Chapter Text
Fire and Blood.
It was ironic that her family’s words were what was scaring Rhaenyra so.
Everywhere she looked. King’s Landing. Dragonstone. Driftmark. Claw Isle. All aflame. The castles and ancient keeps crumbling to dust. Banners burning. Dragons flying over and then falling as arrows and lances struck them down.
Rhaenyra thought she saw temples, enormous beings standing above, too big and too bright, but before she could truly discern any details, everything was blurred, and everything changed.
The past. Aemma Arryn dying in agony. The childbed is our battlefield.
The present. Being named heir. Alicent marrying her father. Having his children.
The future. Being usurped. Losing her children. Losing everything.
It all started with Fire and ended with Fire.
Blood was born and slain.
And then nothing.
Lilac eyes snapped open and then closed again.
~*~
"Does it bother you?”
“Of course, it does. But I understand the order of things.”
“I'm not sure you do.”
“If you mean to elicit some anger from me, you should know that you're failing, Princess.”
“Quite the opposite. Whether it's to my daughter or to someone else's, your father will remarry sooner than late. His new wife will produce new heirs, and chances are better than not that one of those will be male. And when that boy comes of age and your father has passed, the men of the realm will expect him to be heir, not you. Because that is the order of things.”
Rhaenyra was silent but for a few moments, she made no attempt to hide the sleepless nights that led to this encounter. “Walk with me, please?” the unusual politeness was an afterthought if genuine in that moment.
Raising an eyebrow, Rhaenys nodded her assent and was a bit surprised in being led to the Princess’ chambers.
Rhaenys was not sure what she expected to find but the rooms hardly contained objects that denoted the younger Princess’ youth. There were no dolls, no pastel colors, it was… almost impersonal if not for the big and very expensive jewelry at her dressing table.
Rhaenyra closed the door before her sworn shield, Criston Cole if Rhaenys was not mistaken, could properly arrive. Yet Ser Harrold Westerling and Ser Erryk Cargyll stood vigil inside.
Seating herself in one of her couches, Rhaenyra did not do much more than motioning with her hand to offer Rhaenys a seat. “My father is a weak King.”
It was said before Rhaenys could even adjust her skirts and, was she anyone else, would be enough for her to lose her seat and end up on the floor. “I beg your pardon?” she was painfully aware of the two Kingsguards with them.
Rhaenyra raised an eyebrow. “They have my trust… we can speak plainly. And… if not a weak King, then a foolish one.”
“Princess, we…” Rhaenys was not even sure how to begin.
“I’m not quite sure about my father’s actions before the Great Council of 101, so I cannot speak of such. Do not take this as flattery because I never had much patience for it and right now I have very little energy to do so. But if only to appease the Velaryons, my father should have named you Hand.” And Rhaenyra waited.
Rhaenys was still at a loss for the way the other Princess seemed to be rapidly changing the subject, but had enough wits about herself to snort, quite un-lady-like. “Oh? Why do you say that?”
But Rhaenyra didn’t spend all those years as her father’s cupbearer learning how to serve men their wine. Keep them guessing. “How much do you believe in our family’s magic, Princess?”
Rhaenys by that point was getting used to the mercurial twists in topic and did no more than blink. “In what way? The connection to dragons? The dreams? Something more obscure probably lost to the Doom?”
“All of it… none of it. What exactly is it in our blood has that allows us to bond with dragons? Why do we have Dreams warning us of horrible futures?”
The older woman returns her gaze. Mauve clashed with lilac.
Rhaenys had to hand to it to the other princess. She was certainly keeping her on her toes. She couldn’t even dismiss Rhaenyra for fickleness for every answer requested was patiently waited for, interest and focus on everything Rhaenys had to say.
It was a disservice to the other princess to say that Rhaenys was humoring her, by that point curiosity was eating away at her. “Magic is, maybe, too shallow an answer. But it is the best I have to give. As I mentioned, too much was lost to the Doom. The practices of anything deeper than merely speaking Valyrian so the dragons bond with us is out of our reach.” The sadness she expressed was small but present.
“I never questioned it. Whatever is it that allowed us to bond with dragons. The mightiest beasts to ever grace the land or sky. I just accepted it as our due.” Rhaenyra looked as if she regretted her own lack of interest.
And now Rhaenys’ own was consuming her. “Forgive me, Princess. But I fail to see the connection of it all.”
Rhaenyra was always hard to read. Rhaenys was happy when she realized such years ago. It was easy to predict Daemon’s tiring rage and Viserys’ frustrating need to please, but Rhaenyra often held her own thoughts to herself. Snarky and wild she may be, but Rhaenys could admire a very much needed and often ignored skill.
