#viserys telling her 'promise me rhaenyra. promise me' in what i believe is an echo of lyanna's last words to ned... i think? | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

bumblesimagines · 1 year

Text

When Fire Meets Fate

Part 5

Request: Yes or No

~~~

He watched the rain belt against his window, the sound echoing in his ears. The weather heavily reflected his sisters' mood for King Viserys had stripped their father of his title and sent him back to Oldtown. The news had replayed over and over in his head. Rhaenyras' promise, the knowing look in her eye before she entered the carriage. She'd gotten rid of his father but her freedom as an eligible lady had been taken. His father hadn't been lying when he'd spoken of Ser Laenor. But better him than a Lannister. He found peace in knowing she'd wed someone she knew well.

(Y/N) turned his head when the doors creaked and his sister entered the room, water dripping from her hair and onto her face. Her skin had been covered in a light sheen, the rain having turned her dress a shade darker. "Alicent.." He breathed, moving from the window and to his bed. He pulled one of the smaller blankets from it and approached her but she shoved his arms away, eyes filled with tears.

"You should've been there." She hiccuped. "You should've been there to bid him farewell before his journey." The trip to Oldtown would be a long one, filled with many stops and roads. But their family, their father, had made the journey countless times before. Otto knew the way well enough to avoid danger, they both knew that.

"He'll be fine, Alicent." He wrapped the blanket around her shoulders, rubbing the fabric against her arms. Slipping his arm around her shoulders, he led her to the fireplace and sat her down on one of the chairs, hand stroking the back of her soaked head. Alicent wiped at her wet cheeks with the blanket, staring into the crackling fire.

"Father told me you knew about Rhaenyras' ventures," Alicent revealed quietly. "What did she tell you?" Alicent asked, shifting in the chair to face him and pulling the blanket further over her shoulders.

"She told me nothing happened between her and Prince Daemon." (Y/N) answered, resting his arm on the top of her chair and gazing down at her. Alicent hummed softly, still looking rather unconvinced. (Y/N) combed his fingers through her brown locks. "Rhaenyra is smart, Alicent. But she's young. It is only natural that someone like her wanted the thrill of an adventure before being married off."

"But in the Street of Silk? With Prince Daemon? He knows no bounds, (Y/N). I... I almost cannot..." Alicent pressed her lips together, head shaking lightly as she looked away from him and back at the fire, the orange flames reflecting in her eyes. "The Targaryens are known for their... queer traditions. Aegon the Conqueror took both his sisters to wed as did King Jaehaerys. Prince Daemon is a stubborn and calculating man but I believe he cares greatly for his brother. I am just not sure if he cares about him enough to forget about the throne. He already showed his discontent with Rhaenyra being heir once. He does not seem like the type of man who forgives easily."

"If you cannot trust him, trust Rhaenyra." (Y/N) said softly, gently touching her chin and rubbing his thumb along her jawline. Alicents' eyes softened, a breath escaping her as she relaxed. She reached up, delicately taking his hand in hers and holding it with both hands. Her skin felt cold to the touch.

"Father said you knew before him and yet, it was quite early in the morrow when he received the news." She muttered, running her finger over the lines on his palm. "When did Rhaenyra tell you, Brother?"

"When she returned."

"During the hour of the owl?" Her head snapped up, eyes widening. She abruptly rose from her seat, the blanket slipping from her shoulders as she released his hand. Alicent stared at him, mouth agape and eyes flickering between his. "Did you-"

"No, Alicent. I did not compromise Rhaenyra. I am her closest friend and she simply wished to tell me all about her venture into the city while it lie fresh on her mind. The events of the night caught up to her and she bid farewell. Nothing happened between us." He reached out but Alicent took a step back, legs bumping against the short round table next to the chair. (Y/N) dropped his arms to his side in disbelief, brows furrowing.

"Alicent-"

"Rhaenyra cares much for you and she can be quite convincing..." Alicent whispered, chest rising and falling as her breathing quickened. (Y/N) stepped forward, arms wrapping around her shoulders. His twin buried her face in his neck, fingers weakly grabbing at his shirt.

"Rhaenyra is to be wed, Alicent. Is she not on her way to meet with her new husband as we speak? I may have an encounter here or there but I view Rhaenyra the same way I view you. And whatever feelings you believe she may have for me will disappear once she and Ser Laenor wed. He's quite a sweet man, I hear." A sweet man who was said to prefer the company of men over women. But (Y/N) had his fair share of experiences with men and Rhaenyra still fell into his line of sight. Even if the thought of her marrying someone else made a bitter taste settle in the back of his throat, (Y/N) couldn't allow himself to be connected to the throne. Not after what it did to his parents and their marriage.

"Apologies, I... I'm feeling dreadfully tired, (Y/N)." Alicent whispered, pulling back and sighing softly, her bottom lip quivering. She inhaled, smoothing back her hair before kissing his cheek. Alicent stepped back and retrieved the blanket from the floor, setting it down on the chair and taking another breath. (Y/N) followed her to the door, stepping out into the hallway and bidding her goodbye. He watched her walk away, the ends of her dress still damp enough to leave a trail on the floor. Hearing someone clear their throat, he turned his head to look at them. Ser Harwin Strong, or Breakbones as some called him, stood tall and wore a small grin despite his words. Despite his reputation as the strongest man in all of the kingdoms, his soft bouncy hair and sweet eyes made it hard to be intimidated by him.

"A rather dull day we're having, is it not?" Ser Harwin tilted his head slightly, curls bouncing off his temple. "Quite reflecting of what's occurred. You must be deeply saddened by the news of your fathers' departure."

"And you must be thrilled by your fathers' new position. I'm sure Lord Lyonel will prove to be a good Hand to King Viserys." (Y/N) faced the knight completely as he spoke. Ser Harwin gave a cheeky smile. The type of smile he'd seen Rhaenyra wear countless times before whenever she caught his full attention. (Y/N) eyed him for a moment before nodding toward the inside of his room.

"Cup of wine, Ser Harwin?"

"That'd be lovely, M'Lord." The lack of hesitance from the man made (Y/N)s' brow quirk and he entered his bedchambers, approaching the table that held the wine. Pouring a cup for the knight, he turned and reached out, feeling Ser Harwins' fingers brush against his hand and linger, almost as if waiting for (Y/N) to react. (Y/N) met his gaze and pulled his hand back, watching the knight look over his room in mild curiosity.

"It's a shame we haven't had the chance to converse before, Ser Harwin. I've heard much of your reputation." (Y/N) poured himself a cup as well, bringing it to his lips and drinking. Ser Harwin smirked, licking his lips and looking down at his cup, swirling around the wine.

"I could say the same for you, M'Lord. The Boy Who Never Smiles... Quite the title." Snorting softly, (Y/N) couldn't help but roll his eyes. The title had stuck in court for far too long. He'd hear newcomers whispering about it as if it held any real significance to him. It was just a title some lord or lady had given a grieving child for not being friendly enough.

"I smile on the occasion." He muttered and a soft chuckle escaped the tall knight. Ser Harwin lowered himself onto a chair and set his cup down, eyes trailing up to look at the painting of the late Lady Hightower. He grimaced, vaguely remembering the grim days before and after her death. The whispers of the unconsolable twins and their father who could just barely keep himself together. The murmurs of Otto attempting to juggle his duties and being a father, appearing to fail on the latter. Ser Harwin had seen the Hightower twins here and there, only beginning to see more of them when they grew closer to the royal family.

"How did you come to befriend the Princess?" He asked, resting back against the chair. (Y/N) turned toward the window, leaning against the cool stone wall, the cup still in hand.

