Chapter Text
Rhea very rarely goes to the Capital. In many ways King's Landing is Daemon's territory in the same way that the Valley is hers.
They have both been married for over 10 years but they never stopped examining each other as if the other was a dangerous animal they had to be careful with. There is no one who doubts that Demon and her are happier when they are apart.
This time Rhea traveled at the request of Jeyne Arryn, the young lady was little by little adapting to all her roles now that she was of age and did not need a regent. Rhea was quite proud of her and wished her father hadn't died two years ago so she could see them. Rhea hoped he was proud of the women he helped raise.
Jeyne was curious about Princess Rhaenyra, they were both cousins but had never met and now that Rhaenyra was expected to be the future queen Jeyne wanted to know the extent of her cousin, especially when the existence of the young prince Aegon called into question whether the decision of the king would remain. It wasn't like her and Jeyne who didn't have any male relatives close enough and her father had helped cement her powers and smooth the feathers of anyone who took offense.
Rhea had to admit to herself that she understood Jeyne's idea and even supported it, but that didn't mean she felt any more comfortable.
Rhea was going because as Daemon's wife she could get closer to Rhaenyra, who was also technically her niece. Rhea almost wanted to laugh, she was as much the princess's aunt as she was Daemon's wife.
This was a terrible plan and Rhea wanted to turn around and go home.
Even when Daemon was waging war far away his shadow loomed darkly over Rhea, especially the whispers that had followed her the further south she went.
In the Vale she was the beloved daughter of the Lord of Runestone and Lord Protector. Her father was very loved and through him she knew how to take advantage of his influence directly or indirectly. Where she was respected and loved and her husband viewed with disdain and suspicion the tables had turned the closer she got to her destiny.
Rhea was eating at an inn when she heard a man say too loudly:
“Is that the bronze bitch ? “She is much more beautiful and younger than I thought.”
'Bronze bitch', Rhea could get an idea of who spread that nickname and felt her cheeks burn with embarrassment as she continued to hear it.
Her cousin, Gunthor, turned red with anger and made to stand up when the comments became more profane. Rhea stopped him with a hand on his arm and shook her head.
His words echoed Daemon's and, like his own, were painful to hear, but in the end it didn't matter.
Rhea held her head high feigning indifference and continued eating. When she was about to leave, one of the knights stood up and intercepted her.
For a second Rhea couldn't believe her ears. She'd like to blame the wine for what happened next, but to be honest, Rhea had always been quick to insult when confronted with nonsense. A snort escaped her and she smiled dully.
“Perhaps, my lord, you should find yourself a sheep for that offering” she looked at him with disdain. "If she does find you attractive"
There was an echo of laughter, the man's face turned red and then purple and he threw out his hand to hit her.
“Damn bitch…”
The fist never hit his face, Gunthor had intercepted it and had already thrown another punch. One of the maids who accompanied Rhea made a noise of fear, but another knight was already leading them away from the fight.
Well, at least Gunthor could have fun that night defending her honor.
Rhaenyra wasn't sure what she expected when she met Rhea Royce. In her head Rhea was an ugly woman, perhaps with warts, and a bitter scowl on her face that made her ugliness worse. That had been the image that a maybe 10 or 12 year old Rhaenyra had imagined when she heard her uncle complain to her mother about his horrible wife and never questioned it.
The reality was in many ways more disappointing. Rhea Royce was… simple, would be the best word. Individually or together Rhaenyra thought that perhaps she would be a beautiful woman: dark eyes, short black curly hair and harmonious features, but she was also… ordinary. There was nothing about her that made her stand out among hundreds of girls. Not like her and Laena with their silver hair or Alicent with that pretty hair that turned red.
Rhaenyra's surprise seemed to be shared because she heard Tyland give a low whistle near her at the sight that had Alicent looking at him with veiled irritation as Rhea dismounted her horse.
“Good sister” her father greeted, approaching her before hesitating, unsure of how he should continue.
“Your majesty” Rhea greeted with a bow first to her father and then to her “Princess Rhaenyra.”
Rhaenyra gave her what she hoped was a stately nod before her father insisted that there was no need for formality between the family.
