Part One - The Trials and Tribulations of Family
“And where do you plan to keep all these people?” Vaegon asked the moment they returned home and Rhaella told him what happened during the trip.
“Yanli offered to hire the fieldhands to help at their family estate and we are planning to offer the laborers jobs building the new settlement in Grey Gallows in return for their own houses.” Morna read from the paper that they all had worked hard for the last few days on the placement for their new small folks. “We are hoping to offer the tutors and some of the scribes to work on the school Her Highness was hoping to establish here in Moonstone.”
“I’ll take some of the scribes and two of the courtesans have writing skills and are willing to learn to help me with administration.” Martyn said distractedly, watching as he monitored Syrax, who still hadn't landed with Rhaenyra and Elinda on her back. “Some of them are quite happy when we tell them that they have the freedom to do what they want to do and learn new skills rather than earning their living on their back.”
“And the unsullied?” Vaegon joined them watching Syrax gliding over the beachline, Rhaenyra can be seen looking up at the sky with her eyes closed, Elinda clinging on her back.
“Princess Rhaenyra suggested that any freedmen,” Rosamund answered, emphasizing on the word freedmen, “who are willing to serve, can serve in Dragonwatch under Ser Largent’s command. Maybe they can teach our men some new skills.”
Vaegon nodded sharply. “Well if anything is in order, someone signals my niece so I can abdicate my position properly. I have some experiments I had to postpone because of this regency.”
Rhaenyra’s ladies exchanged looks before turning back to the Stepstones regent. “Well, we were hoping that you would hold the regency for another week for Rhaenyra to rest.” Morna explained.
“Why?!”
Everyone looked awkwardly at each other but refused to answer as they weren’t sure how to explain to him.
“Well, I really need to abdicate as her relatives from the Vale are here to talk to her and I refuse to deal with them.” Vaegon took off before they could protest.
Spending the entire day cruising around her little kingdom on Syrax, Rhaenyra felt a little less wrung out. But unwilling to talk to anyone just yet (and trusting her companions will fend her granduncle and her officials for the next few days) the little princess landed her dragon on top of her tower and immediately went to bed with Elinda, forgoing bath and dinner.
Rhaenyra opened her eyes and saw not her little bed companion but another woman, looking oddly familiar, patting her hair gently. “Mama?” She asked sleepily.
The sad woman paused before continuing patting her hair. “No, child, I’m your aunt, Amanda.”
She blinked tiredly. “Aunt?” The woman nodded as the little girl curled around her, falling asleep again.
Ah, that wasn’t a dream. Rhaenyra stared at the living ghost in her bed chamber, sipping tea by the balcony. Around her bed, her companions bustled around, putting away her things while keeping an eye at the situation.
Silently, she approached the woman, taking in both the similarities and differences the woman had with her late mother. Lady Amanda Waynwood nee Arryn was well a decade older than her younger half-sister and her dark brown hair clearly favored the Arryn heritage but despite of that, her features were mere identical to the late queen and Rhaenyra herself, down to her same round face, the slightly pointed nose and quirk of her lips when she smiles.
“Lady Amanda.”
“My dear, didn’t I tell you that you can call me aunt.” Amanda scolded her lightly as Rhaenyra sat down, fussing with the tea service before serving her niece.
Rhaenyra just smiled shyly as she took a sip of her tea, enjoying the delightfully spiced blend harvested from the dangerous island of Serpentholm. “I apologized for being incoherent during our first meeting and mistaken you for my late mother.”
“Child, you don’t need to apologize. I was the one in the wrong, I browbeaten your attendants into letting me in when you were still so tired after just returning from your Essosi trip. Now, tell me about yourself.” Rhaenyra began to talk, Amanda listening attentively as people in the chamber sighed in relief.
“We are ashamed that it took so long for us to come here but after Ser Arnold’s latest act of rebellion, we only managed to recently recover to continue our trade with other regions.” Lady Jeyne Arryn explained as she and her retainers met with Rhaenyra and Martyn after lunch. “Truly, the generous offer of trade from Stepstones was a boon especially to the coastal houses that had relied on sea trade.”
