Red Keep ― Maegor's Holdfast...
Upon returning from another of her mid-morning adventures throughout the Crownlands, Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen landed near the Dragonpit atop her dragon Syrax. Once the Dragonkeepers were able to calmly guide Syrax back into the structure, both Rhaenyra and Alicent were escorted back to the Red Keep. Both the girls were now fifteen years old and maturing into young adolescents. And throughout the years, their friendship was heightened where they each considered the other as sisters they never had.
Hooking their arms with the other, both Rhaenyra and Alicent climbed the stairs into one of the royal apartments in Maegor's Holdfast to pay their respects to the heavily pregnant Queen Aemma Arryn. Before then, each of them had respectively changed into an appropriate light blue embroidered dress and yellow gown. Once they were finished dressing, Rhaenyra and Alicent soon arrived at Aemma's bedchamber.
The Queen groaned as she adjusted herself to make herself more comfortable. Aemma's hair was swept across her left shoulder, her red and golden dress was slightly parted - allowing her very pregnant belly to acquire more comfort. She was being tended to by her handmaidens and fanned herself before noticing both girls arriving at her room. "Ah... Rhaenyra," she greeted. No doubt Aemma was already informed of her only daughter's return to the capital on dragon back by now. "You know I don't like it when you go flying while I'm in this condition," she points to her swollen belly.
"You don't like me to go flying while you're in any condition, mother," Rhaenyra countered.
Another handmaiden went behind Aemma to adjust a pillow for her aching back.
"Your Grace," Alicent curtsied.
Aemma turned to Alicent. She could not help but feel a warm glow when she glanced at the young girl who might soon become her future daughter-in-law. Why just last year, Aemma had coincidentally stumbled upon Aeonar and Alicent alone in the godswood kissing. When they noticed her presence and knew they were caught in the act, they had become very embarrassed and panicked - each of them making hasty excuses to the Queen. Aemma did not buy it, of course, but instead of scolding them, she congratulated them on their blossoming romantic relationship. She had given them her blessing and promised to keep her son's romance with the Hand's daughter a secret and bestowed Aeonar her wedding ring - with the intent of proposing to her when the time was right.
"Good morning, Alicent," Aemma acknowledged.
"Did you finally get some sleep?" Rhaenyra inquired.
"I did."
"For how long?"
"I don't need more mothering, Rhaenyra," Aemma shook her head. "Gods be good, your brother does that plenty enough for me already."
"Well, here you are, surrounded by attendants, all focused on the baby," Rhaenyra pointed out. "Aeonar and I are just as concerned about you in this state, mother. Someone must tend to you in your time of need - why not your children instead of them? We're more than willing to care for you."
You are more like your brother, sweetling. Worried about myself after the suffering I had to endure each time a pregnancy failed. But there is only so much each of you can do. No, my daughter, I am afraid this is my burden to bear - not yours. I am meant to nurture both of you, not the other way around. "You," the queen tapped her bare foot on her daughter's knee, "will lie in this bed soon enough, Rhaenyra. This discomfort is how we serve the realm."
Rhaenyra shook her head. No, mother. That is not me. That is not who I am. "I'd rather serve as a knight and ride to battle and glory," she replied cheekily. It was made no secret that Rhaenyra had no desire to be a mother or have any children and would rather pursue her path but could not so long as her parents denied her that privilege.
"Ha ha ha."
Alicent smiled at the heartfelt conversation between Aemma and Rhaenyra, a bond between mother and daughter. But at the same time, it made her sad as well - her mother died when she was young and no one bothered to console her in her grief, aside from Aeonar and Rhaenyra.
"We have royal wombs, you and I," Aemma continued her lecture. "We have our duties, your father and brother have theirs. The childbed is our battlefield, the court is theirs. We must learn to face it with a stiff upper lip and support them as best we can, Rhaenyra."
"But I―"
"Trust me. You will get your chance for excitement soon than you might expect it. But until then, our duty to our family must always come first." Aemma sniffed and slightly scrunched her nose. "Now before you see your father, I need you to take a bath. You stink of dragon."
Rhaenyra coyly shook her head. "Come on, mother, I take great care of my hygiene."
"Well do it again. The smell is making me somewhat nauseous."
Not wanting to further upset her mother's delicate state, Rhaenyra merely stood and turned to leave the room. Alicent, meanwhile, turned to leave as well when she heard the queen call out to her.
"Alicent, a moment if you will?"
Alicent turned back to Aemma. What could the queen want to talk to her about? Was she in trouble? Nodding obediently, she approached Aemma and sat beside her. "Yes, Your Grace?" she asked.
"I've been meaning to ask of you. How are things between you and Aeonar?"
