The Princess and the Queen 24: Rhaenyra V
"I do hope you slept well, Princess," the maid said as she placed the bright red dress on Rhaenyra's table.
"I did," Rhaenyra quickly said, trying to indulge in as less chatter as possible.
There was no doubt that nearly every servant in the Red Keep was loyal to Laena Velaryon, especially those assigned to attend to Rhaenyra's needs. For that reason, she didn't bother conversing with the maid, which she usually did with the maids on Dragonstone. During her stay in King's Landing, she avoided any idle chatter, even more so following her father's poisoning.
If I even say one thing wrong, I can be sure that the maids will report every word to Laena, and it shall be twisted against me.
"Shall you require aid in changing into the dress, Princess?" asked the maid, a nervous smile on her face.
"My thanks, but I shall not require it," smiled Rhaenyra, beckoning the maid out of the room.
When the maid was finally gone, Rhaenyra collapsed back into her bed and groaned loudly.
The quicker we can get the farce dealt with, the better.
Rhaenyra knew that the trial would only end one possible way; she knew that the moment they found the so-called "posioner".
And to think I had hope that she would be brought to justice.
For a moment, Rhaenyra almost thought it would actually happen, back when Gerardys confirmed her suspicions.
A week prior, conveniently the night before her father would announce that Aemon would be warded at Dragonstone, the man fell into a deep sleep that he would not wake from. It was clear to both Rhaenyra and Daemon that it was the work of Laena, and there was little they could do about it.
Daemon's initial instinct was to cry bloody murder and would have tried to slay every man, woman, and babe in the Red Keep if Rhaenyra hadn't quelled his tempers.
"Are you a damned fool? Accusing the Queen and the Hand of poisoning the King? Do you wish for your head to be put on a spike on the city walls?" was what Rhaenyra angrily asked when Daemon planned to storm into the throne room the morning Otto Hightower assumed the regency.
"They will bloody kill us if we do not do anything!" Daemon hissed in reply.
"They are not so foolish as to dispose of the heir in plain sight, Daemon."
That is something he would do, I reckon.
"What they will do is keep us as glorified prisoners whilst controlling the capital… Seven Hells… we should have brought the dragons…" he said, hacking away at some book with Dark Sister.
"We both know that part of the terms of our visit was no dragons," she sighed. More work reeking of Laena Velaryon. "But it's not in their interest to keep us here whilst they try and consolidate power, even you know this."
"So when the Hand brings us the news expelling us back to Dragonstone, I shall cut his throat open!"
"I do hope that was in jest-"
"It wasn't," snapped Daemon. "Do you want the throne, or do you not? Because you seem just content to roll over to your enemies and let them trample over your body."
"I do, Daemon," she coldly replied. "I am just not fool enough to ruin my claim in the eyes of all."
I have made enough mistakes, first with Harwin, and at times I feel that I have done so with Daemon.
"You claim to not be foolish, yet you are acting even more passive than your father," he scoffed before returning to hacking the book to pieces.
Their argument was then interrupted by a servant summoning them to the throne room, on the orders of Otto Hightower. Rhaenyra and Daemon then temporarily put aside any disagreements they had with each other and went there together, to face the Hand.
Much to both their surprise, Otto Hightower extended Rhaenyra's stay in King's Landing instead of removing them from the city.
"Due to the circumstances of His Grace's health," the Hand said in his booming voice that echoed across the throne room. "We are to extend your visit in King's Landing until His Grace's health improves. As it is a trying time for all of us, me, the Queen, Prince Daeron, Princess Baela, and Prince Aemon, it surely is for you, Princess Rhaenyra. It would be cruel to not let you be by your father's bedside at a time like this."
Rhaenyra knew that she was essentially a glorified prisoner in the Red Keep. Otto Hightower then stated she, along with her family, had free access of the Red Keep but refused to state whether she was allowed to leave it. For some reason, Rhaenyra suspected that she wasn't.
Still, it did not stop her from putting her plan into motion. Whilst Daemon would have quickly accused Otto Hightower, Laena Velaryon, the Sea Snake, Grand Maester Orwyle, and just about everyone in the Red Keep of poisoning her father at that moment, Rhaenyra knew she had to be more subtle about matters.
"Has Grand Maester Orwyle diagnosed His Grace's condition, and does he know how long the recovery may be?" she asked in reply.
"The Grand Maester stated that His Grace shall recover in some weeks' time," quickly said Laena Velaryon, a scowl upon her face, which had remained since the morning.
"And has the Grand Maester found a source for my father's illness?" Rhaenyra asked.
"My apologies, Princess, but are these matters really necessary for discussion?" countered Laena Velaryon.
"As His Grace's condition affects those across the realm, from Winterfell to Highgarden, I do think it does," said Rhaenyra bluntly. "Your Grace."
"I think that in such a trying time for us all, it would be best for us all to think less of it and instead focus on praying for His Grace's recovery," smiled the Queen.
"It was found to be a weakness of His Grace's heart…" Otto Hightower interrupted. "But the illness is not thought to be life-threatening, which is why the Grand Maester estimates a few weeks of recovery time."
"Is Grand Maester Orwyle certain of his diagnosis?" asked Rhaenyra, continuing to press the issue.
"Yes, he is certain," Laena Velaryon snapped. "Or are you questioning the Grand Maester's abilities?"
I am saying that the Grand Maester likely had a hand in poisoning my father.
