Driftmark ― High Tide…
Waves crashed against the shore; gulls cawed above. Along the beaches of High Tide, Rhaenyra and Laenor spent their afternoon together. Upon receiving word of their betrothal, the princess and heir to Driftmark expectedly did a courtship walk through the island's wet sand. Rhaenyra, however, is aware that both she and Laenor are in love with other people, and that he is no more enthusiastic about this marriage pact than she is.
"In truth, if it had to be someone, I'm glad it is you," Rhaenyra explained. "I know this union is not what you would choose."
Laenor shook his head. "I hold nothing against you, cousin," he dismissed.
"No, I… rather… Dare I say it is a matter of taste? I prefer roast duck to goose. I cannot say why."
"It's, it's not for a lack of trying. Some like goose very well." What are you getting at?
Rhaenyra slightly smirked. "I find it a bit greasy for my taste. I know that whatever agreement being struck up there will not change your appetites, nor will it change mine."
Laenor stopped in his tracks. She knows! He was known to have a lack of interest in women, instead preferring to surround himself with handsome young men of his age – hence his dispirited response to the betrothal. Whispers surrounded his sexuality, especially his relationship with his longtime lover, Ser Joffrey Lonmouth. The heir to Driftmark tried to hide his preferences and orientation, though it was only a matter of time before the wrong people found out about him. And since he learned that he was engaged to marry a Targaryen princess, Laenor was concerned his commanding officer from the war, Prince Aeonar, would discover this farce. "And what do you propose?" he asked. Laenor had to know, considering his second cousin knows about his preferences.
"That we perform our duty to our fathers and to the realm and when it's done… each of us dines as we see fit."
Laenor listened to Rhaenyra's proposal in detail. They would wed and perform their duties, and afterward, each would be free to pursue love however they'd see fit and love whoever they please–an open marriage if one could even describe it. They both know the arrangement is a political one. If what Rhaenyra suggests could keep unwanted attention away from him being romantically/sexually attracted to men, and Laenor would produce an heir to keep the Velaryon bloodline flourishing, then that would mean his best-kept secret would remain hidden. He would be allowed to keep his relationship with Joffrey! Slowly, a small smile curled. "I think I can live with that," he agreed.
––––––––––––––––––––––––––
There were times when Aeonar needed to be away from everything and everyone. Times when he needed to ponder and brood in solitude. Times when he needed to silence the dark voices that occasionally whispered in the back of his mind, trying to rouse his inner dragon. The twitching and tugs in his brain were more frequent, often to the point of pain; so, the Young Dragon remained perched on a high hill overlooking Blackwater Bay – below him were Alicent, their three sons, and Laena; to his left, Vaelor had dragged another whale juvenile carcass onto the shore to begin eating. Seasmoke approached, sensing the meal, though he hesitated when the Swiftrunner hissed a warning to the younger dragon for getting too close to his prey – only vocalizing in draconic grunts to allow permission. It was a means to assert his dominance as an alpha. Meleys, on the other hand, had already moved in between them both before dining in; to his right, Vhagar lay along the sandbank sleeping. He contemplated sparring, but Aeonar knew there would not be enough competition; he would practice archery, but he was not in the mood. So much to do, the heavier the burden.
"You've been by yourself since the talks, child."
Aeonar turned to see Rhaenys standing over him, like a mother concerning a child. "Princess Rhaenys," he acknowledged. Donning his black cloak, Aeonar drew back his hood to reveal his face. Still donning a leather tunic with a shirt of black scales, it was engraved with a three-headed dragon with emerald rubies and retained draconic gauntlets on his hands – each finger had a carbon steel blade, razor sharpened, attached to the tips.
Rhaenys continued to look at her first cousin once removed. "If you're wondering how I knew where you were, I spent 26 years of my life here on Driftmark. But that is not why I'm here. That look in your eyes. I've seen that already."
"Do you now?"
"When we first received your message, I received a personal letter from your father. In it, he expressed a wish that his only daughter, Princess Rhaenyra, should marry my only son Laenor. But I have not told this to my husband yet because the letter also said that Rhaenyra refused to marry anyone until you and Viserys have made peace with each other. And quite frankly this private war between you and your father has grown rather tiresome."
