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(EM Vol. 2: A Wandering Melody) Chapter 18: Deep Tempest
🕑 Added 2025-06-15 14:00:22 +0000 UTCChapter 18: Deep Tempest
123 AC, Dragonstone
Rhaenys Velaryon, the Queen who never was, as many still called her to this day, stared at Dragonstone from her husband’s ship, with feeling some very conflicting emotions. She had once loved this island, when her own father Aemon had ruled it, as his right as Prince of Dragonstone.
Her time there hadn’t been long; she barely remembered most of it, but she knew that whatever memories she had were happy ones, especially compared to being under her grandfather’s eye when her father was summoned back to King’s Landing to serve as Master of Laws. She had always felt stifled in the capital and was one of the main reasons she chose to marry Corlys, despite knowing the man’s flaws, including his ambition and pride. There was something attractive about a man who had worked for his own wealth, who had travelled the world, seen wonders, and ensured the enrichment of his house, especially compared to her many courtiers, who loved to brag about the achievements of their ancestors.
Her marriage was a happy one until her father’s death, and she had been passed over in favour of her uncle Baelon. Looking back, her grandfather had made the correct choice. The Faith had barely been appeased, and putting a woman on the Iron Throne would have jeopardised that, and Corlys was already too influential in certain circles, and there was always the risk that he would rule in her name, essentially usurping House Targaryen as the rulers of the Seven Kingdoms.
And yet, she was enraged at the time. It wasn’t until she had given birth to Laena that she realised that the throne would pale against the feeling she felt as her daughter grabbed her hand for the very first time. She had given up on the throne before the Great Council ever happened, knowing that Viserys would be victorious, but she had done it for the sake of appearances and knowing that her husband wouldn’t refuse.
She had expected that this would be the end of the story, and yet here she was, returning to an island that in another life would have belonged to her children, at the summons of the man who usurped her, and his daughter, who had probably arranged the murder of Rhaenys’ son.
And yet, she could do nothing. It wasn’t about legacy, as Corlys liked to harp about, but about her two granddaughters, who were still under Daemon’s authority. Rhaenys often dreamed of just taking them and flying away to the Driftmark, but she had gotten rid of her impulsivity a long time ago.
Rhaenys was so caught up in her thoughts that she didn’t notice Corlys standing next to her. “Do you know why Viserys is summoning us?”
The Dragonrider rolled her eyes. “I showed you the letter, Corlys. It did not change from the moment we had read it hours ago.”
To say that the summons had been unexpected was an understatement. They hadn’t even known that Viserys had sailed to Dragonstone. His health shouldn’t have allowed it. A part of her thought that it was some sort of scheme from Rhaenyra or Daemon, as if the two loathsome creatures hadn’t taken enough from her already. A son and a daughter, dead, and their granddaughters staying in Dragonstone to ensure their support.
Corlys nodded, used to her sharp tongue, “We’ll likely find out soon either way.”
Rhaenys didn’t answer. She would lie if she said that her marriage to Corlys hadn’t been trying, especially after the death of their children. His insistence on Lucerys to inherit his seat instead of Baela or Rhaena had been the cause of much strife between them, as did the consequences of his insistence on tying their children to Rhaenyra’s claim.
The girl had always grated on Rhaenys’ nerves. She was arrogant, very untrained in the ways of the court, and definitely unprepared against someone like Otto Hightower. Her main advantage was the number of Dragonriders supporting her, something that was quickly losing its lustre as the Greens claimed dragons of their own. She had squandered everything that Rhaenys would have begged to have at her age.
She had ruined her reputation during her tour, insulted one suitor after another, while birthing obvious bastards, and trying to put them on the Iron Throne. Her son’s proclivities likely didn’t help, Rhaenys would admit that, but even then, she should have at least taken a Valyrian lover, and not Harwin Strong, and even then, the first child should have shown her the foolishness of this path, and yet, she had done it thrice.
When war inevitably started, Rhaenys would spirit away Baela and Rhaena, and stay away from the conflict brewing between Alicent and Rhaenyra, which had escalated because of Viserys’ refusal to rein in his family. For them to turn her daughter’s funeral into a spat, with one child attacking and maiming another, was unacceptable, and Laenor’s death was the last straw. She would not support a child who had squandered every advantage she could ever have, nor would she support the grasping Hightowers who sought to usurp Viserys in everything but name.