The reminder stayed with Rhaenyra as they escorted Rhea to her chambers. Family, although they had never met and barely knew each other. Family, even when the difference was made by continuing to be a Royce and not a Targaryen. Family when she was not even recognized as a princess.
The part of Rhaenyra that had always been all too aware of what she would lose by marrying couldn't help but wonder if this was a win for Rhea to keep those things, or a slight.
By the time Rhaenyra emerged from her morose reflections Rhea had said goodbye and walked through the door, which Rhaenyra now realized were her uncle's own chambers.
The memory of Daemon filled her with melancholy. She missed him terribly, she desperately wanted someone to listen to her and support her, and it was very obvious that her father and Alicent would not be that person, they were both too busy selling her as a broodmare.
Daemon who had married on the orders of the then queen probably possessed sympathies, at least. Rhaenyra wished her mother was present too, but she was partly afraid that she would remind her of her “duty” too.
With one last glance at the closed door, Rhaenyra joined the rest of the courtiers who had already left.
Rhea Royce abandons thoughts of Rhaenyra, unconsciously cast aside in favor of her beloved uncle.
Alicent had learned a lot since she was a married woman. It wasn't that she didn't notice those things before, but that she now understood them in an intimate way.
She always knew that Rhaenyra, with her exotic hair and delicate figure highlighted by her vivacious attitude, attracted more attention than her, because she could be the most beautiful (according to her father, at least. And perhaps Viserys's too, but Viserys had been attracted to for her kindness, not her beauty, and that was something she was sometimes proud of and sometimes resentful of), but she was demure in a way that made her sink into the shadows instead of shining.
Rhea Royce in some ways reminds her of Rhaenyra despite being like night and day. Rhea at 27 name days has a much broader figure than Rhaenyra or her (even after two pregnancies) with her full chest and wide hips standing out even when she wears a riding outfit that hides most of her curves. But the suit highlights other parts that dresses normally cover, such as the thighs.
Alicent watches as they look Lady Rhea up and down, the looks as lascivious as the ones they give Rhaenyra, and like Rhaenyra, the other woman continues walking with purpose and confidence without noticing the lustful eyes.
Alicent's own skin stings just looking at it, reminding her too much of her wedding night and her encounters with Viserys.
Alicent bites her nails, unsure why she was dwelling on this for so long. Maybe because Alicent's impression is that Daemon found his wife so repulsive that he couldn't do his duty, but Alicent doesn't understand that. She doesn't understand what Daemon found so disgusting or why that would be reason enough to not do his duty.
She would like to talk about it with Rhaenyra, even when the two did not understand each other because Rhaenyra always ran away from duty and she would never think of avoiding it, talking about it helped.
Alicent was now surrounded by many more women, roses willing to help and please her and yet she did not feel the same freedom when she spoke to any of the other ladies. None were Rhaenyra.
“What kind of person do you think she is?” asks one of the wives of a minor Riverland noble.
They all chat in low voices as they walk, making Rhea Royce the center of the whispers for what won't be the first time this month, but it won't be the last either.
Alicent's mind, however, continues to wander to Rhaenyra. What would her friend think of her? Would she resent her out of loyalty to Daemon? Or for not having been present when her mother died? Or would Rhaenyra not care at all?
Rumors of Rhea Royce become common, but they are no greater or lesser than any noble gossip. Not, at least, until a gentleman makes a comment.
Theon has served Lady Rhea since the 18th name days when he became a knight. His lady is sometimes harsh, but he has a deep appreciation for her. He hates the hell out of how he's had to hear about Prince Daemon's “brazen bitch” too many times to count.
Sir Theon murmured into his cup. Her words caught the attention of some other men nearby and Theon took the opportunity to complain about Prince Daemon and extol his lady's virtues.
In some cases the careless words make a few decide to question the prince's manhood for not taming the little shrew, in others the idea occurs to them to think that they would be able to warm the bed where Prince Daemon does not dare to sleep.
By the third day of the arrival of the Runestone entourage Rhea Royce has become an object of interest beyond being a simple thread in the great tapestry of gossip.
Mysaria finds noble gossip entertaining, but she is just as aware that rumors have their power and she knows very well how to use them and who her biggest buyer is.
Her informants have told her that the war against the Triarchy has finally ended and her former lover, but not necessarily former employer, is with her Velaryon relatives for the time being. Mysaria considers sending a message to Daemon about the interest his wife has recently gained, but ultimately decides to wait and fan the flames of whispers.
