ᴅʀᴀɢᴏɴ's ᴅᴀᴜɢʜᴛᴇʀ

        there was never a dull moment in king’s landing, especially not when a celebration was in full swing. this time it was the targaryens who were the hosts, which meant that rhaenys gracefully fluttered about, playing a gracious host to all of the guests. simple courtesies were not her elder brother’s forte. a blessing in some sense. if he was truly going mad then the last place rhaenys wanted him was around large crowds. besides, rhaenys would have mingled with their guests even if it wasn’t expected of her. what fun was a celebration if one didn’t enjoy the company?

VIKTOR’S INTRO.   ( ruling lord of the reach )

STEFÁN’S INTRO.   ( heir to house blacktyde )

    The younger princess listened, eyes picking out those in the crowd who she had seen dancing with the other and wondered which was which. There was no wish to join anyone on the floor, not with the threat of a political union being proposed. She was already at risk with her mere existence, enticing any of the lords with a dance would be a death sentence.  

     “Am I cruel, then?” Celia looped her arm through the Targaryen princess’ arm and leaned in.  “I think it a kindness, their arms now open to a more suitable dancing partner.” She squeezed Rhaenys’ forearm gently in meaning and bumped her hip into hers with a slight huff of a laugh. “There are plenty who wish to dance, I am well to be found on the side, enjoying the view.”

        when she was younger, rhaenys had envisioned meeting her love at a grand feast. or at a tourney where he would crown her queen of love and beauty. that was often how it happened in stories, except in those were the maiden was the damsel, but rhaenys, despite possessing a ladylike demeanor, had little desire in being a damsel. no, being romanced at a celebration was far better. however, no matter how many charming lords she met no lasting betrothals ever resulted and no love blossomed. now, the thought of a match being forged for her at a celebration like this was far from her mind.

“Child,” she retorted back, leaning towards the other for a moment before reclining in her chair and enjoying another sip of her wine, “I am not about to conceal my words when everyone would just as well hear them but lack the spine to say them above a whisper.” Like handmaids tittering at the appearance of a well to-do knight. “There will only be more to come my little dear but you’re to pay none of them any mind.” If anything a Targaryen banner found at the scene was the best way to prove their own innocence and she was already plotting how to go about that. “Because the world adores a tragedy and the chaos in makes brings with it seeds of opportunity. Or at last the potential for opportunity.”  

The Maester was her friend, he taught her many things and was a sort of confidant. Her mind was empty and her body was numb, she did not know what to think or what to do. But she refused her scattered emotions to show on her exterior. The feast was now broken and there was no chance to revive it, her brother’s coronation day ruined and the Stark named stained once again. Or would it be the Targaryen name that was stained. She didn’t know. “Forgive us for being poor hosts, this tragedy is unfortunate but tranquility will return to the North soon enough.” She displayed a small smile. 

He nodded, his face as serious as could be. “Then we understand each other.” With a groan he then pushed himself off of his seat. His hands were starting to ache and he didn’t think more drink would be able to quell the pain in his heart. Now, he needed to be alone or around family. To grieve on his own terms.

“I thank ye, Princess. It would have been so easy to be lost in yer own affairs. Yer kindness is appreciated, and very welcome. I hope yer brother might come to share it.”

        she nodded.        ❝  we do.  ❞        it relieved her more than she dare say. a lesser king would see the banenr as proof of a targaryen scheme and not listen to reason. thankfully, edrik had proven himself to rhaenys in the past few hours than she had expected.          ❝  thanks isn’t necessary. we are friends and we must care for each other if the realm is to succeed. ❞          she carefully avoided his last comment. she doubted her brother was feeling large amounts of kindness right now. 

The night seemed to pass like a daydream, blurring away into the spiral of the dance, the sipping of wine and the smile of the princess opposite. Orys and Rhaenys were well matched, the young lord pleasantly surprised by how well it was going. “I…thank you, Rhaenys. It comes with a family like mine. Our sense of humour, is, well…either rather too ribald, or self depreciative at best. You’re too kind as well. It may be a fault we share.”

The music was slower now, and as the two moved closer, barely a book’s width between them. “Stood on your toes? Did you have him arrested for assault of the royal personage?” Orys raised a dark eyebrow, smirking a little. “I forget the steps sometimes too, however, so I cannot criticise for that. I just tend to improvise.”

        when she’d approached him, she hadn’t foreseen how enjoyable his company would be or how the blush upon her cheeks and her smile refused to fade. it almost felt like the early moments of a song.          ❝  it must be. though i do object to it being a fault per say. ❞         a thoughtful look briefly crossed her face.          ❝  with there being so much cruelty in the world, we need all the kindness we can find. ❞

He then reached out to her, placing a hand on her arm and squeezing it. His face had gone a little more serious, and his eyes were viciously alert. “I don’t think it was yer king. But that doesn’t mean I will not listen to reason. If I find out that it was a Targaryen man that burned that tower down, I will have his head, regardless of who it is. And I’ll cleave it off myself.” Then, he let her go, but kept eyecontract just for emphasis.

“Don’t think I’m threatening ye. I wouldn’t dare. I count the South among my friends. But I will see justice done.”

        violet eyes grew sharp but not hostile. she pressed her lips together into a thin line and met edrik’s gaze without flinching.          ❝  i understand. you have every right to claim justice. ❞          but she prayed it wasn’t a targaryen man behind the fire. rhaenys might step aside willingly but her brother? she didn’t know what he would do. and if he refused to hand the culprit over then the peace their ancestors had worked for would be a risk. 

