A Kingdom Divided 5: Rhaenyra I
Rhaenyra covered her face with her hands, ensuring Daemon couldn't see her eyes roll.
"What do you mean he isn't in his quarters?" she firmly asked Ser Arryk.
"He must have gone out into the town…" Ser Arryk sheepishly replied. "Snuck out at the dead of night and off to a tavern, as he is like to do."
"Was he not specifically instructed to not go out to the town last night?" asked Daemon, the question directed at both Rhaenyra and Ser Arryk, and neither of them.
Rhaenyra ignored it and just glared at him, before turning to the Kingsguard knight.
"Have a party sent out to search for him," she simply said. "I want him back in the castle as soon as possible."
"Aye, Princess," the knight nodded before leaving.
As the door slammed, signifying Ser Arryk's exit, Rhaenyra wanted to slump back in her seat and groan loudly but wouldn't let Daemon receive the satisfaction.
Of all the bloody days…
Baelon did usually sneak out to the city in the black of night to spend time with one of his many "mistresses", as he described it, who were mostly opportunistic ladies of the lower gentry. It was a matter that Rhaenyra had been trying to limit, but she at least thought he would have had the sense to not do it the night before he would be meeting his future queen.
What sort of impression would that leave upon his betrothed?
"He really needs to learn," said Daemon, clicking his tongue and kicking his feet up.
I already know that.
"Now's not the bloody time to tell me that," Rhaenyra snapped. "And get your bloody boots off the table."
"What other time should I tell you?" he smirked, taking his feet off the table. "It seems quite relevant… considering the timing, if anything."
Rhaenyra looked directly at him, and his laughing purple eyes. She licked her teeth and glared at her husband, almost daring him to go further with his provocations.
"Do you wish to return to house arrest again?" asked Rhaenyra, which made the smirk instantly turn into a surprised frown. "You quite enjoyed those few weeks, didn't you?"
He shouldn't remember that this leads back to him.
Baelon's enjoyment of his wine and his women wasn't a recent matter, with the former stretching back years and the latter being something he had a passion for before Daemon even had a part in any of it.
Daemon certainly didn't start the issue, but he certainly exacerbated it.
Some months ago, noting Baelon's curiosity in spending most of his free time and allowance on wooing ladies who would already be wooed by his status and prestige, Daemon took it upon himself to give Baelon a tour of all his favourite pleasure houses of the island. Luckily, Daemon didn't go so far as encourage Baelon to fuck a pox-ridden whore, but that was about it with the amount of grace Rhaenrya could afford her husband.
"Prince Daemon said that I could have a pick of any woman there, without needing to put in the effort of charming them," confessed Baelon, his cheeks flushing red as he told the tale of his tour of the taverns with Daemon. "Or even paying them," he gulped as Rhaenyra put a consoling arm on his shoulder. "Since he said it's my right as a prince to take what's mine… I wouldn't do that, though."
"That part is good, at least," sighed Rhaenyra, silently burning with rage at what her husband thought was a good idea. "I shall have stern words with him; I assure you of that."
The incident left a mark on Baelon. Whilst Baelon was affected, it didn't dissuade him from enjoying the company of women. In fact, it did the very opposite. In the following weeks, he would frequent the city more and more, wooing merchant's daughters and taking ladies to bed, and showering them all with gifts and cloths and gold.
And whilst before the incident, a good portion of his time was spent on that, all of his time is now spent on that, aside from being in his cups.
It dismayed Rhaenyra, in truth. It felt like she failed Baelon by letting him fall down such a dark path.
He may have cut down on his habits, but he never should have started them to begin with.
Rhaenyra would at least take solace in the fact that it always could have been worse. At least Baelon didn't lower himself to the filthiest whorehouses in the city, and he wasn't a monster like Laena Velaryon's youngest son was. She shuddered at the thought of Aemon and his butchering of little Viserys. It was why she refrained from thinking about her wretched half-brother often, which wasn't too easy since looking at Viserys' scar reminded Rhaenyra of him and the terror he caused her children.
Some would say I should blame myself for not being harsh enough with Baelon, but doing so would only push him further into his vices.
She looked at Daemon, and his casual smirk as he stared out at the sea. Part of her felt comfort being in the presence of her uncle, but the tiniest part of her still felt resentment for the part he played in the incident.
By his own admission, Daemon described it as a foolish idea and apologised already, and he had served an appropriate punishment for it. It is unfair for me to keep any lingering anger directed toward him.
When Daemon admitted to his plot, Rhaenyra was nothing short of furious. She banished him to his chambers, instructing castle guards to keep him there until her temper had subsided. After that, she let him explain himself and relaxed the punishment to mere confinement within the castle for a while, making Daemon grovel for his forgiveness. He then expressed remorse and apologised profusely whilst also convincing Rhaenyra that they mustn't appear disunited, lest Laena Velaryon hears of it and the opportunity to pounce.
Soon enough, Daemon had worn her down with his compliments and persuasion, and Rhaenyra lifted the punishment entirely. Within days, Rhaenyra even let him back into her bedchamber, and they enjoyed each other's company some more. The only matter left to address was Baelon's habits, which was still far from resolved.
Some days, I feel as though I am making progress, yet he goes and sneaks off the night before he is to meet his betrothed.
"You've been staring at that wine glass for quite a while now," said Daemon, breaking her out of the reprieve.
"It seems I have," she replied, picking up the glass and swirling it around before setting it back on her desk.
"Are you thinking of how to reprimand Baelon for his antics?" he asked, his voice halfway between earnest and a jape.
"Gods, Daemon!" gasped Rhaenyra. "Like I said, overt harshness shall only make it all worse."
"It can hardly get worse," Daemon carelessly shrugged.
"Enough," she firmly said, making him flinch. "I would not welcome advice on an issue from one who was partly the cause. I already reminded you of weeks of confinement; do you wish to relive that?"
When Daemon gave nothing in response aside from a pouty face, Rhaenyra then dismissed him from her quarters so he could finalise arrangements for the Lannisters' arrival. In the meanwhile, Rhaenyra walked to the window and stared out at the bay.
To the left, just within the edge of her eyesight, she could see the Lannister host arriving. It totalled over a thousand people, including men-at-arms, ladies-in-waiting, and likely some freeriders who joined the host during the journey from Casterly Rock to Maidenpool. The ships were provided by Dragonstone, so they flew the Targaryen banner as well as Rhaenyra's personal coat of arms.
