Chapter Text
Rhaenyra watched as her mother almost keeled over in rib cracking laughter. Her father made a poor excuse for a joke about dragons and her mother laughed like that was the first jest she had ever heard in her life.
Surely, father couldn't have said something that witty
To be fair, her mother thought her father was the funniest and most witty man in all the Seven Kingdoms. Rhaenyra on the other hand, had found a great pass time in telling her father that his jokes were embarrassing and that he should stop at once, lest he damages the ears of his poor courtiers, who were obliged to laugh at their King's horrible jests. In turn, to her absolute horror, her father came up with a new jest or a new riddle each new day to impress Rhaenyra, (some ended up being quite funny, she begrudgingly admitted). Though, despite her exasperation at her mother's poor sense of humour, she loved her laughter and believed she deserved to laugh every single day, even if it came from such dry riddles. But today, she knew why her mother was so ecstatic. Well, it wasn't just the day, but it was her mother's nameday week. “Week” wasn't even a fitting name because her mother's nameday was celebrated with 12 days of festivities, all because she was born on the 12th day of the moon.
As expected, the full court was bursting with unbridled energy. The King was a master of great merriment, but when it came to his Queen, he always took everything to the next level. In fact, the King was known to give a cold shoulder to prominent Lords who came late for his Queen's name day week, talk less of the ones who failed to attend at all. Best believe, if a lord was relevant enough for Viserys to remember him, then their lordly arses were atop their best horses and carriages on the road to Kingslanding the moment invitations landed in their rookery.
Despite her parents' chatter, the morning sun was out and all Rhaenyra could focus on was how the sun rays bounced off of her solid gold bangles sitting on her small wrists. Her fingers bore rings of solid gold housing red rubies of various designs. Her septa thought it excessive for a girl of two and ten, but her parents quickly dispelled such a notion. SImply put, their daughter loved rings, and age should matter little in wearing them.
Rhaenyra and her parents wore matching velvets of rich maroon and blood reds, but her mother had soft accents of blush pink on her dress. Queen Aemma wore a tall crown, originally gifted to Queen Rhaenys by Queen Visenya and with it, her mother truly looked like the belle of the ball. In fact, the trio looked like the vision of a royal family of fantasies and songs.
They sat together in the King's Solar, while other members of her mother's household socialized with each other around the room. Small talk here and there, maids dashing in with trays of bite sized food to nibble on while they waited for the various carriages to be readied for their trip down to the tournament grounds. Everyone was dressed in their best and sporting the styles and fabrics of their homelands. Rhaenyra heard giggles from each cluster of women—majority of them being either her mother's ladies or women from the Vale. She would be gossiping too but Jeyne was taking forever to return from her chambers and Laena was running late, most likely because her parents were running late.
“Rhaenyra…..Rhaenyra,” Viserys called out.
Rhaenyra had tuned out her parents and didn't realise when her father asked her a question.
“Which lad do you think will be a star today? Better yet, what house do you think will boast of the most promising lads in today's games?” Her mother asked.
“Mmmm,” Rhaenyra hummed as she thought about the question. “Ser Gerold enlisted two of his nephews. I believe he'd task them with outshining any boy or squire he suspects is related to Uncle Daemon. All to soothe whatever imagined slight he feels uncle has committed against him,” Rhaenyra said, her chin up as if daring her father to counter her.
“Imagined slight?” Viserys scoffed, unabld to resist the temptation to criticise his brother “No, my joy, if Gerold wants to one up Daemon, it is not over an imagined slight, with his poor conduct as a husband,your uncle is not as perfect as you think he—”
But Rhaenyra was not interested in listening to a critique of her uncle, so she cut him off, albeit sweetly, “The master at arms of Hearts Home is a reputable knight and I think I've heard, mother's ladies say his son is shaping up to be as talented with the sword as his father.”
