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Rating:
Mature
Archive Warning:
No Archive Warnings Apply
Categories:
F/FF/M
Fandoms:
House of the Dragon (TV)A Song of Ice and Fire & Related FandomsDragon Age - All Media Types
Relationships:
Rhaenys Targaryen Velaryon/FlemethCorlys "The Sea Snake" Velaryon/Rhaenys Targaryen VelaryonRhaenyra Targaryen & Rhaenys Targaryen VelaryonDaemon Targaryen/Laena Velaryon (Daughter of Corlys)Rhaenyra Targaryen/Laena Velaryon (Daughter of Corlys)Daemon Targaryen/Rhaenyra Targaryen/Laena Velaryon (Daughter of Corlys)Meleys | Rhaenys Targaryen Velaryon's Dragon & Rhaenys Targaryen Velaryon
Characters:
Rhaenys Targaryen VelaryonFlemeth (Dragon Age)Corlys "The Sea Snake" VelaryonRhaenyra TargaryenDaemon TargaryenLaena Velaryon (Daughter of Corlys)Laenor VelaryonMeleys | Rhaenys Targaryen Velaryon's DragonJacaerys VelaryonLucerys Velaryon (Son of Rhaenyra)Joffrey VelaryonBaela TargaryenRhaena Targaryen (Daughter of Daemon)Viserys I TargaryenAlicent HightowerHelaena TargaryenAegon II TargaryenAemond "One-Eye" TargaryenDaeron Targaryen (Son of Viserys I)Rhaella Targaryen (Daughter of Aegon)Archmaester Vaegon Targaryen
Additional Tags:
Canon Divergence - Dance of the Dragons (A Song of Ice and Fire)No Dance of the Dragons | War For Succession Between Aegon II and Rhaenyra Targaryen Never HappensCanon-Typical ViolenceMaester Conspiracy to Undermine House Targaryen (A Song of Ice and Fire)Laena Velaryon (Daughter of Corlys) LivesBAMF Rhaenys Targaryen VelaryonViserys I Targaryen Being an IdiotCorlys "The Sea Snake" Velaryon Loves Rhaenys Targaryen VelaryonRhaenyra Targaryen & Laenor Velaryon FriendshipLaenor Velaryon LivesI Shook a Targaryen Woman and Intergenerational Trauma Fell OutBAMF FlemethFlemeth shows up in Westeros and ruins Otto Hightower's lifeOther Additional Tags to Be AddedOld Women Yurithat's the main focus of this ficAemma Arryn Haunts the Narrative
Language:
English
Stats:
Published:2026-01-30Updated:2026-04-20Words:63,325Chapters:4/?Comments:186Kudos:353Bookmarks:213Hits:9,045
all shall be well (a prayer is a spell)
littlelamplight
Summary:
A mysterious healer saves Laena's life during childbirth, and soon agrees to examine the ailing King at the behest of Rhaenys and Rhaenyra. When it's discovered that he's being poisoned, Rhaenys finds herself relying on the aid of a woman as cryptic as she is charming, and who seems to know far too much about their dragons.
Or, Flemeth just wanted to meet some fellow dragons. Now she's caught up in a plot to destroy them as well as their riders, and while she cares little for kings and crowns, she does rather like the rider of the Red Queen. If she's stuck in King's Landing, she might as well have a little fun.
Chapter 1
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
The raven arrived just after dawn.
Rhaenys and Corlys were breaking their fast in their chambers when the maester announced himself, and at that time of the morning, it could only be urgent. From his solemn expression, Rhaenys had half expected dire news from King's Landing, but then he'd told them the raven came from Pentos, and she'd felt the blood drain from her face.
He'd left them alone to read it, of which she was glad, as she wanted no one to witness her reaction to whatever news was contained within.
She'd had to read the letter twice before the words fully processed, Corlys leaning over her shoulder, his hand warm and grounding where it rested at her waist. And when they did, she'd had to force herself to focus on the facts, rather than the horror of what lurked behind them.
Laena had gone into labour, and complications had soon developed. The physicians present had been unable to find a solution, and Laena had feared the worst, until the woman appeared.
The details in the letter had grown rather sparse at that point. Laena simply wrote that the woman was a healer, and had done what the others could not. That she'd saved not only Laena's life, but the life of her son, and that they were both hale and whole.
