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59: The Son of Ice and Fire, The Dragon’s Daughter
🕑 Added 2024-08-29 16:11:37 +0000 UTCRhaenys sat at the head of the table, subtly observing her new handmaidens as they finalized the plans for the feast in honor of the Lannisters, who had arrived in King's Landing just the day before. The chamber buzzed with the soft rustle of silk and velvet, and the quiet hum of conversation blended with the clink of silverware as the women discussed the evening’s arrangements. Despite the lively activity, Rhaenys found herself only partially engaged with the preparations, her thoughts drifting as she studied the women who now served her.
Nyra Yronwood, Elaena Caron, Cerys Celtigar, and Alysanne Mooton had each been chosen with care, not only for their loyalty and competence but for the influence their houses held. The Yronwoods were powerful bannermen in Dorne, the Carons were respected in the Stormlands, the Celtigars had old ties to House Targaryen, and the Mootons were one of the more important houses in the Riverlands. Each was useful to her in different ways, and she knew how to play on their ambitions and desires.
Then there was Margaery Tyrell, seated demurely at the far end of the table, her impeccable manners and sweet smiles almost too perfect. The girl was trying—too hard, perhaps—to win her over with flattery and kindness. Margaery was careful, always saying just the right thing, always offering just the right compliment, likely in hopes of becoming her confidant, her closest friend at court.
But Rhaenys saw through the act.
Margaery was her brother Aegon’s creature, sent to embed herself within her circle, likely to gather information or influence her decisions. She was here not because Rhaenys wanted her, but because Aegon had maneuvered her into this position.
Rhaenys allowed a small, almost imperceptible smile to play on her lips as she watched Margaery lean forward slightly, her voice soft as she offered another carefully worded suggestion for the feast.
“My princess,” Margaery began, her tone as sweet as honey, “I was thinking that the floral arrangements could reflect the unity between the houses of Lannister and Targaryen.”
The other handmaidens nodded in agreement, murmuring their approval of the idea.
“That’s a lovely idea, Lady Margaery,” Rhaenys replied, her voice smooth with a faux smile.
As the discussions in the chamber continued, Rhaenys’s attention drifted back to Margaery, who was now engaged in conversation with Cerys Celtigar. It wasn’t just small talk; Rhaenys could see the subtle intensity in Margaery’s gaze, the way she leaned in slightly, her voice low but persistent. Margaery was probing, as if seeking something more than just idle gossip.
“My lady,” Margaery began, her tone seemingly innocent, “I’ve heard rumors that your family has been quite busy at your shipyards. They say that a number of new ships are being built.”
Cerys offered a polite smile, carefully weighing her words. “The Celtigars have always maintained a fleet, Lady Margaery, as you know. With trade being so vital to our house, it’s only natural that we ensure our ships are well-kept and that our fleet is up to date.”
Margaery’s smile remained fixed, though there was a hint of persistence in her eyes. “Of course, it’s just that I’ve heard some lords are growing quite interested in the seas lately. It seems there’s much talk of fleets these days, particularly around King’s Landing. One wonders if there’s more to it than just trade…”
Before Margaery could press further, Rhaenys decided it was time to intervene. She straightened in her seat. “Lady Margaery,” she said smoothly, cutting through the conversation, “while the affairs of ships and fleets are certainly of interest, I’m sure Cerys has more pressing matters to focus on today. After all, we have a feast to plan, and we must ensure everything is perfect for our honored guests.”
Margaery turned her attention back to Rhaenys, her expression one of polite deference. “Of course, Princess,” she replied in her sweet tone. “I wouldn’t want to distract anyone from such an important task.”
It was clear that Aegon had tasked Margaery with gathering information, likely to uncover any plans Maekar might be hiding. Rhaenys herself had heard whispers of Maekar and Lord Velaryon’s plan to build a trade fleet to the east, with support from Celtigar, as well as lords from the Riverlands, Stormlands, and Crownlands.
But what was Maekar truly planning? A trade fleet didn’t align with the actions of someone preparing to supplant his own brother. One would expect Maekar to be seeking military alliances or marriages that could bring entire kingdoms to his side. Yet, he seemed to be doing none of that.
She frowned slightly, her thoughts drifting back to the last time she and Maekar had spoken in private. His words had echoed in her mind ever since:
"We could rule together."
It was an offer she found appealing—Maekar was strong, capable, and ambitious, qualities she admired. But the idea of being a powerless partner in this arrangement, whether it was with Aegon, if her father had his way, or with Maekar, was something she could not accept.
