.broken crown.

The night was far advanced, and Eyva looked up into the blaze of firelight that seemed to fill the dragonpits. Flickers of colour flowed across the surface of stone and marble; firelight from the many torches that had been lit for the feast, and the silver stars that crowned the sky above them; she heard the sweet chiming of bells and the sounds of movement in the city below, and all about her, the songs of the bards that stood amid the crowds, singing the old, sacred tales of North and South, and as she raised her head to stare at the night-sky, a wave of inconsolable homesickness rolled over her; they never truly had such feasts at the Pyke, she thought, neither had they any love for the sweet songs of the harp; theirs, was the song of the ocean, all salt and stone and iron, and she longed for the pounding of the sea, the roaring of the waves; Ironman’s Bay, was not dark and lifeless, like the sea lapping at the shores of the capital; it brimmed with white and silver sunlight. With such thoughts, was she taken, dizzied with the honeyed mead she had been sipping on half the night (for she had found, it quite helped to soothe her whirling thoughts), and elegantly reaching for another cup, when the man she recognized as the Queens’s brother spoke to her. She paused a moment, his words making her smile softly. “–oh, indeed. and naught quite like its effects…” there was the beginnings of a delicate wink, postured by the soft arch of her mouth. Eyva was not one for such strong drinks– she was a dainty, whispish woman, and wines and meads often got to her head– just as they had now, making her supine and soft with it, her blue eyes brimming with sweet laughter as he described the Dornish vintage as “irresistible”– ( irresistible! she knew not why, but the word, amused her). “–why, my lord, I am aghast! And here I thought all men loved Arbor gold better than the Dornish reds…nectar of the Gods, don’t they call it? – and yet, I find the taste quite intolerable. Much like the men who prefer it…” she smiled softly, only jesting; late in a feast when the wine has been round a few times more than is wisest, jests far more unseemly than that may be forgiven.

Jaerys noted that the woman beside him partaking in the wine was in fine spirits, and he felt a small pang of guilt that he was not of the same humor. He often wished he had more of a heart for merriment; the sort of heart that could drink and feast and laugh with others and so easily swat aside thoughts of woe. But instead he was burdened with a mind that never slowed. Excessive drink merely opened the floodgates, and subjected him to a barrage of stress and worry over anything and everything. And his status for most of his life had left him wary of stepping across the multitude of lines which lay before every noble. So all he could do was smile and chuckle at the dark-haired woman’s comments, and wish he knew better how to be ‘fun’, as many had so often lamented.

“Oh, Arbor wines are good,” Jaerys mused with a smile, trying to relax his shoulders and seem more at ease. “But personally, I find they lack the depth of the Dornish reds. And if I must drink, I’d prefer something with depth.” He blinked, caught off-guard by her forwardness and yet not surprised. Yet another sign of his inexperience with feasts and all the festive cheer that came with it: he rarely knew quite how to navigate such humor until several hours later. But he did his best, grinning in response. “Indeed. I’m afraid you’ll find many such men here, my lady. But you’ll find others here as well. Northmen who prefer stout ales, Dornishmen and their dark wines, the ironmen and their mead. There might even be spiced rum from foreign ports, or some Essosi who have brought fermented milk if you’ve a taste for the exotic.” He gestured around them. “A veritable cornucopia of men and liquor alike.”

     SOMETIMES THERE WAS a kind of beauty in peace, though he vastly preferred the sound of the ocean ––  and it seemed as though someone believed the same.   “ahh, not at all, my prince.   six years here has taught me a great deal. i have been there for many a celebration thrown by yours or our kings houses,” he smiled, and leaned back against a practice dummy.  “it’s not the crowds that drain me, i must admit, it’s the stupid people. ”

 Six years in King’s Landing must, indeed, be quite an education in dealing with crowds. Despite having grown up here, even Jaerys often needed time away from the throngs of people, so there must be something to be said for this man’s social stamina as well. He nodded, empathy clear on his face as he listened. “Ah, yes. Unfortunately, celebrations do tend to bring out the unwisest impulses in their attendees. An excess of drink accounts for much of that, or so I hope. And I fear it will only get more taxing as the night progresses.” He chuckled and shook his head before adding, “It’s good to know some people intend to keep their wits about them. More could take their example from you, ser...?”

Overslept. How in the bloody seven hells had Harrick managed to oversleep and, therefore, completely miss the sign-up deadline for any of the tourney events? At this point, he would have even been content with the horse-riding or, Gods save him, archery. But, no. Thanks to his unfortunately timed hangover, the young Mormont was now confined to the crowd like some sort of squealing Southerner who’d never held a sword in their life. Pitiful.

