Chapter Text
Whatever happened to the Realm's Delight that we always knew?
That was the stupid question Rhaenyra overheard a pot-bellied-nobody-Lord say to another what-even-was-his-silly-name Knight while coming around the corner in the garden. The sun had set, and supper had come and gone, yet Rhaenyra was in her room, still thinking about the two fools and their foolish question. Who knows, perhaps the Realm's delight lost her mother prematurely? Perhaps her father had an affair with her lady-in-waiting whom she considered a dear friend and married her in no time? Or perhaps the roguish prince that the Realm's delight wanted more than anything was out of reach when she needed him the most?
Rhaenyra, the Realm's Delight, is what they call her, but she is a person, not a dream or a fantasy.
Rhaenyra stared at her reflection in the huge vanity mirror as she combed her silky, straight, silver hair. She wished Laena could be there to hold her to her chest, just smelling her scent could maybe make her less angry with the world.
Rhaenyra had always had a huge batch of friends, but these days, she shut herself from the world. She had every right to, at least that is what she told herself as she turned away from the vanity mirror and looked at her huge ornate desk made of expensive driftwood. A pile of dusty letters lay unanswered, and for some, unopened. Her friends from all over the realm had been writing to her nonstop, but she hadn't had the strength or enthusiasm to answer them. Gone was the bright and energetic social butterfly she once was.
If she couldn't find it in herself to write some words on parchment to respond to letters, what energy did she have to talk with her ladies-in-waiting? That's right, none! Absolutely none! Once upon a time she had only one lady-in-waiting, and she kept postponing adding more despite Rhaenys telling her to do so. Rhaenyra was protecting Alicent's heart at the time. How foolish of her. Alicent was so shy and easily blended into the background when in the midst of Rhaenyra's friends at court. The mere mention of another lady-in-waiting joining her ranks made Alicent downcast. Rhaenyra did not want her to feel pushed aside so she ignored Rhaenys till she couldn't anymore.
Now she had how many? 6? 7? 8? Honestly, her brain had been foggy these days. Crying for hours would do that to even the most intelligent mind. She felt bad for these girls. They probably thought they'd scored a great feat by becoming the famous Princess’s ladies. But Rhaenyra kept her distance and gave them leave to do whatever they wanted, as long as they didn't bother her. She felt bad. She did. They wanted to be closer to her, but it was hard to trust friends again, after her friend seduced her father. Well, the only person she trusted now was Laena. These girls often looked sad and solemn whenever Rhaenyra could manage to crack a smile for Laena but kept them at arm's length. Rhaenyra wasn't cruel or wicked. No, she only made sure that they couldn't penetrate her bubble or climb over her carefully placed wall.
Rhaenyra dropped her brush to find a string to tie her hair away from her face—an action for her maid, but she loved being the only one in her room these days.
Then a knock came through.
“The Lady Lyonna Strong,” the guard at her door announced.
Rhaenyra was incensed. What was it this time? Lyonna, the daughter of Lord Lyonel, was one of her ladies-in-waiting. Some days she regretted picking her because the girl kept making up excuses to try and get closer to Rhaenyra. She was persistent; in fact, she was a pest. She already gave orders that none of her ladies should disturb her evening, but alas, Lyonna, unsurprisingly ignored that.
Rhaenyra quickly thought of a scathing remark that could send Lyonna running away to her chambers. Rhaenyra could easily do that; she had a cruel mouth whenever she wanted to make someone feel pain. But then she thought of just ignoring her till she retreated with her own good sense.
Rhaenyra smacked her lips. Even she knew that she was just having a melancholic evening and should not take it out on the poor girl. So she relented.
“Come in,” Rhaenyra said.
Lyonna came in and gave a very deep bow. Her dress was really pretty, she would admit. Yes, Lyonna was Lord Strong's daughter who had been an aid to her, but she picked Lyonna because she loved her clothes. Lyonna's father may love to live and cloak himself with modesty, but his daughters, especially Lyonna, were quick to lift that veil and make the wealth of the Lordship of Harrenhal known through the most fantastic pieces in their wardrobe.
