Chapter Text
After the sun had set and the royal family had dined together, Rhaenyra finally had the chance to meet her new half-brother, Aegon. Alicent, who had been anxiously awaiting the encounter, expected a scoff or a dismissive gesture from the princess, something indicative of the tension between them. But to her surprise, none of it happened. Rhaenyra gently cradled the newborn in her arms, her touch soft and tender. She kissed his forehead lovingly, the gesture filled with genuine warmth. Despite Aegon being the king’s son, he was also Alicent’s child, and that alone was enough for Rhaenyra to feel an instinctive love for him.
The previous night in the city had taken its toll on Rhaenyra. Going from tavern to tavern, drinking with her uncle until her heart's content, might have been a mistake. But had she not joined him, she wouldn't have met Lady Myseria, the woman she had once confronted on Dragonstone after Daemon had stolen Baelon's egg. Daemon had brazenly declared his intention to take a second wife, even lying about Myseria being with child. Myseria, as Rhaenyra knew, ran a brothel in the Street of Silk—a place steeped in pleasure and lust.
Daemon had told her that marriage was a duty she must endure, but that didn't mean it had to be the end of her pleasures. He reminded her that she could always seek satisfaction with whor*s in brothels, and as the future monarch of the Seven Kingdoms, no one would dare stop her. But Rhaenyra disagreed. Just because Daemon didn't enjoy or loathed his marriage didn't mean she couldn't strive to be better for her future wife.
The brothel was a far different place from any of the taverns she had visited that night. Rhaenyra was taken aback by the sight of many of her House knights and noblemen mingling freely with whor*s. Daemon had told her to keep quiet when she looked shocked, reminding her of the world she would one day rule. Many in the brothel recognized her and Daemon immediately, and for a brief moment, all eyes were on them. But soon enough, attention returned to the women and men in their arms. Rhaenyra felt out of place, discomforted by the idea of paying someone to be with her, forcing them to fulfill her desires. Yet, with her uncle's watchful eyes upon her, she knew she needed to prove that she was no longer a girl, but an alpha grown, one who had already two children.
Among all the women she could have chosen, none captivated her like the Lysene beauty that was Myseria. Rhaenyra couldn't take her eyes off her, and it seemed the feeling was mutual. Myseria, an omega, was the first to approach the Targaryens, her eyes fixed on the heir to the throne. She marveled at how the fierce young woman who had stood against her uncle on Dragonstone had changed-how much taller and handsomer she had become. But unlike her uncle, the princess was kinder and more understanding.Myseria boldly pushed her scent toward the princess, who accepted it wholeheartedly and responded in kind.
Daemon, uninterested in who his niece chose to bed, had already set his sights on an omega boy and a beta girl, making his way toward them and leaving Rhaenyra and his former lover to their own devices.
The night Rhaenyra spent with Myseria was unlike any other. It was far removed from the passionate and tender encounters she had experienced with Alys or the intoxicating, lustful nights with the priestess of R'hllor in Volantis. With Myseria, the night was intense, filled with the raw power of their alphas and omega natures as they marked each other, the scent lingering in the air, a testament to their union. They spent many candlemarks together, lost in the heat of their shared desire, until their bodies bore the marks for others to see.
Rhaenyra supposed the experience was worth the headache she woke up with, though she still cursed herself for drinking too much wine. The memory of Myseria's touch, however, was enough to bring a small, satisfied smile to her lips as she slowly began to piece together the events of the night before.
"Winter, please, come on now. Leave your brother so he can rest. I have a council meeting, and you have training to attend. Don’t keep Harwin waiting," Rhaenyra urged, her voice tinged with exhaustion. Her daughter, Winter, had taken every opportunity to linger in the nursery, staying as long as possible with her new baby brother. Alys stood nearby, a soft giggle escaping her as she watched the princess struggle to coax her stubborn daughter away.
"But Father, I want to be here to protect him," Winter insisted, her small arms crossed defiantly over her chest.
Rhaenyra knelt down to her daughter’s level, her expression softening despite the fatigue that weighed heavily on her. "Honey, he’ll be alright," she reassured her. "He has the best security in the entire world. Boreas is here too, and his mother will be with him. If anything happens, I’ll come running. I promise you, nothing will happen to him."
Winter looked up at her sire, her eyes still clouded with uncertainty. Rhaenyra couldn’t help but wonder what she had done to deserve such a headache so early in the day. She could feel Havi’s amusem*nt echoing in her mind, and Alys’s quiet laughter beside her only deepened her sense of exasperation.
Over the past few days, Rhaenyra had spent considerable time with Alys and their son, growing closer to the enigmatic woman who had once been whispered about in the halls of Harrenhal as a witch. The servants still muttered the title under their breath, but Rhaenyra had come to see that Alys was not only beautiful but also highly intelligent and intriguing. Alys had treated Winter with kindness, allowing the young girl to stay close to her new baby brother. She had helped Rhaenyra bond with their son, and the attraction between the two women had only grown stronger, the unspoken tension between them becoming more palpable with each passing day.
Taking mercy on Rhaenyra’s plight, Alys knelt down in front of Winter, gently brushing a lock of raven hair—so much like her own—behind the girl’s ear. Winter blushed under the attention of the pretty lady, her resolve beginning to waver. "Winter, listen to your sire," Alys said softly, her voice soothing. "We promise nothing will happen to your brother. We will always protect him. But if you don’t attend your training with Ser Harwin, you won’t grow strong, and you won’t be able to protect him yourself."
