only chance to speak plainly. What are you proposing?"
"A simple understanding between siblings." For now. "We can… work our way up if need be, but why don't we start with… safety and personal comfort? You make sure these imbeciles don't kill me by accident or fuck with me on purpose — to the best of your ability — and if the situation changes… I'll return the favour."
Aegon eyes the curtain. "Specifics, Rhaenyra. Quickly."
"You won't be harmed. I cannot promise you won't have to go into exile or join the Watch… but you won't be harmed."
"Sunfyre?"
"Safe. And… you can bring him to the Watch. And Helaena and your children will be spared."
"Oh, right. What else?"
"What else? That's already a better deal than I have. I don't get to ride Syrax unless…" Ugh. But she needs to be honest. "Your brother is a dead man once he touches me. Your Grandsire is dead regardless."
He leans back. "Fair," he says too casually for any sane person.
"Really?" Aegon might truly be everything Daemon and Rhaenyra had feared their son would become when they'd sobered up and realized she'd drank toadstool tea whilst carrying him.
"This is worst case scenario, after all. But… I'm going to need something more. There's no guarantee you'll honour your bargain."
"We can work something out. Get me my seal." She'd packed it when she'd come on Syrax. The Greens must hold it somewhere.
Aegon apparently needs more incentive. "But still. My side holds the advantage. Unless there's something you're withholding?"
"Is there something you are withholding, Aegon?" She gestures for him to stop. "Don't tell me. I do not want to know anything I shouldn't know. But here's the deal. We're Targaryens, which means no matter the circumstances, we both believe deep in our hearts that we will come out on top. We're just… making arrangements for if we don't."
"But I'm not the one being held captive," Aegon reminds her. "Why should I risk angering my side? For what? Possible comfort?"
He's really not very subtle, but it's funny that he thinks he is. She finally gives him the answer he's been seeking. "Because you want to anger them. You want to mess with them because it's fun. And I can help you do that. I know everything about provoking the Council, and I know everything about this keep. I was trained in chaos by Daemon himself." And Rhaenyra has plenty of ways to keep Aegon entertained — and possibly useful.
He pretends to need to consider. "You have my attention. Give me an example. Like say… what's going on between you and Cole?"
Given the fact that Aegon failed the test on the first day, Rhaenyra decides to save that for if she needs to… unleash the shark. "Starting small, Valonqar. Right now." And then she gives him directions to Daemon's old rooms, and a hiding spot within those old rooms, and tells him to meet her for supper. If he likes what he sees they might continue.
She calls him back first, realizing that the gargoyles will kick out Ser Harrold and take over the moment Aegon leaves. "Aegon. This is where it gets messy. If you personally kill any of my family, deal's off."
He nods. "Fair." And then he has one of those fleeting serious moments. "But like Prince Daemon, that goes both ways." And then he frolics off into mischief like they were discussing the weather.
Aegon must like what he sees, because he returns promptly and enthusiastically. "Alright," he says, sliding into the supper table. "Let's do this. Where do we start?"
She switches to Valyrian. "First, I need to know how to navigate this clusterfuck. I need information. Nothing that would compromise you, though. This is information I think you'll be happy to give. If we reach dangerous waters, just tell me, and we'll redirect."
"Sounds fair. What do you need to know?" But he already knows. And he's smiling.
That promise starts now. "Tell me about our baby brother."