Hearing the purr leaving Dreamfyre's throat, Rhaena rested her head and upper body fully on the dragon's maw. "Oh, my sweet." Her hands rubbed the scales underneath the smoldering amber eyes, twinkling with an emotion she knew to be the gentlest of affection from the great beast. "Anything you want, I'll have it sent for. Anything at all."
Dreamfyre purred again, more like the rumblings of a dozen wagons than the sounds of a cat. 'Can we go back to the sea, muna?' She nudged up slightly, a whine leaving her throat. 'I miss seafood.'
"No, my sweet. I told you we need to travel to Casterly Rock. There's an ocean there but it will take a while." That seemed to disappoint her dragon, which made Rhaena roll her eyes. "Honestly, there's a massive lake right there."
'Freshwater fish, yuck.' The azure dragon opened her maw in disgust, tongue rolling out and letting out a blanch - it made Rhaena stumble back, though she managed to right herself. 'Besides, nothing substantial in there except for some dolphin. Small, disgusting dolphin.'
Hands on her hips and glaring at her dragon, a guttural trill from behind her caught Rhaena's attention. 'Forgive me, niece, but you raised a spoilt priss.' Balerion's jaw hung open, as if laughing at the two of them while he was curled up within the outer courtyard of Harrenhal castle. He let out a snort from his massive nostrils, showering the both of them with hot breath. 'Not impressed.'
Head rearing up, Dreamfyre let out an angered hoot. 'I am not a priss, old fart.'
'Right. Can't hunt a fucking auroch in the wild like I do, or Vhagar? Gods, Arrax is living in the middle of a snowy nowhere and he doesn't complain.' The smaller dragon just glared at her larger counterpart, breathing a puff of flame before settling back down. 'That's what I thought.'
"Ugh, must you be so hard on her?" Rhaena knew she must've sounded ridiculous to the stablehands and dragonkeepers darting about the grounds of the keep, but she kept a glare at her uncle's dragon - her grandfather's before him. "She's a sweet thing, let her opine for her favorite foods." Rhaena stroked Dreamfyre's neck, calming the beast down.
She could've sworn Balerion rolled his eyes. 'Keep coddling her, see what happens.' Tilting his massive head up, he looked at Kingspyre Tower and trilled. As if recalling a favored memory of the past. 'A coddled dragon is one that cannot deliver such magnificence as this, dearest niece. She better learn how to be fierce and powerful before trying and failing to replicate such glory.'
While Rhaena scoffed at the comments, she could hear that Dreamfyre was taking it to heart. Whining softly. "Don't listen to him, he's just ornery and eager to brag about his past battles." That drew another snort from Balerion but Rhaena ignored him. "Someday you'll put your mark in the history books with Kingspyre Towers of your own, my sweet. This I promise."
"Wow." Rhaena turned her head to see Alayne Royce staring at her with arms crossed. "If I didn't think Targaryens were any stranger, I just heard that."
"Quite interesting babe-speak, don't you think?" giggled Melony, though from her it was more of a throaty snicker. "Oh Dreamfyre, on the tree top, when the wind blows, we will breathe dragonfire…"
"That doesn't even rhyme," Rhaena remarks, shaking her head. That only made the two laugh harder. Even the dragons' eyes were dancing with amusement. Sighing, she straightened out her dress. "What do you two want?"
Grinning, Melony lifted up a full flagon. "Stole this from Ser Gargon's personal stash. Pretty potent Dornish red aged since before your grandfather's conquest."
She raised an eyebrow. "He let you have that?"
"I doubt he knew what day it was after I was done with him," Melony replied with a smirk.
Rhaena's jaw dropped. "No… you didn't? Gargon Qoherys?"
"She did," Alayne shook her head. "I asked her why her mind was addled, and she's tight lipped."
Giggling, Melony swished the flagon in her hand. "Maybe after a bit, I'll tell you."
None of them had any goblets, so they just downed swig after swig from the glass flagon itself. The vintage was quite potent, so it didn't take much time till they were all completely hammered and giggling like seven-nameday olds over this or that. "So you're telling me… hic…" Rhaena slurred. "You slept with Gargon to find out what it was like?"