Winter’s stubborn expression melted away, replaced by a smile as she nodded in agreement. Rhaenyra looked on, shocked at how easily Alys had managed to convince her daughter, a sense of betrayal mingling with relief. In her mind, Havi’s laughter grew even louder, relishing in her defeat.
Winter dashed out of the room, her small feet pattering across the stone floor as she made her way toward the courtyard, with Ser Arryk following closely behind. As she ran, she thought about Alys’s words, determined to train hard so she could one day protect her brother and any future siblings from harm. Munnin, her loyal raven, flew close by, ever watchful. Winter was still unfamiliar with the labyrinthine halls of the keep and could easily get lost, but Munnin would ensure that didn’t happen. If any noble or anyone else dared to harm her simply because she was a foster daughter and a wildling, the raven would strike before Winter could even unsheathe Mjolnir, her enchanted hammer, and unleash a storm of lightning. That would certainly cause a scandal, and Rhaenyra had neither the desire nor the intention to explain it.
Back in the nursery, Rhaenyra remained standing, her eyes softening as she watched Alys cradle Rhaegar, who was now awake and making adorable noises. Alys kissed and cuddled their son, and Rhaenyra’s heart fluttered at the tender sight. After a few moments, Alys approached Rhaenyra, holding Rhaegar out for her to take. The little boy immediately reached up and grasped a strand of Rhaenyra’s short silver hair, tugging it with surprising strength, making his father wince.
In a surprising move, Alys placed a gentle hand on Rhaenyra’s cheek, leaning in to kiss her softly on the other. Seizing the opportunity of their closeness, Rhaenyra turned and pressed her lips to Alys’s, surprising her in return.
The kiss was abruptly cut short when Rhaegar, not content with being ignored, pulled both of their hair with his tiny fists, demanding their attention. They both laughed, their shared amusem*nt filling the room as they showered their son with kisses, causing him to giggle loudly in response. After the moment passed, Alys took Rhaegar back, cradling him as she reminded Rhaenyra of her council meeting.
Reluctantly, Rhaenyra left the nursery, but not before leaving Huginn, her other raven, perched on the window, keeping a watchful eye over Alys and their son. Boreas, at Winter’s command, had decided to stay behind as well, guarding Rhaegar. If anyone dared to harm her son for being a bastard, Huginn would teleport him and Alys away in the blink of an eye. Rhaenyra had given the same orders for Aegon. Though he was the king’s son, her half-brother, and a potential rival for the throne, he was also of her blood. And more importantly, he was Alicent’s son, and despite the tensions between them, Rhaenyra could not bear to see Alicent suffer any more pain.
The Small Council had convened to discuss the usual matters—disputes between minor houses, the establishment of new trade routes, and the continued efforts to secure the seas now that the war had finally ended. These tasks, though mundane, had become significantly easier with peace restored, but they still required careful attention and strategic planning.
Rhaenyra sat at the council table, her presence a mixture of both duty and defiance. At the urging of her father, King Viserys, she had been granted a seat on the Small Council, a position of power that came with the title of Lord Commander of the City Watch. It was both a reward and a punishment, a way for the king to ensure his headstrong daughter remained in the capital instead of wandering the Seven Kingdoms as she so often desired. By naming her to this post, he hoped to tether her to King’s Landing, keeping her close to the heart of the realm and under his watchful eye.
Yet, the appointment had not brought Rhaenyra the satisfaction her father had intended. The duties of Lord Commander were demanding, requiring her to oversee the Gold Cloaks, maintain order in the city, and ensure the safety of its citizens. It was a position that left little time for her true priorities—her children and her own pursuits. She had not been blind to the king's intentions; she understood that this was his way of keeping her grounded, of preventing her from escaping into the wider world where her spirit yearned to roam. But the weight of this responsibility felt like a chain, binding her to the capital, to a life that was not fully her own.
As the council discussions continued, the topic of her marriage was once again brought to the forefront. It was a subject that had been broached many times by the other members of the council, and by her father himself. They were all eager to see the heir to the throne wed, to secure alliances through marriage that would strengthen the realm. But each time, Rhaenyra had brushed off their suggestions, her defiance growing with every repetition of the argument. She knew what they wanted—what her father wanted—but she was not ready to bend to their will.
Her repeated dismissals of the marriage proposals had not gone unnoticed, and they had kindled a quiet fury in King Viserys. He was a patient man, but even his patience had limits, and Rhaenyra had tested them thoroughly. Yet, she remained resolute. She was upset about being named Lord Commander, a position that left her with little time for what truly mattered to her. The duties that came with the title felt more like an imposition than an honor. It was a distraction from her true purpose, a role she had not sought and did not cherish.
More than anything, Rhaenyra wanted to focus on her children. She wanted to train Winter, her stubborn and fierce daughter, to master the runes that controlled Mjolnir, the enchanted hammer that had become a part of her identity. Winter’s training was crucial—she needed to learn how to harness the power of the runes properly, to wield the hammer with precision and control. This was not something that could be rushed, nor could it be entrusted to anyone else. It was a task that demanded her full attention, her complete dedication.
But with the responsibilities of the city watch weighing heavily on her, Rhaenyra feared she would not have the time she needed. She was torn between her duty to the realm and her duty to her family. The council’s insistence on discussing her marriage only added to her frustration, a constant reminder that they saw her more as a political pawn than as a father, a warrior, or a leader in her own right.