It does look quite good when proudly flying in the wind.
Since Rhaenyra's half-brother had adopted his own arms, a quartering of Velaryon and Targaryen sigils, Daemon suggested that it would be apt for Rhaenyra to display her own.
Of course, Rhaenyra was a Targaryen first and foremost, so the first and fourth quarters displayed the red dragon on a black field. The second quarter had the moon-and-falcon of Arryn, her mother's house.
Mother… what I would do to have her back, guiding me through all this… would she be proud of me?
Rhaenyra felt a tear bubbling in her left eye, which she quickly wiped away with her sleeves. She turned her attention back to the ships bearing her banner and looked at it for a while longer.
The third quarter of the banner had the roaring lion of Lannister to signify her late husband and biggest supporters. Even Daemon, with his distrust of Ser Tyland Lannister, agreed it was necessary to display the arms of her first husband.
What would Jason think?
Her mind returned to him, and his golden lion's mane and hearty laughs. It was so long since then, and the memory of Jason was slowly fading. She left another tear in her left eye, but she let that one fall down her pale cheek and onto her chest.
Is that why I worry for Baelon so much? His habit of keeping mistresses is akin to his father, who was eventually killed by one of his…
Rhaenyra's heart skipped a beat at the thought of that. What if one of Baelon's women had attacked him in the dead of night? What if that's why he was still nowhere to be seen? What if Rhaenyra's sweet boy was lying in a pool of blood like his father was?
Her vision began to blur, the sounds of the sea below became dim, and her arms started to tremble. She felt a tightness in her chest and a heavy pounding inside, trying to escape. Rhaenyra held onto the smooth ledge for grip, begging to not fall off.
"...Princess?" a voice called out to her. "Princess?" the voice asked again. It was one of Rhaenyra's maids, and her voice was tinged with worry.
Rhaenyra's senses returned to her. She was still at the window, facing the sea. Her heart was still beating heavily, slowing with every deep breath she took.
"Yes?" Rhaenyra finally replied, turning around to address the handmaiden.
The handmaiden had a brief look of concern, before shifting to a calmer demeanour. She looked at Rhaenyra before looking down at her feet, and back at Rhaenyra again.
"Prince Baelon has been brought back to the castle by Ser Cargyll. He has been taken to his quarters," the maid said.
Thank the gods.
"Is he well?" was all Rhaenyra replied. She closed her eyes for a few seconds and breathed a long sigh of relief.
"Aye…" the maid slowly replied, quickly correcting herself upon seeing Rhaenyra's eyes widen. "If a bit dishevelled, is all."
"Good," Rhaenyra nodded, silently thanking the gods that her deepest and wildest worries were not made true by some cruel twist of fate.
Rhaenyra delayed any more talk and darted out of the room, heading across the hall toward her son's quarters. Her mind raced between relief for Baelon, annoyance that he was out so late, pity for his situation, and worry of how to help him. That, as well as everything else.
She arrived a few minutes later. Ser Arryk noted Rhaenyra's urgency and swiftly let her into the quarters, shutting it behind her.
Inside, Baelon was in his bedchamber, asleep already. He wore an undershirt and breeches, and his hair was uncombed and sprawled on the sheets beneath. Saliva trickled out of his mouth whilst he slept, gently snoring without a care in the world.
"Baelon," Rhaenyra said, standing at the foot of the bed.
She waited for a reaction for half a minute. When it was apparent that his slumber would not be so disturbed, Rhaenyra put her hands on her hips and called him once again.
"Baelon," she said again, slightly louder this time.
"Hmmmm?" was all Baelon could muster, his head deep in his pillow.
"Wake up, my dear," Rhaenyra replied.
"Yeeesssss…" he grumbled, his eyes opening slightly.
Baelon squinted at the sunshine flowing through the window and moved his palm to block it out. He sat up, groaning in pain as he stretched his arms. He had dark bags under his eyes, and the whites of it were redder than the Lannister sigil.
"Mother?" tiredly asked Baelon, sitting with his knees drawn up. "What? How did I get here? My… head hurts…"
"It's because you went out into the city and got drunk," sighed Rhaenyra. "The night before you met your betrothed."
"I… yes, I did…" he conceded, yawning.
"Maids, have a bath be run for Prince Baelon, a cold one," Rhaenyra called out before turning back to Baelon. "You can't keep doing this, Baelon," she said, defeated. "Especially not the night before you are to formally meet Lady Cerelle."
"I know," Baelon replied. "It was foolish of me… sorry, Mother."
"If it was so foolish, why did you go and do it?" she asked. "We told you this weeks, no, months ago that it was an unhealthy habit for a man set to be a king, yet you have still persisted."
Baelon didn't answer and just stared at the stone floor for what felt like too long. Eventually, he scoffed and shook his head.
"It's not easy, Mother," he whispered.
"It's not easy for any of us, but it won't be any easier if your betrothed first impression of you is you slumbering back from your manse in the town, in the arms of one of women, Baelon," Rhaenyra said disapprovingly, trying to be as gentle as possible.
"I know, Mother. I know," he repeated, taking a deep breath. "I know it's not a good habit, I know it is. You tell me, Joff tells me, Viserys and Visenya tell me. Gerardys tells me. Ser Arryk and Ser Lorent tell me. I tell it to myself. But… b-but…" continued Baelon before his breaths became heavy.
Rhaenyra rushed over to Baelon and sat by his side. He reeked of wine and sweat, but she still put an arm around her son and held him tightly. He leaned into the embrace, burying his head into her chest, sobbing quiet tears and soaking Rhaenyra's dress.
"I'm sorry, Mother," Baelon sobbed, his cries muffled by Rhaenyra's arms. "I'm a failure… I know I am, I-"
Rhaenyra cradled him back and forth as if he was a babe once again. She used her right hand to gently rub his arm whilst she used her other hand to ruffle his hair and wipe away his tears. He continued to sob quietly until his voice became hoarse, and Rhaenyra's heart pained for him.
"I… I…" Baelon began to say before Rhaenyra shushed him, shaking her head. "You don't need to lie to me. Nobody does. You all speak of me in disapproving tones when I am not present, and silent are ashamed when I am."
"I- We don't, Baelon," she whispered. "None of us do that. I swear it."
"You may not be, but everyone else is," he countered. "Prince Daemon mislikes me, and I hardly blame him. As do Viserys and Visenya."