Belching, Melony nodded… though she almost pitched over as a result. "You hear things of a man with fierce appetites and you think… his pecker is probably pretty small and he has to compensate. Turns out… nope, nuh unh." She holds out her hands, measuring something about seven inches long."
"No… shut the fuck up," Rhaena replied. "He's not that big."
"Oh, he is… skilled too… but he's still a right fuckin' cunt. Nearly kicked me out of his bedchamber before he passed out from too much drink. Stupid fool." She dissolved in giggles yet again.
Alayne, swaying slightly, could still perform a mean frown. "You realize… hic… that's what… hic… what you are close too. Passed out from too much drink."
"She's got you there." Rhaena's brows scrunched in thought, thinking of something only a drunk mind would ever vocalize. This time, she was very very drunk so it worked out. "How big are most men's cocks? Like… Gargon big or less."
A snort from Alayne. "My sister says her husband's is like half that. Explains why he's… hic… such a cunt all the time."
"I bet Prince Maegor's is the size of Balerion's tooth," chortled Melony.
If the Dornish red hadn't made her flush, Rhaena would've turned a beet red at that comment. "Let's not talk about my uncle."
"Why? He's utterly gorgeous." Melony drew out the last word.
Struggling, Alayne smirked. "Aye. What I wouldn't give to have him tied in my bed completely bare…"
"Enough!" Rhaena screeched, eyes blazing… if glassy. "We're not talkin' bout my uncle!"
Biting her lip, Melony shared a look with Alayne, who nodded. "Um… Rhaena… Last time all the girls were together back in King's Landing, we… um…"
"Spit it out."
Alayne cut in after Melony was seized by a retch, voiding off in a pile of hay. "You told us that… you loved someone who could never love you back. Was it… your uncle that you meant?"
"What?" Rhaena laughed… though this was a nervous laugh. "No, I'm not in love with my uncle. You mad?"
While he failed to move even a single inch, Balerion's eyelid drew back ever so slightly, hearing latching onto the hatchling's words with interest… if only because she was so loud.
Alayne just stared at Rhaena, her grey eyes hard in spite of the significant amount of alcohol they had all downed. She was joined by Melony, green around the gills but still pretty intimidating a woman. Rhaena, a dragon, stood her ground but the swirl of emotions and her inebriated state simply wore her down. "Alright! Yeah, it's true."
If the beast could vocalize surprise, Balerion would've at that moment.
The two young highborns were not so restrained in their surprise. "What?!" Melony was dumbfounded. "How did this happen?!"
"Well, I can understand why it happened, Mel," murmured Alayne. "How do you feel, Rhae?"
Burying her face in her hands, Rhaena shook her head. "How do you think I feel, Ally? I love him so much - this is beyond a girlish crush, I think. He's always been my hero and the one that brought my dragon side out and gave me Dreamfyre." Only the beast's warmth allowed her to maintain her composure. "I heard my grandmother had tried to betroth us long ago. Ironic," she chuckled painfully. "The perfect man was almost mine and I never knew it."
"It's not too late… hic." Alayne stood and sat… well, collapsed next to Rhaena. "He has no kids and I heard his marriage is unhappy."
"No," Rhaena murmured. "I won't destroy his marriage. Even if I will stay a maiden for the rest of my life…" She just dissolved into tears, too drunk and too emotional to speak further.
Balerion's mind was whirring a mile a minute. The hatchling loves valonqar? I can't believe it.
'Of course she loves your valonqar you dolt.' Dreamfyre was just as blunt as he had been earlier. 'Don't you see the way she looks at him?'
'I figured it was admiration, like how you always looked at me when you were still adorable and could recognize true greatness.'
While neither of them moved or spoke as the girls drunkenly comforted the sobbing Rhaena, Balerion could've sworn Dreamfyre growled at him in annoyance. 'Even now you're both a self-centered cunt and an idiot. Are you sure you were born in Old Valyria?'
'Enough.' Letting his one open eyelid fall close, Balerion found that he rather liked the idea of his niece with his valonqar. Those with the good scents deserved each other. Hmmmm...
