T.W: Talks of abortion and Miscarriage
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Rhaegar stood in the secluded corner of the Dragonpit, where the rays of the sun filtered through the ancient stones, casting warm hues upon the ground below. His companion, Ameryls, sprawled beside him, her massive form stretched out like a living flame. The dragon, now larger than a warhorse, radiated a fiery brilliance that captivated Rhaegar's gaze.
"Gift of the Flames," he whispered softly, the name rolling off his tongue with reverence. It was a name that felt both fitting and profound, for Ameryls truly seemed to embody the essence of fire incarnate. Her scales shimmered with iridescence, each one reflecting the sunlight in a mesmerizing dance of colors.
As Rhaegar admired Ameryls, he couldn't help but feel a pang of sadness tug at his heart. Gone were the days when she could roam freely within the confines of the Red Keep, her presence a source of wonder and awe to all who beheld her. Now, she was relegated to the Dragonpit, confined to the solitude of her surroundings.
Despite this, Ameryls remained ever mischievous, her eyes gleaming with an innate curiosity and playfulness. She greeted Rhaegar with a low rumble of contentment, her tail sweeping the ground in eager anticipation of their next adventure together.
It had been no small feat to convince his grandsire, King Jaehaerys, to allow both Ameryls and Syrax to remain unchained within the confines of the Dragonpit. Only through sheer determination and unwavering persistence had Rhaegar managed to sway the king's opinion, citing Ameryls' non-aggressive nature and her ability to keep the younger dragon in check as reasons for their freedom.
And yet, despite the challenges they faced, Rhaegar couldn't help but swell with pride as he beheld Ameryls' magnificent form. She was growing at a remarkable pace, her size and strength a testament to the bond they shared. Perhaps, he thought, it was the touch of his own blood that had helped to hatch her, infusing her with an inner fire that burned brighter with each passing day.
But even in the tranquil embrace of the Dragonpit, Rhaegar's thoughts were plagued by the pressing concerns of his everyday existence. Images of his sister, Rhaenyra, flitted through his mind, her vivacious spirit and unwavering devotion a constant presence in his thoughts.
Rhaenyra's obsession with their bond had become increasingly apparent in recent days, her insistence on monopolising his time growing more pronounced with each passing moment. He watched with a mixture of amusement and concern as she flitted about the Red Keep, a whirlwind of energy and enthusiasm, her laughter echoing through the corridors.
But beneath her playful exterior lay a deeper longing, a desire for his companionship that bordered on possessiveness. And though he cherished their bond, Rhaegar couldn't help but feel suffocated by her constant presence, her insatiable need for his attention.
As he reclined against the cool stone, Rhaegar's thoughts turned to a recent encounter with Rhaenyra, a simple game of make-believe that had taken an unexpected turn. He recalled the way she had insisted on playing house, her fervent imagination transforming the dusty corners of their chambers into a makeshift kingdom.
With a wistful smile, Rhaegar remembered the joy that had illuminated Rhaenyra's face as she assigned roles to their makeshift court, her laughter ringing out like music in the stillness of the night. And yet, beneath the facade of childhood innocence, he couldn't shake the feeling of unease that gnawed at him.
For amidst the laughter and revelry, there had been a subtle shift in Rhaenyra's demeanor, a possessiveness that belied her tender years. He had watched, with growing concern, as she claimed him as her husband and King in their imaginary world, her words laced with a fervent intensity that sent a shiver down his spine.
And though he had played along with her game, indulging her whims with a smile and a gentle touch, Rhaegar couldn't shake the feeling of disquiet that lingered in the recesses of his mind. For beneath the facade of childhood innocence lay a deeper truth, a truth that he dared not confront.
He knew that he had to do something sooner rather than later. If her obsession with him grew too strong it may cause problems in the future and he would rather avoid issues with his sister. He still hadn't come to terms with Targaryens and their Incest simply trying to avoid it until later in life. Marrying Rhaenyra was simply a passing thought in his head that he had paid no further attention to. In reality, Rhaenyra was his last choice as a potential bride.
His thoughts soon wandered off to another one of his problems. Alicent's presence had become an ever-present fixture, a persistent thorn that dug deeper into his consciousness with each passing day. No matter where Rhaenyra ventured, whether through the Red Keep's winding corridors or the sun-dappled gardens of Maegor's Holdfast, Alicent was always there, trailing behind like a ghostly apparition, impossible to shake off.
