Chapter Text
Rhaenyra-
The cold swirling winds of Dragonstone slapped against Rhaenyra’s warm wet face like a whip, blood rushing to her cheeks, her damp hair twirling and blowing around her, sticking to her face and her shoulders. Her towel, much like her hair, thrashed and protested against the wind's force.
Her twinkling violet eyes laid heavy-lidded looking out onto the Blackwater from her terrace. She saw merchant ships and fishermen’s dinghy’s, and galleys posted steadfast across the docks.
Though many ships trailed in and out of Dragonstone’s coast, none could deny the treacherousness nor deadliness of the water and the Spears of the Merling King.
𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝖾𝖺 𝗉𝗋𝗈𝗍𝖾𝖼𝗍𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗅𝖺𝗇𝖽.
She heard the door go, and was snapped out her trance like a twig under a horse’s foot by the screaming hinges. She would have to talk to the seneschal about that.
𝖨 𝖿𝖾𝖺𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗏𝖾𝗇𝗌 𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝗈𝗉𝖾𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀, she thought, addressing the grey-black clouds.
She soon trailed back inside, her towel still thrashing against the evening winds, fighting against nature itself. The swirling stopped when she was safely inside, though every few moments a loose wind followed her and blew the make-shift garment, to right and to left.
Sat at the foot of her bed was her husband, Ser Laenor Velaryon, dressed in a sea-green doublet with a slightly darker in shade embroidered seahorse, the sigil of House Velaryon, and brown-black breeches, his shining silver hair pulled back into a low hanging bun.
Rhaenyra held the towel bunched-up at her breasts, her wet hair still clinging to her like a babe to his mother‘s teat.
“Husband.” She said soberly.
“Wife.”
He bowed his head and stood in front of her.
A smile cracked at her lips, and before long she was smiling ear-to-ear, along with her husband.
“Why are you here? Did you need something?” She said, but before the knight to conjure up a response, Rhaenyra’s ladies and her lady-in-waiting entered the room, with boxes that contained precious jewels and trucks with expensive dresses with overlays of Myrish lace and encrusted diamonds sewn into the bodices.
Laenor looked uncomfortable for a moment, like a child walking around in soiled breeches, before he shook his head and threw his hands in the air “I shall tell you later, when you are decent and have food in your belly. I shall send for the kitchens to bring you food up, yes?”
Rhaenyra nodded tenderly and thanked her bridegroom as he smiled at the Five ladies and gave Rhaenyra a stiff bow, though heartily meant.
Rhaenyra dismissed the behaviour and turned to her maidservants who were already gossiping about the latest news they’ve heard from King’s Landing.
Sybell, a homely girl from Flea Bottom had a twin who worked in the Red Keep, their mother had been a wetnurse when her good mother, the Princess Rhaenys was born.
Apart from her pocs-scarred face, too far set eyes, and short broad nose, she wasn’t too hard to look at, in certain lights, she looked almost comely with her honey-hair and brown eyes.
She regarded the group in an excited voice, barely containing her enjoyment. “You know how the princess’s brother and sister were betrothed? Well, His Grace broke it! Story goes that his little daughter came crying to him and he couldn’t condone it with good conscience.” She sounded elated, for before she served Rhaenyra, she was Helaena’s maidservant, she cared much for the girl.
Alayaya, a daughter of a woman from the Summer Isles, piped up, “I heard, I was told that Aegon went whoring and got drunk, came back to the Keep and declared he would not marry her, that they could force the clothes on him and drag him down the aisle, but he won’t speak the words or deal the cloak around her shoulders.” She shook her head and she handed Rhaenyra her smallclothes.
Sybill’s happiness did not falter. “Not that it matters, all that matters is that the sweet girl is rid of that troll,” she said, brushing Rhaenyra’s hair smooth, it had dried out in the wind, “apologies princess, but even you can agree?”
Rhaenyra nodded.
She cared for her brother, loved him even, but she could not deny his nature, and that was one of lying whores and Arbor Red.
It took less than ten minutes for her meal to come, two boiled quail eggs, bread and honey to drizzle over it, some sweet milk and a crisp apple.
By then, her hair had been put up into an intricate plait with small golden rings embezzling her hair, the plait was soon twisted and folded into a bun, held in place by countless pins and whatnot.