"You shouldn't absolve him," Rhaenyra responded, her blood starting to feel warm. "If he has been the root of your struggles, I have spoken to him numerous times-"
"No, Mother," he reiterated. "It's not him… it's bloody everything… I told you that it is not easy, well it's damned difficult! It's so difficult!"
Rhaenyra let him speak, and let him release his anguish and tears and worries. It was better than it falling on the uncaring ears of a merchant's daughter, or nobody at all.
"Ever since that… that fucking night, when Vis lost his eye-"
"That wasn't not your doing, Baelon," she said.
"Oh, was it not?" scoffed Baelon. "Daemon seems to think it was my fault, as does Visenya. Viserys, too, and it was he who lost his eye. And I bet Joff secretly blames me as well, even if he doesn't admit it," he said, resignedly. "And they're all not wrong. Had I not been with your half-siblings, mayhaps I could have stopped Aemon… but knowing me, had I not been there, I would have been asleep in some tavern by the port, and I still wouldn't have stopped my brother from being mutilated."
"Is that where it stems from then, my dear? That night when Viserys lost his eye? In truth, I blame myself too, for not putting an adequate guard on their quarters, with Aemon's behaviour already being an issue that week," replied Rhaenyra, thinking of her half-brother's wormy face when he bragged about trying to kill her children. "It isn't just you, Baelon. It wasn't your fault, and you shouldn't blame yourself."
"Maybe," Baelon said. "But Daemon and Viserys and Visenya blame me, and that won't change. And if you tell them not to, they would blame me more, and if they never blamed me to begin with, they shall begin to blame me. It doesn't help," he curtly said. "Nor is that all."
"And what else is there?" she gently whispered, stroking his golden locks.
"Bloody Joff, too… when Aemon called him… that… he embarrassed my brother in front of the realm. Poor Joff… The news spread by wildfire, and it confirmed what I so wished to not be true. But that was just naivety, I think, from me," he smiled, shrugging his way out of Rhaenyra's arms.
He turned to face her. His cheeks were stained with tear stains, and his eyes were green pools in predominantly bloodshot red. His skin was pale, reducing him to seem like a wraith sitting on the bed.
"I always knew it, since I was knowledgeable enough to make sense of it all. Mayhaps that's why I took to the wine and beer and rum so much. It would help me forget, but it didn't," frowned Baelon for a moment, until his face became something else. "How do you think I felt? My perfect father and mother. One immortalised with an early demise, and the other was perfect even in life, who loved me and loved each other… but the last part wasn't true, and you had your secret lover whilst he paraded around mistresses in court. And then I would hear whispers, suggesting that he only became aware of yours and Uncle Harwin afterwards, and-"
"No, Baelon," she interrupted, shaking her head and feeling her fingers turn numb. "No. I swear, never, no… I swear this with my life."
"I believe that, Mother," replied Baelon with a smile. "But I don't know if I can believe that you loved him," he frowned.
"Baelon," Rhaenyra said, her son's insinuation feeling like a knife in her gut.
I am both shocked he would think that but also not surprised.
"I swear I loved him," Rhaenyra said, shaking her head as if she was pleading. "I swear that, by my life… I made a mistake with Ser Harwin, but I still loved your father, and I would do anything to have him back," she continued, only just holding back tears.
And so my final memory of him isn't marred by his torrid state and my foolish mistake.
"Truly, Mother?" Baelon squinted his eyes. "I do believe you, but you needn't lie. Many such lords or ladies loathe their partner; it is hardly unusual."
"Truly, Baelon," she whispered, and he broke into tears again.
Rhaenyra attempted to put her arm around him again, but he refused.
"I… thank you, Mother… for that at least," Baelon said through the flurry of tears. "It's something, but you and Uncle Harwin still happened, and you can't reverse that, like I can't reverse that, and I can't reverse anything else. But at least the wine and the women make me forget it all," he sighed. "Even if I know I shouldn't, and even if the women only desire me because I am a prince and don't truly like me… pah! I tell myself that before, during, and after I am with them, and that this is the last time and I will stop showering them all with gifts, but I keep going back. I tell them that their laughs and hugs and kisses are no better than a bloody whore's, yet I go back all the time. And with Joff having to leave soon… what better way to feel sorry for myself than go out into the city?" he chuckled.
"Aye, my dear, I understand," Rhaenyra gently said, offering an arm around him, which he finally accepted.
She just wished to sit there all day, cradling her boy and reassuring his fears and worries, telling him that it shall all be well in the end. She wanted to fight those demons that haunted him and tell him a million times that she loved him. She yearned for Jason back so he could comfort the both of them, and be there for Baelon, which she felt she hadn't done well enough.
At times, I rue my father for not being there after Mother passed, and yet I did the same to my poor son.
When Rhaenyra finally pulled away from the embrace, it felt like forever, but still not long enough for either of them. But she had to. And despite her earlier thanks to the gods, she cursed them for not giving her enough time with her children.
And I curse myself for squandering some of the time I was given.
"Alas, we cannot remain here all day, as much as either of us wish to," sighed Rhaenyra.
"Aye, it's time for what I have been dreading for the past few weeks," Baelon shrugged, wiping his tears with his sleeves.
"I would not dread it, my boy," she said enthusiastically. "You still have the charm of a prince, and Lady Cerelle may yet be what you wish and need… her affection and company. She would not have any notion of your perceived flaws. All she knows of you is that you are a prince, and upon seeing you, she shall find you handsome and gallant."
"Not if she sees me in such a sorry state, like this," he said, turning red.
"You are not wrong. So go clean yourself up, Baelon," Rhaenyra smiled. "The bath is likely prepared by now. Your finest garms have been prepared, too, for your wearing."
Baelon stood from the bed, stretching his arms and cracking his knuckles. He lumbered across the room to the privy, and turned around halfway there.
"Thank you, Mother," he quietly said. "And sorry… I must have delayed you with all of… this."
"No, you have nought to apologise for," Rhaenyra firmly said. "You're my son, and I would fight an army for you, don't you ever forget that, Baelon. And besides, the Lannisters have still not arrived yet, so you did not delay me," she grinned.
That was the first time Baelon smiled that day, which made Rhaenyra beam too. Once he had exited the room, Rhaenyra collapsed onto the bed, sighing loudly.
He doesn't deserve any of this.