"Stop… that tickles!" Giggling, Saera collapsed into the grass, holding the body of her little grey direwolf pup as it licked her face. "Stop, Frosty, stop."
Young Ryah Bolton bit her lip as she watched the tiny pups play with the Stark siblings. About ten feet off was Aegon, tossing a stick for his direwolf - Snowstorm - to follow. Equally boisterous as Frosty, while the black Shroud was calm and quiet. Nestled in the arms of Alaric as they sat upon a fallen log.
Hard to imagine these cute things would become like Lord Stark's wolf… massive and scary.
Playing with her thumb, Ryah made her way to sit down next to the quiet Stark. "Are they… danger...ous?"
"Dangerous?" Alaric asked, only to see Ryah's eyes fritter to Shroud, then to Blizzard, and back to Shroud. "Oh no, only to people that hurt us. Here." His arms were tingling being so close to Ryah - Alaric had no clue why - but he mustered his courage to defend his darling. He dropped the pup into Ryah's lap. "See."
Trembling, Ryah watched as the pup merely yawned and settled into her lap. "Just like poppa's hounds," she said with a small smile.
"Hold out your hand." Ryah did so, and Shroud began licking it. "He likes you."
Giggling, Ryah nodded. "I can see."
While the children enjoyed their furry companions' boundless affection for them, under the watchful eye of both Stark and Bolton guards and a flying beast high in the sky, the adults sat together - enjoying the remnants of a feast. "I must say," Lord Bolton stated, finishing off a leg of boar. "The hunting here is much easier than in my lands. Fresher forest… less open field and rock."
Rhaenys smeared some fruit jam onto a roll with butter before daintily eating it. "I would hope you don't overhunt."
He shook his head. "Oh no, I make sure poachers know not to hunt on my lands… preserve nature the way it should be." Finishing his meal, he tossed the bones to Blizzard. Already chewing on the bones of his master, the direwolf happily dove at the fresh meal with his jaws. "Animals are a treasure to be protected - you can always take the mettle of a man by how he treats his beasts. My bloodhounds are the most pampered princes in the north," he laughs with affection.
Giving him a curious look, Brandon drinks from his mug of ale. He didn't peg Rogar Bolton as an animal lover. "And our fellow man?"
His milky eyes went listless. "I find that men fall victim to terrible sin that animals do not. They are pure, whereas we often aren't."
"No truer words, Lord Bolton," Rhaenys said, finishing off her roll. The picnic was an idea she suggested, getting the families out of Winterfell for a more… informal setting to discuss pressing business. And easier to show off Arrax if things get tense. Her muna was famous for that tactic and Rhaenys adopted it for herself.
But enjoying himself though he was, Rogar Bolton wasn't naive. "Princess, while I am honored to be such a guest at this fine keep by my lieges, there still exists the unfortunate reality that what stands before us is the second reconstruction of a keep twice destroyed by my family." He said it so nonchalantly that it may have been the discussion of a meal he had the day before. "Blind I am not, especially with the histories of my house and yours, so may I have leave to ask what was the purpose of your invitation of me?"
Catching her handsome wolf mutter something unintelligible under his breath, Rhaenys did her best not to giggle. "You are a worthy adversary, Lord Rogar. I pray that such is all we'll be, rather than foes."
He nodded. "I can second that prayer, Princess."
"We have spoken, namely my husband, myself, and Lord and Lady Stark who are still stuck in King's Landing helping my brother's reign begin."
"The first time the united realm passes along in a transfer of power and crown… There aren't many recorded events of such gains surviving past the death of those that gained them. King Lancel Lannister's conquests lost by his son Loreon, Osgood Arryn's conquest of White Harbor lost by his son Oswin, the two Arlan Durrandons that found their descendents losing their own conquests… I'm afraid the histories don't look kind on transfers of power in a storm."
To this, Rhaenys narrowed her eyes, ire rising. "I would watch your words, Lord Bolton."