She sat in her dressing gown and ate as her ladies chattered. Rhaenyra enjoyed the company. She knew these girls, and she trusted them, but not over their cups, so she rarely told them scandalous stories or tales of her childhood or anything of that nature, lest they be swapped for a thong full or coin and twisted into something more.
Val and Alayaya gabbed while the other two set out Rhaenyra’s dress choice of the day.
Elinda had run off after making the mistake of going outside and getting drenched in the rain. Sometimes her eyes failed her, the poor girl.
Rhaenyra had chosen a burgundy floor-length neck-high dress with drooping long sleeves And with slashes of black. Encrusted cornelians were embraced by the bodice with a string of pearls and black amethysts alongside them.
Golden rings set with jewels and rocks of all sorts and a stout tiara of Valyrian steel and red rubies, once owned by Her Grace, Queen dowager Rhaena, and supposedly her grandmother before
her.
𝖱𝗁𝖺𝖾𝗇𝗒𝗋𝖺’𝗌 𝗈𝗐𝗇 𝖿𝗈𝗎𝗋𝗍𝗁 𝗀𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗍-𝗀𝗋𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗆𝗈𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋.
Rhaenyra was full not too long after, and stood, ready to be dressed and on with the day.
Including bathing, doing her hair, and getting dressed, it took about two hours for Rhaenyra to get ready. She had gotten up at day-break, however, so she still had much left to live of it.
Afterwards, Rhaenyra had asked Sybill to tell Laenor she was dressed and to come to her, Sybill had tucked a price of stray hair behind her ear and assured her she would.
It wouldn’t take long for Laenor to arrive, a couple minutes at most, and that’s if they find him quickly. But he was most likely breaking fast with the boys in the Room of the Painted Table.
Rhaenyra had time to herself, and she decided to use that to look into the silver seeing glass. She cupped the would-be outline of her belly. She had known for a week, though it felt like a year.
At first she thought she was ill, but no. She was carrying life, the life of a silver haired child.
𝖣𝖺𝖾𝗆𝗈𝗇’𝗌 𝖼𝗁𝗂𝗅𝖽, she reminded herself, 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝖫𝖺𝖾𝗇𝗈𝗋’𝗌.
It saddened her that she could not carry Laenor’s child, but that was not well her fault, nor was it her Husband’s.
𝖣𝖺𝖾𝗆𝗈𝗇’𝗌 𝖼𝗁𝗂𝗅𝖽, 𝖣𝖺𝖾𝗆𝗈𝗇’𝗌 𝗌𝗈𝗇 𝗈𝗋 𝖽𝖺𝗎𝗀𝗁𝗍𝖾𝗋. The one she had longed for, now faced with, dreaded.
She didn’t know how long she had been staring at herself, but her hands soon clapped to her side when she heard the door screech again. A sound she’s heard too much today. Her darling husband stood in front of the door, smiling brightly, but not one of happiness, but one of pity almost.
“Laenor, what is it? You were acting strange earlier. Is anything the matter?” She asked, her voice full of concern for her partner.
Laenor shook his head but then reconsidered, looking slightly distraught.
“Well, what is it? Is the Sea Snake? Is he well? I have heard rumours of his health, is he doing well?” She asked, soberly. Laenor nodded and cleared his throat, “Yes, my lord-father’s health is fine, as far as my knowledge goes. …There.. was a letter. It came this morrow, I intended to tell you right away, but I thought it better if you dressed and ate first, in case the knees shocked.. or annoyed you back into bed.”
Rhaenyra was concerned now. What would keep her from her daily duties? Apart from the ailing health of her family, she couldn’t think.
“We’ve been called back to court by His Grace, Viserys.” Rhaenyra’s eyes widened, “Father?” She asked. Laenor hummed a response as he handed his princess the letter. Rhaenyra glazed the page before faltering in a defeated manner.
“Can we refuse him? Say your place is here, or say we are visiting Driftmark, start delay our return to court?” Laenor held Rhaenyra’s hand in his, and held it tightly. “No.. we will go. I shall have Maester Gerardys send a raven of our impending arrival.. we shall depart over tomorrow’s morrow… come with me husband, let us tell the children