That they would soon be departing Pentos to return home to Driftmark, and the healer would accompany them.
The facts were clear: Laena had survived due to this healer's intervention, and they would soon be coming home.
Moreover, the letter was written in Laena's hand. It was more reassuring than the words themselves; real, solid proof that her daughter was alive.
Even so, a traitorous part of her mind whispered that something could have gone wrong after the letter was sent. Laena spoke of the healer who'd saved her life and that of her child's with confidence, and yet Rhaenys couldn't help but think of her aunt, Daemon's mother, who'd survived the birthing bed only to die within the year, having never fully recovered from the ordeal.
The thought was nearly enough to have her mounting Meleys to fly to Pentos immediately. And yet she knew that the family would have departed for Driftmark before the raven had reached her. She would have to wait, even as she knew that her heart would not settle until she could take Laena into her arms.
She didn't sit idle. She sent a raven to Laenor and Rhaenyra, informing them that Daemon and Laena would soon be returning to Driftmark and requesting their presence. Nothing that could be used if the raven was intercepted, but with just enough urgency that they would know there was something else afoot. They were due to depart Dragonstone for King's Landing soon, and she was sure they'd be grateful for an excuse to delay their return.
The roars of their dragons announced their arrival before sun down, and Rhaenys had never been more grateful for the short distance between Driftmark and her ancestral home.
It had been difficult, showing them the letter. Laenor had taken a more positive attitude, insisting that Laena would not risk travel so soon if she was physically unable, especially by dragon. Rhaenyra had paled when she'd read it, but she'd said very little on the matter.
It was only later, when it was just the two of them, and Rhaenys took Rhaenyra into her arms, that the young woman crumbled against her shoulder.
She didn't need to speak for Rhaenys to know that her tears were due to more than worry. She'd thought of Aemma while reading the letter, too.
Her grandchildren were a welcome distraction from her worries, as they were for Corlys, who'd taken to standing on the docks with his gaze fixed on the horizon, as if he could make Vhagar and Caraxes appear through his will alone. Luke was rarely from his side, tiny beside Corlys' tall frame, and the sight of them together brought a smile to her lips, the first since the raven had arrived.
When Vhagar's great silhouette appeared in the sky at last, Rhaenys' heart leapt into her throat and threatened to choke her. Vhagar was not yet close enough to determine her mood, never mind glimpse who sat astride her. All her dread and worry, which had been so successfully soothed by her grandchildren, returned with a vengeance, and so she busied herself ensuring everything was ready for their arrival. Rooms had been arranged, the kitchens were preparing Laena's favourite foods, and the maester's supplies had been freshly restocked. The servants indulged her, despite the fact that she'd already double checked the details, well aware of the turmoil their Lord and Lady had experienced ever since word of their daughter's impending return had been announced. They didn't know the details of course, and perhaps they thought she simply wanted everything to be perfect, but she was grateful to them all the same.
It wasn't until Vhagar's great shadow swept over High Tide, announcing her return with a roar that Caraxes echoed, that Rhaenys felt as if she could breathe again. Through her bond with Meleys, she'd felt the confirmation of what she'd already known; Vhagar's roar had been a greeting, not the sound of a dragon who had lost their rider.
If something had befallen Laena after she'd written the letter, Vhagar would be in mourning.
Rhaenys reminds herself of this now, as she stands on the steps descending to the shore where the dragons made their home in the cliff side, her heart racing as she waits for Laena to round the bend, clutching Corlys' hand in a bruising grip. They're alone, as it had been decided that Laenor and Rhaenyra would stay back with their children, just in case something had befallen Laena. She's grateful for the precaution, if only because it allows her to lean on her husband as they wait, something she'd tried to avoid doing too much in the presence of her grandchildren.
Laughter floats towards them on the wind, bright and childlike, and a moment later, Baela and Rhaena come into view. They've grown since Rhaenys last visited them, their eyes alight with joy from the flight, their hair windswept, and Rhaenys allows the sight of them to soothe her.
And then Laena is there. She walks steadily along the shifting sands, arm in arm with Daemon, a touch that seems more companionable than supportive, alive and well, and even at this distance Rhaenys feels blinded by the sight of her smile.
Corlys exhales a shaky breath beside her, and Rhaenys moves forward.