Many have shown an interest in Rhea Royce whether as a screw to Daemon, a genuine curiosity for the lady or a greed for what the mistress position could bring him, the truth is that this is a situation that will benefit Daemon in obtaining the marriage annulment and Mysaria hopes to be the one to give him the cards to play.
Rhea felt like screaming into her pillow when she realized that the chambers she had received were Daemon's, because of course they were. She was his wife, of course they had placed her nearby. Luckily they had prepared a room for him, but that didn't stop herfrom feeling like she was invading.
Everything from the lot, to the guest room, to the balcony screams Daemon's space. There is no space she can claim as her own, she is less than a guest in these halls and it makes her want to turn around, leave the red and black rooms, and run back to her beloved Runestone, with its bronzes and browns and blacks.
The part of her that isn't new to Daemon but rather sympathizes with their shared situation wonders if that's how Daemon felt the few times he went with her, a stranger in a place that should have been his home.
Rhea caressed a rich red tapestry with dragon scenes. This could have been his life if he had a brother instead of a sister. If she did not have her father's lordship she would have been simply a wife, she would dress in red just like Queen Alicent Hightower, she would have renounced the colors of her house to be assimilated as best as possible into the royal family.
What would it have meant to be just Daemon Targaryen's wife? The kings officially followed the faith of the seven, in that Rhea was just as deficient as her husband. Daemon glorified the gods of his lost homeland (though Rhea doubted this was true devotion) while Rhea took pride in following the old gods. Could both beliefs have coexisted?
Rhea touched one of the dragons, a golden one like the dragon Princess Rhaenyra rode. Daemon got (stole) a dragon egg from his lover. Would he have done the same for a child with Rhea? Would you be interested in a son who would be raised to carry on Royce traditions rather than Targaryen ones?
Finally Rhea shook her head with a bitter smile on her lips and turned in the direction of her rooms. They were cold and empty, although the sheets were new and the window was open to a magnificent view. Rhea thought it suited her, it wasn't like she was going to spend much time there.
She was Lady Rhea Royce, Lady of Runestone and wife of Daemon Targaryen. Her title and her duty came before the never-consummated oath she and Daemon had sworn in a Sept all those years ago.
She already had a home and it wasn't next to Daemon.
Rhaenyra has been told on many occasions that she has a bad temper and doesn't know how to keep her emotions out of her face well. Dragonborn, his uncle called him with a gentle approval that took the sting out of Rhaenyra's inadequacy at not being the lady her parents expected. Daemon also had dragon blood, a fierce and fiery temperament hidden behind an amused half-smile instead of the stoic court face.
Rhea Royce didn't seem to have a temper of any kind. In a way it reminded her of Alicent always following the forms, but her face does not keep the same mask (a mask that in the end she had even used with Rhaenyra to hide her plans to become queen).
Rhaenyra had expressed her surprise to see her in front of the heart tree praying, it didn't seem like many worshiped the old gods in the capital. Rhea's eyebrows had raised and the corner of her mouth lifted in what Rhaenyra would generously call amusement but was probably mockery.
Her blood boiled at the familiar image. The whispers always followed her, but they had become much more… insidious since Aegon's birth. She hated it. She hated how every question had a double meaning to prove her inefficiency, how even now she was not heard (how even Alicent could override her orders), how everyone was waiting like vipers to pounce on her, how even her father ignored her fear and demanded fulfill a duty that terrified her, as despite her father's assurances so many looked at Aegon wondering when her half-brother would steal her place.
And now this woman was doing the same thing.
By what right did a slut from a forgotten corner think she had the right to judge one from the House of the Dragon?
“Did I say something funny?" she asked in what she hoped was a soft voice instead of allowing anger to color her words.
“Not at all, my princess. I’m sorry for interrupting your place to think.”
“You and any of the followers of the old gods have the right to come here. It is not my intention to interrupt their rites.” Not that Rhaenyra had much idea about the Old Gods beyond what her septa and maester had told her.
“You're not doing it. I'll leave and give you your space.” Rhea bowed, but that didn't calm Rhaenyra. She still felt like they were laughing at her.