"I did not have much of a choice. She simply began following me around and talking until I responded." Ser Harwin laughed at his response. Stubbornness was a trait all Targaryens seemed to inherit, so to hear Rhaenyra had simply refused to leave the boy alone until he befriended her... "I enjoy her company. Most people here view me as... rude. I'm not well-liked, I suppose."

"I quite like you." Ser Harwin murmured, smiling at him. "Most people here are arrogant and have no sense of loyalty. You seem... different from them."

"Is this your way of trying to befriend me, Ser Harwin?"

"Is it working, M'Lord?"

"Perhaps."

✶ ✶ ✶ ✶ ✶ ✶

Joining Alicent on the balcony, (Y/N) stood beside her and looked down at the light gray carriage. Servants and guards surrounded it, watching King Viserys exit. Alicent flinched upon seeing the king crumble to the floor, servants quickly flocking to him as Lord Lyonel hollered for the maesters. He'd left for Driftmark in perfectly fine condition and yet arrived looking paler than a ghost. Perhaps the waves of the sea had been particularly unforgiving. Not many had the stomach for them. Alicent remained silent, uncharacteristically so. He'd expected her to fret over the Kings' condition but her face hadn't changed in the slightest. As much as (Y/N) wished to brush her behavior off as exhaustion from the events of the week, his gut told him it was something else.

"Are you alright, Alicent?" (Y/N) asked softly, resting against the railing and watching her. She ran her hand over the skirt of her blue dress and silently nodded, turning away from him and walking into the hall. (Y/N) frowned, pushing himself away from the railing and following her inside.

"Fetch Ser Criston Cole for me, please." She ordered a servant, lifting the front of her dress, and descending the stairs. (Y/N)s' brows only furrowed and he continued down the stairs, watching his sister disappear down the hall. Her unreadable face, her tone filled with a hint of bitterness and anger. Had she found out about the maid? Had their father written to her about what he'd heard from that night? Or had Rhaenyra lied about what occurred between her and Daemon? He didn't have time to go after her, hearing the clacking of metal against the floor.

"(Y/N)!" Rhaenyra called out, lifting her dress and hurrying past the guards, a wide gleeful smile on her face. She released the sides of her dress once she stood in front of him, soft pants escaping her and eyes twinkling. Her fingers twitched and she stepped closer, almost as if she wanted to envelop him in a hug. But her excitement had already gotten too much attention.

"I assume this means you like your soon-to-be husband?"

"Oh, yes. He and I understand each other very well." Rhaenyra breathed, combing down her hair with her fingers before linking her arm around (Y/N)s' and pulling him into a walk. Swallowing, she leaned her head toward him.

"We've granted each other the freedom to be with whoever we wish as long as we do our duty to the realm." She explained in a low, quiet tone to avoid being overheard by a nosy servant or lord. "It is true that he prefers the company of men over women but we're both willing to do what we must for the realm and keep ourselves content with those we truly care about."

"And who would that be for you, Nyra?" (Y/N) questioned, and Rhaenyras' lips spread into a smirk, chuckling softly.

"I'm sure you already know." She murmured, looking forward. "Did you miss me whilst I was gone?"

"I replaced you with Ser Harwin Strong." (Y/N) answered, grinning down at her. Rhaenyras' brows raised and she hummed, giving a nod of approval. She'd briefly encountered Ser Harwin a number of times, though she knew little of him apart from what stories and rumors told. He remained unmarried despite his status and age, though one could assume his inheritance had something to do with that. Most of Westeros knew of the Harrenhal curse and how many of the families that resided within it perished not long after acquiring it.

"Have you made him your Sworn Shield? You'd be the safest lord in all the kingdoms."

"I am not in need of one, Nyra. I may not be popular in court but I've made no enemies thus far."

"No enemies that you're aware of." Rhaenyra lifted her brows, hand raising to grasp his bicep and give it a tender squeeze. "It's better to be safe than dead." She added, her other hand wrapped around his wrist, fingers grazing the skin of his palm. She refrained from appearing too affectionate, she was newly engaged after all. In the coming days, the castle would be readied for the festivities and she'd soon be the wife of Ser Laenor. The wife of someone she considered a friend but not the wife of the one she truly desired.

"I appreciate the worries, Nyra. But, your father-"

"Father grew terribly seasick during the trip. The maesters will take good care of him." Rhaenyra brushed it off, though her brow creased and the corners of her lips tugged down. Clearing her throat, she looked up at him. "And what of Alicent? I didn't see her when we arrived."

"She's been feeling unwell. As you know, Father left for Oldtown not long ago. It brought her great sadness to see him go on such short notice."

"I see..." Rhaenyra frowned, nails gently scraping at the cloth covering his skin. She sighed and released his arm, keeping a hold of his wrist to stop his movements. She swallowed, biting the inside of her cheek before tilting her head up. "Promise you won't leave my side. Even after I wed and... undoubtedly have children. I've seen many women be cast aside and forgotten after they wed and provide their husbands with children. My mother was a bright and caring woman but she had few friends. Alicent is on a similar road. I... I do not want that to be me. So, promise me you'll be by my side, please."

"I promise, Nyra."

✶ ✶ ✶ ✶ ✶ ✶

(Y/N) watched from his seat as the Lannisters entered, followed by the Hightowers. He rose, sparing a glance toward the two blank-faced Targaryens as Jason Lannister approached them to offer his congratulations. Rhaenyra stared at him in mild irritation, glancing at her father in disbelief every few seconds. The Lannisters seemed to have a knack for making a fool of themselves without realizing it. An admirable talent indeed. A man breezed past House Hightower, stepping up to speak with King Viserys and Rhaenyra. Annoyance oozed off his uncle at the interruption, even more so when the drums sounded off to signal the arrival of House Velaryon. His family stepped out of the aisle and approached him, his aunt beaming at the sight of him.

"It is good to see you, Nephew." Claere cooed, cupping (Y/N)s' cheek with a tender hand and warm eyes. His uncle, Hobert Hightower, addressed him with a far from impressed look, lip nearly curling in disdain. His disobedience had landed him in rough waters with the rest of the Hightowers. Another slip-up and they'd surely view him as the disgrace of the family. Claere stroked his cheek with her thumb, bumping her arms against her husbands'. She glanced at him, brow quirking.

"Your father sends his regards," Hobert said bitterly, brushing past him to take a seat. Claere sighed softly and followed him, taking a seat beside him. Their son patted (Y/N)s' arm as he stepped by, taking his seat as well. (Y/N) sighed, lowering back down onto the chair and reaching for his cup of ale.

"Lord Corlys of House Velaryon. Lord of the Tides, Master of Driftmark. And his lady-wife, Princess Rhaenys Targaryen. And their son and heir, Ser Laenor Velaryon. The future king consort." Ser Harrold announced as the family glided into the room, heads held high and proud. They were each individually clad in black and gold in comparison to King Viserys' and Rhaenyras' white-colored attire. The guests rose from their seats, clapping their hands and watching the family bow to them. Ser Laenor stepped forward and Rhaenyra approached him, allowing him to take her hand and kiss the back of it.

"Where is your sister?" Hobert leaned over to ask quietly, sitting down once the Velaryons took their places at the table.

"Still getting dressed, I presume." (Y/N) answered, glancing toward the doors. A figure dressed in black entered the room, causing the guests to fall silent. Prince Daemon strolled up to the table, greeting his brother with a bold smirk. His brother narrowed his eyes but nevertheless motioned for a servant to bring a chair and plate for the exiled prince. King Viserys sighed softly and forced a smile, addressing the room.