Rhaenyra felt like half a fool, letting her son's sorrows go unnoticed and letting him spiral into his habits of drinking and philandering. When her own father ignored her following Mother's passing, she swore that she would never make the same mistake, yet she had done exactly the same.
No, I had done worse… Father ignored me for a few months, while I failed Baelon across ten years.
She treated Baelon's love as wine as something that was not a concern until it became one, and that his love of women was not large enough of a problem to need addressing. She never spoke to Baelon whenever she suspected anything was amiss with him, and it was he who paid the consequences.
At least it can still be rectified.
She hauled herself off the bed, wiping off any tears that were forming in her eyes. It wasn't the day for pitying herself and her son. Today, she had to greet the Lannisters and her future good-daughter. With all the talk of how Baelon's future wife would arrive and that leaving the best impression upon her and her family was paramount.
Showing any weakness or disunity would only disillusion Ser Tyland and the rest of our faction.
Since Baelon's tears had stained her dress, she rapidly visited her bedchambers and had her maids dress her in a different garment. This one was a maroon dress with a collar so low it bore her shoulders and the top of her chest. Along the dress was embroidered cloth-of-silver decorated with wild flames and dragons dancing along the maroon fabric. Atop her dress, she wore a silk cloak in the same maroon, lined with smooth ermine, which was attached to her dress on the shoulders with pieces that looked like pink dragon wings.
Witnessing herself in the looking glass, she placed her silver circlet atop her braided hair and ran her fingers across the silver necklace on her pale skin. It was adorned with brilliant rubies and had the likeness of a three-headed dragon in the middle. Dangling from her ears were rings shaped into seven-pointed stars, a shimmering silver, which also matched her rings and bangles.
The tears are gone from my eyes, and I look ready to greet the Lannisters.
It was still an hour until they would arrive, so she used that time to visit her other children. First, she went to Viserys and Visenya, who were patiently waiting in the great hall, having been dressed and prepared hours in advance.
Visenya leaned back in her seat, playing with some Myrish contraption while Viserys entertained himself with a book. Both of them smiled upon seeing Rhaenyra and got to their feet.
"Mother," said Viserys, walking up to Rhaenyra.
"Viserys," Rhaenyra replied, taking him in for a short embrace.
She then kissed his forehead and ran her hands across his face. She ruffled his long silvery-gold hair and held his head up to her, gently caressing his eye patch and the almost healed scar underneath it, which was large enough that it was peeking out of both sides.
The scar is nearly healed, but his sight is lost forever.
The reminder was another twang of pain, but she didn't let her thoughts take away the joy she saw from seeing her two children.
At least the ruby gifted by Alicent Velaryon makes the scar less gnarly to look at.
Lady Alicent was another person whom Rhaenyra hadn't thought of recently, despite their old friendship decades ago. However, Rhaenyra was still grateful for her friend's gift to Viserys and hoped she was faring well.
"Visenya," nodded Rhaenyra, taking her in for an embrace.
"Mother," she replied, hugging Rhaenyra tightly.
"You both do look resplendent today," Rhaenyra said to them as they had finished greeting her.
They were in matching attire. Viserys wore a black leather doublet sewn to resemble dragon scales. On his back was a silk red cloak, which matched his breeches and boots. Visenya wore a simple dress of red and black, which reached up to her neck and flowed down to the ground. Their hair was neatly combed, with Viserys flowing down his neck and Visenya's tied into a braid. Both, however, shone in the daylight, along with their innocent purple eyes.
"How much longer must we wait?" asked Visenya, tossing her Myrish contraption on the stone table. "We've been here for almost an hour."
"Not too long, now, the Lannisters are close to the harbour," reassured Rhaenyra, sensing the boredom in both of them.
"Where's Joff?" Viserys asked as he closed his book with a thud.
"Maester Gerardys is giving some final instructions to Joffrey, on how to address your betrothed, and the finer details regarding Westerland etiquette and culture," Rhaenyra smiled.
"Sounds boring," Visenya yawned. "I bet Joff would rather be studying Westerlander battles."
His knowledge of Westerlander cavalry tactics would impress Ser Tyland just as much, I reckon.
"Oh, most definitely," chuckled Rhaenyra.
"And have they found Baelon yet?" asked Visenya.
"Aye, your big brother is here in the castle and is currently preparing for today."
"Where was he in the end?" she also asked.
"Where do you think?" grumbled Viserys. "It's obvious."
"Ah," Visenya replied, disappointed.
"He was in the city last night," calmly explained Rhaenyra. "But he is unharmed and safe, which matters most."
"Why did he go out last night of all nights, though?" continued Viserys, frowning. "Today, of all days, he should have known better."
"It's not very nice to Lady Cerelle, too," Visenya added.
"It's not very nice for anyone, and himself most of all," Viserys said. "That's all Baelon talks about these days. It's either what wine he drank or what tavern he visited, or what lady he befriended."
They don't hate him; they just want their brother to be better.
"Aye," nodded Rhaenyra despondently. "Baelon has been trying to stop, and I feel that is most important."
"He should try harder," Visenya said with a sour look. "It doesn't seem to be working. I hope he tries harder," she also said, looking down.
Before Rhaenyra could reply, Joffrey entered the hall. His smile widened at the sight of everyone present, and Viserys and Visenya's faces were swiftly turned into smiles, too.
Joffrey was also dressed in his finest garb, purposefully chosen by Rhaenyra to be very much in the Westerlander style. He wore a dark red jerkin over a crimson doublet, both covered with cloth-of-gold stitching depicting lions. His collar was high, and his sleeves were ruffled. He donned a small golden necklace with a shining golden ring on his left hand, which he couldn't stop fidgeting with.
"Finally!" exclaimed Visenya. "We've been waiting here for about five hours!"
"I don't think it has been that long, Visenya," Rhaenyra chuckled.
"What took you so long?" Viserys said, running over to hug his big brother.
"Maester Gerardys was teaching me of Westerlander customs and etiquette," yawned Joffrey. "Gods, it was tedious."
"It's not that boring," protested Viserys. "I wouldn't have found that boring."
"That is because you are a bookworm," Visenya smirked, much to the laughter of Joffrey.
"If I wanted to impress Ser Tyland and Lady Tyshara with my Westerlands knowledge, I could have learnt more about Hunnimore Brax, and his crossing of the Vale," said Joffrey.
