The Princess and the Queen 17: Rhaenyra IV
Rhaenyra sat in her chambers on the second-highest level of the Sea Dragon Tower, awaiting her husband, Daemon, with her two youngest children for company.
Her quarters were spacious, with wide walls and high ceilings. The room she was in was shaped like a half-circle, with the entrance behind where she sat and a curved balcony overlooking Blackwater Bay ahead of her. The table on which her letters and wine were was made of cool grey stone and carved into the likeness of a dragon. The stone walls had engravings of dragons of various sizes, from the land-bound Wyverns of Sothroyos to the snake-like dragons of Yi-Ti. Even the chalice which held her favourite Volantene Purple was, too, with the twisting gold at the base shaped like a slender dragon, coiling around the smooth glass.
She took another small sip of the wine and continued staring at the sea. It was a calm day, with the afternoon sun still quite high in the sky. There were no clouds, and the wind was just a gentle breeze. Out at sea, a few trading galleys sailed past. Rhaenyra spotted swan ships from the Summer Islands, Ibbenese whalers, Redwyne carracks, as well as Braavosi merchant cogs and a two-masted Velaryon ship. For a moment, the sight of the last two brought a chill to her, which she quickly attributed to the ocean breeze.
They also happen to be ships of my enemies.
Following her marriage to Daemon, the Braavosi promptly called back its ambassador at King's Landing. According to Maester Tyrek, who was still in the capital, it took months of angry ravens going between the two cities to come to some sort of agreement. That is to say, Braavos was still displeased at the heir to the Iron Throne being married to Daemon Targaryen. Daemon's insistence on sending a raven informing King's Landing of Rhaenyra's pregnancy also did not help the negotiations.
Yet Daemon is still confident that this has no bearing on my position in the eyes of the realm.
Rhaenyra did not regret marrying Daemon, even if it meant exile from the capital, as she was not removed from her position as heir. It also gained Caraxes firmly on her side, and now, two more children who would grow and become dragon riders.
Or am I trying to make the best of a bad situation that I made myself?
She and Daemon had similar arguments in the first few months at Dragonstone, with Daemon claiming that even if she was no longer welcome in the capital, she now had another dragon.
"Yet the Velaryons and Hightowers are free to plot as much as they wish and fill the city with their own men," Rhaenyra argued.
"And what of it? You are still your father's heir," laughed Daemon. "If they try anything, we bring fire and blood down upon them."
"Then the Lords of Westeros would love me even more than they already do," scoffed Rhaenyra dismissively. "It's a small wonder he did not disinherit me there and then, with the whispers of Laena Velaryon in his ear."
"Again, your father still named you your heir. They have no choice but to obey, no matter their opinion of you. That is what they must, and shall, do: obey."
"I do feel that sometimes, marrying so soon was a mistake," she mused.
"Hells, you sound like you are reading off that bloody letter Tyland Lannister sent you. Do you truly regret it?" he then asked angrily.
"No... I do not... but so soon after Jason passed, and less than a week after you returned... if we had waited just a smaller while longer, mayhaps my father would not have been so quick to banish me."
"No matter how long we waited, those leeches in his council would have suggested the same thing, and he would have listened to them. He is as weak-willed as ever," Daemon scoffed.
Rhaenyra had no choice but to agree. Her father would listen to the first piece of advice he would receive and be swayed like a flower in the wind. If Laena Velaryon or Otto Hightower were the first to sink their teeth into him, that is the direction he would take.
If he had been stronger of will, I would still be in the capital, and my position would be stronger.
She knew that her father would generally choose her over Laena and her half-brother, but generally was not enough for Rhaenyra. For her succession to be smooth and uncontested, her father would have to always side with her on matters. If he did do that, she would not have been exiled.
At least I can be thankful that he did not disinherit me when his council were so earnestly suggesting as such.
Living on Dragonstone was a pleasant change from the life at King's Landing. Here, all the people present were staunch loyalists to her and Daemon. Her court had been filled by loyal Reds. Bartimos Celtigar, Lord Mooton, and Lord Staunton, amongst others, had also taken up residence on Dragonstone following Rhaenyra's exile, and they formed a sort of court there, instead of at King's Landing. Though they did not truly have jurisdiction on matters, which would fall to Queen Laena and the Hand, Otto Hightower, they still brought petty issues to Rhaenyra in the Great Hall of Dragonstone.