Not to mention, her son Rhaegar was still far too young. The thought weighed heavily on Rhaenyra’s heart. She had missed the first few moons of his life, not even knowing of his existence until much later, a fact that filled her with guilt. She had vowed to do better by him, to make up for the lost time and to be the parent he deserved. To signify her intentions and to cement his place within the Targaryen legacy, she had already placed a dragon egg in his cradle, a tradition meant to bind the child to a dragon from birth. This act, however, had not gone without controversy.
Many had disagreed with her decision, none more vocally than the Hand of the King, Otto Hightower. Otto’s intentions were no secret—his ambition to place his own blood on the Iron Throne had long been a matter of court gossip. The idea of a bastard child, especially one with a dragon, complicated his plans. A dragonrider, even an illegitimate one, would wield significant power and influence, and Otto knew this well. To him, Rhaegar represented a threat, a potential obstacle to his carefully laid schemes.
But Rhaenyra did not care for Otto’s machinations. Rhaegar was her son, and that was all that mattered. He was of her blood, and in her eyes, that was enough to make him worthy of protection, respect, and love. His legitimacy or lack thereof did nothing to diminish the fierce love she felt for him, nor did it lessen her determination to keep him safe. She was resolved to protect both him and his mother, Alys, from any who might seek to harm them, no matter how powerful or influential those enemies might be.
Otto Hightower could scheme and plot all he wanted, but Rhaenyra was determined to ensure that her son’s place in the world was secure. She would not allow anyone to threaten his future, and she was prepared to face whatever challenges came her way to safeguard those she loved.
For many days since she came back from the Stepstones , Rhaenyra was resolute in her decision to avoid the queen, brushing off Alicent's every attempt to speak with her. She knew all too well what her former lover would say, and she had no desire to face the storm of jealousy that would undoubtedly follow. Alicent's possessiveness had been a constant in their relationship, a dangerous edge that Rhaenyra had learned to navigate from a young age. Ever since they were children, Alicent had a way of pulling Rhaenyra away from others, keeping her close, almost as if she feared losing her to someone else. That possessiveness had only grown more intense over the years, especially once Rhaenyra had ascended to a position of power and influence.
Now, with Alys in her life and Rhaegar as proof of their union, Rhaenyra had no doubt that Alicent would see it as the ultimate betrayal. The queen had never taken kindly to rivals, even imagined ones, and Rhaenyra was certain that Alicent would curse her for taking another woman to bed and fathering a child with her. The thought of Alicent's reaction filled Rhaenyra with a mixture of dread and defiance. She knew that Alicent's jealousy was not just a petty emotion—it was a dangerous force that could drive the queen to desperate measures.
Rhaenyra could easily imagine the fury that would blaze in Alicent’s eyes, the accusations of betrayal that would spill from her lips. They had been lovers once, and though that time had passed, Alicent’s feelings had not faded. The queen had always been fiercely protective of Rhaenyra, to the point of possessiveness. She had called Rhaenyra a cheater before, even when there was no cause, and Rhaenyra knew that Alicent would see her relationship with Alys as a deep and personal betrayal.
There was a dark part of Rhaenyra that feared what Alicent might do if given the chance. She knew that the queen, in her jealousy and possessiveness, was capable of anything, even murder. The thought was chilling, but Rhaenyra did not shy away from it. She had seen the depths of Alicent’s emotions, the way she could be consumed by her feelings, and she knew that Alys and Rhaegar were at risk.
Though she longed for peace, Rhaenyra couldn’t deny that the wounds left by Alicent and her father’s betrayal were still lingering. It was too soon to fully let go of the resentment that lingered in her heart. The sense of betrayal had cut deep, not just because of the personal betrayal by Alicent, who had once been her closest companion and lover, but also because of her father, the one person she had always trusted to protect her and her interests.
The sting of being overlooked, of feeling like a pawn in their political games, was not something that could be easily forgiven or forgotten. Her father’s decision to marry Alicent had been the first blow, a move that had shattered her trust and left her feeling isolated within her own family. Alicent’s subsequent actions—her shift in loyalties, her support for her own children over Rhaenyra—had only deepened the wound.
Rhaenyra knew that healing would take time, perhaps more time than she was willing to admit. The feelings of anger, hurt, and betrayal were still a bit raw, close to the surface, and they colored every interaction she had with Alicent. It wasn’t just about politics or power; it was about the deep, personal connection they had once shared, and the way it had been torn apart by ambition and distrust.
Thankful she wasn’t alone to face everything alone.
She needed more time to move past those terrible feelings, to process the hurt and find a way to reconcile her emotions with the reality of her situation. Only then, perhaps, could she truly consider the possibility of making peace with Alicent. But for now, the pain was still too real, the betrayal too recent. Rhaenyra wasn’t ready to let go, and she wasn’t sure when—or if—that time would come.
Despite everything, there was still a part of Rhaenyra's heart that believed she and Alicent could find a way to be cordial, to maintain some semblance of peace within the family. The memories of their past—those tender moments when they had been more than friends, when their bond had been unbreakable—lingered in her mind like a faint, comforting echo. Rhaenyra couldn’t completely shake the hope that the love they once shared might be enough to bridge the chasm that had grown between them.
