Chapter Text
A man wearing a dark cloak and hood that hid his face from view blocked her path. She had no need to see his face, for she already knew who he was. Even his stance, simple and disarming though it was currently, set her teeth on edge.
Rhea had her horse stop well ahead of her husband, knuckles whitening under her gloves as her fingers tightened around the reins. She watched him stride closer to her, descending the winding path and kicking up bits of pebbles and twigs every so often.
His hood fluttered against the breeze at his front, revealing glimpses of his silver hair, shorn far shorter than he usually preferred to keep it. He was a proud man, and one source of pride was his hair, where he oft displayed the braids of his Valyrian blood.
She would say she found this sight most strange, but in truth, she had spent only a few months, possibly merely a year or two in total if one were to place them all together, in the presence of her husband. It was different, yes, but she could not bring herself to become disconcerted either way. Honestly, his sartorial choices were the least of her issues with him.
Rhea tilted her head. Her voice was cool but polite. "Husband."
Daemon said nothing but halted in his tracks nonetheless, head lifting to look upon her. He was approximately the length of a cart away from reaching her. Her horse began to fret even from this proximity. Rhea soothed her with a click of her tongue.
"What brings you to the Vale?"
Her husband remained silent but took another step toward her, only to pause again as she continued speaking, dropping any pretense at politeness.
"Or have you at last come to consummate our marriage? The Vale sheep might be willing, even if I'm not. Our sheep are prettier after all."
If he was at all ashamed to have attention brought to the callous rumors he incessantly flung about behind her back, it definitely did not show upon his face. All he did was stare at her. His expression was oddly neutral for once.
Rhea was unaccustomed to this. He nearly always shot back with quips of his own, ones meant to demean her in some way. As he went around telling people exactly what he thought of her, he did so to her face as well.
"Or perhaps your brother has at last had his fill of your company." That was the most likely and actually the only reason that Daemon would be here. He loathed her presence just as much as she did his. Rhea shook her head, lips curling in a sneer. "Cast you aside in favor of a little girl."
She aimed to cut, and cut it did. For her husband was spurred into action again, crossing the remaining distance toward her and lifting a hand toward her horse. Her mare stepped back, taking two for every of Daemon's one, huffing warily at his attempts to reach her muzzle.
Rhea ignored the pounding of her heart. Daemon did look so very odd this time around. She knew not what it was about him, but even her horse knew something was wrong. She refused to let any of her unease show on her face, lifting her chin instead.
"What will you do now?" Daemon pulled his hand away as her mare shook her head, rearing back from him. Rhea steadied her. "Will you strike the child down?"
That seemed like precisely the sort of thing that her husband might do. He may have affection for his family, but when it came to one of them standing in the way of what he felt was his, he was all too eager to cast aside familial love in favor of his pride. Had he not celebrated the death of his nephew so exuberantly that it got him kicked from King's Landing and his brother's heart?
Daemon lifted his head to look upon her, gaze meeting hers and boring deeply. Something cold gripped her heart, tightening her chest. He looked as though-
No, was her first thought to that. Disbelieving. Surely not.
Only to immediately followed by, why wouldn't he? Does he not hate you?
"Or...?"
Daemon tilted his head as she trailed off.
Her husband was a dangerous man. This she was all too aware of. She... she supposed she had not expected their hatred to grow to the point that he would actually pervert their vows this far, forsaking his lady wife to the point of death, all so he might be finally rid of her.
Rhea yanked her feet from the stirrups and flung herself off her mare with scarcely a moment to spare. Daemon frightened her horse to the point that she flipped over entirely, falling to her back on the path. Had she still remained there, she would have surely perished.
The air was driven from her lungs from the impact. Her side ached something fierce, though she hardly felt it at present. Adrenaline coursed through her veins as Daemon took another step toward her and leaned down to grab her. Her hand found her belt and yanked free her hunting knife.
She sank it into the foot closest to her, slamming it through leather and flesh with a burst of frenzied strength. The knife's blade sank into the earth below, embedded down to the hilt in his boot. A deep grunt was torn from his chest.
At last he spoke, cursing her. "Bitch."
He made to catch her by the hair and yank her up.
"Cunt," Rhea spat back, reacting faster than he.
She struck him in the throat, cutting off his breath and earning a satisfying wheeze. And with that, she rolled over onto her feet and started to run. All things considered, her husband was certainly a better warrior than she, and she knew that if she stuck around, he would likely end up gaining the upper hand.
Her mare had already run off, back toward the safety of the stables. An unfortunate turn of events, but she could make do. As things stood currently, she should be able to make it back home before Daemon caught up to her. His foot was compromised, and this was her territory. She knew all the shortcuts.
After she nearly gave her poor cousin a heart attack and proceeded to catch her breath, Rhea ordered ten of her sworn swords to accompany her back out to the ravine to go collect her traitorous cunt of a husband. She would prefer to simply slit his throat and be done with him, but unfortunately, there were two reasons she could not.
Reason one being that he did happen to be a royal. To kill one was tantamount to treason. King Viserys may be tired of his brother's company as of now, but he always ended up forgiving him his trespasses. She could only imagine that he would have her punished most severely for mounting the prince's head upon a spike.
Reason two had more to do with her own reluctance to stray from the vows binding them together. Her husband may discard them at every chance he got, but she was not him. She would not take her whores or spread nasty rumors behind his back. Nor would she kill him, no matter how much she might wish to. (Unlike him, she did have some restraint.)
Whether she wished it or not, Daemon Targaryen was her husband, and she could not simply order him dead.
So she went to collect him with the utmost rage and reluctance. Daemon had not gotten all too far from where she first left him, as she had expected. Her knife had been pulled from his boot, and each step he took favored his right leg. Blood pooled around his boot as he came to a stop.
He merely glared at Rhea, paying no mind to the men surrounding him or their arrows pointed at his heart. "What, can't finish me off yourself?"
Rhea's smile was sharp and jagged, eyes cold. "It is time to come home, Husband."
"Or what? You shall fill me with arrows?" Daemon rolled his eyes, unimpressed and lackadaisical even in the face of possible death.
"Show some respect to the Lady of Runestone."
Rhea held up a hand to still the bristling men. "Behave, dear. Or you can forget about riding home with one of my men. We shall ride while you walk."
It had been difficult upon her own body, to run that far on foot, and she was fairly healthy. To walk such a distance while injured would be a torture indeed.
"It is a nice day. Why not walk?" Daemon retorted.
"As you wish." Rhea turned her horse with a press of her heels. "Stay with my husband and ensure he does not get lost. Come inform me when you reach the building."
"Yes, my Lady."
Rhea urged her horse forward, unwilling to remain in her husband's presence a moment longer than strictly necessary. Perhaps she ought to ready a cell for him to prevent further attempts upon her life while he stayed at her home.
Either way, she did need to send for the maester. The fool would surely aggravate the Seven Hells out of his foot doing all that walking. If he somehow did not bleed out along the way as a result of his own stubbornness, then she needed to get that infection taken care of.