"Be welcome, as we join together in celebration. Tonight is only its beginning. We honor the crown's oldest and fiercest ally, House Velaryon, reaching back to the days of Old Valyria and the Age of Dragons. With House Targaryen and Hou-" King Viserys cut himself off, staring forward at the entrance of the room, mouth nearly agape. Following his gaze, (Y/N) felt his throat tighten, watching his sister enter the room. Not only in one of their mothers' dresses, but wearing an all too familiar shade of green. Hobert and Claere quickly rose as did the rest of House Hightower and the other guests. Alicent kept her gaze forward, only turning her head to smile at her family. She took her place at the table, planting a kiss on her husband's cheek.

Clearing his throat, King Viserys nodded. "Please be seated." He commanded, glancing in the Hands' direction and fingers brushing against Rhaenyras' arm. "With House Targaryen and House Velaryon united, I hope to herald in a second Age of Dragons in Westeros." King Viserys paused to allow everyone to clap before resuming his speech. "And after tonight's small affair, seven days of tournament and feasting. At the end of it all, a royal wedding, between my daughter, the heir.. your future queen, and Ser Laenor Velaryon, the heir to Driftmark."

With that, he took his seat and Rhaenyra rose from hers. She and Ser Laenor took to the middle of the room and began their dance, arms mimicking the wings of dragons. Her eyes met (Y/N)s' a few times before she finished the dance with a bow, an invitation for those who wished to dance to join the couple. (Y/N) stood, slipping through the guests as they got into position and coming to a stop before Lady Byrch. The raven-haired woman grinned at him, striding toward him as the music picked up and the dance began.

"You've yet to return my book, Lord (Y/N)." She reminded quietly, hands resting on his shoulders when he picked her up by the waist. (Y/N) felt eyes burning into the side of his skull and he noticed the white of Rhaenyras' dress in his peripheral.

"Perhaps I hoped you'd showed up asking for it so I could... convince you of letting me keep it." (Y/N) responded cooly and she chuckled, a strand of hair slipping out of her tied when she landed back on the ground. She trailed her hand down his arm, coyly smiling before whirling around to dance with the nearest man. Looking in Rhaenyras' direction, he spotted her glaring in Lady Byrchs' direction. Repeating the dance with a new lady, Lady Byrch came into his field of vision again when it was time to change partners. She stepped toward him only for Rhaenyra to slip in between them, hands grasping at his arms and pulling him away from the woman.

"What was that?" (Y/N) questioned when Rhaenyra stopped, hands slipping from his arms to his wrists.

"What was what?" Rhaenyra asked with feigned innocent, batting her eyes and tilting her head for full effect.

"I was enjoying her company-"

"But you'd enjoy mine more." Rhaenyra interrupted with a grin, stepping closer to him. Her nails lightly grazed his skin and she stepped closer, barely allowing any space between them. In a room full of crowded people, in a room with her father and his family, Rhaenyra found herself not caring about them or their judgment. "There is still time, (Y/N), although the hours pass swiftly. I may have been granted freedom in my marriage but it will not be the same. You can be mine. You should be mine."

"But I am not yours, Princess." (Y/N) cooed, fingers brushing against her cheek. Her hands pressed against his abdomen, inhaling deeply as he gently grabbed her chin and kept her chin tilted up toward him. Only an inch or two of space between them that Rhaenyra desperately wanted to close. But before she could curse it all and claim his lips, a scream broke out, separating the two briefly before they were suddenly shoved together by the crowd. People moved in all directions, some trying to break free and others wishing to see what was happening. The two were shoved out of the way and into the sidelines, pinned against the table until Ser Harwin broke through the crowd, swiftly heaving Rhaenyra over his shoulder and grabbing (Y/N)s' arm. Ser Harwin pushed, punched, and shoved his way through once more until they reached the front.

"Brother!" Alicent quickly rounded the table, hurrying down the steps and narrowly tripping over herself. She cupped his face, inspecting it for marks, soft pants escaping her. "Are you alright? Are you hurt?" She questioned, looking him over repeatedly. (Y/N) rubbed his side and nodded, looking back toward the dispersing crowd and finally witnessing what had caused the panic and commotion. In the middle of the room lied a beaten body and a weeping Ser Laenor hovered over him.

"Perhaps it'd be best if... If we did not wait." King Viserys breathed, leaning against the table and holding a cloth to his face. Corlys and Rhaenys glanced at each other, sharing a nod before Rhaenys approached her son, reaching down to rub his back and speak quietly to him. Lord Lyonel ordered a servant to fetch the High Septon and (Y/N) took a seat, feeling a prickle of pain from his side.

"Are you certain-"

"I'm fine, Alicent. Nothing more than a bruise." He assured her, watching Rhaenys coax her son away from the deceased. Laenor continued weeping, even as he walked away from the body and stood in front of Rhaenyra. What had been meant to be a lighthearted celebration had turned into a grim day. The body of the knight was retrieved and the High Septon arrived, beginning his speech. (Y/N)s' eyes couldn't help but turn toward the puddle of blood and bits of brain coating the ground. The sound of Rhaenyra and Laenor exchanging their vows felt distant and only the sight of King Viserys falling over pulled his attention away from the gruesome sight. Those standing present to witness the exchanging of vows flocked to his side, calling his name and shouting for maesters.

Getting up from the chair, (Y/N) stepped toward them, gently pulling his sister back and away from King Viserys as guards and maesters rushed into the room. "He needs to be treated elsewhere." He whispered as the guards heaved up the fallen king, taking him away from the room. Lord Lyonel followed, continuing to shout for maesters.

"I know this is not what we envisioned for this day." Rhaenys breathed, gaze lingering on the door. "But we must continue." She turned toward her new daughter, forcing a small smile for her. Rhaenyra remained kneeling on the floor, strands of white sticking out from her braided hair. Her eyes rose, meeting (Y/N)s'.

"Come, Brother," Alicent muttered, blocking his view of Rhaenyra and taking his arm. "The Princess must be prepared for tonight and I want a maester to check on you." She looped her arm around his, staring straight forward and pulling her brother along. She grimaced as they passed the puddle of blood, carefully stepping around the chunks laying around it. (Y/N) made no move to protest, clutching his side and leaning against his sister. She brought him to her room, having a maid fetch a maester as he collapsed down on the chair.

"I love you, (Y/N). I love you dearly for I am your sister. Please, do not lie to speak. Speak plainly and only of the truth. What feelings do you truly harbor for Rhaenyra?"

"I already-"

"I saw you!" Alicents' voice raised into a shout, the sound bouncing off the walls as the door creaked open. The maester glanced between the two, clearing his throat and entering the room. (Y/N) stared at his sister, lips pressing together as an annoyed hum left his throat. The older man bowed his head, murmuring his greetings.

"My brother was injured during the feast," Alicent explained breathily and the maester nodded. He approached (Y/N) and waited for him to discard his upper clothing, leaving only his undershirt. Alicent turned away from them, nails picking at her thumb as she calmed her breathing. The maester inspected his side, gently prodding at the darkening skin.

"It appears to simply be a bruise. I suggest avoiding the training grounds and taking a day's rest. You should feel better in the coming days, but on the chance the pain worsens, call for us." The maester advised, turning toward Alicent and bowing again before he departed the room. Silence fell over the twins, only the sound of the howling wind filling the room.

"I saw you and Rhaenyra," Alicent whispered, breaking the silence and facing her brother, though her gaze remained on the stone floor. "During her wedding feast, you..." She trailed off, swallowing and dropping her hands to her side. The brunette lifted her head and met his eyes, taking a step toward him.

"I want you to stop seeing Rhaenyra. She is not good for you, nor ever will be."

