Chapter 2
Rhaenys spread her arms wide as she broke through the surface of the turquoise sea, her breath coming in soft gasps. She had always loved diving into the cool depths, feeling weightless, free. Her light swimming dress floated around her like silken waves as she rolled onto her back, basking in the golden rays of the evening sun.
With a quiet sigh, she turned and began swimming toward the shore. She knew she had to return to the Red Keep before sunset. It was one of her father's most unyielding rules.
As she lifted her head above the water, her gaze landed on Jon, standing on the beach. He was not alone. Four guards flanked him, along with his personal bodyguard, Ser Trentan.
Ser Trentan was tall and impossibly broad, a man carved from stone. Rhaenys had never once seen him smile. There was something about him that unsettled her, though he had always been impeccably polite in her presence, there was a quiet intensity about him that made her wary.
She was not the only one. Agatha, her handmaiden, had once admitted that Ser Trentan made her uneasy, though neither of them could explain why.
Agatha stood a few paces away now, waiting alongside two other maids near the small tent her guards had pitched for her to change.
Rhaenys hesitated for a moment, letting the gentle waves lap at her skin. She wished she could stay in the water just a little longer, away from the weight of the Red Keep, the expectations, the stifling rules.
But Jon was waiting.
And Jon did not like to be kept waiting.
Rhaenys took a slow breath and swam toward the shore, the water clinging to her skin like a second layer. As she stepped onto the wet sand, Agatha hurried forward, wrapping a thick towel around her shoulders.
"You stayed longer than usual, Princess," Agatha murmured, casting a cautious glance toward Jon.
Rhaenys followed her gaze. Jon's expression was unreadable, but there was something in his eyes, something sharp, something heavy. His posture was rigid, hands clasped behind his back, as if restraining himself from stepping forward.
"You should dry off," Jon said at last, his voice even but firm. "The evening air is cold."
Rhaenys forced a small smile. "I hardly feel it."
Jon's gaze flickered over her, lingering on the droplets of seawater running down her collarbone before he turned sharply to Ser Trentan. "Bring the horses. We're leaving soon."
Ser Trentan gave a small nod and strode away without a word. The guards moved as well, preparing for their return to the Red Keep.
Rhaenys exhaled and started toward the tent to change, but before she could take more than a step, Jon caught her wrist.
"Rhaenys."
She stilled. His grip was firm, not painful, but unyielding. He was close now, close enough that she could see the tension in his jaw, the way his fingers curled just slightly as if reluctant to let her go.
"I don't like you swimming alone." His voice was low, quiet, meant only for her. "It isn't safe."
Rhaenys tilted her head slightly, searching his face. "I wasn't alone. I had guards, my maids…"
"They wouldn't be enough if something happened." His thumb brushed lightly against the inside of her wrist before he finally released her. "Next time, take me with you."
It wasn't a request.
Rhaenys hesitated before nodding. "If that's what you wish."
Jon studied her for a moment longer, then finally stepped back. "Go change," he said.
She turned, walking toward the tent, but she could feel his gaze on her the entire way.
He was just worried about her safety, she reminded herself. It was his way of showing that he cared. She changed quickly and stepped out of the tent. Her horse had already been brought in front of the tent.
"Come," Jon said, offering her his hand. "I don't want you outside the Red Keep after dark."
Rhaenys nodded, offering him a smile. "I'm grateful for your concern."
Jon returned her smile, but it faded in an instant. His fingers curled around hers as he helped her onto the horse, his grip lingering a moment longer than necessary. Then, without a word, he swung onto his own mount, nodding for the others to follow.
The ride back to the Red Keep was quiet. The evening air had cooled, and the sky was shifting from soft gold to deep violet. Rhaenys kept her gaze on the path ahead, but she could feel Jon beside her, always close, always watchful.
Ser Trentan rode just behind them, his presence a silent shadow. He never spoke unless spoken to, but Rhaenys could feel his eyes as well. It made her uneasy. She had never feared him, exactly, but there was something about him that put her on edge.
"So, how was your day?" Rhaenys asked, hoping to help Jon relax. She suspected he was stressed. Rhaegar had always demanded a lot from him, and Jon had always delivered. Ser Arthur had trained him since childhood, shaping him into one of the greatest swordsmen in the realm. He was also well-versed in military strategy and the political games of the court.
Jon exhaled slowly, his fingers tightening around the reins. "The same as always."
Rhaenys glanced at him. "That's not an answer."
His lips twitched, but the amusement didn't quite reach his eyes. "Meetings with the council. Reports from the Reach. The usual."
"I see. Do you have enough time to rest?"
Jon let out a quiet scoff, shaking his head. "Rest is a luxury, not a necessity."
Rhaenys frowned. "That's not true. Even the strongest swordsman needs rest. Even a prince."