“For mud wrestling, I've got faith in the Baratheons for their sturdiness. All the men are large and burly, I think it would be hard for the most talented boys to go against pure muscle, even if it's young muscle”
Viserys laughed with a hearty rumble, barely acknowledging the change in subject,“My joy, I knew you would not disappoint in giving me a carefully thought out analysis. That is why I call you my eyes and ears. How do you know so much?
“I've overheard many of Rhaenyra's friends boast about their brothers and cousins alike,” Aemma said
“Why wouldn't they? Every girl views their brother as a gallant hero. But that's the good thing about tournaments. It reveals the true heroes and separates the wheat from the chaff”
“It hardly signifies, my love. This isn't a real tourney, this is only a junior tournament. It's only a bit of fun for the boys. A boy could fall on his face today, and become a Master at arms or Commander tomorrow ” Queen Aemma corrected
“But mother, you said you are going to keep an eye out for any boy that shows great skill so you can see if he can impress cousin Jeyne” Rhaenyra added
Aemma wanted to respond, but no sound left her mouth. Viserys chuckled, pleased with his over observant child “That's a very good observation, my sweet precocious child”, then he turned to his speechless wife and wriggled his eyebrows, teasing her because her secret plan was laid bare, “Tell me why you are keeping an eye out for squires for Jeyne. Does Jeyne know about this?”
Jeyne had been the Lady Paramount of the Vale since the age of three. The daughter of her mother's eldest brother, Queen Aemma had never faltered in ensuring the Vale remained under the regency put in place for Jeyne. Queen Aemma threw her back into stabilizing the region after the tragic loss of her brother and nephews. To further legitimize Jeyne, her mother often fostered her in Kingslanding, almost every other year, to show royal support and to provide the best education, so her opponents could see her study at the foot of the King. But that wasn't all Queen Aemma was concerned with. Aemma knew that Jeyne was the most powerful maiden in the realm, for there was no other female Lord Paramount and Warden in their own right, so she wanted to be watchful over Jeyne’s suitors, even if she knew at ten and five, Jeyne would be going through the throes of young love and knightly crushes. She wanted to at least have a long list of good young squires that were worthy of Jeyne's future correspondence. Many Lords would bring their heirs forward, but Jeyne was strict. She was stern, she was serious and far from the blushing teetering maiden.
Instead of answering the question, she deflected, “Do not call her that,” Aemma scolded her husband.
“What?”
“Precocious”
“But everyone thinks so”
“I do not care, I did not teach her how to read at the age of two, just for her to be summed up as that. We should be using words that foster a healthy attitude with learning like, “curious”, inquisitive.”
“Yes, wife,” Viserys acquiesced with a low murmur, but his voice picked up with a playful note when he said, “But, tell me about your intentions for your niece”
“I do not have any intentions” Aemma answered quickly, a little too quickly.
“I just…I only wish to watch and take note of any dashing squire who Jeyne cheers for the most. Probably get a chance to talk to them, introduce them to Jeyne.” Aemma continued
“So that is why you asked her to change into a more fitting gown” Viserys laughed again.
“Shhh,” Aemma snapped “That is not why! Jeyne is my guest of honour. She shouldn't have worn something so casual. She's the Maiden of the Vale!” Aemma protested breathlessly
“It's alright, my heart” Viserys said as he laughed at his wife's befuddlement
“I meant it when I said, I would not let her marry till she is twenty and two, not a second earlier.” Aemma defended her self, even though no one accused her of anything
“I just think it's wiser to help her form healthy friendships now, with my guidance. Jeyne wouldn't do well with a marriage to someone she barely knows, and Jeyne is hard to impress. I'd like her to vocalise who she finds interesting or not” Aemma said
Jeyne finally took that moment to walk through the doors, now wearing a sky blue gown, with multiple layers and a final underlining that was crisp white in color. A diamond set rested on her neck, wrist and ears, catching the early morning sunlight like something out of a dream. Jeyne's hands were on her hips, and her face held a bored expression.