Yet, despite the inconvenience and the underlying tension that simmered beneath their interactions, Rhaegar found himself unable to muster any real animosity towards Alicent. She was, in essence, too kind, too gentle to evoke such negative emotions within him. He recalled with a tinge of bitterness the days when he might have hurled insults and epithets her way, driven by the belief that she was destined to usurp his family's legacy and replace his mother as queen. But now, as he reflected on those turbulent times, Rhaegar couldn't help but see Alicent through a different lens.
In the quiet solitude of the Dragonpit, memories flooded back to him – memories of the Alicent he had once glimpsed on screen, a woman ensnared in the tangled webs of courtly intrigue, a pawn in a game she scarcely understood. His previous self had viewed her less as a villain and more as a victim, a casualty of circumstance rather than a willing participant in Otto's machinations. He had even entertained the notion that had she not misinterpreted Viserys's final words, she might have thrown her support behind Rhaenyra's claim to the throne.
But now, as Rhaegar delved deeper into his thoughts, he couldn't help but acknowledge the complexity of Alicent's situation. He remembered the doubts and fears that had plagued her, particularly in the aftermath of Aemond's grievous injury. It was understandable, he realised, that she would harbour reservations about Rhaenyra's intentions, given the precarious nature of their familial ties.
It was this understanding that drove Rhaegar to seek a reconciliation with Alicent, to nurture a relationship with her in the hopes of bringing her to his side. If he could get her to marry someone who might offer her a chance at happiness and security, then perhaps he could gain an ally and potential spy against Otto's machinations.
In those fleeting moments of clarity, he had seen her not as an adversary, but as a fellow prisoner of fate, ensnared in a web of deceit and treachery from which there seemed no escape. And though he could not condone her actions, could not absolve her of her sins, he could not help but feel a twinge of sympathy for the woman she could be if given the chance.
As Rhaegar reluctantly tore himself away from his contemplative solitude, the urgent call of Ser Steffon Darklyn pierced through the tranquil ambiance of the Dragonpit. "Prince Rhaegar, it's time for your lessons with Maester Runciter," the knight's voice echoed across the chamber, drawing Rhaegar back to the present moment.
With a heavy sigh, Rhaegar bid a temporary farewell to Ameryls, who emitted a soft, plaintive whine in response, her eyes reflecting a palpable sense of longing. "I'll come back for you later," he promised, his tone laced with reassurance as he gently patted her scaled hide.
Stepping out of the comforting embrace of the Dragonpit, Prince Rhaegar made his way towards the Maester's chambers, his mind still preoccupied with the events that had transpired earlier. However, upon arriving at his destination, he was met with a surprising sight – Maester Runciter was in a state of frenzied activity, his usually composed demeanour replaced by one of agitation.
"Ah, Prince Rhaegar, forgive me, but I must postpone our lessons," Maester Runciter apologized, his tone respectful yet tinged with urgency. "There's been an emergency, and I find myself in need of attending to it personally."
Curiosity piqued, Prince Rhaegar pressed further, his interest evident in his tone. "What happened, Maester Runciter?" he inquired, his voice betraying a genuine concern for the situation at hand.
The Maester hesitated momentarily before divulging the nature of the crisis. "One of the maids has experienced a tragic loss – she's lost a child in the womb," Runciter explained solemnly, his voice heavy with sorrow. "I must prepare moon tea myself to help extract the child as all my acolytes are busy with their duties."
Intrigued by the mention of moon tea, Prince Rhaegar's interest was piqued. "May I assist you, Maester Runciter?" he offered respectfully, his eagerness evident in his tone.
Runciter hesitated, clearly torn between the urgency of the situation and the propriety of involving Prince Rhaegar in such matters. However, Rhaegar's earnest expression ultimately swayed him. "Very well, Your Grace," he relented, offering Rhaegar a tentative smile. "Follow me, and I'll show you where the moon tea is kept."
As they made their way to the storeroom, Runciter took the opportunity to impart some knowledge about the preparation of moon tea. "The tea leaves are stored in a cold, dark place to maintain their potency," he explained respectfully, gesturing towards the neatly arranged jars lining the shelves. "To make the tea, we simply need to extract the juices using a mortar and pestle, then steep them in boiling water. After that we mix in mint, wormwood, a spoon of honey, and a drop of pennyroyal "
Intrigued by the intricacies of moon tea, Prince Rhaegar posed a question to Runciter. "Is moon tea readily available to anyone who asks for it?"