"I do feel that it would not harm if Maester Gerardys was able to give his thoughts on my father's condition too."
"Why would he need to do that?" sighed the Queen, tired of the whole debacle, especially in the eyes of half the court. "Grand Maester Orwyle's word should be enough."
"I am not doubting Grand Maester Orwyle's diagnosis, but it shall be beneficial for there to be numerous opinions… I think we all remember what happened with Baelon the Brave, don't we? Old Runciter was competent, but only discovered the condition much too late, and the realm wept."
"Very well, Princess. Maester Gerardys shall give his thoughts on the matter," said Otto Hightower before swiftly changing the subject.
If they were to refuse Gerardys' assistance, it would make them look as if they had something to hide… which they do.
Following this, Rhaenyra made sure to send ravens out to Casterly Rock, Claw Isle, and The Eyrie, where her known allies were present. Of course, she could not trust the Grand Maester, him being Laena Velaryon's creature and almost definitely complicit in the poisonings. For that, she ensured that Gerardys was responsible for getting her messages out.
"You are to write the letter yourself, place the parchment onto the bird yourself, and set it free from the rookery yourself," Rhaenyra whispered to Gerardys. "If you cannot, or Orwyle intrudes, burn the parchment. Do not explicitly mention my suspicions, nor accuse anyone. The message may not reach Ser Tyland, Lord Bartimos, or Lady Jeyne, and even if they do, it may be too late to make a difference, but I must let my allies know."
"Yes, Princess," Gerardys nodded dutifully before setting off to the rookery. Eventually, he did confirm that he managed to set off three ravens, but it was still doubtful whether any would reach their intended location.
After that, she brought Gerardys to her father's chambers for him to assess his condition. When she entered the room, her heart dropped, and tears welled in her eyes, even if the sight was not new to her.
Laying on the bed was her father, dressed in loose white robes. His hair was neatly combed, and his eyes were shut. His breathing was steady, and his chest slowly went up and down. It also looked peaceful, and he seemed to have a slight grin on his face.
Gerardys then began inspecting him with his careful eyes. The maester put his palm on Father's head, then his chest. He raised one arm slightly before raising the other. Gerardys then lifted Father's eyelids, displaying his lifeless purple eyes for all to see. He then opened Father's mouth and briefly put his soft fingers on his tongue. He then crossed his arms and shook his head before turning to face Rhaenyra.
"I assume you can corroborate the Grand Maester's findings, then," Laena Velaryon said smugly.
"Did His Grace eat anything different the night before his sickness, Grand Maester?" asked Geradys.
"Not that I am aware of. His schedule was the same…" the Grand Maester nervously replied. "The same for the past… past few years…"
"And when His Grace was well, did he show any signs of sickness?" Gerardys continued.
"I met with my father the day before this," Rhaenyra quickly interrupted. "He was in good health, and in good spirits. There was no sign of any illness."
"The onset must have been quick, for such an affliction to take effect," gasped Laena Velaryon, shaking her head and tutting.
"I can agree with the Grand Maester's findings, however-" began Gerardys before being interrupted by the Queen.
"That one of those long sleeps have affected him?" she asked.
"Aye, Your Grace, that I do agree with. But…" the maester sighed. "But… although there is no sign of poisoning, I cannot rule out that this has been caused by a dosage of sweetsleep, often diluted in with a drink."
"S-sweetsleep?" stuttered the Grand Maester.
"What is sweetsleep?" asked Laena Velaryon, raising an eyebrow.
"A poison, Your Grace," Gerardys frowned. "In small doses, it can help a man sleep easily, but larger doses can even be fatal."
"His Grace was poisoned; is that what you are insinuating?" asked the Queen sharply.
"There is no way of fully confirming my suspicions, but His Grace's breathing patterns… and the quick onset… it does explain a lot of… irregularities."
"If… if sweetsleep was t-truly used…" the Grand Maester stammered. "Then any more of a dosage could have… k-killed-"
"It very well could have," sighed Gerardys. "For that, we must thank the Seven, at least."
"Yes, we must," Rhaenyra repeated. "But more importantly, someone has tried to poison the King, someone with access to the Red Keep, and His Grace's meals and drinks."
"The Princess is correct," Otto Hightower said, finally speaking after watching the situation unfold. Laena Velaryon turned to him, her lilac eyes wide. He made a slight nod to her before turning to address Rhaenyra. "Even if His Grace was not poisoned, we cannot rule out such a possibility. And the culprit may very well be still running free around the castle. This is an urgent situation, and an investigation shall begin imminently."
Following that, they all dispersed to their own chambers, and the Red Keep was shut down. People were not allowed in or out, and soldiers bearing arms of House Velaryon and Hightower patrolled the yards. Rhaenyra had limited access, just like everyone else, but was not completely barred to her chambers.
They know that we know what they have done… and the Hand's played this completely to his advantage. If they were to refuse to admit Father had been poisoned, it would only raise suspicions. Now that they feign surprise and are willing to find a "culprit", it would absolve them in the eyes of many.
The next few days consisted of a set routine. She would wake, eat, visit her children, take them to Father, so they could all pray by his bedside, and she would occasionally receive an update on the farce of an investigation.
Rhaenyra at first hoped that Larys Strong, the Master of Whispers, who would oversee this investigation, would still harbour feelings of fondness for his late brother and try and steer the investigation towards an outcome Rhaenyra favoured.
