Chapter Text
It had been hard enough for Rhaenyra to allow this obstinacy on her own.
Weakened from childbirth – the child that the wretched Aegon had stolen from her through his actions – she sat and listened to the terms brought forth by Grand Maester Orwyle and the rest of the party. Her hands squeezed the front of her dress as tightly as she could, struggling to keep her face as composed as possible.
She bit back the urge to scream at them. To denounce them for what they were – vile, contemptible traitors – but she was Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, and she must be proper. As hard as it was, she had the support of her sons and the rest of her leal council.
“I would urge you to accept these terms, Princess.” Orwyle said, offering a gentle bow, “the realm does not want – nor does it need – to be plunged into another war where kin slay each other upon dragon-back.”
Even though she hated them for what they were, Rhaenyra was..tired. She looked to where Rhaenys stood, herself a picture of composure. She had been right – long ago, when she had warned her of what was to come. Men would sooner put the realm to the torch then see a woman sit the Iron Throne. Every day since Aegon's birth had been a fight for what was rightfully hers – the throne that her father had proclaimed she would inherit. Yet she was born without a cock, and that put her at a disadvantage.
Fixing her eyes on Orwyle, Rhaenyra finally spoke. “I will require time to consider this...generous offer, Grand Maester.” she said, biting back the venom threatening to seethe to the surface. “You will have your answer on the morrow.”
Bowing, the party began to make for the doors. “There is one more thing, Princess.” Orwyle said, turning back to face her. “The Dowager Queen Alicent wished for me to deliver this to you.” He held out a folded sheaf of parchment, faded and torn in places. “I do not know what it is, but...she said you would understand.”
Rhaenyra's gaze narrowed. “Ser Steffon,” she commanded as the Kingsguard knight brought the sheaf to her. As she took it, her hands began to shake, the tremors starting almost at once as she felt the rough texture of the parchment.
By now the party had left the great hall, leaving her alone with her council. It was all too much; Rhaenyra unfolded the parchment and the tremors began again, her eyes swimming hot with tears as she blinked rapidly to clear them from her vision.
...Princess Nymeria led her Rhoynar across the Narrow Sea on 10,000 ships to flee their Valyrian pursuers. She took Lord Mors Martell of Dorne to husband and burned her own fleet off Sun spear to show her people that they were finished running...
So you do remember.
“Out. All of you.” she shouted at the top of her lungs. The room began to empty – mercifully quickly – save for her son. Jacaerys approached the throne as Rhaenyra stared down at the page. To her surprise, tears began to stain the now-faded picture upon it. Was it from her? Was she crying? No, a Queen does not cry.
“Mother.” Jace put a hand on her shoulder. “Are you alright?”
Rhaenyra looked up at her son. He was fourteen now, a man in his own right. One day, he would sit the Iron Throne after her. She was proud of what he had become – he was popular with lords high and low, and devoted to his siblings and family.
“They want to take what is ours, Jace.” she whispered, trying to focus on her son's face. It would not do her good to look down at that wretched page. “They...they wish to deny you and I our rights.”
Jace shook his head. “I do not mean that, Mother.” He smiled, his expression full of sympathy. “This message from the Dowager. It...seems a page from a book? Why does it give you such grief, if I may ask?”
“This?” Rhaenyra shook her head. “It...is nothing, Jace.” She tried to smile, but her lips trembled as she struggled to make the movement. “An old memory – ghosts. Nothing more.”
“Mother, please.” he said, kneeling down next to her. “I want to help.”
She laughed, despite herself. He had his father's damned stubbornness. If only Harwin was still here, able to offer her counsel. Laenor, too – he had always been reasonable and just. But both men were long dead, their ashes now joining that of her lady mother – and now, her father.
“You can't, Jace. Not with this.” she whispered, almost pleading. Her mind began to play out those times – times long gone, but never forgotten. “Please...” she said, not to Jace but to herself; those memories were best left buried. Do not make me relive them...
I want to fly with you on dragon back, see the great wonders across the Narrow Sea, and eat only cake.
They were young girls once again, free of the burdens of childbirth and the expectations of their fathers to do their duties. There were no duties, now – just happiness under the skies of the Red Keep's gardens.
You aren't worried about your position?
I like this position. It's quite comfortable.
Part of her longed for those days. Where her and Alicent could be themselves – be whole among one another. It had taken her many years to admit, but what she had felt for Alicent was the first time someone had made her heart flutter. Rhaenyra had long wondered if she had felt the same way about her; sometimes, her thoughts had turned lewd; how would her lips feel on mine? But, of course, such thoughts were inappropriate for noble ladies.
Even still, every time Alicent hugged her, or laughingly slapped her on the shoulder or even held her hand when grief had taken hold following her mother's death, she had felt a heat within that refused to go away. An energy that she'd felt only when riding Syrax.
When did we lose it?
Rhaenyra knew, of course she knew – it was the day that her father had announced he would remarry again. She had supported him, of course; it was the duty of a King to provide heirs for the realm. Her own mother had told her as much when she was young – and so she was prepared for that day.
She was not prepared for her father to proclaim he would wed Alicent, of all people. Rhaenyra still could recall the absolute pain and betrayal she had felt, her eyes staring in disbelief back and forth between her father and her best friend, her closest and dearest companion. The world had collapsed in upon itself, and a piece of her had withered when those words had been uttered.
Learning later that Alicent had been conducting secret 'meetings' with her father over the last six months had not helped. A white hot anger had joined her sorrow and pain and despite as much as she tried – as desperately as she had tried – she knew things would never be the same between them again.
And indeed, they weren't. She had tried to keep the relationship that they had before her father had divided them, but Alicent shortly became Queen – and it was not long before she became a mother as well, agitating for her Aegon's rights to the Iron Throne alongside her own wretched father, Otto Hightower.
But Rhaenyra was a mother, too. She knew that she would do anything – truly, anything – to see that Jace, Luke, Joff, Aegon and Viserys were granted what they deserved. To be happy and prosperous, as they deserved. Alicent would do the same for her own children – and as expected, there were many incidents along the way.
The constant fights between the boys thanks to Aegon and Aemond's taunts of bastardy. Aemond and his eye. The near-brawl between Jace and Aegon when Jace had merely asked a dance from Helaena. There were a thousand more, all solidifying the ugly truth that there was no going back.
And that is what makes this the more painful for her. They could never go back – as much as she desperately wanted to. There was only one way out of this for their family, and as much as she despaired over it she knew that Aegon and his mother would never relent.
“Why could we not go to the ends of the earth together?” she mumbled, tears now freely flowing down her face. “I loved her, Jace.” she said, looking to her son's worried expression. “Alicent and I...we were as sisters. No, closer than sisters. Long ago.”
Jace took his mother's hand. Gods, she loved him for that. “I understand, Mother. You need not say anything else. Whatever you decide, I will stand by you no matter what.”
There was no going back. “Old memories, Jace.” she sniffed, wiping at her eyes with her free hand. “We...we cannot mourn the past forever. As much as...as much as I want to. I have you and your brothers to think of. And a kingdom to claim.”
Now they see you as you are. Not as the one Rhaenyra had loved, but as the enemy she had become.