Rhaenyra thought she would look very childish if she persisted and allowed the older woman to leave, her simple brown dress flowing behind her. She tried to enjoy reading it, a book Daemon used to read to her, but her thoughts kept wandering.
Reading always reminded her of Alicent. Her friend had really enjoyed reading, Rhaenyra always got distracted and concentrated more if she moved while reading or someone else read to her. She hated so much that her father and her friend hadn't told her, almost four years later and Rhaenyra still felt the sting of betrayal. And now there was also that meeting with Rhea.
She couldn't help but feel that Rhea had made fun of her, but she didn't understand why. Was it his belief that few prayed to the Old Gods? Rhaenyra didn't find it so strange, there were very few Houses south of the Neck that did so.
Mentally Rhaenyra reviewed the Houses and what she knew about them, she had always known a thing or two, but she began to pay more attention after what happened in Storm's End, she had felt that if she had paid more attention the whole incident could have been avoided.
Snorting in annoyance, she slammed the book shut and re-entered the cool corridors of the fortress. When she turned a corner she almost ran into the large, broad chest of Lord Strong's eldest son who smiled warmly at her, like when he saw her arrive full of blood. Rhaenyra felt her cheeks warm a little at the memory, something akin to pride and shame.
“Greetings, princess,” he bowed quickly.
“Sir Harwin,” the man brightened at the reminder of his recent title and Rhaenyra couldn't help the soft smile in response.
There were men who were arrogant and lacked skill, but then there were men like Sir Harwin and Sir Criston who were simply proud and really enjoyed those activities and seemed to thrive in chivalry. It was kind of cool to see, if you asked Rhaenyra. A part of her was eager to see how the young knight fared in the upcoming tournament.
“Are you going to pray?” After all, through that hallway you could only reach the entrance closest to the heart tree and the Strongs were one of the few that Rhaenyra knew who followed the old gods, although she never saw him praying, she usually had the space to herself. as long as she wanted.
Harwin's smile dimmed to something more courteous and Rhaenyra felt her brow furrow.
“Yes, my lady has already finished her activities,” he replied and Rhaenyra pursed her lips, dissatisfied. An idea occurred to him and he regained his smile.
“Well, Sir Harwin, if you don't mind… would you mind if I accompany you? There are a couple of questions about the Old Gods that I would like to ask you.”
*
Rhaenyra moved the food around on her plate without actually eating anything. From time to time she glanced at Rhea Royce sitting at the end of the head table next to her cousin. She looked lonely. She didn't really talk to anyone and didn't participate in many conversations unless she was included. Once or twice she saw someone approach to ask her to dance and she turned them down, only once did she hear their excuse that it wouldn't be appropriate without Daemon present.
A piece of chicken was stabbed mercilessly for his comment. Rhaenyra doubted that Daemon cared enough about his wife to care who she danced with, Rhea's comment had simply been a reminder of all the freedom she would give up by marrying, of how important it would be to get someone who wouldn't offer her things. as part of his “hobbies” to keep her “content” and “docile” as had been Jason Lannister's intention.
Was it too much to ask for someone to love her for who she was and not try to lock her up and turn her into a broodmare?
The voice of one of Alicent's ladies floated up to her, almost drawing a growl from her throat. again the talk about duty and fulfilling it piously to bring in heirs to honor her House. Rhaenyra was tired of hearing those kinds of comments. She raised her head, half-decided that she wouldn't mind making a scene if it would get those horrible women to shut up, when she realized that she wasn't the object of the malicious comments.
The ladies were looking at Rhea.
For the first time, Rhaenyra felt sorry for Rhea and approached her, emboldened by the fire burning in her veins and the familiarity of the whispers she spoke to the other woman.
Rhea and her cousin stopped their conversation and Rhaenyra smiled at her.
“Lady Rhea, do you mind if I sit down?” The woman wiped the confusion from her face and shook her head.
“Not at all, princess, I would feel very honored.”
They both moved to make room for her and Rhaenyra sat down gracefully, arranging her hair. Before he hadn't seen an opportunity to approach Rhea and bring up the topic naturally, her rash action had reminded him that she didn't have to wait. She was the princess, the crown princess , and she shouldn't just wait for things to come to her, perhaps she should start acting to show her father and everyone how capable she would be.