No, if she was to marry, it would be on her own terms, with her own power base. She knew that her position could never truly rival that of Maekar or Aegon, but it could be strong enough that both would need her support to win. She would not be a pawn in their game but a player in her own right.
She had also noticed a subtle change in Margaery's demeanor today. The normally composed and poised young woman seemed slightly distressed, her usual grace faltering for just a moment.
Rhaenys couldn't help but think of her new ally's promise to cause some trouble in Aegon’s camp. It seemed that he had kept his word. She glanced at Obara, who caught her eye and returned the smile with a knowing look.
"Lady Margaery, you seem quite sullen today," Rhaenys remarked, her voice laced with faux concern.
Margaery quickly shook her head, a bright smile plastered on her face. "Oh, it’s nothing, Princess. Just a momentary lapse, I assure you."
Rhaenys tilted her head slightly, as if considering something. "Are you sure you’re not coming down with something? You’ve been working so hard lately. Perhaps it’s taking a toll on you."
Margaery shook her head again, her smile unwavering. "No, I’m quite well, thank you. Just a bit of fatigue, nothing more."
Obara then decided to change the subject. "I saw Cersei Lannister today. She truly is a beauty, isn’t she? No wonder they call her the Light of the West."
Nymeria chimed in, seizing the opportunity to keep Margaery off balance. "And her daughter, Myrcella, takes after her. A beauty in the making—perhaps she’ll even surpass her mother one day."
Rhaenys noticed Margaery still at the mention of Myrcella’s name, a flicker of something passing through her eyes. She quickly masked her reaction, but Rhaenys caught it. The mention of the Lannister girl clearly struck a chord.
Nyra, Elaena, Cerys, and Alysanne joined the conversation, their voices filled with interest.
"Perhaps we should invite Lady Myrcella," Nyra suggested.
Elaena nodded in agreement. "She’s at that age where she should start attending such gatherings."
Cerys added, "And it would be a delight to see the young lioness in such company."
Alysanne giggled. "Yes, Princess, you should definitely extend an invitation. She would make a lovely addition."
Margaery, trying to maintain her composure, finally spoke up. "Myrcella is only three-and-ten… perhaps she’s still a bit young for such gatherings."
Rhaenys smiled, her tone gentle but firm. "She is old enough, my lady. Nym, please send Lady Myrcella an invitation."
Nymeria inclined her head, her smile matching Rhaenys's. "As soon as I can."
Margaery’s anger flared for a brief moment, her eyes darkening, but she quickly masked it with a polite smile. "As you wish, Princess."
After some time, Rhaenys dismissed Margaery and her other handmaidens. "Thank you, ladies. You’ve all been a great help. I am sure the feast will be a huge success."
They curtsied and left the chamber, leaving Rhaenys alone with her cousins once more.
As the door closed behind them, Rhaenys leaned back in her chair, a satisfied smile playing on her lips. "Well, that was enlightening," she remarked, glancing at Obara, Nymeria, and Tyene.
"Looks like Lord Qoherys kept his end of the bargain," Obara said with a satisfied smirk.
"There was no bargain, Obara," Rhaenys corrected, her tone measured. "He simply offered his services, though I still do not trust him. I do not know his motives."
"Yes, he seems like the slippery sort," Nymeria added, her voice tinged with suspicion.
Rhaenys nodded slightly. In her effort to secure more allies within the court, she had been approached by Lord Qoherys, one of the more influential courtiers at the Red Keep. His offer had been tempting—he had promised to aid her in her quest for power, but she had been cautious, demanding proof of his usefulness before making any commitments. To test his loyalty, she had tasked him with a delicate mission: to drive a wedge between Aegon and the Tyrells.
It seemed Qoherys had succeeded. Using the early arrival of the Lannisters, he had planted seeds of doubt within the Tyrells, suggesting that Aegon had also been in contact with the Lannisters, perhaps even offering his hand in marriage to Myrcella. It was a lie, of course, but a well-placed one—enough to cause Margaery and her family to question Aegon’s intentions.
Tyene, who had been silent until now, put down the embroidery in her hand and turned to Rhaenys with a serious expression. "What are you doing, Rhae?"
Rhaenys met Tyene's gaze, her eyes calm but firm. She knew where this conversation was heading—Tyene was always the one to question the morality and practicality of her plans. "I’m securing my position," Rhaenys replied evenly.
“Do you believe Dorne would support you over Aegon? He’s still the son of Elia Martell."