“I remember I gave clear instructions, did I not? Yet here you are, disobeying and interrupting my evening,” Rhaenyra said flatly, her voice devoid of any warmth.
But Lyonna was, if anything, like a rash. She wouldn't go away. She was stubborn. Lyonna didn't answer immediately; instead, she bowed once again, even deeper, and said, “I apologize Princess. Please grant me your audience.”
If Rhaenyra could, she would have held Lyonna's gaze till she withered, but Lyonna's eyes kept to the ground, her head bowed as she refused to end her curtsey. You sneaky devil. And a part of Rhaenyra said that affectionately because Lyonna knew just how to make it hard for Rhaenyra to stay mad at her.
“Stand up,” Rhaenyra said, not as harsh as her last remark.
Lyonna rose with a small smile. “Thank you, Princess, so I—I...” Lyonna cleared her throat. Nervously—she noted.
Rhaenyra arched a brow, but she didn't say anything. It wasn't her job to make Lyonna any more confident when she shouldn't even be here in the first place.
“I was out this evening with my brother and he said I should give you this message,” Lyonna rushed out the words as if each syllable placed a knife against her tongue.
“Your brother?”
“Ser Harwin, not Larys,” Lyonna quickly supplied, as if she didn't want Rhaenyra to make a heaven-forbidden mistake of thinking of Larys in place of Harwin. But Rhaenyra did not know what to think or feel.
A message?
“Alright. What is this message?”
“I do not know. It is written,” Lyonna said. Rhaenyra's cheeks went warm. What would he have to write to me? After all this time.
“Give it to me.”
Lyonna did as she was told. She shuffled forward, the thick fabrics of her skirt rustling through the air. Lyonna placed the scroll in Rhaenyra's hand. Rhaenyra looked at the scroll for a moment and couldn't tell why her heart skipped a beat. Well of course, they shared an unexpected splendid afternoon in the garden, but that was more than two weeks ago. Since then she hadn't spoken to him and neither he to her. She almost started thinking she imagined that day. She was angry for the first week, going crazy at his silence, after—after that rare happy afternoon. But then she asked herself, what did she want? Or rather, what did she want him to do? He had his own life, a gaggle of admirers who fainted anytime they saw him; they barely even knew each other. She couldn't expect Harwin to really remember the encounter, so she moved on from it, reminding herself to stay by herself, because no one and nothing truly stayed.
But now… now her stomach did the thing. The thing where it felt like it flipped over by itself. What could this be? A special private message, that's for sure. After feeling numb the whole day, it felt nice to feel something. To look forward to something. But what if it was just a greeting? Even that would make her happy. Harwin, that she barely knew, was one of the only things that made her ill feelings about her new reality vanish, even if temporarily. So if all this letter said was, “How do you do?” Rhaenyra would go to bed fighting a smile off of her face.
Lyonna shifted uncomfortably on her feet. The girl must think Rhaenyra was mad, staring at an unopened scroll like a statue. How long had Rhaenyra been staring at the scroll in her hand? Snap out of it. She cleared her throat and hoped that Lyonna couldn't read her mind.
She read the words silently, brows knotted in focus, while chewing on her lip because of her nervous stomach. Harwin wrote:
“Beautiful Rhaenyra, pardon my lack of presence these past few weeks. I have felt absolutely bereft thinking about the fact that I have not given an explanation concerning my unfulfilled request. I hope you can forgive me? If it would please you, meet me at the Kingswood, just south of the cluster of the rocky stumps. You would see me and my white horse if you fly over with Syrax. Tomorrow is Sept day, so I hope you would say yes. Please give my sister your reply. Much love, a smitten knight.”
Rhaenyra read the words twice, thrice, and then four times. She couldn't believe her eyes, but a smile came to her face nonetheless. She didn't even know she was smiling till she saw Lyonna smile back through the periphery of her vision. He remembered, she thought. He hadn't forgotten. And he knew how awful it was for him to just disappear. No, she needed to calm down. Lyonna was still watching her like a hawk.