“Rebellion?” Rhaenyra frowned as she and Martyn looked at each other in confusion. “We didn’t receive any letter about rebellion.” The latter tried to remember if his father or Lord Strong mentioned it in their weekly letters to Stepstones.
“It began just after news of your disinheritance arrived at the Eyrie. We had just descended down to the Gate of Moon to head toward King’s Landing to protest the King’s decision when Ser Arnold attacked my retinue. If it wasn’t for my knights, I would have been taken hostage or worse. Even then, it took seven months to destroy the rebel army, arresting Ser Arnold and his sons, and another whole year to recover.”
“Surely the Crown could have helped.” Martyn said tentatively.
“The Crown?” Lady Amanda scoffed. “The Crown had sent us a letter that this is an internal matter and it should be solved between Jeyne and Ser Arnold. They even had the gall to imply that perhaps he was correct to contest her paramountcy if she cannot even defend her title as Wardeness of the East.”
“Aunt.” Lady Jeyne said reprovingly at her but turned to her cousin. “We are here in hope to negotiate a trading agreement with Stepstones, especially concessions regarding the Narrow Sea.”
Rhaenyra, sneaking a look at Martyn, who nodded helpfully at her, turned to her cousin. “Tell me, lady Jeyne, what does Vale have to offer to Stepstone?”
Her mornings were quickly filled with negotiation with the Arryns, her afternoons attending to other matters of her little kingdom while her nights were spent tossing restlessly after long, emotional suppers with her maternal family, who shared stories about her mother and their shared family.
It was no wonder that Rhaenyra deeply sighed as she waved off the ship carrying off the Arryn delegate, armed with the new agreement hammered between the two kingdoms.
(Amanda had offered to stay, saying that Rhaenyra needed family at this trying time but the little princess gently reminded her that Jeyne needed her more and Rhaenyra pointed out that she has family with her, much to Amanda’s displeasure. After much arguing (and snide comments from granduncle Vaegon, who finally appeared after spending an entire week ensconced in Felstrong, reading through the books Rhaenyra had gifted him) the two agreed on Amanda sending her youngest daughter, Rowena to join Rhaenyra’s retinue.)
Staring longingly at the clear blue sky, the little princess toyed at the idea of escaping her duties for some well-earned flying with her beloved dragon (and judging from both Lady’s Elyse and Martyn’s identical expressions, they would actually beg her to take a break for herself) when a messenger came running toward them.
“Your Highness, urgent letter from Lord Strong!” The young boy huffed as he pushed the scroll at her.
Your Highness,
Forgive us for sending such an abrupt letter but there are urgent news that needs your attention.
Two nights ago, your uncle, Prince Daemon had sent a missive to your father the King, declaring himself the Prince of Dragonstone and rightful heir to the throne.
He also announced his intention to take his pregnant paramour as a second wife and had stolen a dragon’s egg to place in the new babe’s cradle.
As I write this letter, Lord Hand is preparing to confront your uncle in Dragonstone, together with Kingsguards Ser Harrold Westerling and Ser Criston Cole, along with a platoon of Royal troops.
We do not think that sending Ser Otto to confront the Prince is the correct decision as this will only lead to bloodbath and possibly chaos. We beseech you to intervene in the name of House Targaryen before the situation worses.
Sincerely,
Lord Lyonel Strong
Lord of Harrenhal and Master of Law.
Lord Lyman Beesbury
Lord of Honeyholt and Master of Coin.
Rubbing her face tiredly, she passed the letter to Martyn and Lady Elyse, the former cursing loudly as her companions crowded behind them to read the letter. She turned to ask for someone to fetch her riding cloak and gloves when Elinda appeared by her elbow, carrying the items at ready.
Seeing Dragonstone once again after her last visit to place her mother’s urn in the ancestral crypt tugs Rhaenyra’s heartstring. Gently guiding Syrax to land on one of the bridges, Mylessa and Morna quickly slid off the dragon before helping their princess.
(Martyn pointed out that it was lunacy for Rhaenyra to go alone to confront the Rogue Prince despite of what Rhaenyra would like to think of their relationship, insisting that she take one of her Shadow Scarlet with her and one of her ladies with her since Rhaenyra had declined a ship full of men accompanying her to Dragonstone.)