She doesn't run. She walks, her pace a little faster than usual, Corlys half a step in front of her, her attention fixed solely on her daughter. It's Corlys that the girls reach first, tackling him around the waist with cries of greeting, and Rhaenys allows her focus to shift just enough to brush her hand over their heads as she passes them, promising herself that she'll greet them properly later.
Laena releases Daemon's arm and crosses the last few paces between them in a rush that's almost a run, and then she's in Rhaenys' arms, and everything else falls away.
She presses her face against her daughter's hair, breathing in the smell of dragon and salt and life, and cares not for the way her voice chokes when she breathes, 'I'm so glad you're here'.
Here, alive and well and in her arms at last. The gods are so often cruel, but in this, it seems they heard her prayers.
Laena holds her tight, as if she too needs the physical reminder that she's here with her, and exhales a wet laugh against her shoulder. 'I'm glad to be home'.
Rhaenys pulls back finally, cradling Laena's face in her hands and peering at her closely. Her daughter smiles at her, bright and fond, and squeezes her wrists gently. 'I'm well, mother. Truly'.
And she looks it. Rhaenys had doubted the wisdom of Laena flying so soon after her ordeal, and would have even if it had been an easy birth. And yet there's a healthy flush to Laena's cheeks, a spring in her step, and she moves with far more ease than a woman should after giving birth.
As unusual as it is, Rhaenys can only feel grateful. She smiles, hoping Laena doesn't notice the way it trembles, and murmurs, 'you look well'.
Laena kisses her cheek, and says, 'come meet your new grandson'.
Rhaenys feels her heart soar. With all her worry for Laena, she'd barely spared a thought for the babe. Now she takes a steadying breath, wiping a few stray tears from her cheeks, and follows Laena towards where Daemon is standing with Corlys. Before she reaches them, there's a blur of movement, and two pairs of small, wiry arms wrap around her waist. She laughs, bending a little to wrap her arms around her granddaughters, watching out of the corner of her eye as Corlys sweeps Laena into his arms like she's a child again, and the knot that's been present in her chest ever since she received the raven finally loosens.
'No greetings for me, cousin?'
Her granddaughters giggle at their father's words, and Rhaenys hides her smile against Rhaena's hair. 'I do believe your father feels left out, sweet girls'.
Daemon makes a mock affronted sound. 'A dragon does not like to be ignored'.
Rhaenys rolls her eyes, releasing her granddaughters and turning at last to face her cousin with a skeptical look. 'I do believe there was a time when you insisted on greeting the children before even the King'.
Daemon grins, and beckons her closer. 'Then come and meet our newest hatchling'.
She hadn't noticed earlier, far too focused on reuniting with her daughter, but there's a sling crafted from sturdy fabric and leather tied across his chest. It's a familiar garment, one that she's worn herself many times, but what surprises her is how at ease he looks wearing it. She approaches slowly, and he tilts his body towards her, carefully pulling back the fabric to reveal the babe's face.
Rhaenys' breath catches. Time always has a peculiar way of making her forget just how small newborns are, and this babe is no exception. The boy's chubby cheek is squished against his father's chest, and yet he seems content, in that way babes often are when pressed close to their parent's heartbeat. He has Laena's colouring, though his features resemble Daemon's at that age, and when his eyes open, they're a pale violet, a shade she hasn't seen since…
She swallows tightly, stretching out a finger to carefully brush a curl away from the babe's forehead. 'His name?'
'Aemon'. She looks up at him quickly, but Daemon's eyes are on his son, something almost soft in his gaze. 'It seemed fitting'. His gaze darts to her, as quick and sharp as his smile. 'Caraxes certainly thought so'.
A strangled sound escapes her, and she clears her throat sharply. She hadn't expected her cousin to notice the resemblance. Or perhaps she simply hadn't expected him to remember her father at all.
For a long moment, she says nothing, staring at him as he gazes down at his son, and realises that if she told him it is good to see him, it would be true. Yet such sentiments haven't been easy between them in years, and so instead she rests a hand on his arm, and murmurs, 'fatherhood suits you, cousin'.
She'd thought it before, when she first saw him with the twins after they'd been born, and noted the change in him. But she's never said it aloud, and she watches something like surprise flicker across his face, before settling into a pleased expression. Aemon's tiny hand curls around her finger, a soft, gurgling noise escaping him, and Daemon covers her hand at his arm, a quick, brief squeeze. He says nothing, because there's no need to.