Aeonar chuckled bitterly. "A 'private war.' Is that what the masses are calling it now?" he replied.
"And I told you that I was not leaving until an accord had been reached," Rhaenys said as she came up from behind Aeonar and looked at the ocean. "You and your father are more alike than you'd care to admit."
"In what way?"
"Too much stubbornness. It's in your nature when it comes to making crucial decisions that have an unknown effect that men across the realm would feel. I understand the order of things. I am not sure you do. Your mother and lady Jeyne had been close. Tell me, what do you know of your maternal grandmother, Princess Daella?"
"You mean my maternal grandmother?" Aeonar raised an eyebrow. "From what I remember, I'm told she was a kind, gentle woman with a tender heart. Lady Arryn told me she was happier in the Vale than she was in King's Landing or Dragonstone. But she died too young after giving birth. To my mother… to her… I… I," he shook his head. Damn it, not now. "He… killed her. My own father took my mother away from us. She died… screaming. He broke our. Entire. Family. Apart. I will never forgive him for that. I will never forget it. Let bygones be bygones, is it that simple for him?"
Rhaenys nodded her head. "Because what is happening between you two is no different from what led to the Old King and Good Queen Alysanne's infamous two quarrels," she replied. "You see, there are some things you don't know. Princess Daella was indeed a kind, gentle, and sweet woman, but she was also simple-minded. She could barely read, cried at the mildest scolding, and was easily frightened. She idolized Queen Alysanne, who loved her dearly. But the Old King found her to be an embarrassment. In the end, King Jaehaerys demanded his sister-wife find their daughter someone – anyone – to wed before the end of the year, or else he would send her to the Silent Sisters," the Queen Who Never Was then turned to the Young Dragon. "It was what started the rift between them. Alysanne blamed Jaehaerys for Daella's death, that she would not have perished had he not forced her to marry." Rhaenys looked solemn. "I was only 8 years old, but I can still remember the funeral, it was the first time I had ever seen my grandparents stand apart from each other. They reconciled eventually as you well know, but I don't think she ever forgave him. The Old King was a great ruler, but he was a horrible father to his children. Do you understand why I am telling you this?"
ooOoo
Flashback: 14 years ago (102 AC)…
"Bae… Baelon?" the Old King, Jaehaerys I Targaryen, wheezed weakly. His health continued to fail him. His hands shook with age when he felt small hands gently grasping them. "Ba… Baelon? Is that you, my child?" Nearing the end of his life, after outliving his sister-wife and most of his children, his strength and wits began to fail, leaving him often confined to his bed.
"N-No," a young Aeonar shook his head emotionally. The seven-year-old felt something terrible was happening to the Old King. "I… Great-grandpa, I'm Aeonar. Grandpa's grandson," he said innocently. "Great-grandpa?"
"Child… Listen, child… Do not… Do not repeat my mistakes. Learn from them… The crown, our family… all must remain united. As one… The crown cannot stand strong… if the House of the Dragon becomes divided… The only thing… that can tear us down… is ourselves. Promise me… that you will keep the family together… when I am gone… Keep them close, do not let them go… Your father, your mother… your sister… family… Promise…"
"I… I promise, great-grandpa. I promise…"
ooOoo
"Because you fear that history will repeat itself, that the House of the Dragon will tear itself asunder from within."
"It was dragons that forged the seven kingdoms as one. And only dragons can destroy it. This conflict between you and your father serves none but the enemies of House Targaryen who look for any cracks to serve their own purposes. Jaehaerys thought he had sealed all those when he called for the Great Council fifteen years ago, but all he did was hide them."
Aeonar said nothing. Instead, he listened. Contemplating. The faintest memories of his late great-grandfather echoed in his head. How could he have forgotten the promise he made to the Old King a year before he died? The nerves in his head twitched and tugged at his psyche again. "I have no desire to see our house torn apart from the inside," he shook his head. "Though I can't help but suspect that those same malcontents have supplanted themselves already. I won't allow anyone to dismantle my great-grandfather's legacy and everything he worked so hard for." Before turning to leave, he looked back to Rhaenys. "I'll do my part, but I can't promise what might come next afterward… especially with the Peakes."