"I knew you would have said you would have rather been studying Westerlander legends!" laughed Visenya, jumping up and down.
"You said battles, not legends," Viserys corrected.
"Same thing," she rolled her eyes.
"Not to me," countered Viserys, sticking out his tongue.
"But to me, it is," Visenya grinned, as stubborn as her father. "Either way, Joff, are you excited to meet Lady Tyshara?"
"I am quite apprehensive, in truth," Joffrey replied, touching his ring.
"Why?" she asked, slightly confused.
Why not? My poor boy is to leave for Casterly Rock soon, at an age I am beginning to only now realise is much too young.
"There's no need to worry," smiled Viserys. "She will like you, truly. As will all the Lannisters."
"Truly?" Joffrey asked, his eyes widening, whilst Rhaenyra moved to put an arm around him.
"Aye," agreed Visenya. "Any woman would be lucky to have you as their lord husband," she said, reassuringly touching his shoulder.
"If Lady Tyshara doesn't like you, she is a fool!" proudly declared Viserys.
Joffrey's shoulders loosened at that, and he stopped fidgeting with his ring. He was still clearly quite nervous for it all though, so Rhaenyra continued to keep her arm around him, and made sure to reassure him some more before the Lannisters arrived.
"I hope you are all correct," he softly said.
"They will be correct," added Rhaenyra.
Following that, the three children chatted amongst themselves whilst Rhaenyra spoke with the chief steward to ensure everything was in order for today, which they were. After that, she dismissed Viserys and Visenya to their father so they could make their way to the docks to greet the Lannisters. Rhaenyra kept Joffrey behind for a moment to have a few more words with him, while she still awaited Baelon's arrival.
"You needn't wear a brave mask in front of your little siblings too," she said, as Joffrey's nervous fidgeting increased following the exit of his siblings. "You are their big brother, and you can show your worries in front of them, too."
"I don't want them to think me weak," Joffrey replied. "I am their big brother, and must protect them. How can I do that if I am scared about meeting my future wife?"
"They would not think you weak, Joff," Rhaenyra reassured him, ruffling his brown hair.
"The Lannisters might, though," he said. "What if Lady Tyshara hates me? And Ser Tyland? What if they treat me badly at Casterly Rock?"
"None of that shall happen, my dear," she smiled. "I am certain of that."
"And how certain are you?" squinted Joffrey.
Because if they dare treat you badly, I shall fly to Casterly Rock myself to rescue you and burn it down.
"The Lannisters have a vested interest in treating you well. You are their future lord, and Ser Tyland must also ensure his other daughter remains well-treated here," explained Rhaenyra, putting a hand on each shoulder.
"Since I am their future lord, would they not grow envious of me, since I am…" Joffrey trailed off, not wanting to say that part out loud.
"We have been through this before, Joffrey," she said, almost wearily. "If they hated you and didn't want you as Lord, they would never have agreed to a marriage between you and Lady Tyshara. And with that, it is also their avenue to a future Lannister queen in Lady Cerelle. They must treat you with the most respect and dignity as the Lord of the Westerlands deserves, which is the bare minimum I expect of them."
"Aye," he grimaced, before gulping.
I have done nothing to change his resolve.
And what if when I go there, I do not like it? What then, Mother?"
Then I would cancel your marriage, since your happiness is more important than any alliance.
"It won't happen, Joff," was all she could reply.
"Could I come back home, then?"
Yes.
"If that happens, aye, but it won't," Rhaenyra said. "First, you must actually meet them and speak to them and try living with them, before declaring you shall hate it."
"I know," Joffrey sighed. "I will try, I promise. I hope Lady Tyshara is nice. That would be good."
"It will be," agreed Rhaenyra. "But there's only one way to find out, by meeting her," she grinned, walking towards the exit and turning back to reach out to Joffrey. "Come, we don't want to be late."
When I was a girl, I hated the notion of my father choosing some husband for me that I would have hated? What happened to me between then and now that I am doing the same to my son?
It was a question that had a simple answer, which Rhaenyra didn't wish to hear. She told herself that such marriages were the only way she would protect and defend her claim from Laena Velaryon and her son, and her kids would only be safe if her succession was ensured. In a way, she was correct, but in another way, the correct answer was the one she didn't want to admit.
She and Joffrey exited into the sunlit courtyard and were greeted by Ser Arryk, who was ready to escort Joffrey to the docks. Rhaenyra gave her boy another hug before he set off and headed back into the hall to wait for Baelon.
Luckily, Baelon only arrived a few minutes later, and wasn't late. Rhaenyra breathed a massive sigh of relief at that, and made sure to reward those servants who made him bathe and dress and prepare so quickly, since even she couldn't do that.
Baelon was clad in his finest garments, evoking a mixture of Targaryen and Westerlander styles. The knots in his hair were brushed out, leaving silky, curly locks to flow down onto his cloths. He wore the same jerkin-doublet combination as Joffrey, but with blood-red with black details. Above that, he wore a traditional black Targaryen sash over it, embroidered with red and cloth-of-silver dragons and lions, whilst his neck and fingers were decorated with silver jewellery that shone in the sunlight.
"You look excellent, Baelon," Rhaenyra smiled whilst walking toward him. "Lady Cerelle shall love you."
"I hope so," Baelon grumbled as they walked towards their horse-drawn carriages.
Rhaenyra climbed into hers, accompanied by her handmaidens, whilst Baelon went into the other, alongside Ser Arryk and Ser Alfred Broome. Following a command from Ser Alfred, the horses set off for the docks.
They passed under the gates and towards the harbour, where they would meet the Lannisters. The air cleared slightly as they went further away from the volcano, but it still retained that dusky haze and smoky scent. The wind occasionally licked at the carriage, sending slight chills down Rhaenyra's spine.
Or is that my nervousness?
The ride was just a few minutes, and they thankfully arrived well ahead of time. Rhaenyra climbed out of her carriage to be greeted by the sea breeze, which dominated over the warm spring breeze she had become accustomed to up in the castle. She pulled her cloak tighter around, and lamented having not chosen a dress with covered shoulders.
Ahead, the host to meet the Lannisters was already in order. Banners showing the three-headed dragon were strewn, along with Rhaenyra's personal arms. Those two banners were two of the three largest among the selection, along with one banner with the golden lion of Lannister. Also present were Celtigar, Mooton, Marbrand, and Darry sigil, along with a dozen other houses that supported Rhaenyra.