Harrick took one sip of the Dornish piss and immediately spat it back out into the cup. Would it kill these Crownlanders to put out some ale? Harrick dismissed the imaginary request. They’d probably find a way to screw that up too. Still, if his time spent in the capital was indicative of anything, it was that Harrick often forgot that he was not in the North anymore.

At the precise second that he hacked the pigswill back into the goblet, a man appeared next to him and began to praise the vile drink. Wait, not just a man. A Targaryen. Wait, no just a Targaryen. Jaerys Targaryen. Harrick would have to use every one of his wits if he was going to keep pace with the man who would have been king.

“It…uh…yes.” Fuck. “Well…I mean…I’m more of an ale man myself, your grace.” Shit. “Your lord. My lord.” Perhaps it was not yet too late to gatecrash the archery competition?

Clearly, the fellow beside him didn’t share the same views on Dornish wine. Jaerys just barely hid an amused grin by taking a drink from his goblet, composing his face into pleasant neutrality by the time he’d swallowed. “I see. Nothing wrong with that by any means. In general, I avoid anything brewed to be alcoholic, so perhaps I enjoy them because I drink so infrequently. And, of course, everyone is entitled to their own tastes.” By his accent, Jaerys took the man to be a Northerner, which would account for the preference for ale. “I’m told the North is the birthplace of many great ales. I can’t imagine wine would compare well when you’re used to the stronger flavors. One of these days I shall have to expand my palate.” 

This time, Jaerys didn’t hide his grin. “I hope you won’t find this rude, but it is... refreshing not to be the only one uncomfortable with formalities,” he confessed, finding himself relaxing considerably. Once, he would have been more at home hiding behind titles and guarded etiquette. Now, being called ‘lord’ made him feel... well, he still hadn’t figured out how it made him feel. “I’m sorry to say I do not recognize you, ser, other than as hailing from the North. Have you been in King’s Landing long?”

The Dragonpits were busy, the festivities ramping up. Daemon was trying to pace himself, knowing he had two events he was involved with tomorrow, so he didn’t want to feel the after affects of the next day. However, plenty of other nobles were indulging, included a certain contested prince. Jaerys, the abdicator to the throne. Daemon was almost surprised he was here at the tournament, but he could understand it. Duty and a show of House representation, something Daemon could support. Regardless of his personal feelings, he bowed low to the sliver haired Prince. “Prince Jaerys, we Dornish are proud of our wines, and I’m honored you enjoy them.” He tilted his own cup, admiring the deep red of the wine contained in it. “You’ll have to grace us with a visit to Godsgrace soon, as we House Allyrion have a personal vintage that is bottled only for the noble house. I work closely with the vinter to make it.”

It was hard to mistake the lord before him—the Dornishmen stood out in striking ways among the crowd assembled for the tourney, but few came with the fearsome and remarkable reputations that preceded the 'Sand Dog'. "As you should be, Lord Daemon,” Jaerys replied with a small bow of his own. He was finally becoming re-accustomed to the formalities of King’s Landing and the Westerosi nobility, but he suspected he would never again be used to people bowing to him or calling him by a title. Especially a noted lord of Dorne, one close to the Martells whom Jaerys had offended with his departure. “I would be honored,” he added, smiling at the thought and sipping from his goblet with a noise of appreciation. “It’s always clear when a wine has been treated with a deeply personal touch; something of the maker comes through, whether in the bouquet or the flavors or the consistency. I’m sure there’s a reasonable explanation for it, but I like to think that perhaps it’s from having one’s heart and soul poured into it.”

The festive display of banners across the Dragonpits was truly a magnificent and dizzying sight. Though much recovered over the last few days, Jaerys was forced to remain overly cautious with his health at the firm request of the maesters. This meant that he not only would not be participating in any of the events, but that he was also mostly sticking to his seat on the side near Arryk and Rhaena’s thrones. He only mourned a little—he was not an expert at parties and feasts, and though he greatly enjoyed the sights and sounds of them, he would likely have stayed on the sidelines even if he was in peak condition. This way, he could be present and show his support for Rhaena and her husband, while also continuing to mind his health as instructed.