"We're doing well, Your Grace," Alicent blushed slightly. "Our duties have often kept us apart for a while, but Aeonar always made time for me whenever he could. He has been nothing but sweet the entire time. I enjoy every second we're together, Your Grace."
"I'm pleased to hear your relationship is working out nicely, Alicent. You two deserve to be happy. He speaks of you with much enthusiasm."
"I'm sure he exaggerates a little bit."
"I wish. But a mother's intuition is a powerful gift. When you have children of your own, Alicent, you will understand what I mean." Aemma shifted on her sofa, groaning slightly. "But what of your father, Ser Otto? Does he know about you two?"
Alicent shook her head. "Not yet, Your Grace, no. I... I hate keeping secrets from father, yet I can't help but be concerned about what his intentions might be." She fidgeted. "I think he's beginning to suspect something."
"Is that why you pick yourself bloody?" Aemma pointed towards Alicent's fingernails, the presence of dried blood around her cuticles from her anxious skin picking. "Alicent, if something is bothering you, please don't be afraid to speak up or come to either of us for help. We have known you since you were a little girl. You're like a second daughter to Viserys and me - we wish nothing but the best for you."
"I understand, Your Grace. And I am grateful for your support. But I wouldn't wish to make my problems your own."
"No, but they will regardless. And if I hear Aeonar has been doing something he shouldn't, I'll be sure to give him a firm reprimand after dragging him by his earlobe."
Alicent chuckled slightly.
One of the handmaidens approached. "We've prepared a bath for you, Your Grace."
"Thank you," Aemma groaned. "Well, I suppose we should get back to it. Take good care of yourself, Alicent."
"I will. And thank you, Your Grace," Alicent bowed before taking her leave. As she left, she felt a stinging sensation in her fingers. Briefly looking at her hands, Alicent knew tearing the skin around her fingertips until they bleed was wrong - but she cannot help herself from feeling so overwhelmed and stressed out. With these thoughts running through her head, Alicent could help but start picking at them again before quickly concealing her hands in her sleeves. I am trying to stop, Your Grace. I am trying, but... it is hard.
Red Keep ― Small Council chambers...
A meeting of the small council had been convened at the behest of King Viserys. Seated around the table, all his primary advisors were present for the meeting. From left to right in attendance were Lord Lyonel Strong of Harrenhal - the Master of Laws, Grand Maester Mellos, Lord Lyman Beesbury of Honeyholt - the Master of Coin; at the bottom sat Lord Corlys Velaryon of Driftmark, the Master of Ships; and to his right was his son Prince Aeonar, acting in his capacity as Master of Whisperers, and Ser Otto Hightower of Oldtown - the Hand of the King.
Behind Viserys stood the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, Ser Ryam Redwyne. A knight of legendary reputation, Ryam served during the Old King Jaehaerys's reign and is considered the greatest of his time, being skilled with both sword and lance. Although his role was minor during peacetime, the Lord Commander acts as the realm's chief military advisor, particularly in land-based warfare.
"So, I said to him, 'Well, I believe you might be looking up the wrong end,'" Viserys joked.
Most of the councilors started laughing... except for two. Corlys stared at his colleagues blankly and Aeonar merely pinched the bridge of his nose, lowering his head with a silent groan.
Oh, for the love of... again with these stupid jokes, father.
"My lords," Corlys spoke up. "The growing alliance among the Free Cities has taken to styling itself 'the Triarchy.'" He rose from his seat and unveiled a map of the Stepstones connecting Westeros to Essos. "They have massed on Bloodstone and are presently ridding the Stepstones of its pirate infestation."
Why does this warrant concern? Viserys wondered. The Stepstones was a chain of about a dozen islands, along with smaller islets, located east of Dorne and just west of the coast of Essos in particular, the region known as the Disputed Lands. "Well, that sounds suspiciously like good news, Lord Corlys," he replied.
"You're missing the point, father," Aeonar chimed in. He stood too and joined Corlys to observe the map. "According to my scouts, more than 2,000 corsairs and 90 ships have strategically centered themselves around each of the small islands. The Stepstones are situated on a major trading route with Braavos, Pentos, Lorath, or even Qarth. And unlike the rest of these pirate scum, the Triarchy is surprisingly well-organized and has recently dispatched one of their own to lead their campaign in seizing the Stepstones for themselves."
Corlys nodded. "A man named Craghas Drahar has styled himself the prince-admiral of this Triarchy. They call him 'the Crabfeeder' due to his inventive methods of punishing his enemies," he continued.
"And are we meant to weep for dead pirates?" Viserys asked skeptically.
"No, Your Grace."
"Father," Aeonar pressed, "the Stepstones are one of the most important shipping lanes in the world. Anyone who hopes to earn their riches through trade needs to pass through these islands. And whoever controls them collects a fortune of tolls. If the Triarchy takes control, it would trigger an economic crisis in every port in the realm."