She quickly made her way to the front of the host, taking her place alongside Daemon. Aegon, their youngest son, ran up to Rhaenyra at the sight of her. She embraced the three-year-old before gently leading him back to his place.
"Look, look! I will show this to the Lansters!" Aegon excitedly said, displaying his dark blue egg that he would never let go of.
"That's nice, Aegon," Rhaenyra grinned, rubbing his silver-gold hair.
"It's Lannisters, Aegon," said Viserys, tapping his baby brother on the shoulder.
"It's the same," Aegon replied, rolling his eyes.
Rhaenyra just chuckled and shared a look with Daemon, and stood to his right. Little Aegon, and his little egg, were in between them, whilst Viserys and Visenya were on Daemon's left. Joffrey was on Rhaenyra's right, and Baelon was to his right. Ser Lorent and Ser Arryk were at either end of the row, their white cloaks fluttering in the wind.
Ahead of them, the score of boats was approaching, getting larger and larger by the minute. At the front of the host, the Maiden's Blessing, the flagship of House Mooton's fleet, was a large galley with its hull painted in red and black. The rest of the fleet was a collection of medium-sized galleys and repurposed merchant ships.
They were certainly not unimpressive but paled compared to the Dragonstone fleet, let alone the Lannister fleet, or the Redwyne or Velaryon fleets. That said, the number of ships was impressive, as it meant a quite significant number of Westerlanders had made the journey to Dragonstone.
A show of strength from my biggest supporters, letting me know that they are my biggest supporters.
The wait for the Maiden's Blessing to arrive was only a few minutes, but that didn't stop Joffrey from fidgeting with his ring or Aegon from asking if the "Lansters" had arrived. She comforted Joffrey by putting her arm around him whilst assuring Aegon that the Lannisters were almost here.
Soon enough, the galley completed docking, and the Lannisters dismounted. The first to disembark onto the stony harbour was Ser Tyland. His wife, Lady Johanna, followed him, and then some of his guards helped their two daughters off the boat and onto Dragonstone. From this far, Rhaenyra was unsure of their expression, but all four of them had one thing in common - they were covered in large cloaks to shield them from the weather.
It is quite different from the mild hills and fields of the Westerlands.
Once all four of the Lannisters were safely dismounted, they began to walk in unison towards Rhaenyra and her host. Ser Tyland and Lady Johanna were in the middle, clad in matching gold and ermine cloaks, and their two daughters flanked them. Lady Cerelle and Tyshara wore matching large purple cloaks lined with cloth-of-gold and cloth-of-silver threads. Rhaenyra wasn't sure which girl was which, however. The girl on Tyland's side had her hair loose, whilst the one by Johanna had hers tied in an elaborate style.
As they all neared, Rhaenyra could see their faces more clearly. Ser Tyland and Lady Johanna had still looks on their faces, but their daughters weren't the same. Both were stared up at the castle and volcano behind, but the loose-haired girl had a look akin to disgust on her face, and her skin was noticeably paler than her twin sister's. Meanwhile, the other girl's blue-green eyes were wide in amazement as she looked around.
I would have preferred both girls to be pleased to visit, but if only one is, I would hope it is the one who shall spend her life here.
The Lannister host proceeded as slowly as they could whilst walking up to Rhaenyra, which made her toes ache, her ears numb, and her eyes roll. Their meeting point with Rhaenyra was at an incline, so despite Ser Tyland being a tall man, he still had to glimpse slightly upwards to look at Rhaenyra.
"Princess," Ser Tyland said solemnly, bowing his head.
He looks so similar to the memory of Jason, yet so different.
Ser Tyland's hair was long like Jason's, and his beard was also long. Ser Tyland had wrinkles by his mouth, crow's feet next to his eyes, and bags under it. He also carried himself slightly differently, and the twinkle of his green eyes was so subtly different it could not be described. What Ser Tyland did have, though, was the same air of pride that Jason had. While it was an unspoken version, it was near enough not to be as uncanny as everything else.
"Ser Tyland," smiled Rhaenyra gracefully. "Welcome back to Dragonstone."
"And I am pleased to be back here," he replied with a slight smile. "With Lady Johanna and my girls, this time."
"Aye, and we are glad to host them," she responded.
Before he could respond, the shrill scream of dragons cut the air. It ruptured Rhaenyra's eardrums but was over within an instant. She looked upwards to see two dragons dancing in the air. One shone a distinct gold and pink, while the other was long, skinny, and murky brown. They both flew in a circle twice before each letting off a billow of smoke and flying back out of sight toward the Dragomont.
"It seems the dragons have decided to welcome us to Dragonstone, too," chuckled Lady Johanna, not showing any sign of being fazed by the dragons.
Ser Tyland simply smiled at it, as did his daughter with her hair tied up. The other daughter, however, was certainly startled. She sheepishly moved her hands back to her sides whilst her pupils enlarged, and Rhaenyra could see the girl's chest pounding.
"You shall become accustomed to the sight and sound of it," said Rhaenyra gently to the girl.
"Aye," the girl replied with a weak smile. "I do hope that."
"Which dragons were they?" the girl's twin sister asked, peering up to see if they would return.
"That was Sunfyre and the Sheepstealer, if my eyes haven't failed me," answered Daemon with a smirk.
"Is that not the dragons of Prince Baelon and Joffrey?" she asked, a smile appearing on her face.
"It is, my lady," Rhaenyra replied, almost proudly.
"And those two happen to be who you two are to marry," chirped Viserys with a crude grin.
"A mere coincidence, or more?" said Ser Tyland with a smile.
"If you happen to see a grey and blue dragon, that is mine," said Viserys quickly, despite Ser Tyland not asking.
"A small dragon, that is," Visenya added. "If you see a large silver one, that is my dragon," she proudly said.
"Aye, I am sure they shall keep a close watch for dragons whilst they are here," said Rhaenyra, shaking her head. "That said," she smiled. "I again welcome you all to Dragonstone."
"Princess, I would like to formally introduce my children," Ser Tyland politely said, to which Rhaenyra nodded.
He first presented the daughter next to him, the quiet one with her hair let loose. Rhaenyra offered her hand to kiss, which the girl accepted and did, accompanied by a clumsy curtsy.
"This is Cerelle, my younger girl, and our kingdom's future Queen Consort," he said, emphasising the last part.