"Why? We're just speaking about history." Lord Rogar wasn't a man that made insults on a whim or for the hells of it. They were calculated, trying to probe out their true mood. "Your father is in the south, Lord Brandon, alongside Prince Maegor so his Grace has good counsel."
"My father proves that the old saying 'Direwolves don't fare well south of the Neck' to be a lie."
A snort, followed by a smirk. "Aye, I suppose so."
Uncomfortable with the tricks and games, Rhaenys moved on. "You are right about one thing, Lord Bolton. We do seek something from your house." He waited, merely watching her. "An alliance."
"An alliance? I'm afraid I've already bent the knee to House Stark. My banners are yours to command."
"Isn't it as you said? Blind are you not to the history between our two houses?" Brandon clasped his hands together. "You are our bannermen yet we are still rivals. Worried as I am by instinct that you'll plunge a knife into my stomach any moment…"
"Unlikely, for if your wife's dragon doesn't burn me, your direwolf will rip out my throat." Blizzard was resting in the grass, but his eyes never left Lord Bolton once. A silent readiness. "At this moment you should hold no worries."
She and Brandon, Lord Bolton across from them. Each powerful and perfectly ready and willing to make a final duel for the North… it gave a sense of mutual respect to both sides. A must for any alliance. "House Stark has determined that it is in our best interests for the North to be united during the reign of my brother," Rhaenys broke the silence. "A combined alliance between House Stark and House Bolton is the perfect manner in which to proclaim it to the world."
"You hold a good grasp of politics, Princess, and I am not saying no." His milky blue eyes gave away nothing. "But I will need to know the terms."
"A marriage pact between my son and heir and your daughter."
Bolton smiled. "Ah, so that's why you asked for her by name." He looked over to where Ryah was playing with the three Starks and their direwolves. Everyone laughing and having a good time. "Dragonriding grandchildren would sound tempting to any man, but I cannot in good conscience allow my daughter to marry a hostile stranger."
"That is why we offer to foster her once she reaches ten namedays."
"Reasonable, though I shall require more."
Of course he does. "Name your price then, Lord Bolton."
"Allow me leave to construct an anchorage at the Dreadfort. I conduct a significant amount of trade and would reap larger profits if I could give the goods directly to the merchants rather than employ barges to transit to White Harbor."
Rhaenys wanted to chuckle. "You are a bold man, Rogar Bolton. Understandable request, but one we cannot hope to accomplish given our longstanding ties to House Manderly."
Lord Rogar stroked his beard. "Fair point. You wouldn't be proper lieges if you didn't take your bannermen's consideration under account…" He paused, chewing on a bread roll as he thought. "Alright, Lord Brandon, permission to build an anchorage with a fifth of White Harbor's capacity, priority on construction of a road connection to the Kingsroad, and one other matter that will involve your brother, Princess."
Rhaenys narrowed her eyes. "I cannot offer any assurances to any request you make to the Crown will be honored by his Grace."
"Oh, you misunderstand," chuckled Rogar. "I mean, I was speaking of your other brother, Prince Maegor."
"What of him, Lord Bolton?" Brandon was naturally suspicious. What could you want with my best friend?
"I ask that he take my son and heir as his squire when the time comes."
That, neither of them expected. "Looking for a knighthood for him?" Rhaenys asked.
"Not particularly, but if our family is to enter a stable alliance with yours I would like him to make his own connections and alliances in the South. I may be sworn to you but I shan't be dominated by House Stark."
Both eyed Rogar Bolton, looking for a sign of hostility or insincerity. Brandon's suspicions were ingrained in how he was raised, but Rhaenys could see that while Lord Bolton had the same such suspicions, he could be taken as not making an overt threat. "I can speak to my brother, but only after Lady Ryah passes into our care."
He nodded. "Of course." Something else came to his mind. "One last request, when war starts I wish to hold the most senior position in your command."
"Come again?" Brandon blinked. "What war?"
A nonchalant shrug. "Some people are optimistic and think everything will be fine. I am not so sentimental. The unfinished tensions from the Conquest still are felt and House Bolton will end up having to endure the after effects."
"How so?"