That is a fool's hope… he has sat upon the council for years and years… if he genuinely held loyalties for me, I would have been aware of it now.
As the days passed, the search continued until the Clubfoot proudly announced that they had likely found the poisoner, and a trial would be held for the man in due course. Rhaenyra was the first to know of any updates, before anyone in the Red Keep, which was initially surprising, but the more she thought of it, the more she realised what the Blues' designs were.
Showing that they trust me will remove any suspicions anyone had of them… though it seems I am the only person in the capital who actually does.
Some days into the search, Daemon demanded access to the Small Council chambers, so he could aid in the search (and likely point his finger at Otto Hightower). This almost resulted in a scuffle between Daemon and Ser Criston. Despite all this, Daemon still was not punished, which only angered him even more.
"Two-faced cunts!" he roared whilst he and Rhaenyra were in private. "They can all burn in a bloody fire! Them and the whole city - blind sheep! Believing the lies of Otto Hightower as if it were the Seven-Pointed-Star. Is there anybody in this city that we can trust?"
Rhaenyra doubted that there was, save for a small minority in the city. Since her expulsion from court, courtiers and lords that donned red garb were slowly replaced by those who proffered blue garb. However, there still were some that saw through Otto Hightower's plot. Some days into the investigation, Lord Darry, a vocal supporter of Laena Velaryon, secretly pledged his allegiance to Rhaenyra.
"I may be old and my body may be failing, but my eyes still work," the old Lord of Darry said to Rhaenyra, his eyes burning with rage. "And I can see what the Queen has done… an affront to gods and men… treason… but if I were to accuse them of this, it could mean my head, my family, and my lands. I was once an ally of Her Grace, but no longer."
The next day, Lord Darry wore a black doublet lined with red.
I have at least gained one ally in all of this… yet all my other allies are out of reach.
Of the ravens Rhaenyra had sent out, at least one had reached its destination. Some days after the messages were released, three Celtigar ships sailed up the Blackwater and docked by the River Gate. However, as the Hand had barred the city gates, Lord Bartimos was turned away, being forced to sail back to Claw Isle, leaving Rhaenyra with hardly any allies.
Following some days of secret planning by the Small Council (this time, Rhaenyra was not privy to their conversations), the date of the trial was announced.
She wore the red dress herself, without the aid of any of the maids. It was made of red silk, with darker red stitching in the shape of dragons and flames. Her shoulders were bare, and she had a golden necklace wrought into a snake resting on her pale neck. She let her silver-gold locks tumble down her shoulders and wore two little golden earrings, each studded with a shimmering ruby.
Soon, Daemon entered her chambers. He was clad in a maroon doublet, which was not fully fastened so everyone could see his black boiled leather vest underneath. His silver hair was tied into a bun, and he kept his sword tied to a belt on his waist.
"It won't take long," sighed Rhaenyra as she saw her husband. "The sooner this is over, the better. And then hopefully Father improves. Gods… I begged him to let us back to King's Landing, but I want nothing more than to leave this damned city."
He just scowled and nodded before taking her by the arm.
The arguments across the past few days have left him weary… I just hope that he does do anything foolish during the trial.
Before heading to the throne room, they would collect all the children, who almost seemed to be taking up a permanent residence at her father's chambers over the past few days.
Inside, along with Baelon, Joffrey, Viserys, and Visenya, were two of Rhaenyra's half-siblings, Daeron and Baela.
Aemon is nowhere to be seen, however.
Daeron stood at the corner of the room, his arm around his younger sister. They were both in dark blue attire and had dour looks on their faces.
"Sister," Baela said, the eleven-year-old not forgetting her courtesies.
"Baela, Daeron," Rhaenyra replied coldly.
"Do you think Father's condition shall improve?" asked Baela. It was the first time either of them had spoken to Rhaenyra since her arrival in the city.
Whatever poisons their mother feeds them, at least they still worry for our father's health.
"I do not know, Baela, truly," frowned Rhaenyra. "But I do pray for his swift recovery, every day."
"As do we both," the young girl replied.
"I do hope he does," Daeron sniffled, his dark purple eyes misty. "Grandfather gifted me a full set of armour, it's my first, and I do wish to show it to Father."
Rhaenyra simply smiled and rubbed her younger brother's short hair before heading to her father's side.
"We shall see you again at the trial, Princess," Daeron said, clearing his throat as he and Baela swiftly left the room.
Rhaenyra then kneeled by the bed and grasped her father's hand. Across the bed, Baelon, clad in red and his long golden hair falling across his face, was holding onto Father's other hand whilst his green eyes followed Daeron and Baela out of the room before returning to his grandfather.
His nephew and niece still ignore him… it seems that they can't put aside every difference they have.
Baelon was only nine, and Daeron and Baela were hardly older, yet Laena Velaryon saw fit to twist their minds against their nephew. Rhaenyra felt for her eldest son the most, but also pitied her half-siblings too.
She then smiled warmly at Baelon, who smiled in return. Of all her children, it was he who was impacted the most by all of this. His mood had only started to improve following that debacle with Laena Velaryon's children, only for it to become worse than it ever was before.
At least he has not yet lost hope.
Every day, the young lad spent hours at his grandfather's side, praying for his recovery. And the times he was not praying next to his grandfather, he spent it kneeling in the sept, praying for the same thing.
