principessa

Aelora’s concern had been Rhaenys from the moment she heard about Vaegon. As expected, though, it was hard to find the princess. Aelora was mixed in with a group of nobles heading towards the sept. The bells ringing were starting to give her head an ache. It was not long before she spotted the princess standing outside of the doors. 

Aelora almost rolled her eyes at the statement. “Rhaenys,” she said as she reached out and took her friend’s hand. “I’m here for you, and I’ll stay here as long as you are.” Rhaenys was the closest thing Aelora would ever have to a sister, and she did not intend on forsaking her. “If you want to get away from all of these people, my guards can escourt us somewhere.” Her deep lilac eyes met Rhaenys’, and Aelora’s heart almost broke for her. Watching her truest friend grieve over her brother made Aelora remember all of the pain of losing her own brother. Seeing Rhaenys so upset made Aelora even shed a tear, though she looked down, letting her fall onto the ground. 

   The sight of her pillow friend softened Rhaenys’ features. She gently squeezed Aelora’s hand, thankful for her company. She was one of just a few people who she didn’t mind hovering about. Aelora had been there for everything--from her mother’s death to the Royce boy and everything in between. “I know you are, Aelora.” She murmured. The sight of her tears brought more from Rhaenys’ violet eyes. “I know you offer, but you know we mustn’t. We have to go in.” She frowned. “He would want you here too, close to us.” 

   She wasn’t sure how true it was, but Rhaenys wanted Aelora close. She was nearly family. She’d shared her bed as a child, had been tutored by Septa Alssa, had been with her until she’d gone away to her husband. Selfishly, she was glad to have her back, especially considering the circumstances. “I’ve missed you so, I wish you returned on happier news, but I am so glad you are here today. Are you alright, Aelly?” She asked, concerned as she reached to gently wipe Aelora’s tear away. 

The news that King was dead had struck fear deep in Trystan’s heart. He had lost his cousin now- and his king. They had not been close, he hardly even knew him- but he was still family. They had shared blood. And on top of that, he was loyal to House Targaryen. At first he had thought perhaps this was the work of someone aiming to gain revenge on the Lady that Vaegon had intended to marry- but now.. Now he was worried the plan was to remove the royal family. Surely Daemion would be a target now- and perhaps even Rhaenys. He dared not leave her side. He was in his armor for the funeral-staying near her the whole time. His hair was pulled back from his face and braided in the back to keep it neat. Instead of his usual cloak that bore his houses sigil- today he wore a plain black cloak- to show that he was mourning too.

He bowed his head to her politely, “I go, where you go.” He said, for just a moment putting his hand on her back gently before letting it fall. “ I will not leave your side for anything, you understand?”

   Though she cared deeply for her cousin, Rhaenys wished that he would give her space. She knew he would not. He could not. It didn’t stop her from longing to be alone. She just wanted privacy. She wanted everyone to leave, including the entire gods be damned council. She sighed, nodding. “I understand, Trystan.” She waved her hand dismissively. “A foolish comment. Forgive me.” She glanced toward the doors of the Sept. 

   “This is wrong. Someone is hunting dragons, Trystan. We shouldn’t all crowd into this place. It feels like something will happen.” She murmured, so that only he would hear. She didn’t even want other guards to hear what she had to say.

He wished he could take her hands again. They were soft. Small. Warm. 

He looked to her guard, standing straight. “Might I escort her?” And the guard nodded. He offered his arm for her, and he looked at her. “I understand you must stand with you brother, but my lady, should you need anything, you need only ask.” As they linked arms, his hand brushed against hers once more. He wanted to say that every thing was going to be all right, but he didn’t know if it would.

     She was used to people asking for her hand in dances, in greeting, in walks around the garden. She wasn’t used to being escorted to funerals. Both times before she had clung to Daemion or Vaegon. She couldn’t burden her brother now, not when so much loomed before him. He would be king, something she didn’t believe he ever wanted. That had been Vaegon’s destiny, not Daemion’s. 

    Rhaenys exhaled, her fingers soft against the fabric of Lord Stark’s shirt. She nodded, “I will. Lord Stark, I’m not ready to enter. Please..a moment longer.” She requested, her voice barely above a whisper. “I’m not ready to see him. He must have suffered. You--you saw him. Did he look..” She began to ask, unable to finish her question. 

The days had passed like a whirlwind, leaving almost everyone with a heavy fog over their eyes, none more so than the Royal family. Her heart ached for Rhaenys and Daemion - all she wanted to do was coddle them from this world like a mother would a child. But the horrors they had faced over the past few days made it very evident that this life was not a song and someone was killing the royals. She had armed herself as soon as she left her room, a small dagger strapped to her leg - in the hopes of protecting herself and anyone else threatened. 