"Alicent-"

"Rhaenyra may not have coupled with her uncle that night but her maidenhead was indeed taken. She pursued her Sworn Shield, Ser Criston Cole after she returned from the city. I called on him in hopes of easing my worries of that night. He believed I knew beforehand and confessed the sins he and Rhaenyra committed. Rhaenyra is not the girl I used to know therefore, I've decided it is best you refrain from being in her company." Not a hint of uncertainty coated her tone. His sister held her head high, showing her firmness in her decision. "Whatever feelings you may harbor for her are obviously not returned."

"Whether she fucked Ser Criston or not... It doesn't really concern nor bother me. I've lied with many... I'd be a hypocrite to be angered by such news. Rhaenyra has also asked me repeatedly to wed her and I believe she's asked him a total of zero times, so it appears she has some feelings for me." (Y/N) used the armrest to push himself up, collecting his discarded attire. Alicent stared at him, lips parting and closing.

"It does not matter now, Brother. She is a married woman. As we speak, she is preparing for her first night with her husband."

"A husband we both know has no interest in her."

"Are you hearing yourself?!" Alicent closed the distance between them, only stopping a foot away from him. "(Y/N), you cannot pursue Princess Rhaenyra. Her father would have your head for it, that is if Lord Corlys doesn't reach you first. Since when have you been so reckless? So selfish as to put yourself in danger and put our family in danger of scorn?"

Scoffing, (Y/N) glared at his sister. "You call me selfish when I've spent my whole life caring for you. Since we were born, every day of my life has been dedicated to watching over you, protecting you. It's been expected of me from everyone! My whole childhood revolved around you. I've tried my hardest to protect you from vile men and selfish women. I've tried to keep you from seeing the horrors of the lands we call home. Whenever you learned something a lady shouldn't know, I was blamed for not doing better. I love you, Alicent. I would lay my life down for you. But I am done with you and our family viewing me as a disappointment when all I've done is try to balance my happiness with their wishes. Mother's death allowed me to see our father in a different light. I realized I took on his duty of being a father after she passed. I was the one by your side when you felt unwell, I was the one helping you with your studies, I was the one who made sure you knew all the dances."

Feeling his eyes water with fresh tears, (Y/N) took in a deep breath. "But you are woman-grown. You are a queen and a mother. I cannot change your mind, especially when it comes to Father. So, I am done being the man he should've been. You are no longer my responsibility, Alicent."

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leona-is-free · 1 year

Text

The Path to Freedom, a HOTD fanfic

Summary: Ser Crispín and Rhaenyra run off together, pissing everyone off

Read/Review on AO3

Read Prologue here

Chapter 4

A Song of Ice and Fire

The words spun through Rhaenyra’s mind on an endless loop as she laid on with Criston, his soft snoring echoing throughout their bed chambers. She ran her fingers along his chest mindlessly, soothed by the softness of his skin.

What was the song, she wondered. Was it a battle cry? Was it a love song ? Or was it a mournful ballad decrying the end of days. So many questions left unanswered, Rhaenyra found it impossible that she was the first in a generation if Targaryen heirs to even question the meaning of it all.

What if it was all a ruse? A falsehood implanted by Aegon the Conqueror to ensure that his descendants would keep the iron throne in their name. A rational being would consider that an obvious answer.

Her father was ever the dreamer.

Viserys never questioned his visions, rather he took them as they appeared. He saw an infant son with a crown and believed in it so much he sacrificed his own wife, Rhaenyra’s mother, to achieve it. Rhaenyra knew without a doubt Viserys truly believed that a prince who was promised existed, and that prince would be a Targaryen.

Rhaenyra was not a dreamer, nor was she one who could sit idly by and wait for destiny to happen. A prophecy such as this needed answers. If no heir before her thought to investigate it, she could not ensure that the future heirs would either.

The fire of it was obvious -- it concerned a Targaryen. Fire and blood. But what of ice? What did it have to do with the ominous words of House Stark?

Rhaenyra knew that House Stark was the first place to go for an answer.

A gentle touch on her hands brought her back, her head moved with Criston’s chest as he took in a deep yawn.

“You’re brooding again, Princess.” murmured Criston.

Rhaenyra laced her fingers with his, the warmth of his body giving her the only comfort she had known since her mother was alive. In this moment, with him, she felt safe. No, it was always with him, that she felt safe and secure.

Criston made her feel the opposite of Daemon -- Daemon made her feel powerful, yes, but there was a feeling of intimidation with him. Meddling with Daemon was like an intense game of chess, where she was always spinning her head trying to outmatch him.

With Criston, she could just be herself. Good old young, brash, innocent Rhaenyra. She could be Rhae.

“You don’t have to keep addressing me as Princess, Ser Criston.”

“Apologies. Force of habit...Rhae.”

Rhaenyra looked up at him, smiling at his cheeky grin. He touched his lips to her forehead and countered, “You don’t have to address me as Ser Criston.”

“Alright, my love.” Rhaeneya smirked and they both broke into a small fit of laughter. The kind of laughter you share with one in brand new love - the type of love that was light. That promises more than what Rhaenyra has dreamed of.

A cherishing, yet fleeting, moment.

“What’s the matter?”

Besides everything, thought Rhaenyra. She rested back on his chest and said, “If you and I are to solve this prophecy, we must go to Winterfell.”

“Ah, brilliant,” said Criston, “however there is a small problem. You and I are currently fugitives.”

“Actually, you’re the fugitive.”

Criston chuckled. “Didn’t you kidnap me? It was your idea to leave.”

“It was,” Rhaenyra acquiesced. “And I’m sure this is the first place that Father will come looking, so I believe an exit plan is in order quite soon.”

Criston mused. “It’s cold in the north.”

“So I’ve heard.”

“Very cold.”

Rhaenyra grimaced. She hated the cold. She wanted nothing more to spend her days basking in the sunshine, the warmth of a summer day tanning her fair skin.

“Essos is quite warm.” Criston said.

“Hm, is it now?” Rhaeneya teased.

“You tell me, you clearly know more regarding that land than I do.”

Rhaeneya sat up, pulling the blankets to her chest to keep warm. “What do you mean?”

He raised his arms and laid his hands behind his head. “Tell me about Asshai.”

“Ah yes,” Rhaeneya teased, “The home of oranges and cinnamon.”

Criston scoffed. “It sounded better in my head, I’d hate to admit.”

“No! It was good. I just...”

Rhaenyra went back to that day on the ship. Cole eyes, full of hope and promise, as he promised her a life she had always dreamed of. Adventure, traveling, reckless abandon. She turned from him, and felt every fiber in her being begging her to say yes. She closed her eyes, she pursed her lips. She spun the gold ring in her finger, the one with the sigil of House Targaryen. The ring told her the truth - she could not abandon her duty.

Or did the ring tell her she could not abandon her chance of power? Even today, Rhaenyra didn’t know. Regardless, she betrayed herself and lied to Cole. The light in his eyes dimming and crumbling before her was the hardest thing she had ever witnessed.

Even now, she wondered if he recovered.

Cole sat up and embraced her, tracing his finger along her cheek. “Come now, we don’t have to discuss the past any longer.”

Rhaenyra’s eyes met his. “Sunspear is quite far on Dragonback, Criston. Let alone Asshai.”

“Maybe the King of the Narrow Sea can lend us a ship?”

———

Criston and Rhaenyra stood in the grand throne room, Daemon sitting idly on the throne he had stolen. The sun was out this time, slowly sinking with the wanting hours of the day. It was the only difference between this and the scene two days ago, when they had first arrived. Rhaeneya, making grand gestures and pleas, and Daemon looking boreded shitless.

