POV Rhae
Rhae is pregnant.
She's pretty sure she is, anyway. Rhaenyra had spent most of her childhood attending to her mother during confinement, and Rachel had trawled through the Planned Parenthood and Mayo Clinic websites for information, because God knew her parents weren't going to tell her anything. They know the signs—the nausea, the soreness, the fatigue, the damning lack of moonblood. She never thought she'd count herself lucky for getting dragged across the realm, but none of her hosts' maids knew her schedule, and thus they couldn't rat her out.
Criston doesn't know, she's certain, or else he'd be hounding her even more.
They'd only fucked once, after a feast in Casterly Rock. He'd been so sweet to Rhae that night, peppering her face with soft kisses and whispering kind words as he'd taken her maidenhead. But everything changed in the light of morning—he'd been ashamed. Criston took one look at the blood between Rhae's thighs and begged for her hand in marriage.
"I can't," they said.
I am my father's heir; he is the son of a steward and a Kingsguard besides,Rhaenyra thought.
I'm too young,Rachel thought, although five-and-ten was a perfectly acceptable age to be wed. (But in her heart of hearts, Rhaenyra agreed—although she was a woman grown, she still felt like a child, desperate to fly and dance and play her games of make-believe…)
Criston spent the rest of the journey gazing at Rhae with pleading eyes, telling her in hushed tones that they'd sullied their honor, but they could regain it, truly, all they had to do was wed in the sight of the Seven and leave everything they knew behind.
Catholic guilt,Rachel whispered, although Rhaenyra had no idea what Catholic was.
She'd figured it out once they'd reached Storm's End, and it was the final nail in the coffin that everyone called her Progress. She'd claim the news of her uncle's return was the motivation to cut the farce short and go home. She wasn't even lying. As a child, she'd run to Daemon for everything: scraped knees, lessons in High Valyrian, dragon rides, sweets—he'd probably pluck the stars from the heavens and string them into a necklace if she asked for !The child in Rhae cried as they stood on the deck of their ship, catching sight of Caraxes dancing in the , help me, please!
But once she saw him in her chambers, the words stuck in her throat.
"You should see the city you'll rule one day…" He said invitingly, and you know what? She deserves this. For the past six months, Rhae had been dragged across the Seven Kingdoms and paraded in front of a slavering pack of men like a prized cow. There's no respite to be found in the Red Keep either—Criston is being impossible. Mother's memory haunts her steps. The king's demands pull her in a thousand directions, and Rhae thinks one day she'll shatter into pieces while Viserys looks on. Alicent mutilates herself, cutting her body to pieces as she tries to fit into the role ofwifemotherqueen, and is shocked that Rhae wants to avoid her fate. And Aegon…
Rhae can't stand to look at the boy, some days. Sometimes she can manage it, bouncing the baby on her knee and trying to teach him naughty words in Valyrian, but other days she can only see everything wrong with the world. He's the son Viserys has killed and raped for, the son for whom the entire realm waits breathlessly to be named heir, the son Rhaenyra could never be.
"Take me somewhere fun," Rhae demands, and Daemon smiles.
"This isn't fun," Rhae told Daemon as they stared at a dilapidated wooden stage. A troupe of greasy mummers walked the boards, each dressed as a member of the royal family. They were supremely unfunny.
"Watch," her uncle murmured.
"Rhaenyra," one of the mummers cried. "The Realm's Delight, a girl so young and slight…"
Rachel loved the theatre. She memorized lines and stole her cousin's college textbook so she could obsess over theatre analysis. She'd acted in a dozen plays and watched even more. She knew that plays didn't have to be high-class to be good, but these idiots weren't even good.
"Aegon, the babe prince, might long for a claim, he has two things Rhaenyra cannot," the mummer said smugly. "A conqueror's name…and a cock."
"Oh, shut up!" Rhae shouted, startling the mummers into silence. "You're absolute shit!"
The crowd around her tittered, and Daemon squeezed her shoulder. Rhae ignored him.
"Oho!" The narrator said, narrowing his eyes. "You've got something to say, boy?"