The presence of her local allies did certainly please her, but she also realised that with some of Crownlander and Riverlander allies now away from King's Landing, her presence would be felt even less. Based on letters from Maester Tyrek as well Daemon's connections in the city, there was still a contingent of lords that proudly displayed their red garb at court, as well as many lords who opted for black or white to signify that they chose neither side. Regardless, by the day, more and more blue-clad courtiers appeared in court, and those in red were departing for either Dragonstone or their homelands.
At least the only instance, for now, of a lord changing alliances were the Brackens, who replaced their red cloths for blue ones, which was met with the Blackwoods changing theirs from blue to red in return.
Rhaenyra also made sure to host feasts and balls at Dragonstone, at the suggestion of Ser Tyland Lannister. Her twenty-seventh name day celebration was the largest in the past year, with even some lords from the Westerlands and Reach making the journey to celebrate and pledge their fealty to her. Lord Marbrand of Ashemark even chose to move his permanent residence to Dragonstone to be in the company of his brother Ser Lorent, who also was at Dragonstone.
Father at least allowed me to have two of the Kingsguard with me on Dragonstone.
A week after departing King's Landing, her father's tempers soothed, and he sent Ser Lorent along with Ser Arryk Cargyll to provide her with protection as heir to the Iron Throne. From the seven knights, it may have been preferable to have Ser Steffon Darklyn, Ser Rickard Thorne, or Ser Willis Fell, since that may have also brought the alliance of their house (even though Kingsguard were supposed to be loyal to the royal family and not their house). Regardless, Ser Lorent and Ser Arryk were adept and honourable fighters, which was true for all seven, and neither of them happened to be Criston Cole.
Compared to Criston Cole, Ser Lorent and Ser Arryk were much better tutors to Baelon in the training yard, but his previous negative experiences with Criston Cole still made him nervous about holding a wooden sword and wearing padded leather in the early morning. Even if he would eventually grow to hate the training yard, there were other options that he could grow to enjoy. Maester Gerardys did state that he was adequate at reading and doing sums, and the dragonkeepers complimented how Baelon's connection to Sunfyre was stronger than most.
Dragonriders shall be my most important asset.
The thought of dragons and riding them brought her back to the room she was presently in and her two young babes in the cradle. Both Viserys and Visenya lay peacefully in their cribs, sleeping in spite of the cool air coming from the sea ahead. Viserys was clad in a large red gown lined with black, and had his greyish-silver egg that had hints of pink and blue resting next to his little head of thin silver and gold hair. It was the same egg that Daemon had stolen from Dragonstone before his flight east and promised to his firstborn son. Since Maegor had not survived, the egg and eventual hatchling now belonged to little Viserys, who was dubbed "Viserys the Younger" by Ser Arryk. Visenya, meanwhile, did not have an egg next to her, which was why Daemon was in the Dragonmont looking for one to place in her cradle. She wore a gown of silver lined with black and red that was much too large for her. The dress sprawled out almost looked like silver wings sprouting from her side. Still, her purple eyes were closed, and she slept just as peacefully as her twin brother.
Eventually, Daemon did arrive, but only after another half hour of waiting. He was in a maroon and black leather doublet, with black leather breeches and boots, stained with mud and slightly torn in some parts. He also stunk of dragon. Even though he was the dashing uncle that Rhaenyra used to dream of, his age was beginning to show ever so slightly. He was four-and-forty, and though his head was still a mane of long silver and his pale skin was still smooth, once so often, he would pause to stretch his knees or arms, something he would not be caught dead doing before. It was not all bad news, however. His age gave him a rugged handsomeness, too, with him choosing to grow out his silver beard, making him look like a grizzled veteran of a thousand battles.
He looks more of a man now with that beard.
In his arms was a large muddy egg, which he wiped with a cloth before placing next to Visenya. The egg was dark grey with swirls of white that glinted a bright green when placed under the light.