Criston felt himself growing as irate as he was that first night.

“Hm, a grand idea my dear niece,” said Daemon, “but unfortunately the Stepstones are mine no longer.”

Rhaenyra and Criston both looked at him, stunned.

“What?”

“You’ve spent my entire life carrying on over the iron throne,” chastised Rhaenyra, “When you could barely hold on to a couple of islands? Would you have lost the Seven Kingdoms as well?”

Daemon’s expression turned sharp, and Criston suddenly felt their welcome being brought to an end. He jumped from the Dragonstone throne, driving Criston’s hand to the hilt of his sword.

He itched for a reason to kill the prince.

Daemon suddenly stopped, and a wary smirk adorned his face. “Why not Dorne?”

Criston stiffened.

“Pardon?” Rhaenyra asked.

Daemon shrugged. “The homeland of your dearly beloved. Why not? I’m sure the Dornish will just adore you.”

Rhaenyra shook her head as she grabbed Criston by the wrist and stormed out of the castle.

“That was on purpose.” Criston seethed.

“Ignore him,” said Rhaenyra, “He is just being a prick.”

“Happy travels!” Daemon shouted.

The sun had set when they left the castle, and Criston turned one last time to view the dusky gray sky cast over Dragonstone. He shuddered, thinking that this truly was a dreadful place. A perfect fit for a dark soul such as Daemon.

As they walked along the winding stone steps, a great shadow was cast over the two. A shrill roar filled the evening sky, and he looked up to see the flight of Rhaenyra’s dragon.

Criston was brought back to his first day at Dragonstone, when they were last on the cusp of war with Daemon. Just like on that day, Syrax gracefully landed on the bridge, claws gripped against each end. She let out a great roar, and Criston swore he felt the stones of the small bridge shake.

Syrax lowered her head as Rhaenyra approached her and spoke softly in her ancestral tongue. The princess turned to Criston and said, “She could feel our first ride was necessary....but she won’t let you mount her a second time without proper introduction.”

“Dragon etiquette,” Criston asked dryly.

Rhaenyra smirked. “You could say that. Come closer.”

Criston hesitated. “And should she decide I cannot ride a second time?”

Rhaenyra mused for a moment, still stroking Syrax’s snout. “Hm...She’ll most likely burn and eat you. Although I made sure she was fed today...perhaps just bite your head off.”

“Gods.” Criston groaned.

“Fear will make it more likely. Come, now.”

Criston approached slowly, carefully. Syrax reared back at first, bearing her teeth. Rhaenyra soothed her with Valyrian words, and she lowered her head again, neck outstretched as she examined Criston. He could feel her breath against his face, the heat made the summers in the Dornish deserts seem chilly.

Fear paralyzed him, yet he swallowed it and remain still. The terror was at odds with the awe and amazement Criston held for such a beast. He had never encountered something so majestic, fearsome. It was like meeting a god.

She sniffed him for a just a moment, but to him it felt like ages. Finally, she laid her head on the stone ground. Criston looked at Rhaenyra, unsure of what to do.

“Touch her, before she takes it as disrespect.”

Criston again forced his hesitation down before the dragon grew impatient. He placed a hand on her forehead, the smooth scales were unnaturally cool under his touch.

A great roar from behind spooked Criston, and he immediately jumped to the ground. Above them was Daemon’s red dragon flying overhead, screeching. Syrax looked up upon it an unleashed a great roar of her own. She covered Criston with a great wing, shaking her head violently.

Rhaenyra crouched and crawled under Syrax’s wing to check on Criston.

“She likes you!” Rhaeneya exclaimed. “Now we can go.”

“Can we, now?!” Criston asked in shock.

“Don’t mind Caraxys. Like my uncle, he’s mostly bark.”

Criston took several deep breaths to bring his heart out of his throat back to his chest. There were many things in Rhaenyra’s world that he did not understand. Dragon etiquette was a one of them.

———

Of course, by Dorne, the asshole prince meant Castle Blackhaven. A dark, dreary site Cole hasn’t seen since leaving the marches.

Syrax stayed along the Narrow Sea to avoid potential watchers of Kings Landing. The trip to Blackhaven would take twice the time of the flight to Dragonstone. Criston surmised that travel would be a total of two days, forcing them to make camp.

They made it to the Rainwood by sunrise. Rhaenyra released Syrax to rest and hunt, and followed Criston into the forest. It was not long before they found a cave large enough for the both of them. Criston unbuckled the borrowed white cloak and layed it across the ground, smoothing out the wrinkles. It wasn’t a queen’s chamber by any means, but it would have to do.

“Get some rest, Princess.”

Rhaenyra fought her obvious fatigue and looked at Criston with concern. “What about you? You’re still sick from the flight.”

“I’ll be fine.” Criston said in truth. He went days without sleep when fighting in the marches. A day on Dragonback was nothing to him.

Well, not nothing since he was still queasy.

Rhaenyra acquiesced, wrapping herself in the cloak and using Criston’s lap as a pillow. He looked at the entérense to the cave, ears open for any sound of movement. The stillness in the daylight, the birds singing, the rustling of the leaves in the trees, inevitability sent him drifting off to sleep. He awoke with a startle, Rhaenyra staring at him.

“Your turn,” said Rhaenyra, patting the floor. “I’ll just wake you up if I see anything.”

They switched positions and fatigue overtook Criston as he rested his head on her lap. The soft warmth of the fabric over her thighs, and the feeling of her fingers through his hair, soothed him into beautiful dreams.

———

Criston advised against camping in the Marches, and they made the decision to fly straight to Blackhaven in the daylight. By the time sundown hit, they reached the castle.

Will Cole met them at the gate with a look of confusion, concern, and reverence.

“Do my eyes deceive me,” said Will, “or has the Mother gifted me with the sight of my own son with the Princess of Dragonstone?”

Rhaenyra offered her hand. “Rhaenyra Targaryen. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Will accepted, bending the knee and kissed her hand. “Will Cole. It is an honor to meet you.”

Rhaenyra beckoned Will to rise. “You seem to have expected us?”

Will nodded. “Our guards received word of a dragon from the outer guard. We had few time to prepare, regretfully. I hadn’t received news of your plan to visit.”

“Not your fault, completely unplanned,” Rhaenyra said quickly, “You...haven’t received any word from King’s Landing with the past few days?”

“No, not since the news of your wedding,” said William, walking beside her with his hands behind him. “My most sincere congratulations Mi’Lady. Lord Dondarrion is ready to receive you in the Great Hall at your leisure.”

Criston walked close behind the two. He glanced down and noticed his fathers hands nervously wringing.

“Perfect! I shall greet him!” Rhaenyra said as she bustled away towards the great hall. Both Coles struggled to keep up with her. Criston caught up with his father. Will gave him a wary look and said in a hushed whisper, “What brings the two of you to these parts?”

“Oh! I’m sorry!” Rhaeneya stopped and turned to face the two. “My sworn shield missed his family. He requested a brief leave, and I was more than happy to oblige.”

“She has good ears.” Criston tried to joke to his petrified father.

“Yes..quite. Forgive my rudeness-“

Rhaenyra waved her hand. “Not at all. Please, feel free to be comfortable around me.”

“Yes Mi’Lady. So it’s...the two of you?”

Rhaenyra’s mind raced, thinking of a reason. That’s when it hit her. The heir to the Iron Throne doesn’t need a reason to do anything.

“Yes,” said Rhaenyra, “Just us. Ser Cole is my sworn shield. Where I go, he goes. And where he goes, I go. I trust no one else in King’s Landing with my protection.”