They didn’t tend to hold dances within Greywater, or if people did drink and then wished to dance they simply moved as the music guided them; Ascar had seen this since he was quite gifted at singing and the pan flute, dancing with a Southern Lady was a nerve wrecking prospect. “Well umm… If My Lady insists.” he said, figuring it would only be rude to refuse, “I’ll try not to stand on you though, or make too big a fool out of myself.” he added, letting himself be guided back towards the dancers with a red flush beginning to cover his cheeks.  

“No, no. I’ve had plenty of water and food. I just..” Aelinor shrugged. “ I swear, the boar that one of the servants had smelled so strong..” she stopped talking, not wanting to go further into detail of how she was feeling. She knew Rhaenys was smart, and if her husband didn’t want her to tell anyone of the pregnancy, she wouldn’t. The only exception had been Daeron, for she had told him before her own husband. 

“Oh gods, no. I don’t need to retire.” She chuckled. “Your brother would be very upset that I am not up there for everyone to see,” her hand gestured to the raised platform where they had been seated next to the king and dowager queen of the north. “Perhaps it’s some fresh air that I need.” 

        her brow furrowed. the symptoms her good sister was describing sounded very similar to what she recalled her stepmother going through when she was pregnant. rhaenys had been young when her stepmother had been pregnant but old enough to remember the time. could it be that aelinor was pregnant? if they had been alone rhaenys might have asked, but not here with so many people around them.

Reviewing the room over her steepled fingers Jenifire was content to watch and wait while others were flapping about like chickens before a butcher. So a banner had been found, it proved nothing and the first to declare an accusation would be condemning himself. She half-wanted some brainless oaf to try, if only so she could shoot him down in flames not dissimilar to those that took the Maester. Though she did feel something at his passing, if only because he was one of the few close to her in age; so few of her generation remained.

With a click of her aged fingers a maid quickly refilled her glass and she took an easy gulp of her arbor wine. “Well, this Coronation has certainly proved worth attending. A fatal fire and a banner of my house found at the scene.” she chuckled, “The gossips must be rolling on the floor with pleasure. I’m curious to see what stories they come up with.”

“I have my men looking through the rubble right now. If ye want, ye can send yer own to help. That way, both our houses will look like they’re trying to find answers. And it might help dispell any rumours that it was House Targaryen that set the tower alight.” Edrik muttered, looking over his cup at the wall. Unable to bring himself to look at his guest. “I have also sent men outside the gates to the camps to keep the peace. Ye might want to ask yer brother to do the same. It will probably go down his throat better if it comes from his sister.”

“…..I, uh, yes, my lad—Rhaenys. Yes.” He nodded a little, as if to remind himself as they span through the space, their hands meeting and then parting in such a soft way that it almost made his heart twinge…..

           No. Gods, no. No, nope. No. That would be ridiculous. That would be ridiculous entirely. Gods, no. Orys Baratheon was not, and would never be, a man of feelings. And he’d only just met her properly. The princesses had always been in court, in King’s Landing and his family had entertained them, yes. But this was a momentary thing, a gentle hint at some form of attraction. He’d keep it in his breeches only. Yup.

She spoke again, and Orys snapped out of his, his pale cheeks a little flushed. “As are you, Rhaenys. You make it easier for a clumsy young lord to follow you.”

        she couldn’t help but giggle a little at how flustered he grew. not to be cruel, never, but his reaction was endearing. so often it seemed impossible to garner any reaction from men, most of whom insisted on being stoic or playing into whatever persona they believed would gain them the most respect or admiration.

          throughout the night she had entertained many dance partners, but none of proven as enjoyable as orys, which surprised her immensely. they were acquaintances at best, meeting only though their families and only a few times at best, but there was something that made them move in perfect unison. he looked quite charming when he blushed. perhaps it was only the music and euphoric mood of the night making such thoughts dance in her head.

He shook his head, vaguely looking into the distance. He brought his cup absentmindedly to his lips. “Sit. Have a cup of wine.” It didn’t mean to come out so sharply. But he was in a foul mood, and there was little will to filter in him.

As he sipped from his cup and waited for her to sit, he turned to actually look at her, pain written as clearly as black letters on his face. “Keep yer brother’s men calm, that’s what ye could do.” He said, as though he’d just come to it, which wasn’t far from the truth. “I’ll keep mine from throwing accusations. I know how fickle the crowd can bloody be. And willing to believe any sordid accusation thrown before them.”

        rhaenys nodded and sat down in the chair opposite of the king. she pulled herself a small cup of wine; her mind needed to remain sharp but a small taste would help calm the nerves fluttering about in her stomach. normally, she might feel a spark of annoyance at being spoken to so sharply, but tonight was no ordinary night. someone had killed a member of the stark household. anyone would be shaken and on edge.

Her eyes met his; violet and ice blue, fire and the storms, and the young lord smiled, just a little as he took the princess’ hand, leading her toward the space where dancers moved. It was coming to the end of a very Northern jaunt, and the calmer refrains of the more Southron courtly dances were just starting up. Something Orys could actually do, and a coincidence he would thank the gods for later.

                       “The delight is all mine, your Highness.” With a bow as he stood opposite her, the young stag moved in perfect unison with the princess. Their hands met in the middle before they started the dance, the rest of the room turning into a blur of colour, faces and laughter as the coronation continued around them. Was that a smile on Orys Baratheon’s face? Maybe.

        the familiar notes of a southern tune replaced the more jovial northern beat. it reminded rhaenys of home and the soothing melodies she commonly danced to. while she had been taught many northern dances in preparation for celebration like this, she was far more comfortable with the southern dances. standing opposite of orys, rhaenys curtsied and smiled brightly.          ❝  call me rhaenys, please. ❞