One small temptation did present itself, however. Jaerys couldn’t help but notice an elegant waterfall of red hair not too far from where he was seated, and instantly took to his feet. He’d insisted he did not need a cane or any sort of walking aid, and was glad of his insistence on the matter as he approached the now-Princess of the Vale. It would not do to look weak in such a public setting, nor in front of people he hoped would remain their allies. But more importantly, he wished to appear strong and quite recovered for his friend. “Princess Rosalyn,” he said, by way of greeting, and offered a bow. “It’s good to see you here. I hope the festivities are a welcome diversion for you.”

the soft touch of his hand on her arm was comforting. sure, the two of them had only begun to really know one another but after the trauma, they both experienced together rosa at least felt closer to the targaryen. it was only a small gesture but it meant more to her than she thought. however, the other touch was not one she expected. his hand lingering over her knee but it didn’t move. his words only added to her confusion of what this was all trying to mean. he talked to her about her strength from when they were gone. “i…i only did what anyone else should have done.” she said. her heart beat faster and fast with every moment his hand stayed on her knee. “thank you though.” the placement of his hand seemed so simple and so unassuming but it consumed her thoughts. most lords and ladies were far too proper that even the slightest touch could be considered scandalous. maybe rosa was far too wrapped up in those thoughts as well and was thinking far to much from one tiny touch. but god it had been so long since someone touched her so softly like that.

but just as quickly as the touch came, it went when he withdrew his hand and folded them neatly in his lap. all she could do was take a quick breath in, smile and continue on. “i’ve worked very hard to make sure i can keep up just as well as any other person in this keep. but i guess i always have so i’ve never considered it a talent. but i suppose so.” the arryn smiled. “i guess it’s nice to know that you never noticed. not that i’m ashamed of it!” she added on quickly. “i used to be, but i just never wanted to be defined by it. i wanted to show i am just the same as any other person here.”

a smile danced on her lips as she watched him trying out the new sign. it always warmed her heart to see people signing. even if someone didn’t want to fully learn it, just trying something a simple as the sign for her name brought her so much happiness. “almost. you just need to move your hand a little more…or well…like this.” reaching over, she placed her hands on his to help form the correct shape. her heart beat raced again. “like that.” she said. “i do. or at least those who are closest in my life. my family, friends, rhaena… a few for those i don’t like as well. but none of those signs are very flattering.” she laughed.

The Targaryen lord shook his head a little. Rosalyn was too modest for her own good, it seemed. “I can assure you, my lady, there are a great many people in the world who would not have done as you did,” he replied. “High-born or low, it takes courage to protect another person, especially in such terrible circumstances. And that kind of courage is rare.” It was at that moment that he realized his hand had lingered for too long on her knee. Seven hells, what on earth was he doing?! He withdrew, and felt a flush creep up the back of his neck. Gods willing it wouldn’t spread to the rest of his face, exposing his embarrassment at his lack of decorum. And gods willing, Rosa would not be offended. Such was court life across Westeros: the nobility were trained in a very particular game of propriety, wherein something as innocuous as a gesture or a look could court scandal; where a specific bouquet of flowers could profess love and another could profess unending hatred; where every step in the presence of another must be calculated so as not to offend, or to offend without fear of retaliation.

It was a game Jaerys had disliked before he left, and which he hated even more now. Though his travels through Essos had hardly been luxurious, there had been immense freedom in how he could conduct himself around others who knew nothing of his family name. Returning to King’s Landing and all the nitpicky social rules was another kind of heartbreak, particularly when it meant he couldn’t give a new friend the compassion and comfort he wished to without being mistaken in his intentions. Fate truly was a cruel mistress.

Jaerys watched Rosa inhale and smile, and found his own smile widening at the action. His attention remained with her, eyes trained raptly on her face, as she explained her motivations, and he nodded along. “I should hope you’re not ashamed! It’s truly remarkable, and a testament to your willpower. You are full of surprises, Lady Rosalyn.” Despite how clumsy he felt in attempting her name sign, Jaerys chuckled a little at how happy it seemed to make her. He hadn’t noticed his heart beating a little harder than usual—perhaps that was his medication. He certainly noticed it give a few thrilled thumps as Rosa reached over and corrected his hand position. “Ah, I see. So...” With his fingers adjusted to her liking, he attempted the sign again, feeling much more confident about it and more than a little proud. “Oh dear, I will be very careful not to get on your bad side then. I would not wish for an unflattering name sign,” he responded with a laugh, letting his hand fall back into place as his eyes lit up. “What sign have you given Rhaena?”