'So', she says, once she's sure her voice will remain steady, easing her finger from the babe's grip, 'when can we expect to meet this healer of yours?'
It's Baela who answers, tugging sharply on her sleeve and pointing back towards the cliffs. 'She's over there!'
Rhaenys shoots Laena a questioning look. Laena shrugs. 'It made more sense to bring her with us than to send her with the household via ship'.
Rhaenys arches an eyebrow. 'And you left her with Vhagar, unguarded?'
Laena and Daemon exchange an oddly weighted look, and Rhaenys frowns slightly. Laena turns to the girls, and says, 'come, we'll go ahead with your grandfather'. She smiles when the girls begin to grumble, and says, 'your uncle Laenor and aunt Rhaenyra are waiting to receive us. Don't you want to meet your cousins?'
It seems the prospect of meeting more children their age is enough, and the girls hurry ahead as Corlys extends his arm to Laena. Daemon watches them go with that small, shockingly tender smile, and then turns to address her. 'Come, cousin. Let me introduce you to our miracle worker'.
She takes his offered arm, pausing briefly to adjust the fabric of his sling so that the babe is protected from the wind, and says, 'miracle worker? I didn't think you believed in such things'.
His smile slips, and there's something almost haunted about the look in his eyes. 'I can think of no other way to describe what she did. Without her…'
He leaves the sentence unfinished, and Rhaenys is glad of it. She gives his arm a squeeze, and murmurs, 'then let us thank the Fourteen that she was there'. They round the bend in the shore, and Vhagar's towering form comes into view. 'And pray that Vhagar hasn't made a meal of her'.
Daemon's smirk is familiar to her, and yet it feels utterly out of place given the situation. They walk in an oddly companionable silence, an ease between them that hasn't been present since their youth, and as they get closer, Meleys appears from behind Vhagar's bulk, swinging her head around towards them to trill a greeting.
It's not unusual to see Meleys and Vhagar together, and she's not surprised to see Caraxes there too, as they must've become at least comfortable with each other during their time in Pentos. Even the sight of Syrax and Seasmoke isn't a surprise, as they often nest close to Meleys when Rhaenyra and Laenor visit Driftmark.
What is odd is how close they're all clustered. Vhagar especially is known to prefer her own space, and with the exception of Meleys and Caraxes, the dragons usually give her a wide berth.
And yet Vhagar, with her great bulk laying on the sand, seems unbothered by how close the younger dragons are, even as they all shuffle close to her head.
Rhaenys frowns. Now that they're closer, she can see that it's not Vhagar they're all clustered around, but rather a figure standing by her head. As she watches, Meleys lowers her head again, nudging Seasmoke aside so that she can bring her snout close to the figure, and through their bond Rhaenys senses a deep curiosity from her dragon, and something like… confusion?
Daemon slows to a halt, and gestures in a rather dramatic fashion. 'As you can see, our healer is in no danger'.
The healer turns at that, though she couldn't possibly have heard him at that distance, and Rhaenys stares.
The woman is incredibly tall, and while she looks older than Rhaenys, age does not appear to have withered her. Her long, silver white hair indicates Valyrian heritage, not at all unusual for the people of the Free Cities, but her eyes are gold, a striking, shockingly bright colour that seems to glow in the shifting light.
For a wild moment, Rhaenys thinks of her namesake's dragon, who was said to have scales of the brightest silver, and eyes of molten gold.
The woman meets her gaze, and Rhaenys feels the connection like a knock against her ribs. She watches as the woman returns her attention to the gathered dragons, bows her head, and then turns to walk up the beach towards them.
Normally, Rhaenys would consider it foolish, to turn one's back on a dragon, never mind multiple dragons. But the woman walks towards them as if she's taking a casual stroll along the shore, uncaring of the danger at her back, her hands folded into the long sleeves of her Pentoshi style robe. Rhaenys' gaze drifts to the dragons behind her, their attention fixed on her retreating figure, and yet there's no hint of aggression in their body language.
It's almost unnerving.
The woman reaches them at last, and Rhaenys is struck again by how tall she is. She stands at least a head above her, and Rhaenys herself is considered tall for a woman.
Daemon inclines his head slightly, a gesture of respect few could claim to have earned from him, and says, 'Rhaenys, this is Asha'Bellenar, the healer who saved Laena's life'. He touches the small bundle cradled securely to his chest. 'And the life of my son'.