She knew it was a fragile hope, one that might easily be shattered by Alicent’s jealousy and possessiveness. But Rhaenyra clung to it nonetheless, wishing for a future where they could set aside their differences, where the queen would not see her as an enemy but as an ally, if not a friend. It was a small, flickering hope that they could coexist peacefully, if only for the sake of their children and the stability of the realm.
Rhaenyra had seen enough conflict and bloodshed in her life. She had no desire to see it within her own family, especially not with someone who had once been so dear to her. The idea of open hostility with Alicent, of their family being torn apart by animosity, was a prospect that filled her with sorrow. Despite all the reasons she had to distrust and fear Alicent, there was still a yearning for reconciliation, a desire to find a way to coexist, if not as lovers or friends, then at least as family members who could respect each other’s roles in the lives of their children and the realm.
But deep down, Rhaenyra knew that this hope was a fragile one, and that it might not be enough to overcome the bitterness and resentment that had taken root between them. Still, she held onto it, because to give up entirely would be to accept a future filled with conflict, and that was something she desperately wanted to avoid.
Seven moons had passed, and the queen was with child once again. It was news that brought great satisfaction to Otto Hightower, the Hand of the King. Each new child strengthened the Hightower claim to the throne, bolstering the influence of his bloodline over the realm. Yet, for Alicent, this pregnancy brought no joy. Instead, it deepened her misery, trapping her further in a life that had become a constant reminder of her sacrifices and lost dreams.
The queen was once again forced into the role of a dutiful wife, expected to bear another child for a man she did not love. Each time she lay with Viserys, her heart ached, yearning not for him, but for Rhaenyra—her childhood friend, her former lover, the woman who had once held her heart in ways Viserys never could. The same woman who had betrayed her by taking another to bed and siring a child with her, a betrayal that still cut deep.
Alicent’s pain was immeasurable, a constant torment that haunted her every waking moment. She despised her situation, resenting the king's touch, feeling the revulsion deep in her soul each time she was forced to fulfill her marital duties. Her body, her omega, rejected him entirely, yet she remained still, enduring it all for the sake of duty, for the sake of her children.
Each day felt like a battle between her obligations and her desires, between the life she was forced to live and the one she had yearned for. The queen’s heart was heavy with bitterness, not only towards Viserys but towards Rhaenyra as well. The thought of Rhaenyra with Alys, of the family they were building together, made her stomach churn with a mixture of jealousy and sorrow. How could Rhaenyra, the woman she had loved so deeply, betray her in such a way?
Yet, even as these dark thoughts consumed her, Alicent could not bring herself to let go of the love she still felt for Rhaenyra, nor the memories of the life they once shared. It was a cruel irony, to be bound by duty to a man she loathed while her heart continued to beat for the woman who had torn it apart.
Today marked Aegon’s second namesake day, a grand occasion that should have been filled with joy and celebration. To honor the day, her father, Otto Hightower, had suggested a hunt, an idea the king eagerly embraced. It was a tradition meant to showcase strength and unity within the royal family, a public display of camaraderie and celebration. Yet, despite the festivity in the air, a palpable tension lingered beneath the surface.
Rhaenyra had continued to avoid Alicent at every opportunity, a deliberate distance that the queen felt acutely. Even when the king had insisted that Rhaenyra join them in the woods for the hunt, she had found a way to keep her distance, promising instead to meet them there on Syrax. The king had grudgingly accepted this compromise, his satisfaction tempered by the knowledge that his daughter’s reluctance was a sign of the growing rift within the family.
The hunt, once a symbol of royal unity, now felt like a farce. Alicent’s heart was heavy with the knowledge that Rhaenyra would rather fly to the woods on her dragon than spend even a moment in her company. It was a public slight, one that everyone around them would undoubtedly notice, but there was little she could do to change it.
Alicent knew that the hunt would go on as planned, with or without Rhaenyra’s enthusiasm. But the queen couldn’t shake the feeling that this day, meant to celebrate her son, was tainted by the unspoken conflicts and unresolved tensions that lingered just below the surface of their carefully curated public image.
As the procession set off, the queen’s thoughts drifted to Rhaenyra, wondering if she would arrive as promised. The sight of Syrax in the skies would be a powerful image, one that could ease some of the tension and bring a momentary sense of unity. But Alicent couldn’t help but wonder if even that would be enough to bridge the distance between them, or if today’s celebration would only serve to highlight the fractures within their family.
Alicent watched as her father, Otto Hightower, seized every possible moment to parade Aegon before the gathered nobles. It was a calculated move, one designed to subtly but unmistakably build support for his grandson. Otto was relentless in his efforts, showcasing Aegon as the perfect image of a future king, engaging with the lords and ladies in attendance, ensuring that his charm and the promise of the Hightower bloodline were on full display.
Otto had been working tirelessly behind the scenes, whispering in the ears of influential figures, trying to sow the seeds of doubt about Rhaenyra’s suitability as heir. He believed that with enough support, he could persuade the king to reconsider the line of succession and name Aegon as his heir instead. It was a strategy born from ambition, but also from a genuine belief that Aegon, as the king’s firstborn son, was the rightful heir to the Iron Throne.
But despite Otto’s best efforts, his ambitions were met with firm resistance from Viserys. The king, though often weary and plagued by the many burdens of his rule, was steadfast in his decision. He had named Rhaenyra as his heir, and he had no desire to revisit that decision. To Viserys, the matter was settled, and he dismissed any talk of changing the succession with a wave of his hand, unwilling to entertain the notion further.