“I have returned. I hope this looks eventful enough”, Jeyen drawled. Her voice and face couldn't hide her disinterest in the dress that would turn everyone's heads when she walked by.
Rhaenyra smiled at the sight of her cousin. Rhaenyra loved the art of looking good and she enjoyed observing the best dressed nobles at court. Her father smiled, but kept silent waiting for Aemma to place her verdict.
“Now that's what I'm talking about. You look beautiful my hatchling” Aemma beamed, rising to embrace her.
“You look as regal as a falcon,” Viserys chimed in, following her lead, after seeing that his wife was finally satisfied with Jeyne's dress change. Viserys and Aemma launched into another fit of laughter, meanwhile Jeyne sat next to Rhaenyra, and they both sported scrunched noses at the irritating love birds. Rhaenyra rolled her eyes when her father looked at her.
While her mother and father regained their composure after their fit of unnecessary laughter, Aemma wiped a tear from her eye and asked “Is there anyone you hope would walk away with medals, Jeyne?”
“Well, maybe Jessamyn's brother, I don't think you've met him. He fostered with the Brax's, but I think he's a hard worker and should walk away with something” Jeyne said. Jeyne had always been very mature to Rhaenyra. She idolized her cousin and admired how unbothered she seemed at most things.
Rhaenyra looked at her mother, and she felt like she could see the wheels in her mother's head rolling. Perhaps mother thought Jeyne had a blooming affection for this Redfort boy.
“And is he a comely lad?” Aemma asked. She leaned forward, every inch of her body looked excited at the turn of the conversation.
Jeyne took a moment to stare into space. She looked like she had to actually think deeply about the question, “I don't see how that affects his performance today, but I guess some would say he is comely, though not as much as his sister, if you ask me”
But Rhaenyra could see it in her mother's eyes that all she heard was that Jeyne had called a boy good looking, never mind she barely really said that all, because Jeyne hardly called any boy good looking, so this sounded like High praise in comparison.
Jeyne picked a piece of honeyed oat biscuits from a maid that offered the royal family the tray “What about you aunt? it's your celebration, after all”
“I only want everyone to have a grand time. If I had my way, every boy would walk away a winner,” Aemma said.
Viserys groaned. Rhaenyra knew her mother would say that and she knew her father would respond cheekily.
“Father, it is unbecoming of a king to groan,” Rhaenyra teased. The King in turn gave another long groan in response and Rhaenyra laughed. Viserys smiled, quite pleased with himself.
“Aemma, there must be losers. The fun in games is hoping for your enemies to lose”
“I do not remember you codifying that,” Aemma said.
Great, now her parents were about to start flirting. Rhaenyra did not know much about flirting, but she knew they liked emphasizing their kingship and Queenship when they did it. Yuck. Rhaenyra had to put a stop to that.
“No mother, you have to choose someone or at least some people you're rooting for. Then you have to tell them so that they work extra hard to win the most medals and make you, the celebrant, happy,” Rhaenyra lectured her mother.
“Happy? I would be happy if I get to see a blossoming match. If I get to see just two younglings take this event as an opportunity to act as the gallant knight and the fair maiden, then I would be the happiest Queen. I don't think there is anything I love more than love.
Rhaenyra and Jeyne looked at each other then they both rolled their eyes, fast enough before the Queen could notice.
“What of the Lord Hands boy?” Viserys asked
“Gwayne? Do not waste your breath father, he's quite poor at most things in the training yard. Though I hear he's better than his two eldest brothers ever were, but it's always so easy for the other boys to disarm him of his sword and make him drop on his rump,” Rhaenyra said. Rhaenyra heard so many stories about her grandmother Alyssa, who was a talented swords woman. It was often said that her grandmother could go toe to toe with the Red Keep knights. Princess Alyssa even sparred with her grandfather Prince Baelon. Rhaenyra wished she was allowed to train so she could be the living memory of her grandmother. When she was little, she imagined herself to be as formidable as Visenya, so when she saw boys who couldn't keep up in the training yard or take it seriously enough, she felt sour. Rhaenyra always felt drawn to great fighters like her uncle Daemon, or even her cousin Laenor.