Rhaenys extends her hand, finding she cares little for formalities when it comes to this woman to whom she owes so much. 'I owe you my thanks', she meets those golden eyes, hoping to convey what words will never be enough to express, 'and more. My daughter is…' she swallows, her throat tightening as her thoughts linger on what might have come to pass. 'I owe you a great debt'.
To her surprise, the woman takes her hand, and bends to brush her lips over her knuckles. The touch lingers like a brand. 'Please, call me Flemeth', she has a surprisingly deep voice, a husk that curls in the air like a plume of smoke, 'Asha'Bellenar is more of a title'.
Rhaenys blinks, aware of the warmth and strength in the hand still holding her own, and murmurs, 'well then, thank you for saving my daughter, and my grandson, Flemeth'.
Flemeth smiles, a small curve of her lips that deepens the creases at the corners of her eyes, and inclines her head slightly. 'You're welcome, Rhaenys'.
The sound of her name on Flemeth's tongue has something warm running down the length of her spine. It's entirely too informal, and yet Rhaenys doesn't correct her, even though she should. Instead she gives Flemeth's hand a squeeze before she pulls away, and says, 'will you dine with us this evening?'
Flemeth let's out a bark of laughter. 'Me, a humble healer, dining with royalty?' Her eyes glitter with amusement. 'How could I decline?'
Daemon chuckles. 'The girls will be delighted'.
Rhaenys had almost forgotten he was there. There's a glint in his eyes that she can't decipher, but she suspects he greatly enjoyed her surprise at the sight of their 'humble' healer. Whatever Flemeth's true nature, she's sure he'll have plenty of theories to discuss with her later.
This time, it's Flemeth who offers her arm, and Rhaenys takes it after a moment's hesitation. She can't deny she's curious, even if that curiosity is currently buried beneath her gratitude. Daemon leads the way, and she catches soft words on the wind as he whispers to his son.
She adjusts her grip on Flemeth's arm as they walk, becoming aware as she does of the warmth that radiates from her body. It reminds her, oddly enough, of the heat of Meleys' scales. She shakes that thought away, turning her head towards her companion as she says, 'you said Asha'Bellenar was a title?'
Flemeth hums. 'I did. It means, 'the woman of many years".
A curious title. More curious, perhaps, that she accepted it. There aren't many she can think of who would be pleased to essentially be called, 'old woman'.
She glances up to find Flemeth watching her, almost expectantly, and she says, 'you can't be much older than me, surely'.
It isn't what she intended to say, but Flemeth smiles, a quick, sharp slant of her lips. 'Appearances can be rather deceptive, don't you agree, Princess?'
As they round the bend in the cove, Rhaenys glances back. She's not really surprised to find the dragons staring after them. After Flemeth.
She meets Flemeth's gaze with a smile of her own. 'That I do'.
Upon their return to High Tide, Daemon deposits little Aemon into Laena's arms before slipping away to change out of his riding leathers, and Rhaenys watches fondly as Laena introduces her newborn son to Laenor and Rhaenyra. Laenor beams as he beholds his nephew, just as Corlys had, and Rhaenyra smiles softly, her hand resting against the small of Laena's back. Rhaenys notes the touch, but makes no comment on it, not here, where they're free from any who might use that familiarity against them.
Someone, presumably Corlys, has ordered a crib to be set beside the dining table, one that was last used when Joffrey spent time here as a babe, and as soon as Laena sets Aemon down, the boys gather close to stare, Baela and Rhaena following them wearing identical expressions of amusement.
With Laena watching over them, Rhaenys takes the opportunity to introduce Flemeth to the other adults present. Laenor looks as openly stunned as she'd expected, and while Rhaenya's reaction is more muted, and Rhaenys suspects that Laena had told Rhaenyra a little more about the woman who saved her life privately. Corlys simply welcomes Flemeth with a warm smile and open gratitude, and Rhaenys remembers his tales of the people of Leng, who towered above even him. It is rather amusing, to see him tilt his head up to speak to her.
There's little chance to exchange more than brief greetings, as a moment later, her granddaughters become aware of Flemeth's presence, and just as Daemon predicted, their delight is obvious. They grasp fistfuls of her robe, pulling her over to meet their cousins, who they've clearly bonded with already, despite having just met them.