Finally, they docked, and Rhaenys mentally commanded Meleys to land near the Dragonmont. As they exited the ship, she found herself standing in front of Rhaenyra, who had greeted them with a neutral expression, “Lord Corlys, Princess Rhaenys, welcome to Dragonstone. I was not aware that you were coming.”
She could feel Corlys starting to shake with rage at the disrespect shown, and she responded in her stead, “Nor were we aware that you were hosting the King. He sent a raven summoning us to your island, Princess. He asked us to come promptly, and we did as the King commanded.”
And they had come as quickly as they could. It was only the fact that Corlys liked to make sure that a few ships could leave the Driftmark at any moment. Had it been anyone else, they would have taken at least a day to arrange everything, even for such a short trip. It was the sudden summons, especially given the clear urgency, that had put both Corly and her Ill at ease.
However, the expression on Rhaenyra’s face was far more curious. What had started with annoyance had morphed into surprise, irritation, and then realisation. She truly didn’t know, did she? Her father had sent a raven from her own stronghold without informing her.
To her credit, Rhaenyra quickly controlled her expressions and motioned them to enter, “My father is currently resting after the Welcome Feast. I will inform him of your arrival. In the meantime, I’m sure that you wish to spend some time with your grandchildren.”
Corlys wasn’t satisfied with the response, and Rhaenys spied her goodbrother Vaemond bristle as well. But Rhaenys spoke up loudly before anything more could be done, “We’d be glad to. It has been some time, hasn’t it?”
Her husband relaxed and nodded, and Rhaenys noticed that their host slumped in relief. They were quickly led to Dragonstone’s Great Hall, barely tidy, with the obvious signs of a feast having taken place there a few hours prior.
It was extremely improper, and definitely an easy way to slight someone as prideful as Corlys, but for all of Rhaenys’ dislike of Rhaenyra for her actions and her recklessness, she knew that the crown princess would not dare to push things, not after what happened to Laenor.
This was unusual, and Rhaenyra had truly not expected them to arrive, and if the King was there, then Hightowers might be there as well. She was likely distracted by another spat with Alicent again.
Thankfully, Corlys didn’t make an issue of it, even if Vaemond looked like he wanted to say something. That didn’t mean that he was angry. Rhaenys recognised the signs and knew that she would have to endure another rant about slights in private.
Nevertheless, the tense atmosphere was broken as the children arrived. They were smiling widely as they ran at them, Baela reaching them first and throwing her arms around Rhaenys with enough force to make the princess stumble back half a step.
“Grandmother!” she exclaimed, eyes shining. “Rhaena’s dragon egg hatched! She has a dragon now! Tell her, Rhaena!”
“I didn’t think it would,” Rhaena said, catching up, quieter but unable to stop the grin tugging at her lips. “But it did. She’s white, yellow, orange, and red. I named her Solarys.”
Rhaenys blinked, a rush of warmth filling her chest despite herself. For a moment, she didn’t see two young girls in fine dresses and tangled hair. She saw Laena again, younger, running across the sands of Driftmark, cheeks flushed and voice full of laughter. Baela looked so much like her mother, it hurt.
Then she registered what her granddaughter had said. Rhaena’s egg had hatched.
Rhaenys had resigned herself that the egg wouldn’t hatch. After all, cradle hatchings didn’t happen often, and she expected her to wait and claim an older dragon of her own eventually. Eggs this old rarely hatched, and she was bewildered that it happened in the first place.
Finally, the Queen who never was, smiled a true, warm smile, “That’s wonderful, Rhaena. Soon you’ll both soar the skies with your dragons. Moondancer and Solarys, the sun and moon, how wonderful. How I wish your mother could be here to see you. She would have been so proud of you, Rhaena. So proud.”
Rhaenys saw her granddaughter’s eyes water slightly at her words. But whatever response should have been made was interrupted by Corlys exclaiming loudly, “By the gods…”
Jacaerys was showing him some odd far-eye, which her eyes widened as she noticed it collapse into a very small size. She hadn’t seen something like this before, and she’d married the Sea Snake himself.