This dismissal did little to deter Otto, however. He knew that the king’s will was strong, but so was the influence of the court. By gathering support for Aegon, he hoped to create a tide of opinion that even Viserys could not ignore. Still, the tension between father and daughter grew with each of Otto’s subtle maneuvers, as Alicent found herself caught in the middle of their conflicting desires.
She understood her father’s motivations, but each time he pressed the issue, it only deepened the divide within her family. Alicent was torn—loyal to her father and his ambitions, but also bound by her duty to her husband and her complicated, lingering feelings for Rhaenyra. The more Otto pushed, the more the queen feared that their family might fracture beyond repair.
As the nobles prepared for the hunt, the sudden shadow of Syrax descending from the skies drew all eyes upward. The once smaller dragon, who had been Rhaenyra's loyal companion since she was a girl, had grown significantly, now nearly matching the formidable size of Caraxes. There was no doubt among those present that in time, Syrax would rival even Vermithor, the Bronze Fury, in sheer size and power. The sight of the princess atop her dragon was both awe-inspiring and unsettling, a reminder of the strength and legacy of House Targaryen.
Rhaenyra dismounted with grace, her presence commanding attention. Yet, as she joined the gathering, it was clear she had little interest in mingling with the lords and ladies who fawned over Aegon. Instead, she deliberately avoided The King, making it a point to stay close to Ser Harwin Strong and the other knights, her disdain for the Hand evident in every glance she avoided. The tension in the air was palpable, as the courtiers whispered among themselves, noting the obvious snub.
Alicent, watching from a distance, felt a familiar pang of hurt and frustration. Rhaenyra’s continued avoidance was like a blade twisting in an already open wound. She couldn’t help but notice how Rhaenyra seemed to go out of her way to keep her distance from Viserys, a silent but clear statement of where her loyalties lay. It was yet another reminder of the growing rift between them, one that seemed to deepen with each passing day.
The king, however, would not be ignored. Viserys eventually approached his daughter, pulling her aside for a private conversation. Alicent watched intently, unable to hear their words but sensing the tension in their exchange. Rhaenyra’s expression shifted quickly from indifference to anger, her eyes flashing with fury as her father spoke. Whatever he had said clearly struck a nerve, and before long, Rhaenyra turned on her heel and stormed away, her anger evident in every step.
Without a word to anyone, she made her way toward the woods, heading directly for her horse—a magnificent and peculiar steed that had captured the attention of the court since it first arrived. The horse was unlike any the nobles had seen before, with a powerful, muscular build and an air of wildness that set it apart from the more refined mounts typically found in the royal stables. Its origins were mysterious, and its presence only added to the enigma that surrounded Rhaenyra.
As she mounted the horse and galloped into the forest, the courtiers exchanged curious and concerned glances. Whispers spread quickly, speculation buzzing through the gathering. The princess’s behavior, her mounting anger, and her unusual choice of horse all fueled the growing unease among the nobles.
Alicent felt a knot tighten in her chest as she watched Rhaenyra disappear into the trees. She longed to know what had transpired between the princess and her father, but more than that, she feared what this latest outburst might mean for the fragile peace within their family. The queen knew that Rhaenyra’s actions were being closely watched by everyone, and that any misstep could have far-reaching consequences. The hunt, meant to be a celebration, now seemed to be teetering on the edge of something far more dangerous.
Ser Criston Cole, once the sworn protector of Princess Rhaenyra, rode into the woods with a heavy sense of duty and concern. The princess had stormed off after her heated exchange with the king, refusing to return to camp, and had instead secluded herself deep within the forest. Criston knew Rhaenyra's temperament well—stubborn, strong-willed, and fiercely independent. She was not one to be easily swayed once her mind was set, and that made his task all the more difficult.
He found her sitting beneath a large oak tree, her unusual horse grazing nearby, its powerful frame still catching the occasional glance from him. The princess sat in silence, her expression a mix of frustration and melancholy, as if the weight of her responsibilities and personal turmoil had finally become too much to bear.
"Your Grace," Criston began cautiously as he approached her, bowing his head slightly in respect. "The camp awaits your return. The king... he will worry if you remain out here much longer."
Rhaenyra didn’t look at him at first. Her gaze was fixed on some distant point in the woods, her thoughts far away. When she finally spoke, her voice was low, tinged with a weariness that made her seem older than her years. "Let him worry, Ser Criston. It seems to be the only thing he’s capable of these days, other than making decisions that bind me to this cursed city."
Criston stood quietly, knowing better than to push her. He had seen Rhaenyra in many moods over the short time in her service—passionate, fierce, even joyful—but this simmering anger was something different. It was a mix of defiance and sorrow, and it troubled him deeply.
After a long silence, Rhaenyra finally turned her gaze toward him. "You didn’t have to come after me, you know. I would have been fine on my own."
The knight gave her a slight smile, one that was more understanding than amused. "It is my duty Your Grace, whether that means defending you from threats or simply keeping you company when you need it. I could not leave you out here alone."
Rhaenyra sighed, her expression softening just a little. "I suppose not. But I needed to get away. Everything in that camp, every person... they all have their own agendas, their own desires for power, and I am caught in the middle of it all."
Criston nodded, stepping closer but still keeping a respectful distance. "You carry a great burden, Your Grace. It is not easy to be both a father and the heir to the Iron Throne. I do not envy your position."
Her eyes met his, and for a moment, she looked as if she might say something more personal, something about the isolation she felt or the betrayal that still lingered in her heart. But instead, she simply shook her head. "No, it is not easy. But it is what I must do."