Rhaenys nodded. "On that, we agree. They are a grasping lot, but they are still roaches and will not make any overt movements if they know that eyes are upon them. Your father may be many things, but he is no fool. Daemon had previously been Viserys's strength. However, it must now be you to assume the mantle in his stead."
"I will be more than that. I've been our family's eyes and ears since I was fifteen. So long as I'm still standing, no secret will remain hidden for long."
––––––––––––––––––––––––––
"I've always feared the day you'd have to marry a woman. And now it comes," Joffrey bemoaned. "Your betrothed gives you leave of her own free will to continue partaking of. Was I the duck or the goose?"
Laenor looked over his shoulder. "I've come to meet my fate and you make a jape of it?" he asked his lover.
"Look, Aeonar will be King of the Seven Kingdoms. You will be his sister's prince consort. And you and me? We will both put in our transfers to King's Landing and be assigned as lieutenants in the Young Dragon's honor guard once again. Just like we did at the Stepstones. Imagine! Think of the tournament, the feast, the battles at sea. Tell me there is nothing glorious than that?"
Laenor chuckled. Tournaments, naval battles, serving under the command of his second cousin in warfare once again… that thought did come across his mind. "You're a fool," he gave a light shove.
Joffrey shoved back, prompting Laenor to wrestle with him. As they tumbled along the sandy dunes, the heir to Driftmark found himself positioned on top of his companion. Their noses were merely inches away from each other. "You will need a sworn protector," he added.
"Mm-hm."
Laenor leaned forward and kissed Joffrey. Passionately, softly but hungrily. The time stops for a few heartbeats. But Joffrey reciprocates as he almost literally feels Laenor melt in his arms. It's not that the fight goes out of them, but rather the same strength and passion being channeled into their embrace. With each pass they make, Joffrey instinctively pulls Laenor closer to him until they were pressed against each other belly-to-belly. His hands began to explore his lover's body, traveling down his stomach, to his belt, then up to his collar, and around his neck. After a few moments, both broke the kiss and took in some air, letting out silent gasps.
"This is better than we could've hoped for. She has a paramour of her own."
"I wonder who it is."
High Tide ― Hall of Nine…
Back at the castle, Corlys gazed at the mark once worn by the Crabfeeder, Craghas Drahar. One year today marked House Velaryon's victory over the Triarchy and control of the Stepstones. For the Sea Snake, it remained one of his triumphant moments other than his famous nine voyages. After the negotiations, Corlys was certain that his heir would marry into the royal family but now could not help but wonder if he overextended himself by pushing for the match the way he did.
"Viserys had taken to bed while his ship is readied," Rhaenys returned.
"Perhaps I… overextended myself? Pushed him too close to the edge?" Corlys asked.
"My cousin chose to sail into this tempest, husband. It was undignified of the king to drag himself here and beg for Laenor's hand at his heir's insistence."
"Where is Laenor?"
"He and Rhaenyra are walking the coast."
"Good," Corlys said. "Do they seem… familiar?"
Rhaenys shook her head with exasperation. "They grew up together. Familiarity is not at issue," she told her husband.
"Oh, I'm sure Laenor was already taken with her. She's grown quite comely these last few years."
"You know our son's true nature."
Like most conservative Westerosi lords, Corlys waved it off not wanting to accept his heir's same-gender attraction and denied it, claiming it as a phase. "He's still young. He will outgrow it," he said embarrassed. Before long, he approached his wife and held her hips. "There is no pleasure in the world like… bedding a woman."
"We are placing our son in danger, Corlys," Rhaenys turned to face him. "I've spoken to Aeonar about this, and he shared the most disturbing reports of what actually has been occurring in King's Landing. When the time comes, by the time Viserys will die, knives will come out to carve a piece for themselves. Our son will be in the thick of it when it arrives."
"The lords of the realm bent the knee to Aeonar Targaryen and swore obeisance to him eleven years ago. He fought beside us at the Stepstones when no one else would come to our aid. Our house controls the realm's navy, its crucial shipping lanes, and half its dragons. Anyone foolish enough to challenge the Young Dragon's claim will be crushed, punished severely."
"To what end, Corlys? Wealth? Power? Pride?"
