To prevent a larger disaster a person has to commit small tragedies, no matter how pure or honorable they were. I realized that on the day of Laena's funeral.
Two years had passed since that day, and life had been anything but smooth sailing. There were good things that happened, and then there were things that made me want to bawl.
I gave birth once more, not almost dying in the process thankfully. There were no twins this time, just the one son that I named after my paternal grandfather.
Baelon Targaryen was born smaller than his older brother Aemon but was louder and more excitable than he was. His hair was as silver as Platinum and his eyes as green as emeralds, a mix of his father and his mother.
His birth solved one issue that the Westerlands were causing for us, they had a male heir to the seat of Wardenship. Viserra did not mind it when the decision to name Baelon heir was discussed with her. She was calm, understood the reason and found sense in our decision. I may have underestimated just how sensitive she was to the matter of state.
But that did not mean that Viserra was left with nothing. Baelon's declaration as heir to Casterly Rock was followed by another declaration, a betrothal between Cregan Stark and Viserra Targaryen. Just the year before Laena's death, Cregan's first wife Arra Norrey had died birthing their child, who Cregan named Rickon after his father. A discussion between Cregan and I had been going on about taking Viserra's hand in marriage. Cregan's only stipulation was that Viserra had to accept his son as one of her own and treat him as such. Viserra did not mind it and as such the betrothal had gone through. It was decided that when Viserra turned six and ten, the wedding would take place.
On the other side of the plate, the Triarchy and Dornish alliance was defeated swiftly this time around and the puppet masters behind the Triarchy were brought to heel. They did not kneel to my Father, but they were forced into submission and would not be acting out any time soon. Dorne on the other hand had receded to their hiding holes and from what I can gather, they were waiting for the right time to strike.
Those were all the good news that we had, now for the bad ones.
Father's sickness had accelerated almost in these two years. He could not move properly and chunks of his skin had started to fall off. It was a terrifying sight and no matter what the Maesters tried, they did not have a cure for it. I knew what the disease was, but in the time that I was in there was no cure for it. So I had to watch as my Father was slowly bedbound. The Maesters had to care for him on the clock and see to all his needs.
Father no longer attended the Council meetings and I was basically ruling in his stead, Lord Lyonel, Tyland and Alicent assisting me the most in the Council. It was hard work, harder than I thought it would be. My respect for my Father went up because of it.
But as they say, the approaching storm will hit one day. And the storm in my life was knocking on my door.
----
It was tiring to rule the Kingdom of Westeros, looking at every minor issue that was brought to me, to offer a solution for them all. Half of these issues could have been if the Lords responsible for those lands did their jobs correctly. But of course, they'd rather push it to their King to decide. I could strangle them all right now. Luckily I had competent people helping me and calming me down.
I entered my chambers and let out a tired sigh when the doors were shut behind me. Behind closed doors, I could just relax, lay down in an unqueenly manner and recuperate. I planned on doing just that.
I untied my braid and let my hair fall freely. Slowly I undid the buttons on the shirt I wore, and that was when I heard the noise behind me.
I looked around and there stood a man wearing patched robes. His hair was black and matted, eyes red as if he was under the influence of something. His skin was covered in dirt and in his hand there was a curved knife.
"You're about to make me very rich, you whore" the man sneered before charging at me.
Ser Criston's training kicked in and I used the man's motion against him, sending him tumbling over my bed. It only made the man angrier and he came at me slashing wildly. I cursed myself for not having my sword on me as I did my best to dodge the wild swings.
Normally swings had a pattern to them, a series of motions that the wielder preferred. This man on the other hand had none. He was wild, uncontrolled and stank of alcohol. I had to do something before things escalated.
"Guards!" I shouted, dodging another swing of the knife. "GUARDS!!" I roared and then hissed in pain when the knife slashed my right shoulder.
The doors to my chambers slammed open and in the next moment, Ser Erryk and Ser Arryk burst in. The man hesitated when he saw the two knights rushing in, and then did the stupidest thing I could think of. The man charged at the knights with his knife. The Knights unlike me had their swords, so one parried the blow while the other slashed at him.
The man roared in pain as the stump that was his right hand bled freely, his sliced hand limp on the floor but still holding the knife.
"Seize him and put him somewhere that nobody but I can get to" I ordered and the men dragged the assailant away.
***
"Rhaenyra!"
"Mother!"
Collective calls from three people made me look away from the Maester, a smile growing on my lips at the sight of my family.