And yet, Corlys seemed more taken by a small black box in young Lucerys’ hands, “How did you get this, lad?”
“Lord Harry gave it to us,” Jacaerys explained, “He gave us all gifts. Joffrey got a toy dragon that could move its wings, and Baela got a knife. Rhaena got an odd bracelet, too.”
“And who is Lord Harry?” Rhaenys loudly asked, pretending not to see Rhaena freeze slightly at the man’s name.
“He’s a traveller,” Baela loudly spoke up, “He’s staying on Dragonstone. They say he has a magic manse that he can move whenever he wants to.”
Rhaenys looked down towards her other granddaughter, “What about you, Rhaena? Do you know something else about this Lord Harry?”
Her granddaughter gave her a panicked look, but Rhaenys didn’t get the opportunity to hear her answer, as Rhaenyra entered the hall, and they spoke up, “The King will see you now.”
Rhaenys and Corlys stood up to leave, and she whispered to Rhaena, “We’ll finish this later.”
Then they followed Rhaenyra. In the meantime, she couldn’t help but ask, “It seems that there was quite a feast before our arrival.”
“Ah, yes. We had to entertain my father and Alicent’s family. Thankfully, only Aegon and Helaena came. And their babes, of course. Aemond’s presence would have complicated matters.”
That was a very unsubtle way to say that she thought he would attack Lucerys with Vhagar the moment he arrived in Dragonstone. Still, Rhaenys decided to press her slightly, “How was the Queen, if I may ask?”
“Quiet,” the younger princess retorted, “I suppose I can understand why.”
“And I trust that Daemon behaved himself in her presence?”
“Daemon has been asleep for an hour since the feast began. Too much wine, I believe.”
Rhaenys doubted that, but didn’t say anything, just gave Corlys a look which he mirrored. Something had happened, yet they didn’t know what it was. Their interactions since coming were extremely odd, to say the least.
They didn’t have time to speculate. As they approached the steps leading to the Painted Table, they were met by two Kingsguard who wordlessly stepped aside to let them pass.
The stone corridor was cool and quiet, save for the soft echoes of their boots. Rhaenys narrowed her eyes as they walked. The air felt different somehow, like something was pressing down on the castle itself. Magic, maybe. Or memory. She’d stood in this hall before, years ago, when Aemon was still alive and the world had made sense.
And then they entered the chamber, and all her thoughts came to a halt.
Viserys stood at the head of the Painted Table.
Not sat. Stood.
He was upright, unaided, no cane, no Maester hovering at his side, no wheezing gasps for breath. His face was not pallid or drawn or dying. There was still age in him, yes, but he looked younger, like a man who was a few years Daemon’s senior, not some living corpse. His eyes were clear. His hands were steady without a hint of trembling.
For the briefest moment, Rhaenys forgot how to breathe.
Corlys stopped beside her, stunned into silence.
The doors to the Chamber closed behind her, and yet, she didn’t say anything.
Thankfully, Viserys did, “Ah, Rhaenys, Corlys, and Vaemond, I am glad to see you at last. I did not expect you until tomorrow, but I suppose I was rather urgent in my letter, wasn’t I?”
Rhaenys spoke up in his stead, “Cousin, you look… better.”
“I suppose it did. My daughter acquired a marvellous potion, one that could heal all ills. It’s likely worth more than the Free Cities combined, and yet she gifted it to me. I would have called it a mummer’s tale if I didn’t experience the effects first-hand.”
“What is this potion?” Corlys asked, “I have travelled far and wide, but I have never heard of such a miracle.”
“Phoenix Tears, I believe,” Viserys answered, “Birds of fire and healing. I can feel the fire coursing in my veins again. But I did not summon you here, in such a hurry to talk of my miraculous recovery. I know that this must have inconvenienced you, at the very least.”
“Then, your grace, might I ask the reason of our presence here?” Corlys asked.
“Ah, yes. I come here with an offer. It had been brought to my attention that my Hand has taken liberties in his position during my illness, which has skewed the balance of power of the realm. I have decided on a new Hand, one of Valyrian origins, and capable of being objective in advising me.”