Jon glanced at her then, something flickering in his dark eyes, something unreadable. "And what would I do with rest, Rhaenys?" His voice was low, thoughtful. "Sleep? Dream? Waste time while others plot and scheme?"
She sighed. "Not everything is a battle, Jon."
His jaw tightened. "Everything is a battle."
She studied him, searching his face. He had always been like this, driven, relentless, carrying the weight of expectation without complaint. But there was something else now, something heavier.
"You could at least try," she pressed gently. "Read something that isn't a military treatise. Take a ride without a destination. Maybe even…" she hesitated, "…take some time for yourself."
Jon turned his gaze back to the road ahead. "I don't need time for myself."
His voice was quiet, but there was an edge beneath it.
Rhaenys exhaled. "What do you need, then?"
Jon didn't answer; he simply stared at the road.
"Would you like to have some tea with me in my quarters before dinner?" Rhaenys offered after a moment of silence. "I have a new herbal tea from Essos, I find it quite calming."
Jon's grip on the reins tightened slightly, but his expression remained unreadable. He was silent for a moment, as if weighing the offer. Then, he gave a slow nod.
"If that's what you want," he said, his voice measured.
Rhaenys smiled, though something about his response made her hesitate. "I do."
They rode the rest of the way in silence, the weight of unspoken words lingering between them.
By the time Rhaenys entered her chambers, her maids had already prepared everything, the delicate porcelain teapot sat steaming on the table, accompanied by two cups. The scent of warm spices and honey filled the air, mixing with the faint floral fragrance of the oils her maids had burned earlier. The room felt cozy, a sanctuary away from the weight of the court.
Jon entered shortly after, dismissing Ser Trentan and the guards with a simple glance. They obeyed without question.
Rhaenys gestured toward the chairs by the table. "Sit," she said lightly. "I promise it won't kill you to relax for a little while."
Jon exhaled through his nose, something almost like amusement flickering in his gaze, but he obeyed. He leaned back slightly, though his posture remained tense, like a soldier always ready to rise at a moment's notice.
Rhaenys poured the tea, watching as the golden liquid filled his cup. "Try it," she urged.
Jon took the cup, his fingers brushing against hers for the briefest moment. He didn't immediately drink; instead, he watched her as she took a sip first, as if studying her reaction. Then, finally, he brought the cup to his lips.
She watched him expectantly. "Well?"
Jon lowered the cup, tilting his head slightly. "It's… different."
Rhaenys laughed softly. "That's not an answer."
His lips twitched. "It's warm."
She rolled her eyes. "That's the nature of tea, Jon."
A ghost of a smirk crossed his lips, but it didn't last. His gaze lingered on her, a quiet intensity settling between them.
"You do this often?" he asked. "Drink tea here alone?"
"Sometimes," she admitted. "It's peaceful."
Jon studied her for a moment. "It is peaceful here," he agreed.
Rhaenys smiled, gently touching his hand. "You know you're always welcome here. I worry you carry too much on your shoulders, and if there is ever anything I can do to ease your burden, you only need to ask."
Jon tensed, his grip tightening around his cup. "I appreciate that," he finally said, his tone restrained.
Before Rhaenys could respond, her cat, Contessa, jumped onto her lap.
"Hello there," she said warmly. The cat purred as she gently rubbed behind its ears.
When she finally looked up, she saw Jon staring at her intently.
"Forgive me," she said with a smile. "Where were we?"
Jon didn't answer immediately. His gaze remained fixed on her, his expression unreadable.
Rhaenys tilted her head slightly. "Jon?"
He blinked then, as if snapping out of a thought. "Nowhere important."
But the way he said it made her uneasy, as if whatever had been on his mind was anything but unimportant.
She let out a quiet chuckle, trying to lighten the mood. "You looked as if you were about to go to war with Contessa."
Jon exhaled through his nose, something close to amusement, but his eyes never left her. "She has your attention."
Rhaenys raised a brow. "Is that a problem?"
Jon set his cup down with deliberate care. "No." A pause. "But I would rather have it myself."
Something about the way he said it sent a strange flutter through her chest.
Rhaenys lowered her gaze to Contessa, running her fingers through the cat's silky fur to steady herself. "You do have my attention, Jon. You always have."
Jon leaned forward slightly, resting his forearms on his knees. "Do I?"
She hesitated, caught off guard by the quiet intensity of his voice. "Of course," she said lightly. "You know you can always count on me."
Before Jon had time to reply, a knock at the door interrupted them.
A maid entered, bowing her head. "Princess, the kitchens have finished preparations for dinner."
Rhaenys nodded. "Thank you."
The maid left, and when Rhaenys turned back to Jon, he was already standing.
"I should go," he said.
She frowned. "Jon…"
"We'll talk later." His voice was even, controlled, but his eyes told a different story.
And then, before she could stop him, he was gone.