"It's in the bloody Hightower colours," Daemon japed as he stroked Visenya's pale head.
"Since when did Hightowers have dragons?" laughed Rhaenyra in mocking reply.
"Since one married Laenor Velaryon," he curtly replied.
Alicent.
"Their children are Velaryon blooded, through and through," Rhaenyra reminded.
"Much to all of our surprise," scoffed Daemon. "Still, they have half-Hightower blood too. And I would not marry either of our children to them."
"It was just an off-handed suggestion, or a bloody jape," replied Rhaenyra, rolling her eyes. "Besides, my father would not allow us to betroth Viserys or Visenya without his agreement."
When Viserys and Visenya were born, some month or two ago, Rhaenyra had suggested betrothing Visenya to Vaegon Velaryon, or Viserys to Valaena Velaryon, or even both, partly because she had once said it would be good to unite their bloodlines. Daemon promptly shut down the suggestion instantly, giving a multitude of reasons why he would rather throw them into a pit of scorpions than accept such.
"I would not give over Visenya to one of the blood of Otto Hightower. It could be anyone in the bloody world, a First Man, an Andal, a Rhoynar, even one of Lord Ormund Hightower's children, but not someone who hails from Ser Weasel," he scowled when Rhaenyra suggested it. "On mine and Caraxes' life, Vaegon Velaryon shall not touch my blood. Neither would I suffer the presence of Velaena here."
The idea was dead upon arrival and would not be feasible regardless since Vaegon was betrothed to Lord Redwyne's daughter a week later, and Rhaenyra doubted whether Corlys Velaryon would allow his granddaughter to become a hostage of Rhaenyra.
"If you hate the Hightower colours so much, why this one?" Rhaenyra asked, looking over the dark egg.
"There was no other, which is why I spent so long in the caves finding one. It was deep within Dreamfyre's lair, and this one..." he said, picking up the egg and gently passing it from one hand to the other. "... is not a great egg. I doubt it shall even reach maturity, but there is still hope."
"Then we just should wait for another of the dragons to lay. Syrax is fertile, as is Silverwing," she replied.
"An egg is better than no egg in the cradle. Regardless, there are other dragons they can claim if the egg fails them. Four, I'd wager, now that Tyraxes has shown affection to the keepers on the mountain."
If Joff's egg does not hatch, that is.
Joffrey's first egg had also gone cold some months ago. An earlier trip from Daemon saw him retrieve another egg from the steaming volcano, that time from the clutch of Syrax. From that clutch of five, two had petrified, one was eaten by the Cannibal, one died as a hatchling, and the final was placed in Joffrey's cradle. That egg was considered somewhat healthy, but not exceptional like Baelon's cradle egg once was. It was a beautiful gold to match his older brother's, with swirls of red and green. Baelon also made sure to pray over the egg every night so Joffrey could have a dragon too. The tradition was still going to this day, but his labours had yet to prove fruitful.
"Yes... I would rather my children have full-grown dragons compared to younger dragons if, when, we would have need of it. Three of the largest dragons are under our domain, and would be more than enough to crush the Blues," agreed Rhaenyra. "If Joff, Viserys, and Visenya all manage to claim Dreamfyre, Vermithor, and Silverwing, we would be nigh on unstoppable."
"Dragons choose their riders," he curtly reminded her. "Even if the opportunity is there, the children must grow to become brave enough to claim such large creatures."
"And that is our responsibility," she laughed.
"It is," he nodded. "At least we can be thankful that Vhagar is no longer with us."
"Very," she said, taking a sip of the purple wine. "Did you feel any sorrow when that happened?"
"When Vhagar died?" he asked, his brows furrowed in confusion. "Why would I?"
"She was the last remnant of the three conquerors, the mount of Visenya," she said, almost nodding at her daughter, whose namesake was the very woman.
"Yes, a reminder of how we assimilated to Westerosi culture. Aye, Visenya was a great woman, as was my late father, but they were nothing compared to our Valyrian ancestors," he said, almost sadly. "The last remnant of Valyria died when Balerion did."
"Then, I take you must have wept," Rhaenyra said.
"More so than your own father did. If the Black Dread was in his prime, it would have been me to claim him."