Rhaena knew that her brother’s return could easily be seen as a threat to Arryk’s rule. While she had been declared the heir after he refused the throne, it did not change the fact he was the eldest child, male too, of their father. Yet she did not like that he felt unwelcome, or felt the need to hide away, he was her family, after all, her brother. While her feelings towards him were complicated, the hurt and betrayal of his sudden departure still there, Jaerys was all she had left of her core family. “You are my brother, you should not keep away,” she maintained. “I am sure Arryk would agree with that.” In all honesty, she was not sure he would, but she could not say otherwise. More importantly, she would not care what he thought. There were lions everywhere she looked these days, she was allowed to surround herself with dragons.

The queen listened to her brother with greater attention than she had done with others. During her childhood, he had always supported her, given her advice and helped her through every obstacle life had thrown her way then. Albeit, there had not been many. Life had only shown its true cruelty in recent years starting with their mother’s death. She believed him to be right, but his point also terrified her. The Barrowton Starks were greedy, no doubt it, and they were not above murder and all other crimes she could think of. They would not be above tricking her too, keeping Aemos as leverage and never returning him. That thought made her stomach sink so low, she was sure that she would be sick, suddenly feeling dizzy she laid down again. It did not matter when it was only Jaerys in the room, he would not judge.

He told her to not be ashamed, and she desperately wanted to believe her brother, but she could not blindly trust him anymore. When it came to her, Jaerys had never been able to be truly objective, often overlooking her flaws and defending her even when she was in the wrong. The Valyrian he spoke made her smile the tiniest smile though. “You have always been blind when it comes to me, brother,” Rhaena argued gently. “You are always so quick to defend me when I am undeserving of it.” Even against their father. She propped herself up on the pillows to look more dignified, but also in order to look more okay than she felt. The queen was not blind, she could feel her brother was still weak from the ordeal he had been put through. “You should return to your bed, Jaerys. You need to rest and heal.”

Jaerys blinked, and a sad little smile flitted across his face. It was comforting to know that even after all he had done to put her in such a terrible position, Rhaena still wished for his presence. They had been close once, and he longed daily to return to that state of closeness. Now he had reason to believe she might wish for such a thing, too. “That gladdens my heart more than I can say,” he replied. “I desire nothing more that to give you my fullest support. Both of you." It was hard for him to know for sure, but he hoped that the Lannister king knew that Jaerys did not wish for there to be any strife or tension between them. At the very least, perhaps this incident would give him a chance to show Rhaena’s husband his dedication. “Once we have Aemos back in your arms where he belongs, we shall make some family time,” he added, the smile returning a little more brightly.

Rhaena looked for a moment as though she might be ill, prompting Jaerys to take a shaky step forward. He might topple over himself on the way to her side, but he was willing to take that risk if it meant being there for her. However, the moment passed, and instead she lay down on her bed. The sight filled him with a combination of affection and worry. Gods but she must be exhausted. And speaking for too long on such fearful topics was undoubtedly not helping much. But he had to know that he’d at least helped settle her mind a little. Even only a fraction. That would satisfy him for now. The smile she gave him, smaller than his own, was all he needed. “Perhaps. But for all my own faults, I believe myself to be a good judge of character. And you, my sister, have never been undeserving of my love or my defense. Never.”

He gazed at Rhaena for a moment before sighing. “As do you. We shall all have time in the coming days to worry and plan. For now, we should both try to sleep.” Gingerly, Jaerys placed a hand over his heart and bowed, murmured “sleep well,” and took his leave. He barely remembered making it back to his rooms, only that he fell into bed at once with a deep sigh of relief.

It still felt so wrong that she was his queen. Not only because he was supposed to have been king, but also because he was her brother, her big brother. Should they disagree, she would be above him, and the thought of that made her nervous. Rhaena had been so used to Jaerys leading the way, now she was the one who had to. Still worried about the intensity of his aggressive reaction, she decided to keep it in the back of her mind. It was the curse of the Targaryens, she supposed, always worrying about minds being lost to madness. After all, history was a powerful enemy, and their house certainly had enough of it. She nodded in response, again not saying anything. She wanted to believe him, a part of her did. The little Targaryen girl she had been once upon a time did trust him.

She turned around to sit on edge of her bed, her body heavy as it hit the soft covers. “I knew you would return along with the others, I never stopped believing that,” Rhaena shared, forcing herself to not become a crying mess again. “I was planning on bringing him to you when they finally released you, so the two of you could meet.” Regret filled her heart. Oh, if she had just done it sooner and tried to let go of all the anger and hurt, they could have met. “I am sorry I did not do it sooner.” No matter what Jaerys had done to her, the burden he had left her with, he deserved to get to know his nephew, his future king. Aemos would have loved his uncle. Her son always grabbed at her silver hair in curiosity, she knew he would have loved doing the same to Jaerys.