Footsteps through the doors caught her attention. It was Ser Otto and his Gwayne—all looks but no skill.
“Your Graces,” Otto greeted. He bowed and stepped forward.
“Ah, there he is, the man of the moment” Viserys boomed. Gwayne smiled in response. He stood straight, like his father, but he had a warmer, if not friendlier bearing to him that his father hardly ever had.
“Your Grace, Your Grace,” Gwayne greeted her parents.
“I hear you are competing today,”
“Yes, I am,” Gwayne said.
“I'm sure you will make your father proud by showing them the strength of the Hightower,” Viserys said. Perhaps he thought it would please Gwayne.
“Ha Ha,” Gwayne let out a false laugh which gave off nervousness rather than amusement. “I can only say I will try my best, my king,” Gwayne said, his eyes all of a sudden finding something of interest on the floor.
Otto exhaled heavily through flared nostrils and Gwayne cringed when he looked back at his father, knowing he didn't give the answer his father would have liked.
Rhaenyra saw Otto glare at his daughter who stood further behind while her brother Gwayne answered the King and Queen's questions with grace, and charisma. Gwayne could be charming, when he spoke to people who weren't her. Alicent, on the other hand, was a very shy girl. It was usually easy for people to overlook her or better yet not notice her at all. She did herself no favors by constantly hiding in corners whenever she accompanied her father. Her father was the Lord Hand for seven sake.
“Alicent,” Aemma called out with a maternal smile. She probably saw the girl standing alone far into the corner behind Ser Otto.
“Your Graces,” Alicent answered meekly
“You look lovely today” That was a lie. Rhaenyra and Jeyne tried to make eye contact with Aemma, who squarely avoided their attempts. Rhaenyra's mother almost swallowed Jeyne whole for wearing a dress that still looked twice as beautiful and expensive than what Alicent currently had on.. Well, Rhaenyra supposed it was the Queen's duty to make everyone feel special. Rhaenyra looked over Alicent's attire, it was a simple soft blue gown that had a nice but demure design upon a single unadorned fabric. She wore a single short pearl necklace that Rhaenyra was familiar with but the highlight of her look was her pretty auburn curls. Rhaenyra greatly admired her fiery locs.
The Lord Hand confused Rhaenyra, unlike her father, or Laena's father or even the fathers of her friends at court, he did not put great effort into his daughter's closet. Did he not realise that that looked awful of him as the Hand of the King.
Rhaenyra turned to Jeyne to talk but saw her slightly frown at Otto. She turned to look at what Jeyne was frowning at. Rhaenyra's parents were busy talking with Gwayne, Alicent had shrunk back into her father's shadow, or better yet, her brother's shadow. Otto seemed to direct his daughter with his eyes. His face was stern and his lips thinned to show how much whatever he was communicating with Alicent was not negotiable. Then he shoved her ever so slightly but firmly enough for Rhaenyra's sharp eyes to catch it. Without turning, Rhaenyra could hear Jeyne exhale next to her. She didn't know why, but it wasn't out of approval.
Alicent, who was shoved in their direction, mumbled some nervous greetings at Rhaenyra and Jeyne. Where Rhaenyra smiled, Jeyne’s lip curved into something hostile. Rhaenyra sometimes forgot that some people found her cousin frightening, but she jumped in instead of letting Alicent feel Jeyne’s heat, “I love the way you styled your hair today. It's glowing indoors, so I wonder how it would look outside,”
“Thank you, Princess,” Alicent said. Although her face turned a bit red. Rhaenyra noticed that she blushed often. Maybe it comes with shyness. Rhaenyra wouldn't know, she hadn't spent a day of her life feeling like anything other than a dragon, so she found it odd that people found other people scary “You look spectacular as always,” Alicent said.