William looked at his son in awe. “My boy.”

“We need more Stormlanders in King’s Landing, for certain!” Rhaeneya beamed as she returned her fast walking.

As the entered the great hall, Will took his spot beside Lord Dondarrion. The nobleman was seated with his wife, a young haughty blonde. She eyed Rhaenyra up and down with...contempt? Rhaenyra wasn’t sure, however she was amused at the young lady’s tenacity to insult her future queen.

“Princess Rhaenyra,” said Lord Dondarrion, “I hope you enjoyed the moat outside that could have been yours.”

Rhaeneya curtsied. “Yes it’s a lovely...moat.”

Cole stifled a laugh. Will, standing with the safety of the lords back, shook his head.

“This visit is quite a surprise. I hadn’t heard from the king since news of your wedding.”

“We didn’t even get an invite.” The lord’s wife sneered.

Will’s face turned a ghostly white.

“I...apologies,” Rhaenyra responded, stunned. “I...truly had no clue.”

“Quite alright,” said Lord Dondarrion, “So when is it?”

“It was...three days ago, milord,” quipped William.

“Well, what are you doing here with your guide, and where is Ser Laenor? Your husband.”

“I...you haven’t heard?”

She was thankfully correct in her theory news doesn’t travel as fast to the Stormlands. This was surely a gift. Rhaeneya threw a hand over her forehead and she swooned.

“He left me at the altar!” Rhaenyra cried. “I fled in my devestation!”

Both William and Criston’s mouths dropped.

“Ser Criston has been by my side since finding me. He has protected me for years. I trust him more than those in my own family. The most trustworthy men are from the Marches.”

“Thank you, Princess,” said the lady, “That is quite an honor to hear. If only we heard such glowing compliments from your father, the King.”

Will rubbed his temples.

Lord Dondarrion gave Criston a nod. “You have done your house well, my boy.”

“When I become queen,” said Rhaenyra, “I promise that Blackhaven and King’s Landing will be the closest of allies.”

“Yes. My lady I would gladly offer your my hand in place, were I not already wedded to my beautiful wife.”

“Of course. Congratulations on your wedding my lord.”

“Although my sons are coming of age soon, and a merger of the two houses should do both us well!”

The hall was stone silent.

“I’m sorry my lord,” said Rhaenyra, recovering herself, “It’s...much too soon. The heartbreak has not left me quite yet.”

“Of course, of course. I shall have a bed chamber made for you. And a cot outside the door for your shield.”

Rhaenyra curtsied again. “Thank you. All I ask is...if you hear word from my father, please do not tell him. I am...too full of sorrow to speak of it yet.”

“Of course. My lady.”

Will lead the two out of the great hall, towards the guest chambers. He said nothing but shook his head furiously at whatever he was thinking.

“Your brothers are here, with the children,” said Will to Criston. “Your mother will be pleased to see you as well!”

“Everyone’s here?” Cole said with surprise.

“Yes, what are the chances. And you brought the future queen? An amazing lad, you are. Here are your chambers, Mi’Lady! I hope you have a good as rest as in the Red Keep.”

Rhaenyra smiled. “I’m sure I will. Thank you so much, Mister Cole.”

———

Criston felt the daggers of his fathers stare from the moment they entered Blackhaven. He knew as soon as Rhaenyra closed the door, he would be assaulted with a thousand questions.

And of course, as soon as the wooden door softly shut, his father pulled him away out of the reach of her ears.

“What happened?” Will whispered.

“N-nothing!” Criston lied.

“The princess had six other kingdoms to choose from for respite, and she chose Blackhaven. Why.”

“I.....” Criston didn’t know what to say except the first thing in his mind. He shrugged and said, “I did suggest Essos.”

Will looked stunned. Then burst into a chuckle shaking his head.

“I heard stories of the heir’s...eccentricities. But this....”

“She does what she wants.” Criston shrugged.

“All that Targaryen incest,” said Will, “surely has left them all mad.”

“She’s the one who named me to the Kingsguard,” said Criston sternly, “out of all the noble houses present. She named me. I owe all of this to her.”

The good and the difficult. Criston kept to himself.

“She is quite friendly,” said Will, “The noblemen scoff at the idea of her ruling the Seven Kingdoms. But if she continues journeys such as these...perhaps the princess will get more support than even she realizes.”

Criston placed a hand on his father’s shoulder, and pulled him to an embrace.

———

It was difficult, returning to this.

Criston standing outside. Rhaenyra sitting here, alone. In the younger years she thought of ways to invite him in. He never agreed until the night she stole his helmet.

She no longer wanted this divide anymore. Princess and knight. Lady and steward. She wanted Criston where he truly belonged, which was at her side.

A knock on the door broke her thoughts. She opened it to greet Criston.

“Mi’lady, I request a brief leave. I wish to see my family for dinner.”

Rhaenyra nodded. “Of course.”

“I trust you’re safe in your chambers provided you don’t sneak out but...” he slips her his own dagger. “Stay safe.”

“Ser Criston.” Rhaenyra stopped him. “May I come?”

The chambers of House Cole was settled in east tower of Castle Blackhaven. While small, the warmth inside the home was a vast contrast to the dark coldness of Blackhaven.

The feast, however simple, was still lively and extravagant. She met Criston’s brothers, Simon and Peter and sister Sarah. Criston’s brothers were both married with young children, while Sarah seemed to be unmarried.

Rhaenyra found Will, while serious in the castle was quite warm and friendly for a nobleman. The mother, Corinne, busied herself in the kitchen. She was clearly stressed over the unexpected guest.

Everyone in the house was so...welcoming. A very strange thing for the princess, who was used to less friendly dinners.

Steadfast and true, indeed.

“Mother,” said Sarah, “Please sit down!”

“In a moment!” Corinne rushed to the table, bowing a head to Rhaenyra. “I’m so sorry Mi’Lady, I hadn’t time to ask the Lady of Blackhaven for the finer dishes.”

“It’s quite - may I help you?” Rhaenyra asked.

“Oh, no!” Corinne pulled a chair for Rhaenyra. “Please sit.”

“Forgive me if the food isn’t to taste.” Said Corinne, passing out plates filled with meats and cooked vegetables.

“No, it’s amazing!” Rhaenyra said with truth. She found herself eating more than she usually had at the Red Keep.

“Mother, give her a moment,” said Sarah, “I’m sure the princess is still distressed over what occurred.”

“I know,” said Corinne as she took a seat across from Rhaenyra. “I cannot believe anyone would leave such a beautiful woman at the altar. And the Princess of Dragonstone!”

“Yes it’s quite--“

“My brother and his men most likely scared him away.” Simon quipped.

Peter sneered. “Or maybe Ser Laenor fancied them.”

“Peter!” Corinne scolded, then turned to her husband. “Will, say something!”

“Come off it, Corinne,” said Will, “The whole seven realms know that boy is a fruit!”

The table roared in laughter, even Rhaenyra couldn’t help herself. Corinne pursed her lips in absolute fury.

Will chuckled at his flustered wife.

“What? We arent that far from the Stepstones. Of all the men to wed to the princess. She be better off with one of those celibate kingsguards, eh my boy?”

“Mmm, indeed.” Criston murmured as he drank his mead.

“God, Will, she’s sitting right here!” Corinne chastised. “We’re having a very nice dinner and I will not have it spoiled with your--“

“I’m in love with your son.”

Cole spit out his beer. All eyes were quickly cast on Rhaenyra. Sarah jumped out of her seat and ran to through to the door. She opened it, looked both ways and closed it again. “I see nobody.”