It's the kind of enthusiasm usually reserved for Rhaenys and Corlys, as the beloved grandparents they see so infrequently, but Rhaenys finds she doesn't mind. She's not sure how much the twins know about what almost happened to their mother, but it's clear they know Flemeth is responsible for saving her. It's hardly surprising she's become a favourite.
Besides, the sight of Flemeth surrounded by so many children, none of whom stand higher than her waist, looking utterly bemused as they bombard her with questions, is worth sharing the attention of her grandchildren.
She'd seen Flemeth stand among their dragons without so much as a hint of fear, and yet the look she shoots Rhaenys when the children begin to argue about which of them will sit next to her is so alarmed that Rhaenys can't help the laugh that escapes her.
Still, she intervenes, a smile playing about her lips as she herds her grandchildren towards the table. It's the least she can do, after all.
In the end, Flemeth takes a seat to Corlys' right at the head of the table, with Joffrey placed beside her. She seems content with this, perhaps because of all the children, Joffrey seems the most intimidated by her, and she assumes he's unlikely to bombard her with questions.
She's in for a surprise. It never takes long for Joffrey's curious nature to win out over his fears. Laenor sits on his other side, as Joffrey's still at an age where he tends to end the night half asleep in someone's lap, and he's leaning to the side, whispering to his father, undoubtedly gathering the courage to turn to address the woman who towers above him, even seated.
Rhaenys finds herself seated opposite them between her granddaughters, who are delighted to have her to themselves. At the other end of the table, Rhaenyra and Laena sit close together, their heads bent as the speak quietly among themselves, leaving Daemon to entertain Jace and Luke when he joins them.
Rhaenys smiles as she observes her family, feeling more content than she has in some time. It's been years since they've all been together like this, and the last time they were, the children were not yet born.
It reminds her of the days of her youth, when the Red Keep's halls were still welcoming, when her parents were still alive, and her aunts and uncles were still with them. Time has dulled her memory of those days, but she remembers the warmth of her grandfather's laugh, and the twinkle to her grandmother's eyes when she smiled.
She shakes away the melancholy feeling that rises in her chest at the memory of what was lost, focusing her attention on the present just in time to see Corlys turn to address Flemeth. 'You have done a great service to our family. Laena made it very clear that neither she nor my grandson would be here if not for your intervention'.
Rhaenys watches Flemeth closely. She had Corlys had briefly discussed the matter of rewarding the healer, in an attempt to distract themselves from their worry. They'd assumed it was partly why Daemon and Laena had decided to bring her back to Westeros with them, as there was little that House Velaryon would be unable to offer her. Whether it was gold and riches that the healer desired, or the stability of a position among their household, Corlys and Rhaenys had agreed that she would have it.
Flemeth inclines her head in acknowledgement. Corlys glances down the table towards Laena, and says, 'our gratitude is worth more than simple words. You shall be rewarded, with whatever you wish'. The corner of his mouth twitches. 'Within reason, of course'.
'I appreciate the offer, Lord Corlys, but it is unnecessary. The privilege of riding Vhagar was reward enough'.
Corlys blinks, and Rhaenys sees her own surprise reflected in his eyes. He opens his mouth, perhaps to insist, when Joffrey, having overcome his nerves, turns to Flemeth, and says in a rush, 'you rode Vhagar?'
Flemeth blinks, and looks down at him as if she'd forgotten he was there. 'Well, your aunt rode her. Vhagar was simply kind enough to accept me as a passenger'.
There's a certain… familiarity to her voice when she speaks of Vhagar. A lack of awe usually present when others speak of their dragons. Rhaenys is reminded of how she stood among them, and her curiosity returns at once.
Despite his young age, Joffrey seems to recognise how unusual Flemeth's manner is, because he frowns up at her. 'Do you know a lot about dragons?'
Flemeth smiles. 'You could say that'.
'How?'
'I've seen much over the years'. Despite her earlier unease among the children, Flemeth answers his questions readily, and doesn't seem to soften her words simply because he's a child. 'There are always places where the mysteries of the world can be coaxed to reveal themselves'.
Jace leans across his father, the manners he usually takes so seriously forgotten in place of a child's enthusiasm. 'Have you travelled as much as grandsire?'
Flemeth glances at Corlys, tilting her head in consideration. 'I cannot say'.