Her husband’s guards followed close behind, he may not have accompanied her to the Capitol but he was sure to send a small legion of guards to flank her every move and watch where she went. She had grown bored of the constant clanking of metal behind her it was irritating, as soon as she reached the sept she ordered the guards through the door as soon as she spotted Rhaenys - the girl was attemoting to cover her tears and again her heart ached, much like it did for the majority of the day. 

“I did not wish to leave you alone, especially not now.” A small frown appeared on her face as she approached the young princess. No one deserved to be alone, basically not after losing someone they loved so dearly. “Let me accompany you, you are in no position to be going anywhere alone. Especially not with this vile person on the loose.” 

    Rhaenys regarded the Dornishwoman with a soft smile. Elenya was kind, nurturing. She had loved Cerelle dearly, and could only imagine that the funeral would be difficult for her too. It unsettled Rhaenys immensely. She did not believe for an instant that Vaegon had been responsible for either death, but the mere thought made her jaw clench. She willed herself to relax, the muscles in her face too tight to be comfortable. 

    “Thank you, Lady Elenya.” She murmured. “Today must be difficult for you as well. How are you coping?” She asked, not wishing to speak of herself. It was better if Elenya spoke instead, that way Rhaenys could hide away in her little corner of her mind. She thought of Vaegon, who days before had sat with her for a noon meal in the gardens. She loved him. She loved the sound of his laugh, and the reassurances he promised. She had Daemion now, only Daemion. Her chest felt hollow. So much of her was missing.

     “This person goes beyond vile. They will suffer.” 

“I will not move without you Little Dragon. Where you go so there I will go until I can be assured you are safe” Ysilla said firmly but in her voice was every ounce of softness and comfort she could muster for the sweet girl who had lost brother and good sister all in one day and had her life so up heaved. The country was in upheaval but they would remain strong. Her words were true; those words spoken by the Arryn woman. Her brother might not have been here but she was the visible extension of House Arryn and she would not allow this to be a time where Rhaenys was left feeling unsupported.  Forget her own house, forget all of that nonsense for a moment - Ysilla would not allow her friend to feel she was alone. “Bid me to leave your side or go elsewhere but I will be here with you sweet-ling and we can stand outside for as long as you’d like.”

    Rhaenys looked toward Ysilla, exhaling softly. She should have expected Ysilla to insist. She didn’t mind so much as she needed just one minute completely alone. She knew that wasn’t possible. Even if she sent everyone else away from her, she’d have Trystan and her full guard with her. She nodded, reaching her hand up to wipe at tears that she was struggling to hold back. “I am worn, Ysilla, and it feels permanent to walk into the Sept today. Why have the gods turned against my house? What have we done?” She asked, voice quiet. It wasn’t something she wanted others to overhear, but she could trust Ysilla to keep her question to herself. 

        HOW QUICKLY EVENTS TURNED. WHEN everyone had arrived in King’s Landing they had come prepared for a coronation, what was supposed to be a joyous event, but now the king and queen were being buried. Any trace of the happy mood that had managed to survive the queen’s murder had now vanished completely. Truthfully, Ben wanted to leave King’s Landing immediately. It clearly wasn’t safe here and until the killer’s intention was truly known then no one was safe. However the likelihood that anyone would be allowed to leave the city was slim. Not until the murderer was found.

          He noticed the Targaryen princess lingering outside the Sept. Others passed by where she was standing and perhaps Benjen should follow in suit, but instead his steps guided him to her side.          “ Princess Rhaenys, I’m so sorry for your loss. ”          He hadn’t spoken with the king nor knew him well beyond what others said of him. However, he hadn’t had any reason to dislike Vaegon or wish him dead.          “ Many say it isn’t good to be alone during times of great sorrow. Would you like some company walking into the Sept? ”

    The princess swiped her fingers gently over her eye. The violet irises were surrounded with redness, and they’d taken on a puffier appearance. She hadn’t slept. She regarded Benjen quietly. She should have expected the Starks to be honorable, to refuse to let her stand outside the Sept without at the very least offering their sympathies. She took a breath, forcing the tiniest smile to her lips. It didn’t last, even as she spoke. “Thank you, Lord Stark. You are kind.” She murmured. Her head was beginning to ache. 