"An emboldened Faith, Princess? They might seek to accomplish what they didn't seven hundred years ago. And we won't have the luck of disunity this time." He leaned back, sipping on his ale. "The dragons are our hope, and you are my connections to the dragons. Grant me second in command and our alliance is assured."
Looking at each other, Rhaenys' eyes told Brandon everything he needed to know her opinion. "You drive a hard bargain, Lord Bolton."
He smiled. "Better to spar with words than how our houses were known to spar."
Brandon laughed in spite of himself. "As long as my father agrees, we have a deal."
"Splendid." Rhaenys raised her goblet of wine. "To our new alliance." Both men clinked their ale mugs with her.
Hopefully this would be as momentous as it felt.
"Uncle," Rhaena laughed, a smile on her face. "Come, let us dance."
From where he was seated at the head table of the Great Hall of Casterly Rock, Maegor could witness the entire assembly that Lord Loren Lannister had assembled to greet the Targaryen guests at the focal point in the royal progress. He had rolled out the welcome wagon, a fully armed company of Lannister household guards in their imposing armor as well as the entire chapter of the Lannisport Warrior's Sons led by Joffrey Doggett. Maegor could've done without all of this, especially the five course banquet complete with dancing and wild beast shows, but he had to admit the food was superb.
Seated next to their host and the jovial but airheaded Ronnel Arryn, Maegor wished to depart with Rhaena for some good times and greater conversation… "Forgive me, niece, but I must decline."
The Rhaena of a year ago would've pouted, but this time she only frowned. "Please, uncle. You danced with Lady Lannister."
Lady Ellyn Lannister - nee Tully - had been a working dance, one Maegor didn't truly enjoy. Unlike most of that family, the late in life second wife of the Lord of Casterly Rock was a snake. Worse than her vicious brat of a son or schemer of a husband. A worthy opponent, but not one he actually wanted to have to face. "Perhaps later, dear niece. I must have business to speak of with Lord Lannister first."
"I'll hold you to that, uncle." Walking away, Maegor could see Rhaena head back to Elissa Farman, Alayne Royce, and Melony Piper. She and the former spoke for a moment before Lady Farman hugged her with a laugh. To be a fly on the wall for that conversation…
"You know, my Prince," spoke Lord Ronnel. "It is an insult to our host if you decline to enjoy the festivities of a feast under his roof."
The Lord of the Vale was not one Maegor thought highly of, but he was Aenys' close friend and member of the small council. Technically of the same rank of responsibility, Maegor had to be cordial. "I'm sure Lord Lannister doesn't mind." He looked to the old lion.
Face wrinkled and beard a pure white rather than the golden blonde it used to be, Loren's green eyes hadn't lost their sharpness. "Not at all, your Grace. I know the look of a man with his mind on a mission, as I always say." His platter was sparing, some braised pork, a smattering of greens, and very watered sweetwine. There was a reason he was still kicking at such an advanced age. "The Greyjoy wishes to speak with us over the matter." Maegor rolled his eyes but nodded, letting Lord Lannister bid the man forward. "Your Grace, Lord Goren Greyjoy of Pyke."
"Lord Greyjoy," Maegor regarded, his lips curled in a scowl. Goren Greyjoy was a hard man, fit and handsome but still hard after four decades of life. The Prince regarded all Ironborn as scum for their ways and their history of opposing the dragons. Lord Goren was no different, his family having once been some of Black Harren's strongest bannermen.
But this one wasn't a lickspittle. Maegor wasn't arrogant enough to assume such - he had put down several conspiracies to try and usurp his reign once his father Vickon passed away, so wasn't one to be underestimated.
Maegor still didn't like him though.
For his part, Goren bowed. "Your Grace, I am honored with your presence…"
"I'm not," Maegor almost growled, surprising Lord Arryn and Lord Lannister, but to which made Ser Gawen smirk. "Let's make it simple, I would prefer it if I shared as few words as possible with an Ironborn cunt."
There was a pause, the high table growing quiet as they waited for the Greyjoy to respond. Lord Goren merely grunted. "I should speak the same about a Valyrian cunt."