Seeing that she was not yet ready to return to camp, Criston decided to settle in beside her. He unsheathed his sword and began to casually sharpen it, the familiar sound of metal against stone a soothing rhythm in the quiet of the woods. The princess didn’t object; in fact, she seemed to find some comfort in his presence, even if neither of them spoke for a while.
As the sun began to dip lower in the sky, casting long shadows through the trees, Criston finally spoke again. "You know, Your Grace, whatever happens—whatever challenges you face—I will stand by you. You can count on that."
Rhaenyra looked at him, the sincerity in his voice and eyes evident. For all the complexity and treachery of court life, Ser Criston Cole had always been a constant—a protector, a confidant, and perhaps even a friend in the truest sense. She gave him a small, appreciative nod. "I know, Criston. And that means more to me than you might realize."
The two sat in companionable silence as the evening wore on, the world around them hushed and peaceful, a stark contrast to the storm brewing in Rhaenyra’s life. For now, in the quiet of the woods, she could allow herself a moment of peace, knowing that at least one person was steadfastly by her side.
The tranquility of the woods was abruptly shattered by the rustling of underbrush and a deep, guttural sound. A massive boar burst from the shadows, its tusks gleaming in the fading light as it charged directly toward Rhaenyra and Ser Criston.
Ser Criston’s reflexes were sharp; he leapt to his feet, drawing his sword with practiced ease. He intended to protect Rhaenyra from the dangerous beast, his focus solely on ensuring her safety. The boar, however, was relentless, and its aggression was unmistakable.
But before Criston could close the distance, Rhaenyra acted with an astonishing swiftness and bravery. With a fierce determination in her eyes, she grabbed a knife from her belt and sprang into action. Her movements were fluid and precise as she mounted the boar, her agile form moving with a grace that belied the danger of the situation.
Criston watched in awe as Rhaenyra, with remarkable skill, drove the knife into the boar's flesh, her strength and control evident as she wrestled the beast to the ground. The struggle was intense, but within moments, she had subdued the creature. The boar lay still, its struggle ended, as Rhaenyra stood over it, breathing heavily but triumphant.
Criston approached, a mixture of relief and admiration on his face. "Your Grace," he said, his voice filled with respect, "you handled that with remarkable skill. I did not expect you to act so decisively."
Rhaenyra wiped the blood from her hands and glanced at him, a satisfied but weary smile on her lips. "Sometimes, one must take matters into their own hands," she replied, her voice steady despite the adrenaline still coursing through her. "It was a good distraction from everything else."
Criston nodded, his respect for her growing with every passing moment. "You’ve always had a way of turning adversity into opportunity. I’m glad you’re safe."
The princess gave a brief, appreciative nod before turning her attention back to the boar. The hunt had been interrupted, but there was a grim satisfaction in knowing that she had not only protected herself but also proven her capability in a moment of danger.
As they both began to prepare the boar for transport, the camaraderie between them deepened. The night’s unexpected turn of events had forged a new bond of mutual respect and understanding. Ser Criston’s admiration for Rhaenyra was matched by her appreciation for his unwavering support.
With the boar secured and the woods returning to their quiet state, Rhaenyra and Criston resumed their vigil, the princess’s earlier solitude now tempered by a renewed sense of connection and solidarity.
As dawn broke, Rhaenyra and Ser Criston prepared to return to camp. The previous day’s tensions had eased, and the hunt, though interrupted by the boar, had allowed Rhaenyra a moment of clarity and peace. The forest was now quiet, the early light casting a serene glow over the landscape.
As they made their way back, Ser Criston suddenly halted, his gaze fixed on something in the distance. Rhaenyra followed his line of sight and saw a magnificent white stag standing gracefully among the trees. Its pure white coat shone with an ethereal glow, and its presence seemed almost otherworldly. The stag was known as a symbol of royalty and divine favor, a creature that had long been associated with kingship and worthiness.
“This is a rare and powerful omen, Your Grace,” Ser Criston said, his voice filled with reverence. “The white stag has always been a sign of the gods' favor and a symbol of rightful rule. If you were to slay it and bring it to camp, it could greatly bolster your claim, showing that the gods themselves have chosen you.”
Rhaenyra studied the stag, its serene demeanor and noble bearing. The idea of killing such a majestic creature for the sake of political gain did not sit well with her. She had always valued honor and survival over mere symbols of power.
“I appreciate your suggestion, Ser Criston,” Rhaenyra said, her voice steady and thoughtful. “But I do not wish to kill this stag for glory or to advance my claim. I have only ever taken life when necessary, not for personal gain or to display my strength.”
The stag, sensing the princess’s resolve, remained calm and unperturbed, its head held high as if acknowledging her words. It knelt gracefully, a gesture of respect and understanding.
Rhaenyra’s heart softened at the sight. She saw in the stag’s actions a reflection of her own values—honoring life and seeking legitimacy through actions of integrity rather than showmanship. “Let it be,” she said firmly. “We should leave it in peace. There are other ways to prove my worthiness.”
Criston nodded, his respect for the princess deepening. “As you wish, Your Grace.”
With that, they continued their journey back to camp, leaving the white stag behind. The creature remained standing, a quiet emblem of purity and grace. It watched them leave with a dignified calm, as if it too recognized the weight of the decision made.