Everyone drew closer in their chairs, focused on Rhaenyra. She bit her lip and played with the rings on her fingers.

“Ser Laenor didn’t leave me at the altar. I left him,” said Rhaenyra. “I made...a quite mess of things...but I would want nothing more than your blessing to let us be married.”

Criston’s parents looked at each other. Speechless. Slack-jawed.

“Our blessing?”

Rhaenyra blinked. “Well, yes, I need a blessing right?”

“She is adorable...” whispered one brother’s wife to another.

Will stood up, stammering. “Words cannot express the...honor your words being us, Princess.”

His brothers looked at Criston, aghast.

“I knew it!” Peter shouted.

“You knew nothing!” Criston snapped back.

“Are you joking, you don’t just don’t show up with a woman--“

“God, Peter,” his wife, Rose, bemoaned.

“She’s not just a woman she’s the princess!” Sarah exclaimed, throwing a napkin at Peter. “You disrespectful cunt!”

“Cris, you fucking dog!” Simon exclaimed. “I knew you had it in you! Stealing the Realm’s Delight from those noble fucks!”

“Simon!”

“This man,” Simon told Rhaenyra as he grabbed Criston by the collar. “The Folly of the Maidens they called him! Many hearts of the Marches are broken tonight!”

“Did you not take a vow of celibacy?” Peter quipped.

The whole table, again, fell silent.

“My god, Peter...” Rose sighed, shaking her head.

“I’m just asking, I don’t personally care-“

“Shut up, Peter!”

“House Targaryen is going to flatten us,” Simon’s wife, Lily, warned. Lily then jumped at the realization of Rhaenyra sitting next to her. “I mean---I’m so sorry...”

“It’s not House Targaryen,” said Peter, “it’s the rest of them - - oof, I bet the Baratheons are just livid!”

“Enough!” Corinne exclaimed.

“What can I do?” Will asked Rhaenyra, purposely avoiding the spectacle before them.

“Give me guidance,” said Rhaenyra, “how...dangerous is this situation?”

Will paused for a moment. “Does your father know where you are?”

“No, he doesn’t. Your family is safe.”

“Well,” said Will as he scratched his beard, “I wasn’t thinking of that initially, although that may be something to address. I was just thinking...I’m sure he is worried.”

Rhaenyra smiled, touched by his concern.

“Father,” said Peter, “I do wish you would consider our safety before the king’s personal feelings.”

“He’s probably feeling like putting House Cole’s heads on a pike.” Simon added.

“I’ll put your heads on a pike if you keep disrespecting yourselves in front of the princess!” William snapped.

“No, please, you all don’t have to treat me like a princess right now!” Rhaenyra put her head in her hands. “I’m just...a girl. Honestly.”

Sarah placed a hand on her back. “I can’t imagine...the pressure that you have been placed under.”

Pressure.

Rhaeneya had never felt pressured in her duties as royalty. She felt the emptiness of isolation, she felt the headache of annoyance. But until tonight, the heavy weight of her title sat in her chest. She took a deep breath trying to shake it, but every time she tried it grew stronger. It was suffocating. For the first time, Rhaeneya felt like she was going to collapse from the weight, the exhaustion, the fear of the consequences of what she had done.

This was the first time she had seen her actions affect someone outside of herself. Criston, his parents, brothers, nephews and nieces could all be killed. All because of her selfish desires. Rhaenyra wondered, is this how it will be as queen? People she had never met, living in lands she never stepped foot on, their lives counted on the decisions she could make.

Rhaenyra stood up, and announced her first real decision as the heir to the iron throne.

“We won’t run.” Rhaenyra said. “I will fix this. I won’t let anything happen to your house. It’s the least I can do for...such amazing food. And warmth I haven’t felt since my mother was alive.”

Corinne also stood. “Princess...I hope it doesn’t offend my lady if I could ask for an embrace?”

Rhaenyra looked at her, stunned. Before Corrine sat back down in embarrassment, Rhaeneya nearly ran to the other side of the table and ran into her arms. Corrine pulled her I to a tight hug, stroking her hair as Rhaenyra rested her head against her chest.

She didn’t even realize how much she had missed a mothers warmth.

———

Criston and Rhaenyra were met with the chill of the night air as they left the tower. Criston could feel her desire to wrap his arms around hers, but they both kept their distance. Still, Rhaenyra stayed close enough to lean her shoulder against his.

“I forgot to ask, Ser Criston,” said Rhaenyra, “What feast your family was celebrating.”

“Oh, no that’s a regular night for us.” Cole said. “Obscenities and all.”

Rhaenyra stoped. “Every night?”

Criston looked back at the tower “When I was younger, yes. But...tonight was special. It had been years since we were all together.

Rhaeneya stared at the tower as well, silent for a moment. Finally, she asked, “You don’t.....you don’t have conflict?”

Criston laughed. “Oh of course! Especially with my brother Simon. We always fought over each others girls. Next time you will have to ask him about Jenny Big T--“

He stopped himself, cleared his throat and murmured an “Excuse me.”

Rhaeneya looked at him, an eyebrow raised. “Big what?”

Criston motioned his hands as he answers nervously. “You...know”

Rhaenyra crossed her arms. “I do know, I want to hear you say it.”

He bit his lip and Rhaeneya burst into a laugh. “Criston! You can’t say the words tits in front of me?”

Criston looked down. “It feels vulgar in your presence Princess--“

“Tits, Criston! I command you to say “tits” right now!”

Criston shook his head, stifling a laugh. He just could not. Thankfully, a booming voice shouted from behind them and inturrupted their awkward moment.

“Cole!”

A tall, burly man dressed in armor jogged towards the two. The booming voice and large beard told Criston exactly who it was.

Criston eyes lit up. “Ser Arlan!”

Arlan Dondarrion looked Criston up and down, shaking his head. A wide grin was cast across his face. “Look at you...fucking, just look at you! A kingsguard!

“I....”

“And my sworn shield,” quipped Rhaenyra.

“Ah! Forgive my rudeness, Princess,” Arlan said as he bowed to her. “Ser Arlan Dondarrion.”

“I’ve heard so many great things about you, Ser Arlan.”

“As have my, Princess. The Realm’s Delight is such a beauty in the flesh!” Arlan turned to Criston and placed a hand on his shoulder. “You’ve done your father proud.”

Criston grinned sheepishly. “Thank you, Ser.”

“So when’s the wedding?”

Both their eyes widened.

Arlan shook his head and chuckled. “Forgive my eavesdropping. I was outside the door, waiting for your beautiful sister - I mean, keeping watch of your family, in your leave.”

“Fucking dog!” Cole slapped his shoulder laughing.

“I can’t help myself, one day she will say yes!”

“I’ll raze your before that.”

“Raze nothing!” Arlan swung an arm over Criston’s shoulder. “Come, have a pint with me! we’ll see the princess to her quarters.”

Arlan glanced at Rhaenyra. “Or will the lady join us for a pint?”

Rhaeneya smirked. “If I’m not intruding.”

“Oh no, it’s an honor!”

Before Criston could object, the two took him on either arm and led him to the soldier’s quarters. The room was already in festive revelry. They were immediate warmed upon entering, and Criston hugged and drank with friends he hadn’t seen in years. He kept close to Rhaenyra, who was an especially popular figure with them.

She sat up on the table, conversing with the crowed of awe-eyed solders. To his surprise, she drank the mead quite smoothly - he figured that royalty was unable to imbibe in anytime other than wine.