The pause continued, many in baited breath, until Maegor belted out a chuckle. "Well alright then, one cunt to another." Everyone relaxed as even Lord Goren smirked softly. "Bring a chair!" He clapped his hands, the servants darting about to find one, to which Maegor made Lord Arryn slide away to make room. Grabbing a chicken leg and loaf of bread, Goren took the proffered seat. "I shall assume you care not for banter and would rather get down to business."
"You assume correct, my Prince," Goren grunted, scarfing on the meat.
"Indeed." His muna and Lady Stark instilled in him proper manners. "Why are there grumbling s of rebellion in the Iron Islands?"
The Ironborn shrugged. "Your father allowed Septons into the Islands. People don't much care for that." He downed a big helping of arbor gold.
While criticism of his kepa drew Maegor's ire, being a Valyrian fostered among the First Men gave him sympathy for those encroached on by the Faith. "Anyone having taken up arms, yet?"
"Not yet."
"Then what are the rumblings I've heard?"
"Some madman washed up on Great Wyk or some shit like that, who the fuck cares?" Goren certainly didn't worry about mindless details. "He calls himself Lodos."
"Lodos?" Loren Lannister scoffed. "The same idiot that filled his robes with rocks and entered the sea to communicate with your god."
Goren snorted. "One in the same, hence when I called him a madman. Whatever followers of his that ended up on Pyke were put to the sword, but many of my bannermen aren't so blessed with foresight as I am and he's been gathering followers and ships."
Maegor pursed his lips, nodding. "You think he's planning to take control?"
"The original Lodos sought the Driftwood Crown at the Kingsmoot before we claimed it," Goren replied. "It would be rather shoddy an impersonation if this one doesn't reassert the claim. I would've attacked them already but decided to wait for Royal assent… and a favor from the Crown."
"My brother has authorized me to dispense with certain gifts to ensure your cooperation, Lord Greyjoy. Aside from Dragons, we provide no men or ships to this cause and wouldn't impose on our hosts to furnish a fleet." Loren narrowed his eyes at that, anticipating some sort of insult. When Maegor said nothing, the former King of the Rock took the comment itself as an insult but said nothing.
"I only ask for one, my Prince." Beady grey eyes met striking violet. "Allow me to expel all septons and septas from my lands and I shall do all the fighting for you."
Ronnel Arryn choked on his wine. "Your Grace, you cannot." He thumped his chest to clear his throat. "Vickon Greyjoy acceded to request of the Faith as communicated by your father decades ago."
"I advise against this course of action, my Prince," added Loren Lannister, an… odd look in his green eyes. "The Starry Sept would not take kindly to their representatives being encroached upon…"
Maegor held a hand. "Give me the head of Lodos in a jar and I'll request to my brother that he grant your request… as long as the Septons and Septas are unharmed and allowed unmolested passage back to Oldtown."
"I wouldn't dream of allowing any different," Goren agreed, satisfied with the terms. "You're more of a reasonable party than I expected a greenlander Prince cunt to be."
"Same sentiments to you, Lord Goren." Maegor sipped on his own wine - finding it impossibly sweet but he had long since been seduced by the acquired taste of a northern ale. Bran would laugh at me if he saw this. Probably his sister as well. "His Grace is a generous man. You'll find relations with him to be mutually beneficial." Goren said nothing, only dipping his head in respect.
Perhaps the Ironborn could be worked with… certain Ironborn at least. "Can we count on dragon support?"
"If you need it."
"Fair enough."
As the minstrels continued into another tune to dance to, Maegor smiled. It was a Valyrian tune, one that reminded him of the dance he and Rhaena had partook in the night of the Jubilee - one of the few good memories of the day his kepa passed. Maybe it was time to take her up on the offered dance? Looking for her, his smile changed to a frown as he couldn't find his niece. "Ser Gawen? Do you see the Princess?"
"The Princess?" The Corbray knight looked for her. "No, it appears she isn't in the great hall."
Maegor muttered some expletives. Where did she go? "Can you find her?"
He nodded. "Aye. Waters!"