Rhaenyra's other children did the same. Sitting at the foot of the bed was Joffrey, in a beautiful red and black doublet, his legs crossed and his hands clasped, silently begging the Seven to save his grandfather. Viserys and Visenya stood by Rhaenyra, their hands interlocked. Viserys had gone to every vigil held at the Red Keep's sept, listening and even singing along as the septon led everyone in the same prayer: that the King would recover. Visenya, meanwhile, would hum Valyrian hymns taught to her by Daemon, said to bring good health. One night, she had to even be carried to bed by Ser Lorent after falling asleep at her grandfather's bedside.
"Father, it's me, your daughter," whispered Rhaenyra, holding his hand tightly as if she was a girl of seven all over again. "How have you fared? I know you are there, listening to everything I tell you; I just know it."
She quickly wiped her nose and held her tears back before continuing.
"The trial shall be later today… the person they say poisoned you shall be brought to justice," she spat.
If that were truly the case, Laena Velaryon's head should be on a spike before sundown.
"When I become the Queen, Father, I shall be certain to bring those who harmed you to justice, whoever they may be."
Laena Velaryon, Otto Hightower, the Sea Snake, all of them.
"I cannot speak to you for long, nor do I know how long I shall be able to remain in this city," sighed Rhaenyra, wiping away a tear. "But know this, Father, I shall always love you no matter what. And I am praying for your recovery, constantly."
Unlike those in your court who would rather prolong your illness.
"I do hope we can see each other soon, Father," she concluded, kissing her father on the forehead and standing up.
Daemon then kneeled by his brother's bed and whispered something in High Valyrian before standing. His face was twisted in anger, and his breathing was heavy. Rhaenyra then took her husband by the arm once again before they set off for the trial.
Silently, she ushered her four children away from the bedside, too, and the six of them marched to the throne room, surrounded by a score of household guards and Ser Lorent and Ser Arryk of the Kingsguard.
"Who would do such a thing, Mother?" asked Baelon as they walked up the serpentine steps. "The poison, I mean. Poisoning Grandfather. "
"I do not know, sweetling," Rhaenyra replied. "I wish I could tell you."
Your grandfather's own wife.
"It's cruel and mean. Who would dare want to even harm Grandfather? He's the nicest grandfather in the world," sighed Baelon.
"It is treason, too," added Joffrey, his curly brown hair blowing in the wind.
"I know," his older brother replied. "They deserve a terrible punishment, worse than I can imagine, whatever bad person did this."
Only if you knew, my dear.
Not long later, they reached the throne room. Its large doors swung open with a creak, and within, the entire hall was full.
On the other end of the room, Otto Hightower stood directly below the gargling shadow of the Iron Throne, a grave expression on his face. Alongside him, on a raised area, were the members of the Small Council. Grand Maester Orwyle, the Clubfoot, the Sea Snake, Jasper Wylde, and Lyman Beesbury all stood silent and still, watching as Rhaenyra made her way across the hall.
Just below them was the Queen, Laena Velaryon. She wore an all-black dress that bore the top of her chest. Her silver hair was tied behind her, resembling a seashell. On her back was a thick, dark blue cloak lined with ermine. Even from across the hall, Rhaenyra could see her cruel eyes and smug smile staring down at her. Across the past few days, Rhaenyra began to despise the very sight of the woman, and today she wanted to do nothing more than feed her to a dragon.
Someday…
The throne room was silent, save for the loud echoes of Rhaenyra and her family walking down the centre. She felt the eyes of the many courtiers pierce her, like daggers as she swam through a sea of dark blue.
I must keep my head held high.
That is what she did, keeping her eyes fixed forwards and her posture upright as she made her way to the front.
A space was reserved at the front of the throne room, where she took her place. She stood between Lord Massey, clad in light blue, who was on her left, and Lord Bulwer, who stood on her right, clad in a darker shade of blue.
There were hardly any people who wore red garments in the hall. Some had opted for neutral colours, blacks or whites or greens, and there were some proudly wearing red. Rhaenyra spotted old Lord Darry and Lord Stokeworth as those who were clad in red, but they were a sparse sight, even in the vast throne room. Before Rhaenyra could spot any more of her allies, Otto Hightower cleared his throat and began the trial.
"To the people of the realm," announced the Hand, his booming voice echoing against the high stone walls. "The circumstances in which the realm finds itself is not one that any of us would have expected. Nor is it one that any of us would have desired. Truly, the gods were merciful, but we must not be."
Daemon scoffed, just loud enough for the people around him to hear. Rhaenyra ignored her husband's antics and wrapped her arm around her three youngest children while Baelon gripped her left hand.
"Some days prior, a grave crime has been committed," continued Otto Hightower, also ignoring Daemon's attempted interruption. "It was a crime that none of us, good, decent, honourable, moral people, could even think of conjuring up. Some days ago, an attempt was made on the life of His Grace, King Viserys Targaryen, First of His Name."
The crowd gasped in shock, with the audience shaking their heads and tutting whilst whispering to the person next to them.
Rhaenyra heard whispers of "Seven save us all!" and "How could one do this?" It somewhat reminded her of watching a mummer show, in which the performers would hold out instructions as to how the watchers should react.
"We must be thankful that the attempt did not succeed," It did not succeed because you did not wish for it to succeed. "His Grace remains alive, and his condition stable. The Grand Maester estimates that His Grace shall awake from his slumber soon, and then some semblance of normality shall hopefully be restored."