    She didn’t want to enter the Sept at all. She believed in her gods, deeply, but today she did not wish to speak to them. She wished to throw a tantrum. Why had they allowed this? It wasn’t fair. Vaegon was young. He was supposed to rule for ages, to widen the hold her family had on the realm. Now there stood only herself and Daemion to boast of the Targaryen greatness. She sniffed, nodding her head, despite her thoughts. “I would be grateful for your company, my Lord.” 

Brandon saw her misery, and he felt it deeply. He saw her standing there, and his heart broke for her. He stepped towards her and took her hand, squeezing it gently.

“Princess Rhaenys, I would walk you in.” He gently ran his thumb along her knuckles, looking at her with kind eyes. He spoke quietly next. “My lady, you should not be…alone. I…I am so terribly sorry about your brother.” He stepped closer, and her guard warded her off. He stepped back, releasing her hand.

“Forgive me, your grace.”

   Rhaenys did not protest when Brandon took her hands. Her fingers had been shaking the tiniest bit, and with his around her, they stilled. She listened as he spoke, uncertain how to handle the sympathies being given to her. In Lord Stark’s case, she believed him to be genuine, but that didn’t stop the ache in her chest. It didn’t stop her from wanting to turn and head back to the Red Keep without another word. 

   She nodded as he stepped back, her guard suffocating due to the circumstances. “Thank you, Lord Stark.” She managed after a moment of silence. Her voice was quiet as she added, “I am not yet ready to enter.” She didn’t think she ever would be. 

   Rhaenys wasn’t ready. She lifted her hand, wiping at her eyes as they dared to defy her orders to remain dry. She stood as hidden away as possible, not yet ready to enter the doors of the Sept. She willed herself to breathe. She had to do everything perfectly right. Daemion needed her to. The Lady Gaunt be damned, the only other family she had would sit the throne sooner rather than later and she would not do anything to hinder his authority or the strength of her house. 

   The princess closed her eyes, exhaling once more. When she opened her eyes, she startled the tiniest bit, met with another’s. “You may enter, you needn’t wait for me.” She murmured. In just a few days, the little dragon had grown ten years. 

   She wore no corset, having unlaced it and taken to her bedclothes just as anyone would. She hadn’t been asleep when the scream was heard. Instead, she’d been sat curled up with a soft blanket. Her mind had wandered, riddled with worries that were now incredibly warranted. 

Rhaenys could not breathe. 

   Her ribs felt constricted, as if her lady’s maid had pulled the strings too tightly. Her ribs seemed to dig into the heart they were meant to be protecting. An awful, painful, sob tore from her lips as she lost her footing, white bedclothes collecting around her as she crumpled to her knees. 

Vaegon could not breathe. 

    The realization widened her beautiful violet eyes as hands reached to help the young princess back to her feet. A screech halted them. Do not touch me. Leave me. Leave me. They could not truly leave her, of course, but they stood back, pretending for the princess’ sake that they did not see her agony. She could not be weak, not now. Not ever. Daemion had told her as much earlier that day, when the crowded hall watched her every move. 

Rhaenys could not breathe. 

   The princess wept until her eyes were dry and painful. She cried until she felt she might be sick, and once tears failed to fall, she heaved until her chest cracked in two. Her brother. Her eldest brother. How could he be gone? She couldn’t imagine it. Her sweet brother, whose smiles were always bigger for her, who had played at swords when they were children, who screamed in pretend fear as Rhaenys popped out from behind a sewing chest at him. 

   None of this was right. Cerelle’s death had been painful, but Daemion had promised her that they were alright. Her fears had been momentarily assuaged, only to return ten fold. Her brother laid dead, and she could do nothing to change the fact. 

Someone told Rhaenys to breathe. 

    She pushed herself back up from the floor, crescent marks scarring her palms from where she had clenched her fingers so tightly into them. She felt a ghost herself as she stood, and smoothed them over the bedclothes. She lifted her chin, ignoring the tears still plastered to her cheeks as she regarded those around her. 

   No more. She was not permitted more time to grieve, not when eyes remained on her. Not when there was a coronation to be planned, a murderer to find, and vengeance to be had. Later, when those responsible suffered, she would be permitted to grieve. She just had to wait a little while longer. 

Rhaenys stepped forward. 

Rhaenys inhaled through her nose.

   Rhaenys crouched down to gently scoop Meraxes back into her arms. After she’d gotten frightened by Valdis, she wasn’t sure if the cat would return to her. She was pleased to find that she was braver than that. “There you are,” She murmured, standing once more as she regarded Trystan. “I should have expected she’d find you in my absence. Did she paw at you for food?” She asked, fingers scratching behind Meraxes’ ear. “And have you any news? Please tell me my brothers and the Lord Captain do not mean to keep us confined her for the duration of the night. I am worn and ready to be rid of this gown.” She sighed, speaking far more freely with her shield. 