A man-at-arms clicked his heels. "Ser Gawen?"
"Send your men about the keep and find Princess Rhaena."
"We can assist, your Grace," Loren insisted. "She shouldn't have gone far." Maegor agreed. You better haven't gone on a nighttime dragonride without me...
It had been an ordeal to slip away from her uncle and her guards, but when she emerged onto a balcony overlooking the Sunset Sea, Rhaena was glad she did. The fresh air of the coastal night invigorated her, the moonlight above beautiful and arranged with a panoply of stars twinkling in the sky. Gods, she loved it.
The majesty was even greater on dragonback, flying above the clouds to see the constellations unmarred by clouds. Closing her eyes, she reached out to Dreamfyre, only to find her dragon hunting at sea for a meal somewhere off Fair Isle. It made her giggle. Elissa is here, my sweet. She didn't know how much she missed her friend till they reunited in the ballroom of Casterly Rock.
When they embraced, Rhaena swore she felt something stirr inside her - a feeling only her uncle had drawn before - but it was fleeting. She didn't think of it again.
Dragon or no dragon, even without her friends she was glad to be in the fresh air. The ballroom was stifling, the home field advantage of the Dragonpalace, Dragonstone, or her kepa's manse not present in the halls of House Lannister. She shuddered at all the false smiles, the coy dancing around thinly veiled insults and politicking among the Lords and Ladies. Rhaena heeded her muna's words, but that didn't mean they didn't leave a vile taste in her mouth - especially Ser Tyrion. Gods, how slimy can that boy be?
Her uncle felt the same way about these things, so at least they could share the misery together.
My uncle… She, Alayne, and Melony didn't speak again of what they had drunkenly shared at Harrenhal… until Elissa was back with them and everything just spilled out - without the cover of wine to ease the tension. Elissa had been… surprisingly alright with the state of affairs and openly called on Rhaena to pursue, but the Princess demured. How can I sully his honor so? How can I hurt my family's alliance with House Hightower?
Your grandparents were married three…
But she shook her head. No. Impossible. Perhaps she was always meant to love Maegor from afar?
"A beautiful night, isn't it, Princess?"
Rhaena jumped slightly at the sudden intrusion, turning to see a young man dressed in a red doublet of a knight. A sword was clipped to his belt, but among the warlike Westermen it wasn't surprising. "Oh, forgive me," she said. "I didn't see you enter, Ser…"
He chuckled. "Lyonel. Ser Lyonel Lorch." He bowed. "It is an honor to meet you in person, Princess."
"Thank you, good Ser." She replied, politely holding out a hand for him to kiss. Rhaena was familiar with House Lorch, landed knights in the service to House Lannister. This particular specimen was quite young, likely only slightly over two decades. He was handsome enough with wavy brown hair and a chiseled chin… but there was something about him that Rhaena found… unsettling. "Do you like to gaze up at the stars as well?"
"Hmmm… oh, they never interested me." He rubbed the back of his neck. "Did you find the feast unsatisfactory?"
Her own line of conversation dismissed, Rhaena said nothing for a moment. This was growing a bit uncomfortable but nothing she couldn't handle. Many tried to suck up to royals for influence, and she would just need to learn how to navigate it. "I just needed some air."
"Too deep in your cups? Tis fine. I don't begrudge a woman drinking."
While it wasn't overtly rude, Rhaena took insult at his insinuation. "I am not drunk, Ser. Watch your tongue."
"Of course, Princess." He didn't believe her.
Looking up at him, Rhaena realized why she was unsettled. His eyes, they were… lecherous but calm. It was not a feeling she enjoyed. "Perhaps I should get back to my uncle and ladies..."
As she tried to head towards the doorway back into the keep, Ser Lyonel's arm shot out, stopping her. "You are very beautiful, Princess. Practically the Maiden made manifest."
A complement, but Rhaena was only disgusted. "Thank you, Ser." It came out as a grumble, gliding out of his hold. "I must be going."
"Are you a maiden?"
She stilled, turned around with an almost gaping shock. He has the gall… "You know not your place, Ser. See that you stay there."