At the steps of the castle, with Caraxes looming over him, Daemon was waiting, Dark Sister planted in front of him.
“Niece, it has been a long time.” He smirked arrogantly, eyeing the tall, sword-wielding woman behind his niece. “You look tired. Have Viserys run you ragged with the heir’s training?”
Well, Rhaenyra thought tiredly as her companions tensed behind her, that answers the question if uncle knew or not.
“I haven’t talked to my father, close to two years now. Not after I left King’s Landing.” Rhaenyra said wryly. “Or am I his heir anymore.”
“So after all that hard work disinheriting me for you, he just discarded you for his halfbreed brat?” Daemon smirked sardonically. “Good to know Viserys really has no respect for his real family. Now, who’s the wench behind you that looks as if she wants to kill me?”
Rhaenyra glared at him. “She is Lady Mylessa Darke, my Scarlet Shadow. She’s here to make sure I’m safe while talking to you.”
“A relative to Jonquil Darke?” Daemon scoffed. “Looks too delicate, my men would rip her apart.”
“Or I would be the one who rips your men apart.” Mylessa smiled toothily, her hands on her swords.
“Enough.” Rhaenyra nudged Mylessa backward. “I’m here not to fight you uncle, but to talk.”
“ Whatever the reason is,” Daemon switched to High Valyrian, not knowing that Rhaenyra’s ladies are fluent in the language, therefore understood the conversation between the prince and their princess. “I’m glad there is at least one family member on my side. This is a day of celebration, I am to be wed.” He gestured at the castle, where his men and a woman watched them from afar.
“You already have a wife.”
“Not one of my own choosing.” Daemon sneered.
Nor was it her choice, uncle.” Rhaenyra reminded him. “And this wedding, why does it require you to steal a dragon egg, the dragon egg chosen for my late brother?”
You shared a cradle with a dragon when you were born. Why can't my child do the same?” The princess couldn’t help but ask in surprise as a woman with Valyrian descent stepped forward to stand beside her uncle, her stomach slightly curved. “You’re to have a child?”
“Yes, Mysaria is currently carrying my heir.” Daemon said smugly, stroking her stomach with such reverence. “As their sire and scion of our noble house, of course I would want to give them what’s best for them and what’s best are legitimacy and a dragon egg of their own.”
Rhaenyra sighed. “Father will not be pleased. He will see this as an insult to him and the Iron Throne that made your match with Lady Royce.”
“Do you think I did not beg my grandsire and my own brother to free me from this damning marriage and they did nothing!” Daemon roared. Mylessa quickly stepped forward, her sword unsheathed and pointing at the man. “Step aside, you foolish girl.” He snarled.
“All due respect, your highness, over my dead body.” Mylessa smirked.
“Enough! Mylessa, stand down, my uncle will not harm me. Uncle, stop goading my shadow.” Rhaenyra pushed in between the two of them.
“Father had sent Lord Hand along with Ser Harrold Westerling and Ser Cole Criston to arrest you and take the egg back. Do you really think he would spare your future child from punishment?”
Daemon sneered. “I would kill the worm if he attacked me.”
“And getting exiled again or worse?” Rhaenyra shook her head. “I have a solution for you uncle. Come to Stepstone. Come with me, kepus and serve by my side, make a home for your family.”
“What?” Four different voices exclaimed at the same time.
“Your child will be my cousin, no matter which side of the blanket he or she was conceived on.” Rhaenyra looked him in the eye. “Give them a better life than begging for scraps my father deigned to give you. Are we not family, uncle? You told me before that there is nothing lonelier than a Targaryen alone in the world. Are you really going to make your children experience that?”
Daemon could only stare at her before deflating, all the fight left him like it always would everytime Rhaenyra lays her lilac eyes on him.
“Very well, Tala. I will listen to you.”
Later that day, Caraxes and Syrax flew in the air, followed by ships, carrying Daemon’s men and Maester Gerardys along some dragonseeds unwilling to stay under the new Crown Prince with them. When Ser Otto and his escorts finally arrived at Dragonstone, they would be met with Ser Alfred Broome, who gave them the chest that contained the green dragon egg Daemon had stolen.