The crowd reacted with a deep sigh of relief, crying chants of "The Mother was merciful!" and "Praise the Seven!" whilst Rhaenyra just rolled her eyes.
"And we must be grateful and thankful some more," smiled Otto Hightower. His face looked eerily similar to a weasel at that moment. "The vile criminal that was responsible for this… atrocity has been found, and shall be put to justice swiftly. But first, we must hear this man's confession for the realm to hear."
The onlookers then sang a chorus of "Confess! Confess!" which was only broken by the sound of the throne room doors creaking open.
Ser Vaemond Velaryon, the Lord Commander of the City Watch, led the way in. Behind him marched a dozen of his men, and between them was a man, bound in chains and fetters, resembling a slave of the Free Cities.
"Behold, the scum responsible!" shouted Ser Vaemond; the crowd booed and heckled. Calls of "Traitor!" and other insults were levied, and one man even launched a half-eaten apple, which landed right at Ser Vaemond's feet.
Is it a common feature of the Velaryons, to look so damned scummy all the time? Gods… I wish Daemon could just lop that man's head off…
As the man walked down the aisle, Rhaenyra got a closer look at him, which made her heart sink. He only wore breeches, and the upper half of his body was covered in scars. Cuts lined his stomach, whilst purple bruises decorated his chest and stomach. Lash marks were across his back, making him resemble a striped zorse from the east. The prisoner's hair was dark and scraggly, and his beard was unkempt. His left eye was swollen from beatings, and his nose was crooked.
Rhaenyra heard a retching sound from next to her. She turned to see little Viserys heaving and a puddle of puke in front of him. Quickly, she kneeled by her son and wiped his mouth with her sleeves before embracing him tightly. A servant ran up to Rhaenyra and pressed a flask of water to her chest. Rhaenyra then screwed the top and let Viserys drink it all up. When he was done, Rhaenyra pulled him close to her, and he clung onto her skirts for protection.
"After a lengthy search by the council and the City Watch," proudly boomed Otto Hightower, ignoring the commotion with Viserys. "We have found the man guilty of poisoning His Grace!"
The audience then reacted with shouts of "Guilty!" and "May the Others take you!" and "You are cursed!" as the prisoner stood in front of them all, quivering, his bare feet on the cool, stone ground.
"All that awaits now, is a confession."
The room erupted with shouts and jeers, demanding that the man confess. Looking around the room, the beaten man sighed and cleared his throat.
"I… I…" he began, his voice hardly loud enough to hear. "I… confess…"
"What do you confess to?" asked Otto Hightower, raising a hand to calm the angry crowd.
"Treason, poisoning… and a plot to commit regicide…" the man whimpered. "It was I… I did this all! I stole the poison m'self, and laced the King's wine with it… I'm guilty of all the accusations!"
At least they did not dither around and waste time… finally, this mummer's farce has been dealt with.
Again, the onlookers erupted in rage, throwing items and hurling insults until the Kingsguard stomped their boots on the ground, and silence was restored.
Otto Hightower then nodded sternly before glancing at Laena Velaryon, who was unable to hide the grin on her face.
"And what compelled you to commit such an egregious act of depravity?" he asked.
"I wanted the throne for m'self… My sire once told me he was the natural son of King Maegor," the man admitted, even though Rhaenyra doubted the prisoner was anything more than a common man pulled out of the dungeons.
"I thought m'self to be the rightful heir, but now I see the errors of my ways… but now, all I ask… is mercy… please…" he cried, falling to his knees. "I was whipped, tortured, starved, but I wish you, Ser Hand, and the Gods… shall be merciful."
"You lost the chance of mercy when you poisoned our king!" Laena Velaryon sharply said.
Aye, as have you, Laena.
The crowd nodded and agreed, which eventually turned into calls for the man's head, and those turned into calls for torture and flaying of the prisoner.
"Her Grace has the right of it. You used poison, a craven's weapon, so that shall be your manner of death. You shall suffer in the same manner that you brought suffering to His Grace and his realm!" declared Otto Hightower, to the crowd's raucous applause.
As the man was led out of the side door, Otto Hightower turned to face the crowd again before everyone dispersed.
"Let this be a reminder to the people of the realm… life is something we must always thank the Seven for, which is why we shall hold another vigil in the royal sept this evening. This event also serves as a reminder for us all, not to forget the events of the past, of Maegor, the Cruel, and the suffering he brought upon Westeros. May the gods curse him, and his name, and anyone who bears the name!"
"Curse Maegor! Curse Maegor! " the crowd repeated as Rhaenyra instinctively turned to Daemon.
He named his own son Maegor.
Daemon reached for his sword, but before he could make a fool of himself, Rhaenyra grabbed onto his arm. She whispered for him to remain calm, and he relented. His breathing was still heavy, though, and his face had turned red with rage.
Only after cursing Daemon's dead son did Otto Hightower dismiss the court. Rhaenyra didn't want to stay there any longer, so she quickly turned and left, too.
Gods… I wish I could have just walked to the front of the hall and told the court that Laena Velaryon was the one who poisoned Father.
It was something she debated doing in the lead-up towards the trial. If she had a stronger power base in the city, it would have been something she would have done, but nearly all of the Red Keep was loyal to the Queen. If Rhaenyra had done so, the court would have flocked to Laena Velaryon's side and called Rhaenyra a madwoman.