"Are you deaf as well as boring? I said you're shit! Do us all a favor and get off the stage!"
"Off the stage!" Someone called, and it wasn't long before the crowd got swept up in a frenzy of heckling. "Off the stage!" They roared as her uncle dragged her away. Rhae got a glimpse of someone chucking a cabbage at the mummer playing Daemon, and she laughed as they rounded a corner.
"Jest as you will," Daemon said as he took her through the twisted alleys of the city, "but many of the smallfolk are like to believe that, as a male, Aegon should be the heir."
"Many of the nobles too," Rhae said, and froze in her tracks.
"What?" Daemon asked.
"Do you smell that?" Rhae asked longingly, the scent of something delicious floating above the filth. Her stomach rumbled, and Daemon laughed. "What kind of uncle would I be if I dragged you around the city hungry?" He said and led her towards the smell.
'The smell' led them to a tavern called the Drunken Dragon, which looked far more reputable than the places she suspected her uncle frequented. "Oh my god, is that shrimp?" Rhae breathed.
"Aye, lad, the finest shrimp ye'll find in all of King's Landing!" The serving-girl trilled. Rhae snatched the bag of money stashed in Daemon's cloak pocket and tossed her a groat. "Get me a whole plate of that, and whatever else is good!"
"And a round of ale!" Daemon called as they settled at a table. There was a minstrel in the corner, plucking his lute and singingOff to Gulltownas the serving girls wove around tables and patrons, filling the tavern with talk and laughter.
"So," Rhae said, drumming her fingers on the wood. "I'm guessing there's a reason you dragged me out here."
"You were hungry," Daemon said, raising a brow.
"Nothere," Rhae said as the serving-girl brought a steaming platter of shrimp. "Thank you," she told the girl, who blushed and giggled. Rhae took a bite and nearly moaned at the taste of buttery-garlic nirvana.
"I told you,"Daemon said, slipping into High Valyrian."You should see the city you'll rule one day."
"And I'm sure you're doing this out of the goodness of your heart,"Rhae drawled, grabbing another shrimp. The baby made eating a misery, but it seems they agreed with their mother that seafood was glorious and behaved.
Daemon took a sip of his ale and waited for Rhae to start chewing before he admitted,"I'd hoped to take you to a brothel."
Rhae choked. "What—" she wheezed in common, thumping her chest. "What the fuck?Why?"
"Take a drink," Daemon instructed.
Rhae shook her head. "I'm fine."
(Rhaenyra might have grown up drinking watered wine, but Rachel had seen what alcohol did to unborn children. They'd been living off of fresh milk and juice for the past month.)
"Don't think I didn't notice you avoiding the question," Rhae said, licking her buttery fingers.
Daemon fixed her with a look."I know you took a lover,"he said, and Rhae tried not to wheeze again."Obviously he was inept, or else you wouldn't be so jaded."
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"You're a terrible liar, zaldrītsos."Daemon grinned."Don't worry. I won't tell. Besides, your father and I fucked our way through the Street of Silk when we were your age—"
"I did not need to know that."Rhae groaned.
"You should know that fucking is a pleasure,"Daemon said seriously."For the woman as well as the man."
"God, he wasn't that bad!" Rhae snapped in common.
"'Not that bad' is hardly a compliment,zaldrītsos."
"It's not his fault." Rhae said, burying her face in her hands. She was so tired. Her bones ached with exhaustion, but her mind was even worse. The suitors were awful, yes, but not as awful as trying to hide a pregnancy and stewing in the knowledge that everything was falling apart.
She felt Daemon brush her wrist."What is it?"He asked cautiously."Did he hurt you? Threaten you?"
"No,"Rhae said, peeking behind her fingers. Nobody was looking at them, but that meant nothing. Someone was always watching."It's…I'm stupid. I'm so, so stupid."
"Tell me,"Daemon coaxed.
She wanted to. Rhaenyra saw herkepa,the man who showered her in love and affection. Rachel saw a man, the most untrustworthy of creatures in this godforsaken realm, but if he prioritized female pleasure then he wasn't as bad as the rest of them, right…?