"I do not doubt you," she replied. "I do wonder, at times, how did my father, as much as I love him, manage to claim Balerion all those years ago."
She had always wondered that whenever told of the stories of the gigantic black shadow, that was the only thing to have seen Valyria before its doom. When thinking of the riders, she would think of Aegon the Conqueror or Gaemon the Glorious, but not her father. He was a gentle man, kind and forgiving, and good, but those were not the qualities that such a beast would favour in a rider.
"Back then, Balerion was a husk of what he had once been. Slow, lethargic, and could barely even fly to Dragonstone. He wanted one final flight before passing," smiled Daemon. "In a way, your father was like an older Balerion, with how he muses about our Valyrian ancestry but does not have the strength to truly restore it."
"Laena Velaryon told me similar, once, back when we were on better terms," Rhaenyra said bitterly. "She was obsessed with dragons, and rued how she never had one before Vhagar, but somewhat admired my father, then, for being the rider of Balerion. But now... she hates my father; that is clear to see for anyone. I would suspect it is because she was once excited to marry the great rider of Balerion, and did not expect an old, plump, jovial man."
And how long ago was that? Before Laena bore my half-brother?
"The blood does run somewhat thick in her, then," nodded Daemon.
"Of you and my father, you would have magnitudes more preferable to her," japed Rhaenyra. "Mayhaps at some other time."
I would needn't suffer her presence as a stepmother then. But surely some other woman would take her place.
"I would not, though. She does have strong Valyrian heritage, but allies with Hightowers and their influence pollute her mind and her children's. Even her son is to marry the whelp of Ser Weasel's dead drunkard son," he spat.
By then, the two children had woken up. Visenya gently cooed at Daemon, who promptly tickled her little hands.
"You like hearing about Old Valyria, do you?" he gently asked as Rhaenyra looked on proudly.
Visenya, being a babe, did not reply, but Viserys somewhat did, and started to bawl. The sound of the young lad wailing seemed to have an effect on Visenya too, who joined her twin brother in screaming.
"It must be feeding time," sighed Rhaenyra, standing up to pick up her crying child.
Instinctively, Rhaenyra took Viserys in her arms, whilst Daemon did the same with Visenya. Together, they rocked the babies to try and quieten them after they called for the wet nurses. It had become a sort of unspoken tradition that Rhaenyra would take Viserys and Daemon with Visenya, even though there were days when the opposite took place. As much as she loved both of them, she leant ever so slightly to her son.
It is ironic, since I had coveted a daughter after having two sons, and Daemon was so eager to place the egg in his firstborn son's cradle.
It was a similar occurrence with the names of the children, too. Rhaenyra's preference for the boy was "Viserys", after her father, as opposed to Daemon's choice of "Aegon", for the Conqueror. As for when the girl was born, Daemon's choice of "Visenya" overruled Rhaenyra's wish to name her "Aemma", after her late mother. Either way, they both liked the other's choices and would not truly mind at all.
If we do have more children, then mayhaps Aegon or Aemma could be their names.
The wet nurses rushed into the room, one of them taking Viserys and another taking Visenya. After that, Rhaenyra and Daemon sat in amiable silence, the only noise being the waves gently hitting the rocks below and the occasional squawks of gulls migrating.
No dragons were out on a flight today, which was not the usual. On most days, at least one of the ten dragons, be it claimed, tame, or wild, were out flying, hunting for prey or just stretching their wings. The most common dragon spotted were the three claimed dragons, Syrax, Sunfyre, and Caraxes, and then it was the four tame dragons. Silverwing was the friendliest, whilst Dreamfyre was the timidest. Tyraxes was skittish, whilst Vermithor was prone to bouts of anger. The three dragons were not nearly as common, however. Rhaenyra had spotted the Cannibal once, who came awfully close to Sunfyre's territory before being driven away by Rhaenyra and Daemon on their mounts. The Sheepstealer was a common sight on the farms on the other end of the island, but not near the castle or Dragonmont. The Grey Ghost, however, had not been seen by Rhaenyra at all in the past year and was an elusive sight even to those who had lived decades on the island.
"I think I shall go see Baelon and Joff," Rhaenyra said, standing up and breaking the silence.