Rhaenyra smirked without any feeling behind it. “I can almost hear the sneer in my Uncle’s voice… dragons may have made us kings…” she repeated his words… words he had yet to speak, “but it was dreams that saved us.” Her lilac eyes steeled.
“If not for Daenys, Aegon and his sisters would not have been alive to conquer Westeros.” Rhaenys agreed.
“Your words were not needed to tell me what is to come… although I am grateful.” Rhaenyra would have been considered rude by many, but Rhaenys was well used to it. Bluntness ran thick in their family. “Honesty from a noble is not something I am used to. Aside from my own Uncle that is, although being honest is, often, not his intention when choosing his words.”
“I imagine not.” Rhaenys almost laughed at the thought and did not comment about the rest of it. There was no need it seems.
The look in Rhaenyra’s eyes, however, stayed her. “But Dreams were needed to open my eyes. I know you expected to see a spoiled Princess who gave no more thought to what she will face once her father produces male heirs than to what she will wear for the next banquet, and you’d be right.”
“You claim to have Dragon Dreams?” Rhaenys was not skeptical so much as confused. Why tell her this?
But Rhaenyra merely waved the matter away. “That is hardly the matter at hand.”
“Is it not?” Rhaenys couldn’t hide the way her words were bland if she cared to try.
“As I said… my father should have made you Hand.” Rhaenyra squared her shoulders.
Rhaenys blinked once again at the change in subject and almost laughed at the tight curves Rhaenyra was sending her onto. Something was telling her it was being done on purpose. “There is no precedent for a woman as Hand.”
“Just like there was no precedent for a ruling Queen?” Rhaenyra challenged. “Clearly gender was not my father’s issue with it.”
And Rhaenys finally sneered for the first time in the conversation. “He is faithful to Otto Hightower.”
“More than to his own flesh and blood.” Rhaenyra agreed and then hesitated but for a breath. “Laena will not be chosen.”
Rhaenys’ eyes narrowed. “How can you be so certain?”
“Because my father learns all the wrong lessons from his mistakes. My mother married him when she was one and ten. Too young and, he believes, as… common sense dictates, that her age was the factor that led to so many stillbirths and miscarriages. As result…” She trailed off.
“As result, he will see Leana, three and ten, and think her too young.” Rhaenys completed with disgust.
Rhaenyra plucked a few grapes from the table beside her before offering the basin to her cousin who rolled her eyes but accepted them with thanks. “Disregarding the fact that the match would help sooth the tensions created by the decision of the Council of 101 and his indifference towards the situation in the Stepstones, dismissing Lord Corlys’ concerns and that the betrothal could be a long one.”
“Disregarding also that Laena is of Valyrian blood, her heritage is pristine, she is the only daughter of the wealthiest House in Westeros, and the rider of the biggest dragon of the realm.” Rhaenys almost snarled.
Rhaenyra raised an eyebrow. “I offer my congratulations. I was not aware Laena had already claimed Vhagar. She often spoke of her desire to do so.”
Rhaenys huffed, still annoyed but slightly mollified at the genuine respect and awe in Rhaenyra’s voice. “Thank you, Princess. She would speak of nothing else for moons now.”
“I can imagine. Still, I’m afraid the insult does not stop at the lack of righting wrongs and Lady Laena’s impeccable bloodline.” She forewarned.
Rhaenys sighed and absently ran her fingers through some of the loose hair at her neck. The rest of it elegantly pulled away from her face as always. “What more can there be?”
“If you must know… Lord Otto sent his daughter, Lady Alicent to the King’s chambers night after night for the last three moons, ostensibly to… comfort him after the death of the Queen.” Rhaenyra’s voice was even and calm and that did nothing to stop the rage that filled Rhaenys’ eyes and heart.
“Hightowers.” Rhaenys almost snarled, “How is it possible that the more years pass the more often I hear that accursed name?”
Rhaenyra huffed a small laugh. “I want to blame my father, and while he certainly carries quite a bit of it, the truth of it… is that… things have become… strange long before my father was crowned King.”
“A second son of a minor House became Hand of the King.” Rhaenys commented. The event has long since caused her concern, anger, suspicion, despair and disgust for there to be much more energy left.
Knowing there was no need to answer, Rhaenyra merely hummed. “I don’t know if I believe there was foul play or not. It wouldn’t surprise me either way.”
Rhaenys took a couple of deep breaths. “Viserys would truly choose the daughter of a second son from a minor House over Laena?”
The words were absurd, no one in their right mind would even dare to voice them and yet, “He did choose a second son from a minor House to be his Hand instead of his own brother or, failing that, his cousin, who is the wife of his Lord of Ships and the Lady of the wealthiest House in the realm.”