Silence befell them before she spoke up again. “I am going to have to kneel to them,” she confessed, her violet eyes landing on her brother. She hated that fact, it felt so wrong, it was an insult to her entire lineage. “Father would have despised me for it, I despise myself for it.”

Shame threatened to eat Jaerys up. He feared if he did not say something soon, or leave, he might simply melt through the stones. The ugly truth was that he’d meant every word of the violent, dark things he’d said. His shame was not in the truth of his feelings, but that he’d lost control long enough to let them out, to loose them unto the world and to his sister of all people. He trusted Rhaena above all others, and knew that she would most likely understand. But that didn’t change her reaction, or the fact that he ought to have kept his mouth shut. Rather than dwell on this any further, he moved a little closer to the nearest window as Rhaena moved back to her bed. The last thing he wanted was for her to feel crowded, hovered over, while his rage still hung in the room like traces of smoke.

As she spoke, the bitter taste in his throat and mouth morphed into a lump that he found hard to swallow. How long had she been waiting to introduce him to Aemos? How long had she been searching for the opportunity to bring them together, whilst Jaerys had made himself busy so as to stay out of her way? “It’s not your fault,” he answered softly, still looking out the window towards the horizon where Dragonstone lay. Had she taken Aemos there yet, to visit their ancestral seat? Would he grow up running its halls as often as he would run through those of the Red Keep? “I have made an effort to be scarce since I returned. I didn’t want to make things worse with my presence. I thought that would be better for you, and for Arryk. Perhaps I would be seen as less of a threat or a problem if I disappeared into the background.” Jaerys cleared his throat roughly. “I will be sure to change that.”

Silence formed again, and Jaerys considered for a moment that perhaps this was her cue for him to leave. But Rhaena spoke again, and finally he turned his head to look at her once more. “I don’t believe you will. For one thing, handing the Crownlands and those still loyal to the Iron Throne over to the Barrowtown Starks would merely be a short-term solution.” He hadn’t had much time to give this a lot of thought, but as he spoke now, he felt quite confident in his assessment of the situation. “They are greedy and disloyal enough to betray their liege lords and their king, and they’ve proven they aren’t above murder. It would only be a matter of time before they are discontent with their victory, and seek to reunite the seven kingdoms under their own banner.”

The train of thought barreled along, and Jaerys just had enough spare brain power to hope that some of what he was saying actually made sense and was comforting to her. “Arryk knows this, as do the other lords... I mean, the other kings. They know bowing to the Starks will start a war, whether days or weeks or months down the road. It is in no one’s best interests to allow you and Arryk to bend the knee. The only option is to find a means of thwarting them while also returning your son and the other child. And as for father,” he snorted, “he would have no room to look down on your choices. It is his fault for putting you in this position. And mine, furthermore.” His tone softened further as he watched her. “You have nothing to be ashamed of, ñuha mandia.”

“i would like that very much. i think the maesters at the library will be thankful for that as well since i feel like i am constantly coming to them for suggestions on books. i’m sure from time to time bugging them for something interesting to read.” rosa laughed. the kind older men never did complain outright to her though. it was more in a sigh and small words like “maybe you should take your time reading this one.” or “there is no rush to get through them all.” but when rosa found something as thrilling as a good book she couldn’t help but dive completely into it. she’d spend an entire night curled up next to a candle for light, just to get the last pages in before she slept. she wanted to get back to that state once more.

“that is very kind of you to say. i think rhaena has always seen something in me that i don’t really understand. she’s always been there to help me or defend me. i owe her….probably more than i will ever be able to repay her. i can hope even an ounce of her strength has rubbed off on me. i think i would be alright if that did happen.” rosa was curious what else he could have endured that would have been worse than this kidnapping. she was foolish to think that his disappearance had been a completely neutral or good experience. rumors flew around the court about what had happened to the prince that left. where had he gone? what had he seen? she dealt with enough rumors to believe anything that was whispered to her. she did want to know what had happened but there was no way she could ask him now.

