Game of Survival

Chapter 8

They were standing far too close together.

Rhaenyra almost paused in her steps, and it was only Laenor’s gentle hand on the small of her back that kept her moving. Her amethyst eyes flickered between Alicent and Daemon, the beginnings of a frown tugging at her lips. It deepened the more she looked at them. Daemon stood as he always had, tall and strong, the epitome of a soldier. His lips were curled in a little grin that made him seem at ease, but Rhaenyra knew that his eyes were examining everyone and everything in the area. He never liked being surprised. Daemon’s silver hair was loose, save for the strands that were tied up to keep the rest of it out of his face. He wore a red tunic, and over it was a black doublet, his beloved blade strapped to his side. Rhaenyra felt her stomach flutter and a need stirred in her loins. It had been so long since she had seen him (three years, in fact, but who was counting), and the very sight of him entranced her.  She had to fight to keep her eyes from roaming his figure. There were too many people, and Rhaenyra did not need any more rumors about her and Daemon floating around the city.

Her eyes then turned to Alicent, the girl who was once her greatest friend, the woman who had betrayed her. Alicent was bathed in red, the full skirt doing little to hide the swell of her stomach. A crown, not one of her mother’s, glittered in the midday sun, setting her auburn hair aflame. Alicent was the very picture of a perfect queen. Her father was the king of the seven kingdoms, but he appeared as little more than a pauper standing next to her radiance. She looked beautiful. She looked out of place. ‘Red does not suit her,’ Rhaenyra thought, ‘she should have stuck to Hightower green, the color of greed, envy, and trickery.’

They were almost attached at the hip, Daemon and Alicent. Her arm brushed his whenever she moved to correct the children’s outfit and their shoulders connected whenever Daemon readjusted his stance. It was strange indeed, but more peculiar was the fact that he did not move away. Rhaenyra had never known Daemon to be close to Alicent. The silver-haired princess was even sure that her uncle hated the woman just by being Otto’s daughter. In Daemon’s opinion, everyone related to the man was either a snake, a self-righteous cunt, or a combination of both. Yet there he stood, calm and without a hint of annoyance for his companions except for the occasional sneer that he directed to some of the nobles he did not like and for whom he did not care to hide that distaste. Rhaenyra wondered if anyone would comment on it. She wanted to ask Laenor if he noticed anything but this was not the time to voice such concerns. Rhaenyra filed away the thoughts for later analysis and turned her attention to the other people that had come to greet her.

In front of Alicent and Daemon were three silvered-hair children. Rhaenyra’s half-siblings. She and her party were still a little walk away from the family so Rhaenyra took the time to study the babes that she had not seen for two years. Her brother had grown taller. Viserys was a man of average height and Aegon already reached his waist despite not even being ten name-days. Her sisters, Visenya and Rhaenys had also grown. They looked so pretty in their little dresses, the colour complimenting them in a way that it never would their mother. Rhaenyra felt a little pang in her chest as she looked at them. She was not a good sister, Rhaenyra would admit that. She avoided her siblings at all costs, sometimes walking in the other direction upon sight of them. She never played with Aegon, never joined Rhaenys or Visenya in their little frolics in the garden, never spoke to them for longer than necessary and always made excuses to leave when they did approach her.

Laenor had been quite vocal about her unfair treatment of her siblings but despite the little feelings of guilt that emerged when she saw the hurt in their lilac eyes, Rhaenyra could not bring herself to interact with them, to see them as anything other than Alicent’s children. She had wanted siblings for so long and had prayed for them every time her mother announced that she was pregnant. Rhaenyra had even asked the gods to grant Aemma the son she knew would overshadow her. It was mostly because she wanted her mother to be safe, but also that there would be another child to roam the keep with her, to fly with her as the dragon riders of old had done. Alicent had filled that void by becoming something like a sister to her. But she was no Targaryen, no dragon rider, and never would be. Rhaenyra had finally received her wish, a brother, three sisters and another sibling on the way, but the gods were cruel in their demand for a sacrifice and had taken her mother and friend in exchange. It was a price that she had not wanted to pay and she had cursed the gods for forcing her to. Rhaenyra had to swallow the bitterness that wished to escape her, the rage at the injustice of a woman taking her mother’s place and having an easy time doing what Aemma Arryn had struggled for years to accomplish, to her detriment. The fact that it was her friend that had replaced her made the anger burning in her heart roar, a candle’s flame that turned into a blaze.

Her father distracted her from her thoughts by stepping forward to wrap her in a hug. Rhaenyra leaned into him, incredibly grateful for the affection. It had been so long since she had hugged her father. Their relationship had soured after the death of her mother and her marriage to Laenor had not helped. In many ways, Rhaenyra resented her father for taking away her chance to find a husband she could love. Laenor was a good man, one of the best, but their marriage would never go beyond that of cousins and friends. He did not desire women and Rhaenyra had not begrudged him of his preferences. But she needed pleasure and an heir, so Rhaenyra had turned to Ser Harwin Strong for companionship. She felt safe in the arms of the Lord Commander of the City Watch, ironic given the danger that would follow if someone were to find her in them, but nothing compared to an embrace from her father. His arms were not strong but they reminded her of a simple time when she was only Rhaenyra, Princess of the Seven Kingdoms and not Rhaenyra, Princess of Dragonstone, Heir to the Iron Throne.

“My darling girl, how wonderful it is to see you again!” Viserys exclaimed and Rhaenyra smiled.

“I am glad to see you as well, Your Grace. Dragonstone has been very relaxing after the hard labour but I have missed our talks. Are you well, father? Your last letter worried me greatly. Have the maesters not been able to find a cure for your new ailment?” Rhaenyra asked, the worry evident in her voice. Viserys had sent her a raven a few moons ago, laden with so much information that it had taken Rhaenyra a few days to process and respond. He had rambled (apparently, it had been possible for her father to be indecisive even in a letter) on about court and politics before telling her about the new illness that had encumbered him and most shockingly, of Daemon’s return to King’s Landing as well as his annulment from Rhea Royce.

Viserys waved away her concern,  “I am well, my dear. Alicent and the maesters have helped me greatly and I am recovering. Enough about me, where is my grandson? I would like to see how he has grown these past two years.”

“He sleeps with his father.” Rhaenyra turned and beckoned her husband to come forward. Laenor promptly deposited the babe in the arms of the king and the princess smiled as she watched her father coo at her son. In the corner of her eyes, she saw Daemon put his hands on Aegon’s shoulders and her curiosity began anew.