To say that Rhaenys was surprised would have been an understatement. Once, she would have said that the chances of Viserys removing Otto from his position, would have been akin to his being miraculously healed of his ills. As the latter happened, then why not the former.
This meant that Corlys would become Hand. Her husband would jump at the opportunity, of course, but Rhaenys refused to return to King’s Landing. Perhaps she could get Corlys to leverage his position so that Rhaenys could take her granddaughters as wards. She could gain some advantage from that.
As she predicted, Corlys knelt and nodded, “This is an honour, your grace.”
For some reason, Viserys gave him a confused look, “Forgive me, Lord Corlys, but while I believe you would make a fine hand, I was extending the offer to my cousin, Princess Rhaenys.”
The silence that followed his statement was deafening, to say the least. Corlys looked embarrassed, and so did Vaemond, but their greatest feeling was shock.
Rhaenys didn’t blame them. She felt the same way, and she was barely able to mutter, “Why?”
“Do you not wish to be Hand, Rhaenys?” Viserys replied.
“If you had asked me this decades ago, I would have jumped at the chance. Now, I would ask why before giving you my answer.”
For some reason, Viserys looked pleased at that before giving Corlys and Vaemond a look, “I would like to speak with Rhaenys alone.”
Corlys looked like he wanted to protest, but nodded and left the room. She gave Viserys a questioning look, to which he answered by slumping down onto his chair, “You should have been Queen.”
Rhaenys was startled at that, but he continued, “I have always feared that the Lords of the Realm chose wrongly during the Great Council. But now, I know, that you would have been a far better Queen than I ever was a King. I have made a mess of things, my succession, Rhaenyra, Alicent… I know how this will end if I do nothing. War. One between Dragons.”
She never said it out loud, but she had agreed with this statement. While diplomacy could work, war was just as likely to occur, “And you think that I can stop it?”
Her tone was incredulous, and she was right to be. Stopping this would require an act of the Gods. No amount of goodwill, especially after the Hightowers would dislike Otto’s dismissal, would help mend bridges. Rhaenys had no plans to act as peacekeepers between Rhaenyra and Alicent, let alone their children.
To her surprise, Viserys shook his head, “I don’t think anyone can. But I need someone competent enough to advise me, someone who would stay impartial in this feud, someone who has the good of the realm at heart, someone whom I can trust. There’s only you, Rhaenys.”
“I can’t do this, Viserys. Not anymore. I’m tired of the politics, of the games,” she confessed, “And I don’t think I want to spend the rest of my days staving off your wife and your daughter from burning the realm away. The conflict is inevitable, Viserys. You must realise that.”
“I don’t need you to stop the conflict, just delay it until I call for another Great Council.”
Viserys planned on removing Rhaenyra’s position as his heir and calling for one. It hadn’t been a move that Rhaenys would ever expect from him, and there was some brilliance to it. It was raw and it would need a lot of work and delicate manoeuvring, but it might just work.
She could almost see it.
But did she want to waste her life stopping the Blacks and Greens from ripping each other apart? It did not seem like an attractive endeavour.
Then the King said something that removed what little doubts she still had, “If you accept my offer, I will make Baela the heiress of the Driftmark, followed by Rhaena.”
In the end, what other choice did she have but to accept? For her father, for Laenor, for Laena and her children. She looked at the Painted Table and felt the weight of history pressing on her. Once, this had been her father's war room. Now, perhaps it could be her instrument of peace.
AN: This chapter got away from me a lot. I tried to make Rhaenys’ appointment as Hand be more compelling, and the consequences of a single conversation with Harry. But I think that’s enough straying away from Harry and Daphne. The next chapter should be a bit more magical in nature. As usual, I don’t mind rewriting this depending on your feedback, so please let me know what you think and if you have any suggestions.
Comments
Nikki Davis
Viserys is doing Rhaenyra very wrong. Yes she made a lot of mistakes but she used her gift for him and he just going to set her world on fire. Everyone is sorta blaming her for the bastard but they set her up to fail. She chose the wrong stud but they married her to a gay guy with no back bone. The Velaryons knew their son was useless and viserys was tricked in to choose him.
Marius Petrauskas
nice
TypistTyphon
Great chapter
Monzter E
Damn!!! No going back now... also its fun and cool to sprinkle a bit of harry's influence