“Could you bring me parchment and ink? It's in that cupboard,” Rhaenyra asked. And she realized that her voice had a bit of mirth to it. She needed to calm down. She was acting like an inexperienced maiden fawning over a knight. Well, she was, deep down.
Lyonna looked at her with wide eyes, dropped into a curtsy again and gasped, “Yes, princess. Of course, I will.” She darted away to get the ink and parchment as if it were a life-or-death situation. Lyonna was excited. She couldn't fault her because Rhaenyra trusted her ladies with nothing and refrained from engaging them. Rhaenyra asking her to fetch ink must seem like a miracle to her.
Lyonna handed it to her and quickly fetched a candle to bring closer to her while she wrote. Lyonna was very excited because Rhaenyra didn't even think to ask that. But she would admit that that was quick thinking on Lyonna's part, even if that wasn't a task for a lady-in-waiting but a handmaiden; but once again, she is the one who has refused to engage her ladies. She wished Alicent did not destroy her ability to trust; Lyonna would have been such a dear one to have close, even if she pretended otherwise.
Now, the question was what should she write? She was buzzing with excitement now, but she didn't know what words to put down as a response. But, and this is a very big but, she couldn't let her excitement shine through her words. Wait! What if Lyonna could see her excitement and tell her brother? What would he even do? Rhaenyra knew she was overthinking it now. What would he even do? Ask her about it? She'd deny it. After all, she was a great liar. Despite her differing thoughts, Rhaenyra finally thought of what to write.
She quickly scribbled:
“Dear Ser Harwin, I have decided to overlook another one of your transgressions, simply because I'm trying to exercise mercy these days (you must find a way to make it up to me, despite my mercy). That is to say, I will fly over when the second Sept day service holds around the city. See you then. From a disgruntled Princess.”
Rhaenyra went over the words twice and handed it to Lyonna. Lyonna curtsied once again. The curtsies have been too much in less than an hour. She never even allowed Alicent to curtsy except when they were in public where it was absolutely necessary. Should she tell Lyonna to stop? She wanted to, but she did not want to repeat the same cycle of betrayal she suffered with Alicent with any new lady by bringing them close to her heart.
“I know he is your brother, and I know I am in no place to make a request as your mistress since I haven't held you with much trust. But we are girls, and I hope that as a girl, you understand that I'd prefer you to not tell him that I was… that I was…” Rhaenyra cleared her throat, her pride getting in the way, “that I was smiling,” she finally said.
“What? Me? Tell my brother? Heavens, no! I'd sew my lips with my embroidery needle just for you to feel rest assured,” Lyonna said, quite passionately.
Rhaenyra snorted. Alright, she actually giggled. Lyonna was quite a passionate person; she was endearing in that way… as much as she wanted to pretend otherwise.
Lyonna smiled. A genuine one. Seemingly happy that she could put a smile on her Princess who smiled less and less these days.
“And Princess, you can request anything from me. I am yours; you do not have to earn it because I understand what you gave been going through. Have a good night's rest.”
And before Rhaenyra could even digest the words, Lyonna curtsied again, eyes to the floor, then quickly rushed out of her chambers so Rhaenyra would have no opportunity to respond.
Rhaenyra realized she felt warm and light-weighted dropping her mask, just for a single moment, in front of Lyonna. Should she rethink her attitude towards her ladies? She asked herself. No. She could not bear anymore betrayals dressed as devotion. No matter how good it felt.
She got up and moved towards her bed. Tomorrow felt too far away. She would finally get to see Breakbones again, and not across a crowded hallway, but up close and in private. Why was she so excited? She didn't know, but her mind wandered regardless; How would she dress her hair? What fragrance would she wear? Maybe, just maybe, she would ask Lyonna for her opinion getting ready tomorrow. But for tonight, she could dream of this tall dashing knight, and forget all about the problems of her current life.