"I agree," Corlys concurred. "Which is why I recommend action be taken to prevent the Triarchy from gaining such latitude so close to our borders."
As the debate continued regarding the Triarchy and Stepstones, the council chamber doors opened to reveal Princess Rhaenyra - slightly lifting the hem of her dress and making her way to the desk nearby. As her father's cupbearer, she functioned as a personal servant filling wine cups and serving them. A cupbearer may also do other duties, such as setting a table and serving food. In Westeros, noble children often serve as cupbearers, and it is considered to be a great honor to be chosen to serve, especially at court. Tedious as it may be, it also provided an insight into Rhaenyra's education in the art of governance - in which King Viserys and her brother Prince Aeonar are active participants.
Looks like things are getting a little heated. Interesting.
Aeonar noticed Rhaenyra's arrival. "You're late again, sister," he said.
"I was visiting our dear mother, brother," Rhaenyra explained.
Viserys noticed as well. "A king's cupbearer must not be late," he lightly chided his daughter. "Leaves people wanting for cups."
"Gods have mercy, you too, father?" Rhaenyra kissed her father's cheek.
The king was pleased to have both his children in the same room with him, though he could not help but sniff his daughter. "Yes... you were on dragonback again, weren't you?" he interrogated.
Rhaenyra merely shook her head. It felt like everyone was getting on her case today. Ignoring her family's statements, she walked over to the counter to carry a wine jug. No doubt these lords would need to quench their thirst at some point. Might as well give them their cups as her father insisted. Corlys and Aeonar both looked at each other with the prince briefly shaking his head before they returned to their seats.
"Excuse me, Your Grace," Lyman interjected, "but at Prince Daemon's urging, the crown has invested significant capital in the re-training and re-equipping of his City Watch. I thought you might urge your brother to fill his seat on the council and provide an assessment of his progress as commander of the Watch."
Viserys turned to his left and examined the empty seat closely. During the years of his early reign, he tried to give his brother a voice in governing the realm - but each time was met with pushback from his advisors, primarily from Ser Otto's insistence that Daemon be removed. For a while, Daemon served as Master of Laws and Master of Coin and was dismissed from office both times. Governance bored Daemon, however, and the prince's demeanor made him a fierce rival to Otto - who portrayed him as a threat; Daemon, in turn, viewed his older brother's Hand as a dishonorable leech who wanted to rise as high as he could get. Despite the pleas from the council wanting to banish Daemon from the capital, Viserys would fiercely defend his brother as he would for any of his children.
"Yes, I was having that sort of discussion with my son earlier this morning," Viserys answered. "Tell me, Lord Lyman, do you think Daemon is distracted by his present tasks? And that his tasks and energies are occupied?"
"Well, one could hope so, considering the associated costs."
Rhaenyra made her rounds, pouring wine into Lyonel's cup, the Grand Maester's, and Lyman's.
"Then let us all consider your gold well-vested, Lord Beesbury."
Rhaenyra briefly looked at Aeonar, who merely made eye contact with her and merely shook his head. She could tell that her brother was getting fed up with it. This is what he does every day? It feels like things are going nowhere at this rate.
"Your Grace," Corlys spoke up again - growing impatient. "As your son mentioned in our discussion earlier, we would urge you to not allow this Triarchy much latitude in the Stepstones. If those shipping lanes should fall, it will beggar our ports."
Aeonar nodded in agreement. So far, his only allies on the council were Lyonel Strong and Corlys Velaryon. Lyman, however, was one of House Hightower's bannermen so, of course, he would side with Otto. Grand Maester Mellos, meanwhile, assumed a neutral position. He needed his father to support him given the evidence provided by his informants. Aeonar did not spend countless days and nights working just to have his concerns dismissed again.
"The crown has heard both your reports, Lord Corlys, and takes it under advisement," Otto said dismissively. As Hand of the King, he was famously known for his intelligence. However, carrying a certain arrogance, Aeonar speculates that Otto believes he is better than everyone else and refuses to consider other future paths, dismissive of those who outwardly express their emotions, writing them off as weak and illogical.
What the fu...?! Are you serious? Aeonar was aghast - and grew increasingly frustrated. His reports were being ignored AGAIN!
Rhaenyra felt bad for her brother. She felt his work meant nothing. Viserys shared the same sentiment as well, but hopefully, he could extend an olive branch as a gesture of good faith.
"Aeonar," Viserys called out, "have you taken the... necessary precautions?"
Aeonar briefly stared at his father. "Yes, father. I have already dispatched several of my agents as soon as their reports came in," he said with a hint of annoyance. "Not that anything will ever get done about it anytime soon..."
"Aeonar―"
"Ao vēttan aōha iderenna sīr. Nyke kessa daor rizmor ñuha jelevre. (You've made your decision already. I will not waste my breath.)"