As they approached the camp, Rhaenyra felt a renewed sense of purpose. Her refusal to kill the stag had reaffirmed her commitment to her values and principles, even in the face of potential political advantage. The day’s events had strengthened her resolve to pursue her goals with honor and authenticity, rather than relying on symbols or spectacle.
The camp was abuzz with the aftermath of the hunt, but Rhaenyra's choice to honor the stag had left her with a sense of inner peace and a clearer perspective on her path forward.
As Rhaenyra and Ser Criston arrived at the camp, the sight of them was met with a mixture of reactions. The princess, her clothes stained with the blood of the boar, was a striking figure against the backdrop of the encampment. Her face, though showing a hint of weariness, carried an air of determination and defiance.
The nobles who had gathered were taken aback by the sight. Murmurs spread quickly among them, their eyes darting between Rhaenyra and the boar. Some looked on with admiration at her prowess, while others seemed uncomfortable with the spectacle of blood and the fierce determination she displayed.
Her father, King Viserys, regarded her with a mixture of concern and wonder. His eyes softened as he took in the sight of his daughter, recognizing both the strength she had shown and the toll it had taken on her. Though he had demanded her presence at the hunt, the sight of her now, having braved the dangers of the woods and subdued the boar, stirred a sense of conflicted pride and worry within him.
Alicent, standing nearby, observed with a more complex array of emotions. Her face was a mask of curiosity and concern, her eyes reflecting a deep sadness mixed with a begrudging respect. The princess's defiance, her refusal to comply with certain expectations, seemed to resonate with her own feelings of constraint and resentment.
Otto Hightower’s expression was one of outright disgust. The sight of Rhaenyra, drenched in blood, dragging the boar behind her was an affront to his sensibilities and his political ambitions. To him, the scene was not a display of strength but a troubling display of defiance and a reminder of the complexities and tensions within the royal family.
Despite the varying reactions, the scene spoke volumes. Rhaenyra’s entrance was a dramatic statement of her presence and her refusal to conform to the expectations of those around her. The bloodied boar was a testament to her survival and resilience, even if it did not align with the more polished image some hoped she would project.
As the camp resumed its activities, the nobles and royals would undoubtedly reflect on the day's events, their views colored by their personal agendas and perceptions. For Rhaenyra, however, the sight of the boar and the reactions it elicited were just another chapter in her ongoing struggle to define her path and assert her place in a world filled with challenges and competing interests.
A moon later, the political landscape at court had shifted dramatically. Otto Hightower, once a formidable presence as Hand of the King, had been dismissed from his position. The appointment of Ser Lionel Strong as his replacement marked a significant change in the dynamics of the court.
Alicent, already grappling with her own personal betrayals, found herself seething with anger. The dismissal of her father had been a severe blow, and the replacement of Otto with Ser Lionel Strong—a man whose daughter, Alys, had been intimately involved with Rhaenyra—only deepened her sense of betrayal. To Alicent, it felt like a direct affront and a calculated move by Rhaenyra to undermine her family and consolidate her own power.
Alicent’s resentment was fueled not only by the political maneuvering but also by the personal affronts she perceived. Rhaenyra’s relationships, particularly her affair with Alys and the subsequent birth of Rhaegar, had already created a rift between them. Now, seeing Alys’s father elevated to a position of such power felt like a final insult. It was a clear reminder of the shifting alliances and the ways in which Rhaenyra’s actions had far-reaching consequences.
In her anger, Alicent grappled with a sense of helplessness. Her father’s fall from grace, coupled with the growing influence of Rhaenyra’s allies, left her feeling betrayed and sidelined. The court's shifting alliances and the realignment of power were constant reminders of her diminished role and influence.
Despite her anger and frustration, Alicent was also forced to confront the reality of her situation. The political landscape was changing, and her father’s ousting was a stark indication of the new forces at play. She would need to navigate this new order carefully, finding ways to protect her interests and those of her children in a court that seemed increasingly hostile to her and her family's position.
The tension and anger that Alicent felt were palpable, setting the stage for further conflicts and power struggles as the characters maneuvered through the evolving dynamics of the royal court.
Otto Hightower, having been ousted as Hand of the King, shared his bitterness with his daughter Alicent. He revealed that Rhaenyra had struck a deal with King Viserys: she would agree to marry Laena Velaryon, thus solidifying her claim and forging a crucial alliance, but only on the condition that her father, Otto, be dismissed from his position.
According to Otto, this arrangement was a calculated move by Rhaenyra to consolidate her power and undermine his influence. By making the marriage to Laena contingent upon Otto’s removal, Rhaenyra ensured that her political rival would be weakened, and she would secure a more advantageous position within the court.
For Alicent, this revelation was another layer of betrayal and manipulation. Not only had her father been removed from his esteemed position, but the removal had been orchestrated to benefit Rhaenyra's ambitions directly. It underscored the lengths to which Rhaenyra was willing to go to advance her own position, regardless of the personal cost to those around her.
This maneuvering deepened Alicent’s sense of betrayal and injustice, fueling her anger and dissatisfaction with both Rhaenyra and the shifting political landscape. The situation left her grappling with a mix of personal grievances and strategic concerns as she sought to navigate the complex and increasingly hostile environment of the royal court.
Alicent was overwhelmed by a profound sense of isolation. Despite her father’s actions and the political scheming that had led to his downfall, she still loved him deeply and understood that his motivations had always been rooted in a desire to secure a better future for her. With Otto's dismissal, Alicent felt adrift, stripped of her previous support and protection.