The crowd, on both the Dragonstone and the Lannister side, broke into a small applause before swiftly stopping to allow the greetings to continue. Rhaenyra, though displaying a friendly smile, felt a tiny stab in the stomach at that.
The one who looked at the island in disgust and was petrified by the dragons is the one who shall live here.
"It is my pleasure to meet you, Lady Cerelle," Rhaenyra said with all the grace she could muster. "And I do hope you settle well here."
"Aye, Princess," Lady Cerelle said, her forced smile hardly hiding her pale skin or defeated eyes. "And it is my pleasure to finally meet you, too."
"Most certainly," replied Rhaenyra.
She glanced over to Baelon by her side, and while his expression was initially one of stillness and boredom, it had very much now become a frown. Rhaenyra could almost see his body shrivel back up, and she felt a second small stab in her stomach.
"And this is my elder daughter, Lady Tyshara," Ser Tyland then said, which was also met with applause, yet not as loud as the one for Lady Cerelle.
"It is a pleasure to meet you, Princess," Lady Tyshara said after gracefully kissing Rhaenyra's hand. "And I do thank you for the warm welcome you have extended us upon our arrival."
"It is the least for such guests of noble standing," smiled Rhaenyra. "I do pray all your travels were safe and swift."
"It certainly was, Princess," nodded Ser Tyland. "Lady Cerelle was marred by some minor bouts of seasickness, which she has, thankfully, recovered from. But aside from that, our journey was pleasurable."
If Sunfyre and Sheepstealer greeting them was more than a coincidence, this must be, too.
"That is good to hear, Ser Tyland," she replied. "Now, I mustn't delay you. You must be weary from your travels, and l would like to make sure you are all comfortable in your quarters as soon as possible. Come, let us go to the castle."
They all agreed and set off back to the castle. Rhaenyra took the same carriage she arrived with, so she was alone with only her handmaidens and her thoughts. Viserys and Visenya shared a carriage whilst Daemon was with Aegon, and Baelon and Joffrey each had their own. The four Lannisters would share one, too, likely to speak of their initial impressions of the island amongst themselves.
The carriage back to the castle went too quickly. Rhaenyra had hoped the few minutes would be time for her to relax after the panic leading up to the Lannisters' arrival, but all she could think about was Lady Cerelle's initial dismay upon arrival at Dragonstone.
Am I thinking too much into Lady Cerelle's reactions?
She had recently recovered from seasickness and would no doubt be in a foul mood regardless. Rhaenyra prayed that it was the case and would soon grow to like the island, and Baelon.
And I hope him noticing Lady Cerelle's frowns shall not make him fall back into his vices.
She climbed out of the carriage, which stopped just by the gates to the middle bailey. With the presence of the Westerlanders, the castle finally felt quite active, which Rhaenyra felt was a welcome respite from the quietness of usual times, which oft felt slightly desolate.
As all the children were led away to their chambers, Ser Tyland and Lady Johanna approached Rhaenyra just as she was about to head to her own private quarters.
I thought he would wish to wait until the evening.
"Princess, if you are not currently occupied at this moment, would you spare some of your time?" he asked, his tone laced with agency.
"Aye, we shall head to my solar, in the Sea Dragon Tower," nodded Rhaenyra, glancing at Daemon to accompany her.
Daemon obliged and began swaggering over. Noticing that, Ser Tyland whispered something in his wife's ear and turned back to Rhaenyra.
"If possible, Princess…" he began slowly. "Just you and I. Lady Johanna shall accompany Tyshara and Cerelle to their chambers whilst we speak."
Damned sly fool! He didn't want Daemon present, so he signalled for his own wife not to be present, too. And with such an innocuous request, he shows his ambition and exerts his influence.
"Aye, Ser Tyland, it is no worry," smiled Rhaenyra, not wishing to offend Ser Tyland minutes after he arrived on Dragonstone. "Daemon, why don't you ensure preparations for tonight's feast are all in order?"
"Very well," Daemon scoffed, licking his lips before marching off.
"Shall we go then, Princess?" Ser Tyland asked, sporting a smirk which reminded Rhaenyra of Jason. "I would not wish to be delayed for the planned feast."
They walked to the Sea Dragon Tower in silence. There were too many other people in the castle who could hear things, especially with the influx of Westerlanders and freeriders who accompanied them. There probably were spies of Laena Velaryon in the castle usually, just as Rhaenyra had her own at King's Landing, but there was no issue with taking precautions.
I remember when Ser Tyland and I walked in silence back at Casterly Rock…
It was a much more different affair at the time. Rhaenyra's opinion within Casterly Rock was at its trough, and the following meeting is what saved their alliance. Today's meeting would be conducted as firm allies and, in some ways, the culmination of the agreement drawn up that day at Casterly Rock.
We agreed to Baelon and Cerelle's marriage then, and today is when they finally met.
Soon enough, they arrived at Rhaenyra's solar. She sat facing the half-circle balcony across the table from Ser Tyland. The Lannister man inspected the room briefly before sitting, and straightened his cloak as he did.
"Wine, Ser Tyland?" Rhaenyra kindly asked, gesturing to the pitcher.
"Not at this moment, Princess, even if it happens to be Lannisport Gold," he replied with a grin.
"It does happen to be Lannisport Gold," she chuckled, pouring herself a cup.
"Then I shall help myself to it later today," remarked Ser Tyland before leaning forward intently. "Firstly, I would like to discuss the matter of the Manderlys, and their realignment to King's Landing."
"Aye, a blood travesty," sighed Rhaenyra. "And they have the gall to still continue to keep their envoys here and enjoy trade benefits, knowing I cannot do anything about it."
I could, but that would be akin to tyranny.
"I would not see it as a lost cause, however," he said slowly. "Which is why I brought up this matter first."
"Elaborate," Rhaenyra said, raising an eyebrow.
"Any attempt of diverting trade from White Harbor ships would require tariffs large enough, the Manderlys would be well in their justification to kick up a fuss, and ceasing Dragonstone's purchases would only serve to harm us… whilst the continuation of trade, as what is occurring, shows that you have not closed the door on the North and White Harbor as an ally. A council seat swayed them to your half-brother, but matching that can sway them back."
"And what would stop them from swaying them again to my half-brother? Their loyalty has proven to be fickle," she said, slightly more dismissively than she had intended. "You cannot predict where a leaf in the wind shall land, nor can you predict where Lord Manderly's true loyalties shall lie."