“beautiful?” her sounded surprised but still she smiled. she had heard many people in king’s landing describe her signing and very few of them ever thought of it as beautiful. most just simply remarked that it was too challenging to learn and gave little effort to even learn the basic signs that might help her. she’d never push anyone to learn her signing, but could only hope that someone might put the effort in.

even more, surprise washed over her when it dawned on her that he might have no idea about her hearing. for a single moment, she felt…normal. this whole time he had thought of her just like any other lady of the court. not someone to avoid or someone who needed all the special treatment. she was just rosalyn. part of her didn’t want to give that moment up. that she just wanted to give in this moment. but she feared if she didn’t tell him that someone else would, and had no control over what other people might tell him. she could only control what she could say. with that thought she took a deep breath and continued on. “i lost most of my hearing when i was very young actually. i can still hear somethings. but from what i’ve been told it’s similar to hearing underwater. but, i can lipread which helps me know what people are saying if i can’t hear it. plus i have my signing too, which helps when people know it.” rosalyn signed her own name first, much slower this time as she spelled it out for him. “that would be how you spell it but most people i know just use this sign,” rosa said, doing the small SIGN. “it’s actually the same sign for moon. my mom started calling me her little moon when i was little and it just sort of stuck.” she smiled. “i hope this is not all too boring. i can get carried away talking about these things.”

Jaerys laughed at the idea of Rosa pestering the maesters for new reading material. He could just imagine her flitting through the shelves, red hair flowing behind her as she wove through them in search of untouched tomes. And he could just hear the maesters’ tones as they gave her recommendations—undoubtedly, it was the same as the one they’d used on him when he’d been a regular nuisance. He’d kept them on their toes, one day seeking fiction to pass the time, the next looking for historical accounts of old Valyria, and the next needing biographies of knights of old. “Goodness knows they may well find cause to ban us both from the library for a while, at least while we have such time on our hands for reading,” he replied, still grinning.

The former prince’s head tilted, a motion he regretted a bit as it made him feel a little dizzy, and he observed her with understanding eyes. “I know this may not be much comfort, but I do not believe you were take from Rhaena twice without cause. You mean a great deal to her, and I wholeheartedly believe it is because my sister has always had the greatest of taste in friends.” He meant to lean forward and touch her elbow, somewhere innocuous and incapable of being misinterpreted. But his uncoordinated hand landed lightly on her knee, and he did not notice for a moment as he added, “She sees your strength and your compassion. And for my part, I saw it as well when you shielded me from being beaten further. There is strength in that, and I am grateful to you for it.”

Jaerys suddenly realized that he’d miscalculated badly in where he placed his hand, and quickly sat back, folding his hands together and trying to appear as though nothing had happened. Maybe she wouldn’t have noticed his unintentional impropriety. Maybe he was too addled by the drugs. He focused fully on Rosa, moving past the moment quickly as she explained her hearing loss. His mouth fell open slightly, incomprehension plain on his face for a few seconds. She... couldn’t hear well? He’d never noticed. How had he missed that? “I had no idea,” he admitted finally, blinking. “You hide it well; I would never have known if you did not tell me. You really must give yourself more credit for your talents, my lady!” The smile returned, now tinged with admiration that grew rapidly as he watched her sign her name two different ways. “That’s beautiful. And not at all boring. Is it... like this?” Feeling rather clumsy, Jaerys brought his hand up, formed the crescent shape with his fingers, and attempted to make the motion she had just demonstrated. “Do you give everyone a specific sign for their name?”

“I would be surprised if they were completely fine given everything that has been happening. Rhaena’s kingdom has torn itself asunder as once-loyal families blame her for something that is in no way her fault. Her closest family and friends were stolen from her, causing her to fear they would never come back alive. And now she has lost her son as well, and faces the upheaval of her family and crown. Visenya was one of those kidnapped; that alone is enough to make a person very unwell. And she’s much more sensitive than she seems at times, so this entire affair cannot be easy for her.

“In short, I’m deeply concerned for them both. I wish I could do more for them.. Rhaena already knows I will do all within my power to help her and bring my nephew home. And I’m planning on checking in on Visenya soon.”

@rhcena @visenyatargaryenii

“Ah. Hmm. Well, uh, I think the only lady I know well enough to burden in such a way on such short notice would be, erm, Lady, er, Princess Arryn. I mean Princess Rosalyn! I haven’t met her sister.”

@rosa-arryn

“I do not think so just yet, but it has been a great fear of mine for some time. And unless I am mistaken, many people who truly go mad do not realize it or don’t believe it when it’s happening to them. The fact that I’m still capable of questioning it, and that I still fear it, gives me hope.”