"Justice," Corlys replied sternly. "By all rights, as Prince Aemon Targaryen's only child, you should have been Queen of the Seven Kingdoms back then. Those fools at the Great Council denied you the crown. Now we have that chance to make things right. By wedding Laenor to Princess Rhaenyra, any daughter born to them, or to Laena, will be promised to Aeonar's son, Prince Jaehaerys. And I would… remedy their small-minded errors by any means―"
"I never wore the crown because the realm would not have it so," Rhaenys interjected. "Men of the realm already had their opportunity to appoint a ruling queen at the Great Council and they denied it. Here is the hard truth since it is hard enough to get it through to you: Men would sooner put the realm to the torch than see a woman ascend the Iron Throne," she sighed. "It's been fifteen years. I've come to terms with not being named my grandfather's heir. I accept it and have long since put the past behind me, Corlys. You should too."
Driftmark ― Spicetown…
The bells began to toll loudly when it was time for the royal party to return to King's Landing. Viserys and his guests had been staying at Driftmark for less than a week, but the king felt they had made some serious progress with Lord Corlys and Princess Rhaenys. With the agreement cemented, Laenor and his companion Joffrey would be accompanying them to the capital while everyone else begins preparing for another royal wedding. Aeonar to Alicent, Viserys to Beatrice, and now it was Rhaenyra to Laenor.
A hastily assembled reception was put together while the Prince of Dragonstone prepared his harness. Aeonar had once again opted to ride atop Vaelor on the journey back, though not before taking a moment to ensure his wife and their sons would be well taken care of. He ignored the occasional glances he'd been receiving, noticing that many kept calling out to him as 'the Young Dragon' or 'the Conqueror Reborn'.
"Aeonar," Viserys called out as he stared at his son. He had to resist the urge to go and embrace his son, for he feared that the prince would rebuff him. "It… it's good that you were here to make this possible with me." He then gave a bit of a dry cough and took a sip of cool water from his goblet to clear his throat. "We can prevent any other house from gaining access to a dragon rider and we can ensure that the future heirs of House Velaryon have blood ties to you when taking the throne and Jaehaerys when he succeeds after you."
Aeonar said nothing. But as he turned to leave, he glanced over his shoulder. "We may disagree on principle and our methods may be different, but our goal is the same. Know that I have no desire for us to become enemies." Upon climbing on his dragon's back, he gave three taps.
"*Reeeee!*" Vaelor screeched before taking to the skies again.
Viserys noticed the difference in his son's words as the Swiftrunner took off. One look at Rhaenys, who gave a slow nod, confirmed to the king that she spoke with him. Was a path to reconciliation possible? He breathed a sigh of relief and said a silent prayer to the Seven in gratitude. He knew that his faith in his cousin had not been misplaced. She had always been a shrewd and capable woman. Soon, Aemma… Soon all will be well in the family again. Just… Just wait for me, my love. I will see you again one day.
Crownlands ― Blackwater Bay…
The voyage from Driftmark back to King's Landing ended with the same thing happening: Alicent and Lyonel tending to a very seasick King Viserys who again retched over the side. Vaelor again flew next to the ship, beating his wings to keep him airborne. Rhaenyra, on the other hand, gazed into the horizon. Now she was getting married, the princess had some things to explain. But she did not need to wait long when Rhaenyra noticed Criston approached her on deck. He stood beside her, head hanging low, eyes drifting from her to the ocean. "Did sleep flee you as well this morning?" she inquired.
"I… I needed to see you, princess," Criston said awkwardly, still guilt-ridden over breaking his vows. There were still some lingering feelings he needed to sort out. Ever since their 'dalliance', the young Kingsguard knight was conflicted internally – so he needed to get an answer.
"I confess I had a similar desire," Rhaenyra admitted.
"You have confided in me now and then over the years of our acquaintance. I feel, forgive me, that I, I know you… a bit."
"You know more than a bit."
Criston felt his cheeks flush. Princess, I… I need to tell you something. Gods, this is harder than I thought. "I've heard you say so many times how you loathe the lot of your position, that you are to be married off at your father and brother's whim with no thought given to the yearning of your own heart, and… now the day comes," he said. "I've heard Aeonar's report about him. Ser Laenor is a good man and… and a decent man, but you, you did not choose him. He was chosen for you."