It was not completely fair. Rhaenyra reflected. To use her foreknowledge like that. In other circumstances, the context would not be at the forefront of her mind, she would be much more occupied with the betrayal from her lady in waiting, from her father who chose to re-marry mere five moon turns after the death of her mother to truly appreciate how well-planned Alicent’s placement was.
Rhaenys closed her eyes and Rhaenyra did not know her well enough to know whether it was from anger or from trying to contain anger or from something else altogether. When Rhaenys finally opened them, it was to stare at one of the tapestries hanging in the far wall. Depicting the Targaryen sigil, the three headed dragon spewing flames.
“How far our House has fallen.” She whispered.
Rhaenyra almost leaned forward before remembering herself. “With that, House Velaryon will be slighted thrice in less than two years. House Arryn lags behind with only two. My father, apparently, wants to spurn the alliances my grandparents and great-grandparents established over his preference for the Hightowers.”
Rhaenys pursed her lips but gave no more reaction than that. “Are you trying to provoke my anger?”
Rhaenyra almost smiled at her own sentiment being thrown back. “Forgive me, merely complaining to myself. And thus, the reason I called you here.”
This made Rhaenys snap her attention back. “To complain about your father?” she meant to sound disdainful, but there was much more disbelief instead.
That almost made Rhaenyra smile. If only. “To ask for your help… the Arryns and the Velaryons have their seats and kins to fall back to. In case of my disinheritance, I thought to ask for Dragonstone, but that hardly means that, someday, Otto’s grandchildren won’t want the Targaryen’s ancestral home for themselves. And so… I ask for your help in protecting myself.”
Rhaenys’ eyes widened in shock before gentling. She was well aware of how fortunate she was to have found and married Corlys. Ambitious as he was, Rhaenys could convince the man to calm himself, if only long enough to listen to her. A love match she found for herself that was also politically and financially advantageous. It was almost a miracle that a combination like that existed. Far from perfect, and yet a miracle nonetheless.
There was no such a match for Rhaenyra. Rhaenys would have suggested Leanor. Heir to the throne or not, a Targaryen princess was all Corlys himself would never turn away. After all, he married one. But Rhaenys would be insulting Rhaenyra’s intelligence if she pretended no one knew about her son’s preferences. It would provide support and protection for Rhaenyra, it’s true, but as a plan in case she was disinherited it was a poor one. Especially since Leanor was expected to sire his own heirs and the fault would lay with Rhaenyra for failing in the task, as unfair as it was.
The next best thing would be either the Arryns, Starks, Celtigars or Baratheons in no particular order. But the Starks, Celtigars and the Baratheons’ lords did not have members without their own issue already and being a second spouse was a precarious position to be in if those Lords did not share Viserys’ desire to please. The Arryns had their own internal struggle with so many Ladies leading the Houses of the Vale.
Asking for a fat inheritance and dowry instead as Rhaenyra was proposing was the most practical course of action but it came with its own set of problems. Namely to be greedy enough to protect herself and her own interests but not enough to be denied.
“You need to control your own hand in marriage. Aside from gold and dragons, alliances through marriage are one of crown’s most powerful weapons and can be used against you.” Rhaenys started and was mildly amused as Rhaenyra immediately wrote it down.
“Can I even ask for such? Daemon, a man, could not control who he married because Queen Alysanne ordered it.”
“The bargaining chip was not a place of succession, Princess. You have leverage Prince Daemon was unwilling to part with or did not think of and advantages he also did not possess, like the fact that you have kin in the Vale, the same kingdom that is being slighted.” Rhaenys explained. “However, it is true it would be a harder part to argue for, but one of the most important.”
“Very well. Dragonstone then?”
“Easier in short term, not so much long term. You are right that your father very probably would concede to give you our ancestral home, but in the future, once he is gone, a future son can argue for its return. Make sure to write it in a way that no one can take it away from you, I shall help with the exact wording.”
“How do I stop them from taking it by force though?”
“Dragonstone is not without its own personal army, something the Red Keep cannot boast of. The Kingsguards are, for the most part, members of other Houses sworn to protect the King in specific but one hardly can ignore the pull of loyalty to blood first. The City Watch became what it is today thanks to Daemon, however. Maegor saw the need for a law enforcement in the streets but, like many Targaryens before him, relied on dragons more often than not. Daemon organized them, properly equipped them and trained them which makes them much more loyal to a single individual than to the crown as a whole. They will not march if Daemon supports you.”
Rhaenyra refrained from biting her lips and from insulting Rhaenys’ intelligence. Daemon wouldn’t give the order against her, not even if her father ordered or asked him. And she already knew the great disgust he will have for any future son with Hightower blood. But the fact that Rhaenys so naturally counted on his support for her made her anxious.