Especially considering the game, Otto Hightower had played in the days leading up to it.
In truth, they weren't obliged to allow Rhaenyra to remain in the city, but doing so cultivated the image that they were being merciful to her. Accusing the same people would have been disastrous.
Despite the Blues managing to twist Gerardys' judgement of poison to their own favour, it at least brought the issue to all of the court. If that had not happened, Rhaenyra would not have gained House Darry to her side, nor the other undecided houses, however minor they may have been.
Now that the trial is over, am I still a prisoner in the Red Keep, or am I free to return to Dragonstone?
Rhaenyra felt that regardless of whether she wished to remain in the Red Keep or leave the city, Otto Hightower would be sure to accommodate either action, further playing up the image of a merciful servant of the realm.
For that, I shall try and remain in the city for as long as possible, until Father wakes at least, so I can reveal the truth to him. If he wakes when I am already at Dragonstone, warning him through a raven shall be useless. Orwyle would dispose of it instantly.
As they left the throne room, Daemon stormed off to his quarters, leaving Rhaenyra with her four children.
"At least the man who poisoned Grandfather received justice," sighed Baelon as they returned to their quarters.
There was no justice whatsoever on display today.
"Yes," Rhaenyra replied. "Now all we can do is pray for his recovery."
"We all will do that, Mother!" eagerly said Joffrey.
"Mother?" Viserys said, turning to face Rhaenyra. His little face was red, and his purple eyes seemed tired.
"What is it, little one?" she asked, stroking his silver-gold hair.
"Wasn't Maegor the name of mine and Visenya's half-brother?" he innocently asked. "Our half-brother that passed in the cradle?"
"Yes, I believe it was," calmly replied Rhaenyra.
"Then why did the Hand say that the name is cursed?"
Because they are all cruel people who would resort to poison and violence in order to place their blood on the throne.
"The Hand may not have been aware," Rhaenyra gently explained, knowing how bad of a lie it was.
"It is not a nice thing to say," added Visenya. "However cruel King Maegor was."
"Mayhaps, dear," Rhaenyra frowned, taking her youngest two children in for an embrace as they returned to their quarters.
Later that day, they all joined the rest of the court in the royal sept to pray for Father's recovery. The prayer lasted some hours, and it was night by the time it was over. Rhaenyra also used the opportunity to state her intention of remaining in the capital to Otto Hightower.
"Ser Otto," she firmly said, and the man turned around. He was accompanied by Alicent, as well as his three grandchildren.
"Princess," he carefully replied. "How may I be of help?"
"May I walk with you?" Rhaenyra asked, putting out a hand.
"Of course," he smiled, gracefully accepting it whilst nodding at Alicent and his grandchildren to keep a small distance behind them.
"I intend to remain in King's Landing, for a while longer," Rhaenyra bluntly stated. "At least until my father's health improves."
If Otto Hightower seemed to be taken aback by the statement, he did not convey it. Instead, he just nodded.
"Very well, Princess," he replied. "Is that all?"
"That is all, Ser Otto," Rhaenyra said.
"Princess," called Alicent, and Rhaenyra turned around.
"Yes, Lady Velaryon?" asked Rhaenyra, turning to face her old friend. Rhaenyra noticed that none of Alicent's children seemed to interact with Rhaenyra's during that short walk.
"We are all praying for your father's recovery," Alicent said. The years had been kind to her, with her retaining a slender frame and a comely face. "All four of us are. Jocelyn tries to visit His Grace every day, whilst Vaegon constantly kneels before the Mother, and Valaena prays her own way."
"I do appreciate it, Alicent," Rhaenyra nodded.
It was not a lie. Despite the years driving them apart, Rhaenyra still held a soft spot for Alicent. They had even mended their friendship somewhat all those years ago, when Joffrey was born.
We are on opposite factions now, any chance of a return to what we had before may be long gone.
Even their attempt at rekindling their friendship all those years ago was unsuccessful. Alicent clearly didn't approve of Rhaenyra's marriage to Daemon, and her father had a hand in exiling Rhaenyra, which soured things once again. Still, whatever differences they had, their friendship all those years ago couldn't be erased.
Assuming a peaceful succession, I would ensure that not a single hair on her body would be harmed. Others, however, her father, Laena Velaryon, the Sea Snake, would not be so lucky.
Rhaenyra scoffed at the thought of a peaceful succession. It was gone the moment Laena Velaryon birthed a son, and the last few days had solidified it. Before this, Rhaenyra was well aware that the Queen was willing to play dirty. For the past few years, she had poisoned her children's minds against Rhaenyra, which had proved successful. One thing, however, that shocked even Rhaenyra, was that Leana Velaryon was capable of violence.
If she can so easily poison my father, she is capable of anything… including harming my children.
Rhaenyra tried to bury the thought, but as much as she tried, she knew it was true. It was likely true before all this, but Rhaenyra had been blind, or unwilling, to see it.
I have been a fool, truly. How could I have forgotten that whole ordeal with Baelon and Ser Criston, and how the Queen didn't even bat an eyelid at it. She still keeps the knight as her attack dog.
The Hightowers and Rhaenyra parted ways, with the former retiring to the Tower of the Hand whilst Rhaenyra went to her (temporary) quarters in Maegor's Holdfast.