Rhaenyra smiled but before she could respond, Ser Otto had nudged Alicent the left and brought Gwayne before her. Her parents were busy talking to the Steward, so Otto set his sights on her.
“Princess I'm sure you can spare my son a few minutes for him to shower you some praises,” Otto said
“Not that I would mind, Lord Hand, but your son doesn't really let out that many words around me” Rhaenyra said and shrugged.
Tala Aemma said, without even looking in Rhaenyra's direction. Instead, she looked like she was paying full attention to the conversation between her father and the Steward. But Rhaenyra understood her mother's secret mother language. That meant that Rhaenyra had mistakenly used her dragon claws, or mistakingly blown smoke from her snout. Rhaenyra had a sharp tongue and her mother often said that Rhaenyra forgot that other people weren't as thick skinned to face her sharp tongue.
And in this moment, she was right.
Gwayne's face went red and Ser Otto looked slightly embarrassed. Rhaenyra didn't mean it the wrong way. The boy just stuttered a lot around her. Laenor had told her it meant that Gwayne found her too pretty to talk to. All Rhaenyra knew was that it was exhausting trying to get him to spit his words out.
“The carriages will be ready any moment from now, so there will be little time to chat anyway,” Otto replied to fill the silence his son couldn't “But I'm sure you'd be so kind to hand Gwayne your favour during the tournament. That would boost his morale, princess” Oto said. He gave a smile with the request, but the thing with Otto's smiles is that they didn't always look right. Sometimes Rhaenyra felt his smiles appeared drawn on.
Gwayne's face went redder, as if that was even possible. Rhaenyra wondered whether he didn't actually want her favour or whether he felt embarrassed having his father ask on his behalf.
“That would not be necessary father” Gwayne choked out
“Hmmm, I'll give my favour to whoever catches my eye. Perhaps the most handsome boy” Rhaenyra pointed the statement to Jeyne, eliciting an eye roll from her. Rhaebyra giggled in return. Jeyne always acted so troubled anytime Rhaenyra went on and on about pretty squires. “Alright, my favour goes between someone who is both pretty and promising,” Rhaenyra giggled once again, to Jeyne's dismay. Pretty and promising. She hoped she rejected Gwayne or should she say Otto's request well enough. It should be clear what she meant. Gwayne was pretty like a knight from a tale, but he couldn't promise anything but a bottom stained with soil.
“If you are looking for a morale booster, let me add a pouch of gold. It will be all yours if you make it to the final round, Gwayne” Her father said.
Otto puffed out his chest, feeling every inch a proud father at his son getting special encouragement from the King.
But Rhaenyra's mother quickly, stealthily pinched her father and whispered to him in High Valyrian “Have you promised this gold to mine own nephews who have come all the way from the Vale or even our own Laenor? Yet you are jumping to give to whom, by all indications, is not as good as them?” Despite the scolding on her tongue, Aemma's face kept the dazzling smile she was known for. The non High Valyrian speakers would most likely have no idea Aemma admonished Viserys for his loose fist.
“You're right. I'm just excited that it's your name day week. I promise to give the same encouragement to our Laenor and your nephews,” Viserys said. “But you can not blame me, a mere pouch of gold would hardly impress young Laenor, talk less of encourage him”
Aemma huffed.
“Father, you do not even need to encourage him. Laenor has trained day and night for weeks” Rhaenyra jumped into the conversation. Her addition in High Valyrian, left Otto confused even if he tried to hide it.
“You see,” Viserys said to his wife, this time, in Common tongue.
Eventually the steward returned to announce that the carriages as well as Princess Rhaenys and her family were ready to depart to the tournament grounds.
Everyone rose and waited for the King and Queen to step out of the Solar first, Rhaenyra and Jeyne just behind, then the rest of the room trailed out, in order of precedence.
As much as everyone was excited for the day ahead, hoping that their carefully bets and predictions proved fruitful, Rhaenyra did not really care who won or lost. Instead, she wanted her mother to end the day happy and satisfied.