The loss of her father's influence left Alicent feeling vulnerable. She realized that the king was increasingly indifferent to her and their children, focusing more on Rhaenyra’s growing power and alliances. With House Strong and House Velaryon aligning themselves with Rhaenyra, Alicent recognized that she needed to build her own network of support to safeguard her position and the future of her children.
Determined not to be sidelined, Alicent vowed to protect her family and ensure their security. She began to strategize and seek out potential allies who could help counterbalance the growing strength of Rhaenyra's faction. She knew she needed to leverage every resource at her disposal to fortify her position and advocate for her children’s future.
Alicent's pain was deepened by the unfolding events. While she could somewhat rationalize Rhaenyra's involvement with Alys as a manifestation of her alpha nature, the prospect of Rhaenyra marrying Laena Velaryon was another matter entirely. It was a blow to her on multiple levels.
The idea of Rhaenyra marrying Laena, who had long been a rival for the princess’s attention and affection since their childhood, was particularly stinging. In their youth, Alicent had often bested Laena in their competitions, earning accolades and praise. Now, however, the tables had turned. Laena, who had once been her rival, was poised to become Rhaenyra’s bride and, by extension, play a pivotal role in the upbringing of the princess’s children.
This shift was not just a personal affront but a symbolic loss. It represented a profound reversal of fortunes, highlighting how much had changed in the dynamics between Alicent and Rhaenyra. Alicent was forced to confront the reality that her childhood rival would now be intimately entwined with her life and the lives of her children, further amplifying her sense of betrayal and injustice.
The bitterness of this situation compounded Alicent’s feelings of being sidelined and discarded. Her frustration was not only with Rhaenyra’s actions but also with the cruel irony of her circ*mstances. The very dynamics that had once worked in her favor now seemed to conspire against her, leaving her grappling with the sting of lost power, love, and influence.
As the king traveled to Driftmark to formally discuss Rhaenyra’s betrothal to Laena Velaryon, the princess decided to bring her daughter, Winter, along. Winter’s excitement was palpable. The young girl had long admired Laena, seeing her as a maternal figure even before the formal announcement of the marriage.
The reunion at Driftmark was filled with warmth and anticipation. Winter’s joy at seeing Laena was evident as she eagerly embraced the future bride. For Winter, Laena represented a loving and nurturing presence, someone who had already made a significant impact on her life.
Rhaenyra observed her daughter’s happiness with a mixture of relief and satisfaction. She knew how much Winter valued Laena and was glad to see her daughter’s enthusiasm about the forthcoming union. The visit to Driftmark, while a formal and important occasion, was also an opportunity for Winter to solidify her bond with Laena and for Rhaenyra to introduce her future spouse to the rest of her family in a meaningful way.
The atmosphere at Driftmark was a blend of formality and familial warmth as discussions about the marriage took place. The Velaryons, accustomed to such high-stakes negotiations, were prepared for the discussions, but the personal connections, particularly Winter’s affection for Laena, added a layer of emotional significance to the proceedings, Winter’s opinion held great significance for Rhaenyra in choosing a wife.
During their discussions about the forthcoming marriage, Rhaenyra and Laena covered a wide range of topics, including the intricacies of their future life together. Rhaenyra was open with Laena about her past, including her relationship with Alys and the existence of her son, Rhaegar. To her surprise, Laena took the revelation with an unexpected level of acceptance.
Laena’s reaction was both surprising and refreshing. She expressed that she didn’t mind Rhaenyra’s past relationships or her connections with other women. Instead, Laena proposed that she, too, should be free to seek pleasure from the same women. This proposal was a significant and unconventional request, but Rhaenyra found herself intrigued by Laena’s openness and willingness to embrace a more flexible arrangement.
Rhaenyra agreed to Laena’s proposal, appreciating her future bride’s candidness and the opportunity to navigate their relationship with mutual respect and understanding. This agreement was a surprising development for Rhaenyra, who had not anticipated such a progressive approach to their marriage, one where both parties would have the freedom to pursue their desires while building a future together.
The arrangement not only solidified Laena’s place in Rhaenyra’s life but also reinforced the sense of partnership and mutual respect between them. Rhaenyra was pleased with the outcome, feeling a renewed sense of optimism about their forthcoming union and the potential for a harmonious and fulfilling partnership.
Laena's only stipulation for their marriage was that their children would be the sole heirs, and any bastards Rhaenyra might have with other women would not be legitimized. This condition was crucial for Laena, as it ensured that their legitimate offspring would inherit the titles and privileges that came with their union.
Rhaenyra agreed to this term, understanding the importance of securing the line of succession and maintaining the integrity of their children's claim to the throne. Laena’s request was reasonable and pragmatic, aimed at preventing any potential conflicts or claims from illegitimate children. This agreement helped to further solidify their partnership, demonstrating Laena’s commitment to ensuring a stable and clear line of succession while also respecting Rhaenyra’s previous relationships.
The arrangement allowed Rhaenyra to proceed with her plans for the marriage with a clear understanding of the boundaries and expectations, ensuring that their future together would be defined by mutual respect and clarity.
Both Rhaenyra and Laena held a deep care for each other.
Their arrangement, while unconventional, demonstrated their commitment to making their union work and ensuring that both parties could find fulfillment within their marriage. With their shared values and mutual regard, they were hopeful that their relationship would evolve into a loving and supportive partnership.