Rhaenyra raised an eyebrow. "That's true," she confessed. The princess suspected there was something going on, something was troubling him. Perhaps once Rhaenyra took the time to explain her idea, the same one she suggested to Laenor, then maybe Criston would understand. But for now, she continued listening.
"If there were another path… one that led to freedom… would you tread it? Rhaenyra, before I came here, I was a knight in the Stormlands. I have deep knowledge of the port at Sunspear where I've seen the ships of Essos setting sail with their hulls full of oranges and cinnamon and I've always wished to see where they went."
"Are you asking for leave?"
Criston inhaled deeply. This is it. Tell her. "I'm asking you to come with me… away from all of this. From the burdens and indignities of your status," he confessed. Please, princess. Please tell me if you will say yes to this. "Let us leave it all behind and see the world together… where we'll be nameless, and free… free to go where we like, to love as we like. In Essos… we could get married. Not for duty, but for love. I love you, Rhaenyra. For you. When I am with you, I get… confused and excited all at once. No words alone can describe… the affection I have for you. Please… run away with me. We could spend the rest of our lives doing whatever we want whenever we want."
Rhaenyra was stunned. She was speechless. Was Criston asking her to elope with him? Go into self-imposed exile in Essos? If it had been another lifetime, Rhaenyra would've been more than eager to accept Criston's proposal. However, she was a princess, and he was a lowborn knight of the Kingsguard. Her father would never accept that, her brother would disown her, and Alicent would be deeply disappointed in her… No matter how much she yearned for freedom, Rhaenyra was already in enough trouble of her own in no small part of her own immature antics. "I… I'm a princess, Ser Criston," she hesitated. Seven hells, this hurt more than she thought. "I've let a lot of people down already. I may be irresponsible, reckless, immature, and even chafe at my duties, but do you think I would choose infamy in exchange for a bushel of oranges or a ship to Asshai? It is my duty to marry a nobleman from a Great House and Ser Laenor will make a fine husband."
Wh… What? Criston felt his heart breaking into pieces. Was she rejecting him? Then does that mean their first night together meant nothing to her at all? Because it did to him.
"But my, um… my marriage… does not have to be the end. Ser Criston, Laenor and I have an understanding. I've granted him leave to pursue his own interests… and in turn, he's granted me the same."
Criston, now emotionally distraught and visibly agitated, felt an incredible disgust growing inside him. "That's it?" he scoffed with disgust. "So… so, after all that, you… you want me to be your whore? Is that it? A mere… a mere plaything for you to use whenever you like and discard when I am of no further use? Is that what I am hearing from you?"
Rhaenyra paused. Why was he reacting this way? This was not what she had expected as his response. "I want us to continue as we began, with you as my sworn protector, my white knight. I will not tell anyone what happened between us," she tried to reason. "Ser Criston, I won't tell anyone."
"No. No, I won't be," Criston shook his head as his voice cracked, raddled with pain, guilt, anger, and disgust. He was too upset. I will not accept it! I will not accept this! I will never accept this! "I took an oath. As a, as a knight of, of your father's Kingsguard. An oath of chastity. I broke it. I-I've soiled my, my wh― my white cloak and it's the only thing I have to my fucking name! The only thing I have! Without it, I am nothing! No honor, no purpose, NOTHING! I, I thought if we were married, I might be able to restore it. Get at least some of it back. But I cannot. I-It's gone and I, I fucking can't get it back!" Not wanting to hear anymore, feeling the princess's suggestion would lead to further dishonor and shame, he quickly turned around and stormed off.
"Ser Criston," Rhaenyra tried calling out to him, but he wouldn't answer. Why wouldn't he see listen to her? The princess shook her head. The words Criston hurled stung her. She shook her head, knowing she messed up yet again. But when she turned to her left, she noticed Beatrice staring at her ― grinning like a little kid who won the world's biggest prize. Growing angry, she moved to chastise her stepmother, but Beatrice was already gone. Rhaenyra then turned around to see Vaelor but looked up to see Aeonar staring down at her from above. The look was a familiar one: disappointment. However, because of Criston's rant, Rhaenyra soon realized that her brother may have heard everything they've said.
"*Roooooahh!*" Vaelor roared and picked up the pace.
Rhaenyra watched the Swiftrunner fly further into the distance. It was all over for her now. She was doomed.