"I'm pregnant,"she whispered.
Nothing around them changed. The minstrel still plucked his tunes. The patrons sang and laughed and chattered. But Daemon's face had frozen, and his grip tightened. "Whose is it?" He asked, low and deadly.
"Does it matter?"
"It fucking matters," he hissed. "We need to fix this—gods, this could get you disinherited. I know someone who could take care of this for you—"
"That's not an option. I'm too far along, anyways," Rhae said bitterly. Of course all he cared about was that goddamn metal chair. All anyone ever thought about was that twisted monstrosity, but they'd hoped he would care about her. But apparently a few words of kindness (Are you alright, Rhaenyra? Are you scared? What can I do to help?)were too much to hope for.
"Then I will find this bastard and march him to a sept at swordpoint," Daemon vowed.
Rhae winced.
"What?" Daemon demanded. "Is he already wed? If he is, I'll make him shorter by a head—"
"I can't do this right now," Rhae said, yanking her hand away and pushing herself away from the table.
"Rhaenyr—"
"Oh, fuck off!" She snapped, and ran into the night.
Rhae knew running off on her own was foolish, but she'd been acting like a fool lately, so it was in character. She ducked into alleys and ran across sidestreets as she wiped furious tears from her eyes. Nobody cared about her. Nobody cared that she was scared and pregnant, nobody even looked at her unless they wanted something, whether it was her body or her claim—
"Shit!"Rhae yelped as she slammed into a body, nose smarting from the collision with castle steel.
"And where might you be running from, now?" The man said lowly, gripping Rhae's shoulder.
She looked up. "Ser Harwin," she said stiffly, hoping her blush would be dismissed as exertion. She knew him in passing—he was the son of the Master of Laws, a captain of the Gold Cloaks. Men had named him 'Breakbones' for the time he'd cracked a knight's ribs in the training yard, and ladies giggled over his handsome looks. Mostly, Rhae knew him from Aegon's nameday hunt—the look he'd given her when she returned to camp, disheveled and bloody, had been positively indecent. Rhae still got flustered thinking about it.
"Princess!" Ser Harwin said, and Rhae clutched his hand. "I don't want to see my uncle right now," she said quickly. "Will you help me return to the Red Keep?"
"Of course," he said, guiding her away. They passed in silence through the darkness until he asked, "May I ask what happened?"
"You may," Rhae said, eyes carefully avoiding his face. He really was too attractive. "My uncle is stupid."
Ser Harwin huffed. "Forgive my impertinence, but I find that most men are, even your noble uncle."
Noble, my ass."Is it impertinent if it's true?" Rhae asked. "And I don't think you're stupid. At least, you haven't done anything to make me think you're stupid yet."
"High words of praise, Princess!" Ser Harwin chuckled.
"You should carve it into your helmet. 'Princess Rhaenyra says I'm not stupid.'" She glanced around them. They'd left Eel Alley, and found themselves in a twisty lane that she knew led to the north wall of the Red Keep. "I hate this city."
"Princess?"
"I think it's cursed. Something about it makes people rotten—we're satisfied living in shit and turning a blind eye to suffering as long as we get something out of it."
"You may be right," Ser Harwin said. "I know something of curses, for I grew up in Harrenhal. A different sort of curse hangs over the city, but it's potent all the same."
"I miss the Riverlands," Rhae said sadly. "I was only there for a short while, but it was long enough to fall in love with the land. Oh, turn here."
They headed towards the wall that faced the sea, tucked away from the sight of any guards. Rhae pressed against the stone until she found the latch, and the door to the tunnel swung open. "Goodnight, Ser Harwin," she said, and made the mistake of looking into his eyes.
They were beautiful. Everyone raved about Valyrian coloring, comparing Rhae's eyes to everything from amethysts to violets, but in that moment Rhae thought there was nothing more striking than Harwin Strong's black eyes, as bright as dragonglass.
"Goodnight, Princess," he said, and Rhae felt a blush bloom across her face. "Good-goodnight," she stammered. "Be safe!"
She shut the door in his face.