The heat was beginning really bother Aeris. Or perhaps it was the blind pretension. She wasn’t sure. What she was sure of, was that the Targaryen Girl was stupid. Even though she wasn’t Ironborn, she couldn’t believe a Targaryen was as dumb as a Stark about these things.

“It must be nice to live in such a mind where you just cannot see beyond yourself,” Aeris said coolly before she crossed her arms. “The seas weren’t as rough as the men and that alone made the ride worth it. Ever been with an Ironborn?”

“Want to try it?”

   Rhaenys pressed her lips together, more than annoyed with the woman. “Or,” The princess began. “I see well beyond myself but find it foolish to inform you of any such things. I am not foolish, I know that war looms on the horizon. We each play a role in such matters, at this moment in time mine is to remain here, speak with our guests, and wait. It is not always wisest to leap to conclusions nor bloody battle.” She should have continued to let the topic go, perhaps, but she was frustrated. She wasn’t weak-willed, she just knew that it was senseless to brandish weapons without first gathering information. 

            “Eighteen, fourteen and the twins whom are soon the five. The life and light of house Mormont, there’s never a dull moment in bare island with so many ladies on the run. One as different from the others as the next. One would be fooled to think we are not sisters if it wasn’t because we look so much alike.” She spoke with joy, her sisters were her whole pride and joy. While other saw tragedy of no real male heir, Cassana saw strength and tradition. House Mormont had been ruled by many strong females before her, and it would continue to do so. 

   “Soon five? How precious.” Rhaenys smiled, thinking the Mormont’s quite blessed in their many daughters. “If you wish it, we might consider bringing your eldest sister to court, that she may experience the Southern lords.” She gently nudged Cassana, as if making her point clear. “Of course, you are welcome to return to court as well, though I imagine you have many duties on Bear Island. Your father has named you his heir?” She asked.

        ONCE BEN BECAME AWARE OF rhaenys’s presence valdis settled down, returning to ben’s side and sitting down. he reached out to rest a hand on her hand. if there was anyone the wolf must be calm around it was the targaryens.          “ of course, princess rhaenys. valdis is all bark. my apologies that she frightened your cat. ”          the wolf was calm as long as ben or his family weren’t in danger, but it was best to tell others that his wolf was more docile than she was. most southerners reacted bad enough to a direwolf wandering the halls; they’d be even less pleased if they knew of her temperament.

          “ my sincerest condolences for your family’s loss. queen cerelle would have been an excellent queen. ”          in truth, ben had known little of the late queen but despite the old hatred between cerelle’s house and hosue stark, ben hadn’t wished her death. as long as the south didn’t interfere too greatly with the north they could do as they like.

   Rhaenys watched as Benjen moved his hand to Valdis. She kept her eyes on the wolf, rather than the younger Lord Stark until he spoke. “It is alright, Lord Benjen. Meraxes is temperamental, she is not so used to so many people in the hall. I am sure she will come back, once she has whined at someone to feed her.” She reassured, though she did wish the cat would return sooner rather than later. She had been enjoying her steady purring. “You call your wolf Valdis.” She commented, “Why have you given her such a name?” She asked, curiously. 

    “She would have.” Rhaenys nodded. Her death should not have happened. The means of her death also bothered the young princess deeply. It would have been very painful, and she could only imagine Cerelle’s fright. Instinctively, she glanced toward Trystan, and then her brothers. They would keep her from such a fate. The princess lifted her hand, gently brushing a strand of light hair behind her ear. “I am sorry that such tragedy has befallen on your visit. It has been some time since I have had the pleasure of your family’s presence. Have you any news? Last I heard of you, you were but a young lad, playing at sword.” 

That, she figured, was something she could look forward to at the very least. At home, there were times that were slow, but here? Undoubtedly there was always a different variety of people flooding through the gates each morning and leaving every evening. “The tales they must have.” She mused.

“We will continue on again someday soon, but with much more care.” Lilli agreed. Lips quirked into a soft smile as eyes moved from the Princess to take in the rest of the room. “I am.” The answer seemed to shock her a bit, as it had been one she’d avoided so much as thinking over as of late. “I will miss White Harbor and my family very much. But once everything is official I will have a new family and a new home. It will be an adjustment but with time I believe things will work out… I hope I will be a good wife, and a good addition to the city.”

