A History Changed
Chapter Two
...
Aemma sank into the tepid waters with a sigh of relief, all the while wishing it was hotter to draw strength from. She didn't bother to turn her head as she heard the door open and shut. She knew Viserys' footsteps from the hours upon hours of their marriage she had watched her husband pace as he shouldered heavy burden and thought.
She allowed him her hand as he knelt next to her bath.
"Our son will be here soon. I've dreamt it," Viserys tone was pleased and proud as he looked upon his wife.
She turned her head slowly to look at him, her lips twitching at the warmth in his eyes. She did not doubt his love for her. "This will be my last, male or not." She stated softly. "I will not mourn anymore children. The gods have already gifted you a healthy intelligent child. A dragon." She paused and pressed her cheek to his hand. "I'm sorry if I have failed you, unable to give you the heir you seek."
Viserys' lips pressed against her forehead. He was quiet in his acceptance. They let the quiet settle around them for some time as they thought on her words.
"Has there been any words from your dear brother?" She asked, her tone soft. "I wish to speak to him before…" she swallowed, bringing her hand down to her very swollen belly as the child twisted under her palm.
"I have sent a letter. He's been busy with the city watch. A wise decision on our parts." Viserys murmured, kissing her hand that was curled around his. He had hoped the separation and responsibility would cool the growing bond between his daughter and his brother. "I imagine he'll arrive before the tourney."
"He'll seek out Rhaenyra. A dragon to his flame. Have her send him my way if it is not too late." She requested, a grim twist to her lips. Her tired eyes held secrets she would not share with him.
He nodded, a frown creasing his brow, "I'll inform her at next meal."
"She has selected an egg from the dragon that reminded her most of Vhagar." Her lips twisted at her husband's scoff of a laugh. "How has she been?" She asked. Her daughter was unable to enter her quarters due to the Maesters' orders for her rest.
Viserys squeezed her hand, "she's been unusually quiet the past months. She does not often call on her closest companions. Her tutors claim she is thriving in her studies. Although I suspect she spends more time in the air than with her feet upon the ground."
"She's growing Viserys, putting away childish things." She mused, her eyes going soft with pride. Her heart warmed with pleasure at hearing her child was growing away from the Hightower cunt. "She will need a sworn shield as Ser Westerling will take over the guard when Ser Ryam succumbs to his illness. I want it to be Lord of Harrenhal."
"Lyonel Strong?" He questioned, lifting a silver eyebrow.
Aemma nodded, eyes firm as valyrian steel. "He's a man grown. Steadfast in his loyalty to our house. A warrior. You may think him a brute, but he is vastly intelligent and well learned. He may be slow of speech, but he is also slow to anger. He is thoughtful and wise. He will not waver in his protection of our daughter nor be swayed by her beauty."
"I will see it arranged." He promised, hoping to soothe his troubled wife.
She smiled at him tiredly. "Help me to bed."
…
Rhaenyra doesn't need to be told as she sat stonily as the whispering of the lords surrounded her. All the information she needed was in the look Rhaenys' gave her before collecting her own children. She refused to glance Alicent's way. She was relieved when Lord Hightower led his daughter out of the box.
It was Ser Westerling that finally nudged her to her feet. She followed him without a word or question.
She remembered her mother's cries that had filled the halls that very morning as she had fled to the skies. She longed for the comfort of Syrax. If sensing her longing Ser Westerling squeezed her shoulder, halting her flighty feet.
She blinked numbly as she stared at her mother's door. "Do you wish to say goodbye before they move her to prepare for the funeral?" Ser Westerling asked quietly, breaking through the silence of her mind. "Your father is with Baelon and the maesters in the nursery."
She swallowed thickly and nodded. She stepped through the door he held open for her. The room smelled of copper. Her eyes burned as she crept closer to the silent bed. Her mother laid still, a thick blanket covering her. She wanted to beg her mother to open her eyes, to speak to her.
She took her hand, startled by how cold it was. She pressed a kiss to it.
Remember my warnings.
The words fluttered through her mind. She pressed her hands to her heart and ribcage, trying to bind the wound and the pain that seemed to pour from it. She cried until her tears ran out, she stood on numb feet and left the room as they came to collect her mother.
"Where's my uncle?" she asked quietly when they reached her chambers.
She watched as Ser Westerling shifted uncomfortably from her question. She made an impatient noise. He cleared his throat. "He has fled the castle to grieve, Princess."
Hurt flushed across her face and she nodded.
The days passed in a haze. The news of her brother's passing cut the wound open once more. She had screamed her rage and heartbreak to the heavens from Syrax's back. She listened to the whispering of crisis and succession that filled the walls. She turned away from Alicent's company and that of her cousins.
Her mother had yet to be burned and the Lords were already scheming to replace her. Her stomach twisted every time she heard Laena's sweet voice. The girl was three suns younger than her but was set to replace her mother.
She eyed the black gown with apathy coiled around her heart like armor.
"Breathe deep, princess." Rhaenys instructed as she watched as Rhaenyra learned to shield her heartbreak. The young princess didn't make a noise as her cousins' ladies laced her into the black dress.
The room was somber as they spun her silky white locks into an elegant updo her mother would've loved. She stared at herself in the mirror. She didn't recognize the girl in the reflection. She was no longer the realm's delight, gone were all traces of the carefree girl she had been months before.