After she put her children to sleep, she went to her quarters too. The last day, or week, had been straining, and she wanted nothing more than the comfort of her bed. When she reached there, she stripped off her red dress and changed into her nightclothes before collapsing on the bed, and drifting off to sleep.
The next few days were as droll as ever.
It consisted of the same routine, waking, eating, visiting her father, praying, and sleeping. That was until a week later, when she finally received the news she was waiting for.
"Princess!" the maid exclaimed. "It's the King! He has awoken from his slumber! The King lives!"
Her eyes widened in response and she felt tears bubbling in her eyes. She quickly left everything she was doing and headed to her children's quarters first. It took her a few minutes, but they were all as eager as she was.
"Grandfather has awoken!" cheered Viserys, tightly hugging his twin sister.
"Our prayers worked!" Joffrey exclaimed, wiping tears from his eyes.
"Praise the Seven!" announced Baelon as they rushed to Father's chambers.
Rhaenyra, along with her children and Daemon, entered her father's chambers. Laena Velaryon and her three children, Otto Hightower, Jocelyn Hightower, Grand Maester Orywle, and some other maesters and household guards, were already present. The Queen stood at the corner of the room, her arms protectively guarding her three children. The Hand stood by the Grand Maester, with his granddaughter kneeling by the bed. The other maesters also stood talking at the other end of the room whilst Rhaenyra's father lay still in the bed.
He didn't seem awake, but his purple eyes were open, staring up at the ceiling. His breathing was still the same, laboured and slow, but his hands twitched slightly.
Daeron smiled at Rhaenyra excitedly as she entered, whilst little Aemon just scowled. Rhaenyra rushed up to the bed and kneeled by it, tears welling in her eyes.
"Father, Father… you are awake, finally… we have prayed, so much, for days," Rhaenyra said, unable to hold back the flood of tears.
He didn't reply, only groaning some more, but he did grip tightly onto Rhaenyra's hand when she grabbed it.
"It shall still take some time for His Grace to recover," softly said the Grand Maester. "But in time, his health shall return to how it was before. At the moment, he cannot truly hear what people say, but he is receptive to the touch."
"It's good… it's still good… come, children, come greet your grandfather," beamed Rhaenyra, beckoning her children to come forward.
They all rushed to the bed, too, talking over each other and grabbing onto their grandfather's hand. Baelon gave his grandfather a long hug whilst Joffrey kissed his forehead, and Viserys and Visenya gripped onto one hand each.
However, the happiness in the room was broken when Otto Hightower cleared his throat.
"Now that His Grace's condition has improved, your time in the city has come to an end," he announced, which made all the chatter in the room come to a sudden halt.
"What?" exclaimed Daemon, turning around to face the Hand.
"We have been merciful to you, allowing you to remain here in spite of your exile. We were not obliged to. In truth, you should have been on a boat back to Dragonstone weeks ago."
"You cannot do this, no… not now, not that the King's health has only just improved," Daemon replied, clenching his fist until his knuckles turned red.
"No… we should have done this weeks ago, or at least when the trial concluded. I promised to the Princess that you may remain in King's Landing until His Grace's health improves, and I have abided by said promise, despite no obligation to do so."
"His condition has hardly improved," snapped Rhaenyra. "He cannot even speak, and shall be stuck in his bed for some weeks at least!"
"Yet his health has improved, has it not?" Laena Velaryon asked, cocking her head to the side. "You have greeted His Grace, and now it is time you must return back to Dragonstone."
Daemon reached for his waist, only to grab nothing.
He was in such a hurry, he forgot to attach his sword to his belt.
Regardless, all the guards in the room stepped forwards, putting their hands on their swords' pommels.
"Do you presume to draw steel in the presence of the King?" gasped Laena Velaryon, feigning horror.
"It seems our grace has not been returned," Otto Hightower said as more guards flooded into the room. They surrounded Rhaenyra and her family, but none drew their swords. "You are to return to Dragonstone before the sun is down."
"At least let us say our farewells to the King…" pleaded Rhaenyra. "Grant us this mercy, at least."
"Your pleas for mercy shall go unanswered," sighed Laena Velaryon. "We have been nothing but forthcoming and accommodating you, Princess, and you repay us by drawing steel in the presence of the King, the Queen, and the Hand and Regent?"
"That was not our intention, Your Grace-" Rhaenyra said before Daemon just scoffed and left the room, taking Viserys and Visenya with him. The guards followed him out, and Rhaenyra followed, Baelon and Joffrey in hand.
They were accompanied back to their quarters by the household guards, as well as Ser Criston and Ser Willis of the Kingsguard. Maids and servants packed their belongings for them, and within hours, they were ready to depart King's Landing.
"I knew this would happen; I bloody warned you!" said Daemon angrily as he paced back and forth across the room.
"Why did all the guards come in?" asked Viserys worriedly. "Did you do anything wrong?"
"A misunderstanding, dear," lied Rhaenyra. "Do you have your egg with you?"
He nodded as Rhaenyra wrapped a thick black cloak around him and rubbed his shoulders.
"I just wish to go home now," sighed Visenya, her dragon egg in her hands.
"It was not nice in there," Joffrey said. "We were just visiting Grandfather."
"That is how they are," groaned Baelon.
Not soon after, the guards led them all out of their quarters and out of the city. They travelled by carriage to the docks, and they were on a boat before the sun had even set.