Runciter shook his head, dispelling any misconceptions. "Moon tea is indeed available to those who request it, but only I have the authority to prescribe it," he clarified respectfully, his tone somber. "It is not rare, but rather difficult to procure, as it requires specific conditions to grow and is harvested from select regions in the Reach so it is quite expensive."
As they continued their conversation, Prince Rhaegar learned more about the logistics of moon tea procurement. "A fresh batch is delivered to the Red Keep every moon," Runciter explained respectfully, his voice tinged with knowledge borne of experience. "The noble ladies prefer the freshest and best batch, as the tea leaves are most potent when fresh, not to mention less bitter so it is more suited to their delicate taste."
"But what happens to the leftover leaves? Do you just throw it away?" asked Rhaegar
"Of course not my Prince", Runciter replied "That would be a great waste of resources. We mostly used the older tea leaves for the servants. Not to mention we make pastes out of them and use them during bloodletting. Moon tea is a fantastic anticoagulant and helps make blood flow easier"
"Are you interested in learning about Botany your Grace? I have never seen you quite so intrigued with plants before"
Intrigued by the prospect of learning more about botany, Prince Rhaegar expressed his desire to expand his knowledge in that field. "When I am older, I wish to travel the entirety of the Seven Kingdoms and beyond," he confessed, his eyes alight with determination. "Knowing about herbs and medicinal plants could prove invaluable in times of need."
Runciter beamed with pride at Prince Rhaegar's foresight and practicality. "If you are truly serious, Your Grace, I would be honoured to teach you," he declared, his tone brimming with genuine admiration.
Together, they began the process of preparing the moon tea, Prince Rhaegar carefully following Runciter's instructions with precision and focus. As the tea brewed, filling the air with a fragrant aroma, Runciter expressed his gratitude to Prince Rhaegar for his assistance. "Thank you for your help, Your Grace," he said earnestly, his voice tinged with appreciation. "I once again apologize for the missed lesson."
Prince Rhaegar waved off Runciter's apology with a gracious smile. "It's not a problem, Maester Runciter," he reassured him respectfully, his tone warm with understanding. "Helping the maid is far more important than a mere history lesson."
As Rhaegar's mind raced with the weight of his newfound knowledge, he couldn't shake the feeling of triumph that coursed through his veins. He had uncovered the secret of the moon tea, a solution that held the potential to alter the course of his family's future. With each step he took, his thoughts whirled with possibilities, his mind a whirlwind of strategies and plans.
The realization that moon tea could serve as both a contraceptive and an abortifacient was a revelation in itself. It was a solid solution, one that he had not anticipated would be so readily available within the walls of the Red Keep. Yet, as he delved deeper into his thoughts, he realized that obtaining it would prove to be a delicate dance of secrecy and finesse.
As Maester Runciter had explained the properties of the moon tea, Rhaegar hung onto every word, his mind absorbing the information like a sponge. He noted how the key to the storage room, where the precious leaves were kept, lay within the drawer of the head acolyte's desk. It was a detail that would prove invaluable in his quest to procure the moon tea without arousing suspicion.
But as he contemplated his next move, doubts crept into his mind like tendrils of smoke. How could he possibly obtain the moon tea without drawing attention to himself? The answer eluded him, slipping through his fingers like grains of sand.
Then, like a bolt of lightning illuminating the darkness, an idea struck him. Perhaps he could enlist Maester Runciter's help in crafting tonics for daily use for his family, disguising the moon tea within their concoction. He could coax Aemma into drinking the tonic by telling her that he had played a role in its creation, appealing to her curiosity and trust.
Everyone knew that Rhaegar was a most curious child always looking for new knowledge. With his reputation as a diligent, and inquisitive prince It would not surprise anyone or raise questions if he was suddenly interested in the healing arts especially due to how much he fretted about Aemma's health. And if all went according to plan, he could slip the moon tea into Aemma's daily dose without raising any suspicion.
If he was a part of making the tonics firsthand he would be allowed access to the supply room for ingredients and could easily steal the leaves. Not to mention if Aemma refused to take the tonics he could coerce her into taking them by stating that he had worked very hard to create them specially for her.
As the realization settled over him like a comforting blanket, Rhaegar felt a surge of determination coursing through his veins. He would do whatever it took to protect his family, to safeguard Aemma from the dangers that lurked in the shadows.
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looks like Wattpad's getting an early update. I tried to post it on Ao3 but the servers are down for maintenance so looks like y'all are getting this first.