Daemon nodded and followed her out of the room. Despite the two not being of Daemon, they both were accustomed to his presence, even if they were not completely friendly with him. Some months ago, Daemon had gently chastised Baelon for being unmotivated in the training yard and not showing enough enthusiasm in studying the histories, which had soured Baelon's view of his stepfather. He remained cordial enough, but then after, called him a "bad man" and only referred to him as "Daemon" instead of "Uncle Daemon", which he had done so before, much to the amusement of Rhaenyra and Daemon.
Joffrey, meanwhile, was a friendly babe and was comfortable with just about anyone. Besides his mother and younger siblings, his favourite faces were the wet nurses and Ser Lorent. On the rare bad day, he only wanted the company of Rhaenyra, as well as Petronella Celtigar and Elys Staunton, two of Rhaenyra's closest ladies in waiting. Joffrey did also occasionally enjoy being carried by Daemon, but he was not very high up the list of his preferred faces.
Rhaenyra and Daemon arrived at the middle bailey of the castle, just outside of the armoury, to find Ser Robert Quince, the master-at-arms of the castle, and Ser Arryk, clearing the swords from the yard.
"Has Baelon finished his training session this morning?" asked Rhaenyra.
"Yes, Princess," Ser Robert replied slowly.
"And how was it?" she asked.
"It... Princess... the usual..." he stammered.
"He still does not enjoy it," frowned Rhaenyra.
"No..." replied the large man, looking down at his boots in shame.
"Is his progress improving, regardless of his enjoyment?" sharply asked Daemon.
"As with age... he does..." began Ser Robert.
"Not particularly," interrupted Ser Arryk. "His improvements are largely due to his growth and increase in general strength. His form and actual skill have somewhat plateaued, and he is thoroughly unmotivated whenever the time comes to train."
"I am assuming that he trains best with the two of you, since the most recent sessions have been under your supervision," Rhaenyra said.
"Yes, Princess," Ser Arryk quickly replied. "Ser Alfred Broome lacks the patience, whilst Ser Lorent, whilst friendly enough with Prince Baelon, is better suited to training adults than children. But still, even under Ser Robert and I, the difference is marginal. We are probably the best teachers for him, but..."
"But you are saying he shall not grow to become a good fighter?" questioned Daemon.
"He still does have... some... minor proficiency with a sword and shield, my Prince. It is just that on the trajectory he is heading, he won't be... bad, by any means, but he shall not be any better than average," answered Ser Arryk.
"Thank you, Ser Arryk, Ser Robert," nodded Rhaenyra.
"From my understanding, Prince Baelon is in the hall with his younger brother under the supervision of Ser Lorent," Ser Arryk said as Rhaenyra turned to walk to the great hall, leaving him and Ser Robert to continue cleaning the yard.
They entered the dragon's mouth into the great hall, which was empty save for the guards posted at each door, Ser Lorent in his snow-white armour, Rhaenyra's two oldest sons playing, and two handmaidens watching over them. Baelon, clad in a red and gold doublet, was looking at some book with illustrations of dragons and lions, and scribbling his crude imitation of it on a piece of parchment. He paused to wave at Rhaenyra before returning to his excellent work of art. Joffrey sat on the floor, holding two wooden toy dragons, one painted purple and red, the other light green and white, and hitting them together whilst a pale blue dragon lay broken on the stone floor, and another grey dragon was some feet away, beyond Joffrey's reach. Upon seeing Rhaenyra, his little brown eyes lit up, and he dropped the two wooden dragons and quickly crawled to Rhaenyra.
"Muh! Muh!" Joffrey excitedly called, which was his word to refer to Rhaenyra. His little arms and knees took him all the way across the hall, like a little cat, and when he came closer to Rhaenyra, he even got up on two feet and ran into Rhaenyra's arms. She picked him up and showered him with wet kisses, which Joffrey very much enjoyed.
"How are you, my little lion?" she happily asked, much to the excitement of Joffrey. "You've been playing with the dragons again; which one is your favourite?"
"Duguh! Duguh!" he replied, which is how he referred to his wooden dragons.