Once all of their belongings were loaded onto the decks of Sea Dragon, they all boarded the boat. It stunk of sweat and salt, and the deck creaked as people walked across it. Still, it was better than being a prisoner of the Blues.
The voyage back to Dragonstone was short, but also silent. Nobody really wished to speak with each other. Rhaenyra made sure to spend as much time with her children, cuddling and comforting them, but it was clear that all four of them were in sour moods.
Most days, Daemon just stood at the stern, looking ruefully back at King's Landing as it disappeared into the horizon. Rhaenyra did not bother speaking to him, as she knew it would result in another argument, and she was much too tired for that.
To make matters worse, Viserys had come down with seasickness. Even if the boat rocked slightly, he would retch all over his clothes and the deck. His bedsheets were stained with puke, and his cabin began to stink.
Even though Viserys had the worst of it, everyone just wanted to be back home. Baelon, who notoriously hated the drab walls and the cold winds of Dragonstone, couldn't wait to be back there. However, their miserable boat journey was still preferable to being confined to their quarters in the Red Keep.
Soon we'll be home, and then we can regroup and strengthen.
Rhaenyra stood at the prow of Sea Dragon, staring ahead at the empty sea. They were midway between King's Landing and Dragonstone, with neither visible. The sky was still clear, and hundreds and thousands of stars dotted the black sky. Waves gently sloshed against the ship, strong enough for Rhaenyra to feel but not heavy enough to unbalance her. High up in the sky, the moon was full. It resembled a shiny silver amulet, smiling down at her.
She continued to stare for a while, thinking about everything and nothing, until her husband joined her. They stood for a while in amiable silence, until Rhaenyra finally broke it.
"I never thought she would be capable of this," began Rhaenyra, her voice echoing across the vast sea. "Aye, she would fight for my half-brother's claim, but to resort to all… this? I knew that a peaceful transition was impossible years ago, but it hadn't truly dawned on me. My father is not safe from her schemes, and would my children be?"
"I doubt that," Daemon sighed, staring out at the abyss. "When absolute power is at stake, the lengths people would go to… the safety of children is not a foregone conclusion. I'm aware of that."
Rhaenyra didn't press as to what Daemon meant by that, instead changing the topic.
"I don't have the capital; the Velaryons and Hightowers control every inch of it. It's something I should have secured when I had the chance… but there is no gain to be found dwelling on the past…" Rhaenyra said, running her fingers through her hair. "I have the Lannisters, and mayhaps the Vale, but I still need more allies, more strength, if I am to ascend unopposed."
"We have Dragonstone," Daemon calmly replied. "It may not be the capital, but it's the next best place. Remember what I told you all those years ago? That ten thousand men are no match for dragons."
"My half-brother has dragons, too," she scoffed. "Five, to be exact."
"Only two are large enough to make a difference, as do we," he countered. "Three of their dragons are hatchlings, and all three are growing slower than Sunfyre. Aemon has no egg, and Valaena is a halfwit. Visenya, Viserys, and Joffrey all have eggs, and should they not hatch, we have easy access to the hatcheries. And if not that, we have all the other dragons. Vermithor, Silverwing, Dreamfyre, and all the wild dragons. Not to mention, you are still hale, only one-and-thirty, and fit to bear more-"
His speech was cut short by the sounds of someone running up onto the deck of Sea Dragon.
"Mother! Father!" Viserys shouted, sprinting across the deck to his parents. His chin and cloths were stained by puke, but he didn't seem to care. In his arms, he carried his dragon egg, grey with speckles of pink and blue that twinkled in the night.
"What is it, my dear?" Rhaenyra quickly asked, running across to him.
"Aaah… hot… it's hot!" he shouted, dropping the egg onto the ground. It landed with a thud, and the wooden planks of the deck began to sizzle. The air began to smell like burning coal with a hint of rotting flesh.
"Gods…" Daemon gasped, his jaw open in shock. "It's hatching…"
Both Rhaenyra and Daemon kneeled by the egg. Its cracks grew, and a scraping sound came from within the egg. Within moments, the egg was nothing more than pieces, and a tiny dragon rose from it.
The hatchling was the same colour as the egg, a pale grey with pink horns and pale blue wings, the colour of an afternoon sky. It shrieked, letting out a tiny blast of grey fire.
Viserys reached out his hand and let the dragon climb onto him. The tiny hatchling purred as it nuzzled his snout against Viserys' shoulder.
"It's… so nice!" the four-year-old said, smiling for the first time in weeks. Seeing her son smiling brought a smile to Rhaenyra's face as she watched him play with the hatchling. Even Daemon seemed to be grinning at it.
"I promised the egg for my first son, and now my first son has his own dragon," Daemon whispered, his eyes wide in amazement.
"What are you going to name the dragon, Viserys?" asked Rhaenyra.
"It was hatched at sea…" Viserys replied, more focused on the dragon than anything else.
"The Valyrian god of the sea was named Arrax," suggested Daemon, patting his son on the shoulder.
"Arrax," repeated Viserys, nodding and stroking his dragon's head. "Arrax! I like it… Arrax!"
"If that is the name you wish, I love it, too," smiled Rhaenyra.
Viserys lifted the hatchling above his head, showing it off to the world. His smile went from ear to ear. Baelon, Joffrey, and Visenya also ran above board at the sound of the commotion. Viserys just gestured to the tiny beast on his shoulders.
"This is Arrax!" laughed Viserys. "This is my dragon!"