   “Their stories are wonderful. When I was young, they would oft attempt to delight me with such tales and trinkets and gifts from faraway places, no doubt to earn favor with my father, but I enjoyed their games.” She teased. “It is something you will come to love about Kings Landing, if nothing else.” She admitted, knowing the capitol could be unpleasant at the same time. White Harbor certainly had less people crowded together, and more natural spaces to disappear to, while Kings Landing boasted of buildings tucked away beneath a layer of filth, and the Red Keep itself, which could become quite boring. 

    She nodded, “I believe you will be a good wife, Lilli. You must forgive me if I am protective of my brother. He will treat you well, I am certain, you’ve nothing to fear. Will you be bringing anyone from your household with you? For some time I imagine you will live here, Vaegon needn’t send Daemion away at such a time.” 

Eyes flickered over to look at the Princess  - his lips quirking into a pleased smirk. Though he hadn’t intended to make conversation over such a thing which such a powerful and beautiful woman, there was no way he’d walk away. Resting his glass at his side, Cassius angled toward her. “Men are not wrong. Battle is rigorous. Mentally and physically it is strenuous and frequently, one questions their decisions in life.” Releasing a humorless chuckle, his thumb stroked the rim of his chalice. “But what comes from today will decide the future of millions.” After all, he hardly believed the Queen had done such a thing to herself.

“Please do not apologize, Your Highness, as such a thing was not of your doing. I find myself grateful that the rest of the Targaryen family has remain unharmed.” At her question, his eyes moved from her to look about the room, a frown beginning to form on his face. “If the King wishes so, certainly. Otherwise I will remain in Kings Landing to offer any assistance I can.” That and he needed to find himself a bride sooner or later.

   The princess nodded. She had heard many stories of battles, especially as a young girl when her eyes would light up at the tales of brave knights and clever lords. “Have you been to battle, Lord Rykker?” She asked. The realm had largely known peace, after all, it was incredibly possible that he’d never tasted such things, but he seemed to know of battle intimately. She sighed, nodding. “It will, but our King is wise, and he will make wise decisions regarding the people. You needn’t worry about the future so long as you are loyal to His Grace.” 

   “You speak of loyalty, Lord Rykker. My brother will appreciate such loyalty. If you know of anything at all, I trust that you will make such things known to him or his guard.” She added, taking a sip of her wine. “In the meantime, let us speak of something else. You are still without wife, no? When will you settle down, my Lord?” She asked, trying to make her tone light, even if the question could potentially demonstrate where he desired alliances. 

Sweet bird. Sweet bird how you fly with your little dragon teaching that one to soar until her wings are her own and majestic magnificence belongs to her with a single dip of a wing as she swirls above the clouds where legends breathe. Ysilla had a mind for poetry, for poems and things and thought of that as Rhaenys said those words. The singular phrase that even as she was an Arryn wasn’t one too often said enough. Within that compliment it warmed her heart despite the situation that surrounded them sharing words. “If I were to ever end up being a mother I would like to think my little girl would be like you, little dragon. Strong, beautiful, kind and smart. Very smart. Perhaps the gods did send you another though I could never replace her” Ysilla breathed, treading on delicate ground knowing how the subject of losses and gains and ones whom they’d loved once was hard. Especially in this moment in time. Especially with these circumstances.

“I know this yes. They would not but that is why you must be wise. However you are right little dragon. Your brothers do not know me as well as you do that is true. I would shudder to think if all the world knew me as you do then there would be very little mystery left to me besides the secrets I have yet to share.  They should know me well enough though to know the offer to be true even if you wish to keep me to  yourself. After this ordeal is over however if you’d need me to stay here instead even for the smallest while I would. I worry over you little dragon, all my days I do just as I worry over my niece. Have you seen Rowena?”

   Rhaenys nodded. “I know you would not seek to replace my mother, Ysilla, I am simply pleased that you have been a dear confidant to me all these years.” She reassured, squeezing her hand gently. “My mother would have been very fond of you, and I thought you ought to be made aware.” She explained, her heart swelling with pride at Ysilla’s words. “I pray the Mother blesses you with such a child. We must find you a suitable husband.” She insisted, thinking that this was a far better conversation to be having. She began to think of what eligible Lords would suit Ysilla, but she wasn’t yet sure. She needed to write down names and pin them to a Cyvasse board. It would help. 

     “I know. I believe my brothers know you to be very dear to me, and as such, will welcome you with open arms.” She promised. “Ysilla, will you fix my hair? The pins are too tight.” She requested, her heart starting to ache from the style she had chosen for the coronation. It was beautiful, but with the stress and the tightness of the braids, she thought it best to loosen the style so that she might sit more comfortably for the duration of their confinement.