Viserys knew instinctively that Aeonar often spoke High Valyrian to him whenever he was flustered, embarrassed, upset, or disappointed in him. He meant well, but it seemed it was not interpreted that way.
"Shall we discuss the upcoming tournament, Your Grace?" Otto switched subjects - seeking to break the awkward tension.
Viserys snapped out of it. "Oh. I would be delighted," he agreed before turning to the Grand Maester. "Will the maesters' nameday prediction hold, Mellos?"
"You must understand that these things are mere estimations, my king," Mellos replied, "but we have all been poring over the moon charts and we feel that our forecast is as accurate as it can be."
Rhaenyra poured wine for Lyman, though her focus remained solely on her brother Aeonar's disappointed gaze toward their father. There have already been numerous discussions regarding the upcoming tournament, but both the Targaryen royals' minds were fixated on their mother's pregnancy. She went over to pour some wine for Lord Corlys, but the Master of Ships moved his hand over his cup - refusing to accept it. He does not like to drink on the job and prefers not to mix business with pleasure. As Master of Ships, he intends to protect the people and economy of the Seven Kingdoms and eliminate any existential threats. Seeing this, Rhaenyra approaches Aeonar and offers a cup, but he too refuses - glancing up at her and waving his hand dismissively.
"Bona quba? (That bad?)" Rhaenyra whispered.
"Jī rȳ bisa tolvie tubis. (We go through this every day)," Aeonar replied.
"The cost of the tournament is not negligible," Lyman reported. "Perhaps we might delay until the child is in hand?"
"Ugh," Lyonel groaned. "Most of the lords and knights are certainly on their way to King's Landing already. To turn them back now―"
"The tourney will take the better part of a week," Viserys insisted. "Before the games are over, my second son will be born and the whole realm will celebrate."
"Father, we've been over this topic countless times already," Aeonar shook his head. "Until the child is born, there is no way we can determine the sex. Current predictions are still based on a 50-50 chance. You are more likely to have another daughter just as another son. So, until mother is due to give birth, the answer will remain uncertain."
Mellos nodded. "I agree, my prince," he nodded. "Your Grace, we have no way of predicting the sex of the child."
Viserys traded glances between Aeonar and Mellos, feeling as if he was suddenly being ganged up on. "Of course, no maester's capable of rendering an opinion free of conditions, are they now?" he said awkwardly. "There's a boy in the queen's belly. I know it."
"You wholeheartedly believe that don't you, father?" Aeonar stared at Viserys - catching on to the fact that he knew what he was going to say next. Viserys seemed to notice this as well and raised a hand to his son not to be disrespectful about this openly.
"Of course, Aeonar. With both boys at my side, we can easily breathe a sigh of relief and put an end to this whole damnable hand-wringing."
"You're forgetting Rhaenyra as well."
Viserys observed Aeonar was not willing to let the subject slide. Otto seemed to have noticed this too.
"If that's all we have for today's agenda, I believe we can make our preparations for the tournament," Otto rose - prompting the others to join him as well. "The small council is adjourned for the day."
One by one, each of the royal councilors bowed their heads and began to leave. Before long, all that remained were Viserys, Aeonar, and Rhaenyra.
"What was that back there?" Viserys pressed.
"I should be asking you that, father," Aeonar countered. "Every document I've presented to you, all the cold hard facts I've worked day and night to prepare for you... You just dismissed me again. Your son and heir! Not once did you even try to comprehend the gravity of the situation in the long run."
"Aeonar, I'm being pulled in every single direction. Drowning in a lake of parchments flung from every corner of the realm. Now I'm sorry about that, I am, but I have more opinions to take into consideration and that often means I cannot afford to be biased."
"But you'd show more bias if the correct words come from Otto Hightower?" Rhaenyra interjected.
"That is quite unbecoming of you, Rhaenyra," Viserys scolded.
"We're your blood, not Otto. Our opinions should matter more in your eyes - but it certainly didn't look that way."
Aeonar shook his head. "Why'd you even grant me a seat on this council if you won't listen once in a while?" he pressed.
"I do, Aeonar," Viserys protested.
"But your fixation on the tournament and your 'dreams' is getting in the way of that. To believe in one's dreams is a manifestation of insanity."
"Are you implying I've gone mad?"
"No but continue with this unhealthy obsession and you risk doing so, father. Tone it down a bit." Aeonar sighed exasperatedly. "If there's nothing more, I'm going to check on mother," he turned to leave the small council chambers.
Rhaenyra, not knowing what else to say, turned to follow her brother as well.
Viserys slumped down onto the chair, groaning as he pinched the bridge of his nose. "Gods have mercy on me... my children grow too fast, yet why make them strong-willed?"