He wasn't cowed. "A beautiful woman as yourself shouldn't be unknowing of a man."
"And you think such a man I admit into my bed should be you?" Unable to help herself, she laughed. "I wouldn't dirty myself with chits and live in such a way." How Ser Lyonel suddenly gre red with anger amused Rhaena. It was vicious, but this fool had goaded her. "My mother and father consider great knights as Tyrion Lannister or my cousin Rogar Baratheon as my husband… not some landed knight." Waving him away, she reentered the keep…
Only for her wrist to be trapped by Ser Lyonel. "No woman," the word used as an epithet. "Walks away from me."
She writhed, him not letting go. "Unhand me lest you lose yours." This time she thrashed harder, but he refused to budge. "You wretch!" Rhaena slapped him about the face.
Ser Lyonel let go, hand flying to his reddened cheek in shock. Rhaena hadn't a moment to even turn before she was backhanded by the powerful blow of the Manticore knight. Wincing as she slammed against the stone wall, Lyonel was on her, pinning her there. "You think you're so might with your dragon and your title… you're nothing but a whore." He shoved his hand into her crotch, her dress all that blocked him from her heat.
Freezing, her eyes were wide with fear. "No… please…"
"You won't be such a cunt with my babe in your belly." He punctuated his claim with a harsh kiss on her lips, one that was sloppy and made Rhaena nauseous. She fought against his grasp, but he was too strong. One hand pinned her wrists harshly on the rough stone, chafing the skin. The other groped her breasts hard, making Rhaena scream…
Finally, one hand freed itself and slammed into Ser Lyonel's temple. He howled in pain and pulled back, allowing Rhaena to try and escape. But she slipped on the floor, falling on her front. Heart pounding, the Princess tried to crawl and scrape away before his hands were back on her. "No! Help!"
Flipping her around, a punch to the stomach made Rhaena gasp and cough. "Shut up!" hissed the knight, hiking up her dress. He punched her face, making her see stars. "I'm gonna enjoy this." He moved to unlace his trousers.
Rhaena closed her eyes, trembling violently. Uncle… someone… help me…
"Oi', fucker!" Ser Lyonel turned only to find the hilt of a sword to slam into his face. The blow was powerful, knocking him out and leaving a pretty large gash on his forehead. Pitching back, his still form crumpled to the floor.
Eyes still closed, Rhaena refused to move, trying her best to hold back tears before a hand nudged hers. It did not go well. "No!" She screamed, thrashing about. "Get away from me!" Her fingers clawed at the new attacker…
"Your Grace. Your Grace!" Her eyes opened and she saw a thickset man built like an ox but with an innocent, kindly face. He wore the colors of House Targaryen, but wasn't a knight. "I mean you no harm."
Seeing the unconscious Ser Lyonel crumpled against the wall, Rhaena's frantic mood began to temper. "Did you…" Her trembling hand pointed to him. "That?"
"Aye… barbarous cunt." The man shook his head. "Can I give you a hand?"
She nodded, allowing him to haul her up. "Thank you…"
"Dick. Dick Bean."
"Thank you, Ser Dick."
He shook his head. "No Ser… I'm not a knight."
"Thank you all the same."
A voice called down the corridor. "Rhaena? Where are you? Rhaena?!" Elissa appeared and gasped. "My gods, what happened here?"
Seeing one of her closest friends, the strong dragon Princess broke down and threw herself at Elissa, sobbing. "Oh, Lissa…"
"Rhaena… what?" She noticed the unconscious knight, and Rhaena's state of battery and rumpled everything. A woman knew. "Fetch the kingsguards!" she barked at the two Farman men-at-arms that followed her. "You, stand guard over this… this thing."
"With pleasure." Dick kicked him in the stones, drawing a whimper from the unconscious Ser Lyonel.
"I want my uncle…" Rhaena murmured through her sobs.
Elissa sighed, kissing Rhaena's temple affectionately. "I'll take you to him."
"Now! Take me to him now!" She needed Maegor… she needed the man she secretly loved. Elissa said not a word, knowing that the Prince was the only one that could truly comfort her in a time like this.