There was a blankness, a somberness and maturity in the princess gaze that Rhaenys' did not recall being there at the Yule celebration. The girl who had laughed so freely as she chased her uncle through the sky on dragon back.
Alicent cast a look from Rhaenyra to the window. "It's time." She whispered.
Rhaenys nodded. She placed a hand on her cousin's shoulder. "Are you ready?"
Rhaenyra swallowed back the no that sat on the tip of her tongue. The harshness she wanted to spew. She didn't acknowledge the question but followed them to the rocky shores, and the large green field where her dragon awaited them on the cliff side.
Her father stood where Otto had steered him. A broken shell of the man. Devastation stole his voice as he stared at the wrapped bodies of her mother and brother. She wanted to move forward, to place her brother at her mother's breast as it should be.
She frowned back at Daemon as his hand caught her wrist stopping her. A squeeze followed before he let her go. "They're waiting for you."
Her gaze followed his to her father. Her tongue slips to Valyrian for his ears only. "I wonder if, during those hours my brother lived, my father finally found happiness."
"Your father needs you more now than he ever has." Daemon murmured back.
Her spine stiffened at his words; she remembered her mother's words. "I will never be a son."
It took her two attempts before she could utter the command. She closed her eyes as her mother burned, turning the only safety net she had in the entire world to ash.
…
Rhaenyra circled the table, refilling cups as her father and his council spoke once more of succession. It came to no surprise to her that Lord Hightower turned his hatred on Daemon. Their mutual distaste for each other ran longer than her life.
"Last night... Prince Daemon bought out one of the pleasure houses on the Street of Silk to entertain officers of the City Watch and other friends of his." She paused her pouring and stepped away from the table.
She felt her chest tighten and the invisible wound underneath her ribcage ached with renewed vengeance as the Lord Hand continued. In a handful of days, she had her world shattered twice, and as he persisted with his case, she felt dizzy as her heart broke once more from her uncle's words.
"An heir for a day."
The phrase rattled around her brain as she took in the crushing impact his words had on his brother, her father. She slipped from the room as the council was dismissed. She doesn't bother staying knowing that the King and his hand would only be discussing her uncle's banishment.
She watched the vibrant colors splash across the skies as the sun started to set from her balcony, as the land started to darken she rose from her lounge. She slipped into the tunnels with practiced ease. She moved on quiet feet, sneaking to the passageway near the Throne Room. She strained her ears to listen, she forced her feet to stay put.
"I have decided to name a new heir." Her eyes widened and her tears fell as her father ordered Daemon back to Runestone.
She froze as Daemon's eyes found hers from her hiding spot. She stiffened and refused to turn her gaze away. She wanted him to see the pain his reckless words had inflicted upon her. The way his banishment would hurt her and leave her alone without protection.
Her heart clenched as he ducked his head and swiftly turned and fled the room.
…
She was reading when Ser Ryam collected her from the far corner of the royal library she often sought out for solitude. She didn't know what to do with the remorseful looks that had replaced Alicent's pitying ones.
Ser Ryam cleared his throat so not to startle her. "Your father wishes to speak to you. He's waiting for you in the royal sept."
She nodded and closed the book gently and placed it on the table on her way out.
She paused once she stepped into the sept. The room was large, beautiful with crystal windows that light up the hall with dozens of rainbows. Balerion's skull always steals her breath as the fragrant candles that are scattered around it never go out.
Her blood warms with fury and confusion at her father's asinine question. There's disbelief in her voice. Yet she found herself answering his command.
"I see us. Our history, our future. The power they loan us with their loyalty. A fickle fidelity that can be broken. Our very essence of being a Targaryen longs to be with the dragons. We no more control them than the gods control us." She mused; her gaze was soft as she stared up at Balerion.
"Very well said. The idea that we control the dragons is an illusion our subjects mustn't ever know. They're a power man should never have trifled with. One that brought Valyria its doom. We must mind our history. A Targaryen must understand this to be King… or Queen."
She turned to her father sharply, her eyes narrowed.
The heavy sigh that fell from her father's lips made her stomach heavy with dread. She swallowed down the nausea that rose at his apology. Her eyes shined with tears as he spoke of her mother. She shook her head with alarm. "Daemon is your heir."
"Daemon was not made to wear the crown. But I believe that you were."
She swallowed, "no. You are only passing it off to me because Daemon hurt you with grief-stricken words. Lord Hightower will do anything to send him away from the Red Keep. Away from you, away from me."
"What he said of your brother…" Her father spoke severely.
She sucked in a fiery breath and cut him off, "should be punished. But Daemon has never been after your throne. He's so desperate for your approval that he'll do whatever you throw at him. Look at all he's accomplished at your request and say I am wrong."
Viserys slapped his palms down on the altar before them. "You will be my heir. The first Ruling Queen."
She scoffed, her eyes so like her mother's settled on his, "I will carry the title until your next wife bears you a male. The council and court will see it pass to him. I am under no false illusion."
She threw open the door and stepped into the hall. She watched her father's shield step into the room. She stalled just outside the door to listen after her father heaved a deep breath. "Ryam. Where has my sweet child gone?"
The knight spoke freely, "she grieves her mother, her family, Sire. She'll return to you in time."