Obara scoffed at that, her eyes narrowing. "Dorne would support you as well if they knew the truth about Aegon. He’s a second Mad King in the making."
"The other six kingdoms are not like Dorne," Tyene countered. "They won’t accept you as queen without Aegon. They won’t break their traditional succession so easily."
"Which is why," Obara pressed on, "you should consider Maekar’s offer. Rule together. He’s not perfect, but he is not Aegon."
Tyene looked between them, annoyed. "Do you think the Faith will allow it?" she asked, her tone sharp. "Do you think Uncle Doran or our father would support it? They will always choose Aegon. Prince Maekar is not loved in Dorne, and you know it."
"Yet my father plans to marry me to Aegon," Rhaenys said, her voice tinged with bitterness.
"I…" Tyene hesitated, struggling to find a response.
Rhaenys sighed, feeling the weight of the decisions before her. She could sense the impatience in Obara and Nymeria, both of whom were eager for her to make a decisive move. But Tyene’s caution was not without merit.
"I ask again," Tyene said, her tone soft but insistent. "What is your plan, Rhae?"
"I have thought long and hard about this," Rhaenys began, her voice steady and resolved. "A conflict between Maekar and Aegon is certain. They are destined to clash, and there is nothing that can stop it now. I will not be a passive bystander in this, nor will I allow myself to be used as a pawn in their struggle."
Her gaze grew more intense as she outlined her plan. "I will build my own power base—one that is strong enough to influence the outcome of this conflict. I will not try to rival Aegon or Maekar directly; that would be foolish. But I will become the deciding factor, the one they both need to win. They will come to me, seeking my support, and it will be on my terms that this war is decided."
Obara and Nymeria exchanged glances, both nodding in approval of her strategy. Tyene, though still cautious, looked somewhat reassured by Rhaenys’s determination.
"And how will you do this?" Tyene asked, her voice softer now.
"I have already begun," Rhaenys said, her confidence growing as she spoke. "I’ve secured alliances within the court, and I’m working to strengthen my ties with houses—both in Dorne, the Stormlands, and the Riverlands. I will bide my time and make no public moves until the moment is ripe. But when that time comes, it will be with the full force of my own supporters behind me.
“When the storm comes, I will be the eye of it—the calm center that both sides will need to navigate the chaos."
Her cousins listened intently, each one recognizing the gravity of what she was proposing.
"And if they refuse to seek your support?" Nymeria asked, her voice curious.
Rhaenys smiled, a cold and calculating smile that spoke of the steel within her. "Then I will ensure that neither of them succeeds without me. They will learn that to win this game, they must play by my rules. And if they don’t… they will lose everything."
Rhaenys's expression shifted slightly when she noticed Tyene's lingering doubt.
"What about Arianne?" Tyene asked.
Rhaenys sighed, thinking of her closest cousin and friend. "Arianne needs to get over her childish infatuation," she replied, her tone firm, but before she could continue, she was interrupted by a voice from behind.
"Oh, 'tis not a childish infatuation," Arianne said, her voice smooth and confident.
Rhaenys turned, surprise flickering in her eyes as she saw Arianne standing in the doorway. Arianne was dressed in a gown that could only be described as daring. The fabric was a deep, rich purple that clung to her voluptuous body like a second skin. The neckline plunged low, revealing an ample amount of cleavage, and the cut of the dress accentuated every curve of her figure.
"The feast isn’t for hours, Ari," Rhaenys said, raising an eyebrow at her cousin's attire.
"Oh, this isn’t for the feast," Arianne replied with a sly smile. "This is for your brother."
Rhaenys sighed, a mixture of frustration and concern in her eyes. "Arianne, you need to let this go. Maekar will not accept what you want."
Arianne’s confident expression faltered for just a moment, as if she knew the truth but didn’t want to accept it. "We’ll see," she said softly, a note of stubborn hope in her voice. "He asked me to meet him in his solar."
"Why?" Nymeria asked, her curiosity piqued.
"Something about pirates in the Stepstones," Arianne replied with a shrug.
Rhaenys shook her head, her expression softening as she looked at her cousin. "This will only end in heartbreak, Ari," she warned gently.
Arianne didn’t respond. Instead, she turned and left the room without saying another word, the soft rustle of her gown the only sound as she disappeared down the corridor.
Tyene watched her go, a sad smile tugging at her lips. She sighed, picking up her embroidery once more. "I miss when our lives were simpler."
Rhaenys smiled, thinking back to her childhood in Dorne. It was indeed a happier time.
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