"He loves the purple one, Princess," smiled of the handmaidens, walking over and passing the toy to Joffrey, who promptly took it in his tiny hands and swung it around in flight.
"One day, you shall have a dragon, just like your older brother, and me and Uncle Daemon," Rhaenyra said, which he cheered at. She then held him out to Daemon to see whether the baby would go to him, but Joffrey just giggled and shied away, burying his head of brown hair into Rhaenyra's chest.
"Mother! Mother!" Baelon called, running to the basket that Joffrey was carried into the hall with. "Look at this!"
"What is it, Baelon?" Rhaenyra asked as Baelon grabbed the egg in there and ran up to her. It was still a bright gold and green and red, but was not as shiny as it was before.
"Be careful; it may burn you," warned Daemon.
"No..." he replied, offering the egg to Rhaenyra. "See?"
She took the egg in one hand whilst gripping onto Joffrey with the other. It did feel heavier than before, but most importantly, it was cold.
"Does that mean it won't hatch?" nervously asked Baelon.
Rhaenyra gave the egg to Daemon, who passed it from hand to hand and frowned at it.
"No, it won't hatch," Daemon curtly replied. "That's the second egg that has cooled in a year."
"But then Joffy will not have a dragon!" Baelon cried. Joffrey sensed his older brother's unease and began to frown before Rhaenyra rocked him a few times and calmed him down.
"Do not fret, Baelon," said Rhaenyra, stroking Baelon's long golden hair. "We can always get him another."
"Daemon... can you go into the volcano and get another egg for Joffy?" Baelon pleaded, his green eyes watery.
"There are currently no eggs in the-" began Daemon.
"But he must have an egg!" replied Baelon.
"He shall, Baelon, one of the dragons in the Dragonmont shall lay another clutch soon," reassured Rhaenyra.
"Hopefully, it shall be soon," Baelon said, crossing his arms.
"Joffrey is still young; he shall have a dragon when he grows. Yes, you will, won't you, Joff?" Rhaenyra said to Joffrey, tickling the babe, who screamed in delight, bringing a smile to Baelon's face.
"There are always the dragons on the island, too!" suggested Baelon.
"Yes, there is always that," smiled Rhaenyra, putting her arms around Joffrey. "Come now; it is time to lunch. You must be exhausted, with all the training in the morning and the drawing just earlier."
"Training was not fun, but the drawing was! Do you wish to see it, Mother?" he eagerly asked.
"You can show it to me and Uncle Daemon over lunch. We are both eager to see what you have done."
"Very well, mother! What is there to eat this afternoon? I am very hungry!"
"It's your favourite!" whispered Rhaenyra. "Roast boar, and I shall even let you have a cup of Arbor Purple."
He jumped excitedly at that. Of course, Rhaenyra would never give her five-year-old son a cup of wine, so Arbor Purple was essentially grape juice sweetened with honey that had no potency. Since it was so full of sugar, the maesters warned that a child should only drink it sparingly. So, Arbor Purple was reserved for Baelon only on special occasions. But Rhaenyra was feeling generous today, and wanted to cheer him up over Joffrey's egg going cold, so she let him have a cup.
The four of them then sat for lunch, Rhaenyra and Daemon across from each other and Baelon to Rhaenyra's left. Joffrey sat in a unique chair designed for a babe, carefully strapped in so he wouldn't jump off it. But before they could start with the roast boar, Maester Gerardys burst into the hall, a piece of parchment in his soft hands.
"Princess... this came from King's Landing..." the maester gasped exasperatedly, giving the rolled piece of parchment to Rhaenyra. It was sealed with black wax and shaped into a dragon.
Directly from father.
Since the factions had taken form, wax dragons in red were the symbol of Rhaenyra, and dragons in blue were that of Laena Velaryon. Dragons in black meant that it came directly from His Grace himself.
Rhaenyra carefully broke the seal, unrolled the parchment, and read the letter's contents. Her eyes widened at what she read, and she somewhat smiled when she finished.
"What is it, Mother?" Baelon asked as Daemon leaned back in his seat, his eyes just as curious.
"My father has summoned us back to King's Landing," Rhaenyra slowly said. "He wishes to meet Viserys and Visenya."