The three rushed at me, the twins tackling me into a hug, though they pulled back when I winced.
"The Princess is alright. I have stitched the wound and I believe there is no fear of an infection anytime soon."
"Thank you, Grand Maester Orwylle" I smiled. The man smiled back before he left the room.
"How did this happen?" Tyland demanded to know, but he was not looking at me. He was holding Ser Criston by the collar of his tunic, rage burning in his emerald hues like wildfire.
"He was training the boys, Tyland" I stated, having gotten up to place a hand on my husband's shoulder. "You know he trains the boys right about this time."
"Then the Kingsguard failed!" Tyland was still furious, but he was also trying to calm himself by hugging me.
"You're pushing into the wound" I hissed and Tyland loosened his grip with a sheepish look.
"What happened to the man?" Viserra asked, looking shaken still. I brought her into my arms and hugged her gently.
"Right now, he's being questioned sharply about who had sent him to kill me" I answered as simply as informing someone what cycle of the moon it was. Frankly, the whimper from my daughter told me that maybe I should not be making so light of the situation.
"Who could it be?" Aemon asked, trying to sound brave but giving himself up by the tremble of his voice. I brought him in on the hug as well.
"Your mother has a lot of enemies" I whispered to him, "but we will find out who it was. I have someone I trust working on this as we speak."
It was as if my trusted source was waiting on me to mention them. The woman in white stepped into the room and bowed her head slightly. She looked as prim and proper as usual but with a few drops of blood on her skirt.
"Princess" Mysaria bowed.
"You have a name?" I asked.
"More of a description" the white worm answered.
***
He should have known that the blasted woman would have gotten away from this attempt, he knew he should have gone for the subtler approach, one where there would be no trace of the crime. But there were instructions to be had, a certain flair for the dramatics that his Lord wanted him to follow. And now, everything was slowly going to unravel.
Should the man speak, he'd be in big trouble. He was certain that the pretender would feed him to her dragon like she had with Larys Strong. He did not have any connections like Ser Otto did to get away with this. He had no choice, he had to escape.
He didn't have much that he needed to take with him, so packing was not too much of an issue. He could use the secret steps he had discovered in his chambers. He did not know where those steps led to, but surely they would lead to somewhere far from here. Maegor the Cruel had made them after all, and the man was paranoid enough that he would make multiple secret escape routes.
There was a knock on his door and the man froze. Too late, he was found already. That blasted simpleton had spoken the truth and now they were here for him.
The knock on his door was more urgent this time, and a little impatient.
"Open the door! I'm here to help you."
He did not recognize the voice, yet he had opened the door. It was a young man, dressed like a page.
"He sent me. I would be your escape route should anything go wrong."
"Did you put the letter on my desk?"
"Aye. Now let's leave before they catch up to us."
His heart soared at the chance of escape. He should have known that his Lord would not have just abandoned him, he should have believed in the man more. Once he was safely out of here and before his Lord, he would beg for his apologies.
The page rushed into his chambers and immediately went towards where the secret passage was. So that was how he had gotten the letter to his room. How had he known about it? A question he would ask the boy later.
The spiral paths led a long way down, so long that his head was starting to spin. He had left the light of his chambers a long time ago, now plunged in the dark following this young man. The darkness didn't last long though, and light soon reentered his vision. The light was not bright as he would have liked.
They were in the sewer systems of the castle, the smell was enough to tell him as much. They took the narrowest path available to them and entered another secret passage, narrower and more uneven than the one he had just come through. How many of these were there? He would love to explore them all one day when he got the opportunity to return. Maybe he'd be reinstated once that whore was dead and a male would be named heir to the throne, as it should have always been.
He saw light at the end of the tunnel and his heart beat rapidly. Just a bit more and then he was free, away from this wretched place and to safer grounds. He'd be untouchable there, everyone would believe him and his Lord.
He could hear the whinny of horses, was this path leading them to the stables? But there also was the sound of men shouting and swords being drawn, the training yard then.
The young man exited first and he waited a moment for a signal. Once he got it, he followed the young man right out of the narrow opening. His heart sank once he saw where he was.
"Hello Grand Maester Orwyle," Rhaenyra said with a devious smile. The young man was standing with her, smiling at him like a devil. He had been made a fool! "We have so much to talk about."
----
A little change. I changed things during Rhaenyra's heir coronation ceremony to Rickon Stark being the Lord of WInterfell at that time so the story would flow a bit better. I have mentioned this on the chapter as well.