How easily she socialized with folk considered lesser than her, was a stunning sight for everyone in the room.

“Tell us Princess,” asked one soldier, “What songs do they sing in King’s landing.

Rhaenyra paused. “Do you know The Bear and Maiden Fair?”

“Do we!” The men exclaimed as they burst into song to Rhaenyra’s amusement.

Arlan pulled Criston away, close enough to keep her in sight while out of earshot. Arlan took a swig of his beer and shook his head.

“Look at you. Bagging a Targaryen! No man in Blackhaven could imagine even seeing one!” Arlan smacked his shoulder. “And here you are with a 10 foot pole up your arse!”

“Ser Arlan,” said Cole, “I worry for the fallout should Lord Dondarrion discover --- “

Arlan shook his head, laughing. “Don’t worry about that. My brother, for now, is more concerned with his new child bride. He has no plans on your house, but when he hears the news,” Arlan placed his hands in his shoulders. “House Cole is protected.”

Cole let out a sigh. “Thank you.”

“This will be good for the Stormlands. Good for the realm. Relax for once!”

“Ser Arlan,” Criston sat his mug on the nearby table. He began to unbuckle his cloak, “This is for you. As a thank you, for bringing me up to where I am today.”

Arlan looked stunned as Criston dropped the fabric in his hands. “Are you mad?”

“I broke my oath, my vow to the Father,” Criston said as he looked down “Out of love and devotion, but regardless. I still soiled my white cloak. I shouldn’t be wearing it.”

Arlan looked like he wanted to kill him. “For God’s sake, lad. You really intend on flagellating yourself before those fatheads in King’s Landing? Come here.”

Arlan turned Criston around, redressing the cloak to his shoulders. Criston felt his shoulders lighter as pride filled him. To be cloaked by the man who made Ser Criston a knight. He never felt more honored.

“You’re a good man. An honorable man. There will be songs about you long after we’re dead.” Arlan said proudly.

“Thank you, Ser.”

“And quit saying you soiled your cloak in front of the Princess!” Arlan snapped. “Insulting her is a greater dishonor than breaking any vow.”

“Thank you!” shouted Rhaenyra, who glared at Criston.

Arlan raised a brow. “Eh? Good ears, that one.”

Criston chuckled. “Truly.”

“And look at her! Gods, Cole. The only one who will ruin this for you is yourself.”

Rhaenyra approached the two, stumbling in her drunkenness. Criston sped towards her, placing a hands on her shoulders.

“Was he always this serious?” Rhaenyra chuckled.

“As the day is long!” Arlan exclaimed as he patted Criston on the back. “Ser Criston is a good man.”

“I should see the Princess to her chambers,” said Criston as she leaned against his chest, giggling. His foot slipped from under him as he took his first step.

Arlan caught him and began to laugh. “I shall see you both to your chambers.”

———

Rhaenyra awoke to the sound of a raven cawing.

Even without the headache, the sound of a raven’s screech was enough to make her ears bleed. But especially after a night of Stormlands brew, it especially threatened to undo her sanity.

Raenyra groaned, shuffling towards the window. She untied the message from the bird’s claw and unraveled the paper. She first noticed the seal fused onto the parchment - The Prince of Dragonstone.

Rhaenyra ignored that it was her own seal on that paper. But since she allowed Daemon to stay, she could not fault him too much.

“My Dearest Niece,

It behooves you to come visit Lord Velaryon at Driftmark. We have mended all tensions. I have assembled a ship to Essos for you. It’s not full of oranges, but you will surely get your fill in your new life.

Lord Corlys and Princess Rhaenys have assured your safe passage, as well as for Ser Crispin.”

“Gods,” said Rhaenyra. The man truly cannot help himself. She continued to read:

“I will be there to greet you. I plan to propose to Lady Laena, and wish for nothing more than to have my niece at my side.

All my love,

Your Dear Uncle”

A knock on the door filled the silence of the room. The door creaked open as Criston entered. His face was sunken, eyes still tired from last nights revelry.

“Come lay down,” Rhaeneya said as she approached him, guiding him to the mattress. “You need rest before we make our leave.”

His eyes drifted opened and closed as Rhaenyra unbuckled his armor. When all but his gambeson remained, he slipped under the covers as Rhaenyra pulled the blankets over him.

“To Essos?” Criston yawned sleepily.

“Driftmark.”

Criston’s eyes shot back open. He said nothing, he needn’t too with the look on his face. Rhaeneya sat by the edge of the bed, stroking his face.

“Let me protect you this time.” said Rhaenyra.

Criston looked at her. “Rhae.”

“Yes?”

He hooked the collar of her dress and gently guided her to him. “I’m sorry,” he kissed her.

“For what, now?” Rhaeneya kissed him again.

“For...my words.” Criston kissed her again. “On the ship. Back then.”

Ah yes. The soiled white cloak.

“Being able to love you is the greatest honor I could ask for.” Criston said.

“To love you is my greatest honor as well.” Rhaeneya kissed him again.

———

Daemon stood before the Driftwood Throne, spinning the tip of his boot into the ground. He was really getting bored of Lord Corlys’ deluge of perceived disrespect. Daemon knew that to return Corlys to his side would require a bit of self flagellation. But Daemon’s patience wore thin as the Sea Snake continued to complain about his neice, his brother, the entire family.

After all, Daemon himself could only tolerate so much disrespect. He took Corlys’ pause of words as an open to strike.

“I remember when my brother was chosen,” Daemon said, “Princess Rhaenys was quite upset, weren’t you, Dear Cousin?”

Rhaenys, who hadn’t said a word yet, simply shrugged. “Time heals some wounds.”

“Not ones this deep,” said Daemon, “Dear Rhaenyra is a lot like you are.”

“A lot like I was.” Rhaenys corrected, “She’ll change...when her father captures them. When he kills her lover. The light she holds in her eyes will die. Just like mine.”

“Do you really want that?”

Corlys and Rhaenys did not answer.

“I’ll be more specific,” said Daemon, “Do you think a Hightower should sit on the Iron Throne?”

The two glanced at each other. Corlys kept his lips right, the furrow in his brow telling the answer.

“I didn’t think so,” Daemon said with a smirk as he began to pace the court. “A crown to Aegon is a crown to that snake Otto Hightower.”

“Otto Hightower has been removed from the court for quite some time.” Corlys countered.

“He will be back the moment my brothers heart stops beating, you know that,” said Daemon, “Rhaenyra, despite her affinity for impulse, carries deep respect for our heritage and both our houses.”

Daemon stopped his pacing and stood in front of them. “As queen, I imagine she would rely on both of you as very close advisors.”

Corlys remained stern. “It means nothing if our houses are not united.”

Daemon raised his hands in the air. “Then we unite them!”

“We tried. Twice.”

Daemon left a palm outstretched towards Corlys. “I am here to request Lady Laena’s hand in marraige. All our heirs will carry the name Valeryon. And their heirs.”

“Go on.” Rhaenys said.

“I also propose that any house that wishes to join our children in marraige must give up their name. Whether they are man or woman does not matter. And your line continues.”

Corlys looked at Rhaenys, who placed her hand over his. Rhaenys stayed silent for a moment , deep in thought. Finally, she said, “You’re wrong, Daemon. I do not want to see the light in her eyes fade.”

Corlys gave a nod, looking back at Daemon. “I accept your proposal. And, I will help you.”

“Oh, not me,” said Daemon as he wore a impish grin. “Our future queen.”

Next Chapter

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