“Enlist more men then.”
Rhaenys gained a thoughtful look then. “Maybe there is one other pillar for the basis of your… consolation prize. The dragons.”
“I have given… maybe half a thought for them. Controlling access to the eggs and dragons on Dragonstone may be slightly easier if I request total control over the island’s… inhabitants or possessions from the beginning, this way the only dragon that I will be unable to do much about would be Dreamfyre and whatever eggs she lays.”
“That is very… cunning of you, Princess.” Rhaenys was impressed.
Rhaenyra smiled. “Thank you.”
The older woman hummed. “The Houses sworn to Dragonstone can also benefit if you are to become Lady Paramount.”
Rhaenyra lost her smile. “I only ever had the grudging oaths of men as heir to the throne, why would it make such a difference if they sworn to me as Lady Paramount?”
“Because they would be benefited in return. The Velaryons and Celtigars are both sworn to Dragonstone since Aenar came with his family. Seaworth, Bar Emmon and Sunglass are not very impressive by themselves but together they hold considerable control over the eastern seaboard, from King’s Landing to Dorne. And more than that? They are the connection to commerce with Essos which doesn’t go through the Stepstones and if we properly garrison those damnable islands, the entire fishing of those coasts and commerce with Essos will depend on passage through lands sworn to you.”
And the message in between the lines was as subtle as dragonfire. Rhaenyra sighed. “You… have a lot of… trust in Daemon.”
“You don’t?” Rhaenys tilted her head.
“I am just hesitant in involving… in giving him more trouble than he already has.”
Rhaenys almost scoffed. “Daemon gets in enough trouble by himself, and you are naïve if you think he will not have a very vocal and active opinion about all of this.”
But her eyes softened at the passing glint in Rhaenyra’s eyes. Pain, earning, hopelessness. She could only recognize it for she herself felt it all before if because of other reasons. Viserys is a fool in all senses. Was the only conclusion she could come to.
Rhaenyra took a deep breath. “My hand in marriage, Dragonstone and the dragons and the eggs and then shore up alliances to Dragonstone.”
It was Rhaenys’ turn to hesitate, “Consolation prize aside… the dowry for your hand in marriage can also be heavily discussed. King Jaehaerys left the coffers full of gold as… the many feasts and tourneys your father throws can attest to.”
It was said plainly and without judgement, but Rhaenyra heard it all the same. Impressive. “Even when I argue that I should be the one to decide who to marry?”
“Even then. The crown cannot be seen letting their princesses live in squalor.”
“Annual?”
“Every moon.”
Rhaenyra stopped herself before she could bite her lips. “Controlling the main foreign trading is good, but maybe Dragonstone needs its own source of income aside from taxing citizens that may not be happy with a Lady Paramount and one so young as well.”
But Rhaenys did not look very worried. “When Aenar first built Dragonstone and claimed the island itself, what do you think he did to consolidate his power as Lord and accumulate wealth?”
“The most obvious and, maybe simplistic, answer is using their dragons.” Rhaenyra sighed.
“Almost. Dragonglass and Valyrian steel. One of the rarest and hardest substances in the world. Weapons and jewelry confectioned from them is extremely sought after and extremely expensive.”
“I believe only Dragonglass is left and tis a finite resource and one I am not sure if Daemon would be happy to be parted with that easily.”
For someone not even part of the conversation, it was telling how often they had mentioned the man.
“Not so much. While rare it is not impossible to find in other areas, the advantage however is that the dragons often drag it away from the volcanic soil, simply by passing through, so it is easy to mine… in Dragonstone that is, where the volcanos are still hot and bringing forth inaccessible treasures. Precious gems are also abundant.”
Rhaenyra relented. While not as dedicated to their culture as Daemon, truthfully not many were, Rhaenys also deeply respected it and her sadness at what was already lost was real, so she wouldn’t advise it if it would further bury it in history books.
The beginnings of a plan in motion, Rhaenys promised to visit her chambers often so they could put them in work. To be signed and sealed repeatedly, copies sent to all corners of the realm. Rhaenys was helping her considering the very likely outcome of her disinheritance, Rhaenyra on the other hand was planning to force the outcome.
Rhaenyra knew she had earned Rhaenys’ respect if not loyalty that day. That would come in time. But if she learned anything at all from those hellish visions is that Rhaenys and Daemon are the true dragons of the family, who would defend them and theirs with all of their not inconsiderable might. Just maybe… Rhaenyra could be the third head in the sigil.
Maybe for the first time since dreaming of Fire and Blood, Rhaenyra felt the original meaning return to her mind. The fire of life, anger, power, conquest and love. The blood of their family to protect, the blood of the enemy to be spilled.