"Should Lord Manderly change his mind too many times, half the realm shall see him as an indecisive fool," countered Ser Tyland. "I doubt he shall go to such extremes. Is it worth trying to recourt the North as a whole? I would rather an unreliable ally than an enemy, purely from looking at the numbers."
"A marriage shall most likely be Lord Manderly's demand," Rhaenyra said, scratching her chin.
"Mayhaps," Ser Tyland agreed. "Maybe more, or maybe less. In truth, the only way to know is to speak to Lord Lard himself. Luckily, I have little doubt he won't make sure to attend an upcoming royal wedding, or even a tourney on Dragonstone," he said, his smirk wide and his brows raised.
"I would rather not reward the man with a royal marriage, all things considered."
"Aye, though an alternative could be a marriage with the Starks themselves to force White Harbor's hands," he suggested.
"That may be an alternative," nodded Rhaenyra. "I shall consider such options," she smiled, which did make his grin shrink slightly. "Was there else you wished to discuss?"
I shall most likely consider his suggestions, but I won't be a fool enough to appear to accept everything he says without question, especially not directly to him.
"There was also the matter of the Stepstones, but I didn't think that needed to be discussed in confidence," replied Ser Tyland, seemingly on the verge of laughter.
He does seem confident that the outcome of the new Stepstones conflict shall benefit us.
"Well, now that you have mentioned it, I would like to hear your thoughts," she calmly said, crossing her arms and leaning back.
"Let them fight; that is what I say," he dismissively replied. "Watching Corlys Velaryon waste his men and ships on securing a bunch of grey rocks is just the culmination of our aims when forging a friendship with the Essosi."
"That part was unspoken, Ser Tyland," Rhaenyra rolled her eyes. "I am referring to what you think the response should be regarding either outcome."
"If Corlys Velaryon is on the eve of victory, you provide a token force from Dragonstone, as shall I from Lannisport, just in time to be present for when victory is declared. We reap the reward of winning a war whilst the Velaryons have bled themselves to achieve it."
"That is what Jason suggested my father do upon Laena Velaryon's return from the Stepstones all those years ago," she said slowly.
"And that was a smart decision from my brother," he replied, his smile wide but his green eyes melancholic. "Great minds do think alike."
"Our Essosi friends would not react so well to such a declaration of victory," mused Rhaenyra. "It may be better to allow Lord Corlys to enjoy his pyrrhic victory whilst we fund the Triarchy if they wish to try and retake the islands again."
"I disagree with your notion, Princess," said Ser Tyland calmly. "Whilst the Triarchy may not like us declaring our victory, it would hardly matter considering the hatred they now harbour for Driftmark. If forced to pick a side, they shall certainly not pick the one that has warred with them multiple times. The alternative is allowing Corlys Velaryon to declare that he alone managed to beat three Free Cities twice. It would do wonders for his prestige, no matter the amount of men he lost in the process - doubly so if the victory isn't so costly."
"Would it be worth alienating our allies just to ensure Corlys Velaryon does not reap all the rewards he can?" she asked. "Aye, the Triarchy would pick our side, but would they be as enthusiastic to come to our aid in such a scenario?"
"They may be proud enough to see it as an insult," countered the Lannister man. "But not foolish enough to forget who granted them trade deals and funded the start of their campaign. And certainly not foolish enough to realise that a clear Velaryon victory would mean that King's Landing would also declare victory for the realm as a whole. For the Essosi to cause a tantrum over that would be almost as childish as the Sea Snake himself."
Regardless of the outcome, Ser Tyland is right that we can only benefit from it.
"And in the case of a Triarchy victory…" Ser Tyland continued. "And whilst some ships may be caught up by their patrol galleys, they would honour our agreement of allowing our ships to pass by unmolested whilst enacting tolls upon those of Driftmark, Oldtown, the Arbor, and of the sort. Should it be a narrow victory for them, we gain even more leverage in our relationship, and should it be a large victory, Velaryon power shall be decimated," he said, licking his lips.
"The Arbor and Oldtown would still have their fleets, though," said Rhaenyra. "Even in the faintest chance the entire Driftmark fleet is obliterated, they would outnumber us at sea."
"I highly doubt the Driftmark fleet gets obliterated, even if their defeat is harsh," he frowned. "And a heavy Velaryon defeat is the unlikeliest of outcomes, in truth. In terms of preferred outcomes, a victory for Driftmark that comes at a high cost is the one I hope occurs."
"Even if it involves the defeat of the Triarchy?"
"We are, at most, allies of convenience," Ser Tyland said bluntly. "And I do not think appearing too close to a coalition of slaver states for too long is in our best interests."
"Hmm," she nodded, before smiling at him. "I do thank you for your counsel, Ser Tyland."
"It is my pleasure," he replied graciously. "Our blood is soon to be linked, and I only have our best interests at heart."
"Aye… On the topic of our families uniting," said Rhaenyra just as Ser Tyland was about to stand. "How do you feel our respective children shall fare in regards to their betrothals?"
"Well, Princess…" said Ser Tyland, clicking his tongue before his face twisted into a frown momentarily. "Cerelle hasn't had the most pleasant of travels, but I await her first conversations with Prince Baelon to judge. With Tyshara, conversely, she was fascinated by Dragonstone after laying her eyes on it for the first time. But, as with Cerelle, I would still await her first interactions with young Joffrey."
He specifically mentioned Lady Cerelle's unpleasant travels, and must have noticed her misery after stepping foot on the island…
"What of Lady Cerelle's initial impressions of the island and her betrothed?" she asked, desperately trying to quell the sick feeling building in her stomach.
Ser Tyland didn't reply instantly. His eyes widened and he took a small gulp, and his face had changed from the casual, confident smirk he had throughout the meeting to one of stillness with the hints of a frown. It felt like an hour before he actually replied.
"It was not what she expected," he politely said.
No…
"But she is yet to speak to Prince Baelon," continued Ser Tyland, not very confidently. "She only glimpsed him briefly, and if anything, the concept of becoming a queen is one she has always desired," he said, sounding as if he was trying to convince himself more than anyone. "That said, Princess, we must wait and see."
"Aye, Ser Tyland, we shall wait and see," smiled Rhaenyra.
In truth, there was no way to know what Baelon and Lady Cerelle thought of each other apart from waiting and seeing. However, Rhaenyra somehow felt that she already knew the answer.