Her father had invited her to be on the council as more than her cupbearer, Rhaenyra was more than eager to show her worth. Maybe this time, now that she wasn't standing behind them pouring wine, she could be heard. And this would give him the opportunity to practice.
“I spoke to Sir Harwin.” Rhaenyra looked at the low table where the knight was sitting drinking and chatting with other men, their gazes meeting for a second making her feel a little nervous. He was… intense “He is the son of Lord Strong, one of my father's advisors. His House also follows the Old Gods.”
“It seems that you have found two people who follow the Old Gods…” Rhea did not finish her comment, her cousin had made a discreet face at her and she cleared her throat “My apologies. "Sometimes I speak without thinking."
Rhaenyra smiled at him accepting it. Now she was sure that there was some mockery this morning, it wasn't just her ideas.
"I forgive you. I never thought about how rude it was of me to monopolize a place intended for worship.”
She had never realized it, actually. Rhaenyra just thought it was a quiet place to think and it had become her little corner when she studied with Alicent.
Her eyes now turned to the queen. Her stepmother looked at her with a small pinch of her eyebrows as Otto whispered something to her, Rhaenyra's stomach turned. Sometimes she thought Otto was sabotaging her, other times she wondered if they weren't Daemon's words echoing in her head.
“I also apologize for being so rude.” Rhea remained silent for a few more minutes before speaking again. “You know, your cousin, Lady Jeyne, left me a letter for you.” Rhaenyra looked at her curiously. Her mother sometimes talked about her niece, but Rhaenyra didn't know much about her, only…
Ah .
“She thinks you might have a lot in common and it would be nice to start a correspondence between you.” Rhea continued confirming Rhaenyra's theories.
Rhaenyra occasionally thought over Rhaenys' words, the other princess's lack of faith even as Rhaenyra tried to learn to follow her duties and prepare for her position was very discouraging, no matter how much Rhaenyra wanted to convince herself that it was resentment. of her aunt because King Jaehaerys never did for her what her father did.
And something similar happened with Lady Rhea and Lady Jeyne. Here were two women, both technically family, who had not only found themselves in the same position as her but were currently ruling on their own.
Rhaenyra may have started late and still had a lot to learn but she wasn't going to give up, no matter how many whispers there were against her. Her father had chosen her.
“I think I'd like that,” Rhaenyra agreed, something akin to…hope, warming her.
She had looked to Visenya, Aegon's wife, when she sought to feel better about the enormity of the task she faced, especially after Rhaenys' dismissive dismissal, but, perhaps, there were other people, other women , fences to lean on.
Maybe she wasn't alone.
Daemon landed in the middle of the arena, happy to have caused a show. He returned after the fight with his brother triumphant and with his own crown, won by his own merits.
He hoped he had shown Viserys what he was capable of, the mistake he was making by sending him away, above all he hoped that his brother would have missed him as much as Daemon missed him and Rhaenra.
It was still a bitter pill to swallow to think that in his family's time of greatest need his brother had sent him away, that he would always rather listen to the whispers of poisonous snakes than listen to Daemon, even when he should know him better than anyone else.
This time he would show him.
Because Daemon had the ability to be violent, wage war, and get a crown.
But he love them, he would give his up for his family. For Viserys, For Rhaenyra (and for Aemma).
Daemon's words and actions had been misinterpreted in the past. This time they would speak loud and clear.
Daemon smiled widely, waving to the crowd before turning his attention to the royal box. Her brother looked tired, but Rhaenyra looked magnificent. Gone was the heartbroken girl he saw last time, in her place was a woman who still looked at him with admiration and excitement for the arrival of her beloved uncle.
No matter what happened Daemon would always have a special place in his heart for his beloved Rhaenyra.
He couldn't look away from Viserys and Rhaenyra to the other people in the box, but he really wanted to see their reactions. Daemon nonchalantly allowed his eyes to slide, his smile widening as he saw a tight-lipped Otto Hightower following his bland daughter with a baby in her arms (not as pretty as Rhaenyra had been) and then…
Daemon lost his smile, half convinced that he was dreaming, or more specifically in a nightmare. There was no way, it had to be someone who looked like her, nothing more, because…
Why the hell would his wife be in King's Landing?!