Corlys laughs. 'Perhaps we should compare notes'.
'Oh, grandsire', Luke can barely sit still in his eagerness, as is often the way when he knows he's about to hear one of Corlys' many tales, 'tell her about the Kingdom of Ifequevron!'
Corlys has never been one to turn down an opportunity to speak of his voyages, and certainly not when it's requested by his grandchildren. He settles back in his chair, a goblet of wine in hand, and begins to weave his tale. It's not long before one turns into many, and Rhaenys takes a sip of her wine to hide her smile.
To some, it may appear as if Corlys is simply boasting, and yet Rhaenys knows her husband all too well. There's a purpose to the tales he shares that goes beyond a desire to entertain their grandchildren, or to impress their guest.
Flemeth claims to have travelled extensively, and so Corlys has decided to test the truth of her words by measuring his knowledge against her own. It's masterfully done; a casual question directed towards her whenever he reaches the end of a tale. Her impression of the Black Walls of Volantis, whether she'd rather face the biting cold of the Shivering Sea or the sweltering heat of the jungles of Yi Ti, and which she believes would be more foolish; to sail into the Smoking Sea or to venture into the Shadow Lands.
Her answers, as short or cryptic as they may be, indicate knowledge that can only come with experience. Experience one certainly wouldn't expect of a 'humble' healer.
And yet Rhaenys notes that Flemeth seems entirely aware of what Corlys is doing, and still she answers all the same. She doesn't bristle under the questioning, or decline to comment, but rather crafts her answers in such a way that confirms her knowledge, and yet reveals very little about herself on a personal level. And she does it all with a faint, amused smile tugging at the corner of her mouth.
It's… intriguing.
Flemeth meets her gaze across the table, and her smile widens. Rhaenys, feeling far too much like she's been caught staring, turns her attention down the table towards the rest of her family. Laena and Laenor, having heard their father's tales countless times, are talking quietly together, no doubt catching each other up on what the other has missed over the years. Daemon seems to be torn between focusing on the conversation and keeping his attention on his infant son, sound asleep in the crib beside him.
Rhaenyra, however, observes the conversation between Flemeth and Corlys with rapt attention, her gaze barely straying from the woman. There's a look in her eyes that Rhaenys has witnessed before, in her time spent tutoring the young woman, a look that tells her Rhaenyra is plotting something.
It's not until they've finished their meal, the children groaning in protest as they're ushered off to prepare for bed, that Rhaenyra makes her move. Instead of following her children, she moves towards Flemeth, waiting until the woman turns to look at her before she says, 'would you join us in Lord Corlys' solar after the children are settled? There is something I wish to ask of you'.
Flemeth's gaze is sharp and assessing as she considers Rhaenyra's words, and whatever might lie behind them. After a moment, she inclines her head, and when Rhaenyra turns to leave, Rhaenys sees something remarkably like hope in her eyes.
She's not sure she's seen that look in her good-daughter since Aemma died.
Later, when they've all gathered in the solar, the children safely tucked into bed, wine poured and set on the low table between them, Flemeth settles in a chair by the fire, and says, 'what is it you wish of me?'
Rhaenyra hesitates, twisting the rings on her fingers, her eyes flickering briefly to Laena, before she says, 'from what I've heard, I believe it would be accurate to say that your knowledge of medicine far surpasses that of the maesters'.
Flemeth swirls the wine in her goblet, her gaze roaming between them all, as if noting their reactions. 'One might say that, yes'.
Rhaenyra seems to steady herself. 'My father has been ill for some time, and recently… his condition seems to be declining rapidly. The maesters attending him can do naught but ease his pain, and they seem to have no answers in regards to what actually plagues him. I would have you return with us to King's Landing and examine him. You may succeed where the maesters have failed'.
Rhaenys blinks, the only outward indication that she's surprised. Rhaenyra has spoken to her of Viserys' health, and Rhaenys has seen glimpses of his fragility herself, but this is the first time she's heard her good-daughter speak of it so frankly. Perhaps it's because she's believed for so long that there was nothing to be done, and the hope that Flemeth's knowledge might provide has turned away her fears.
That complicated twist of emotions she feels towards Viserys makes itself known in her chest, as it so often does when she lingers on the thought of cousin. Across from her, she sees Daemon straighten, and wonders how similar their feelings might be. His would be worse, she knows. At least Viserys never banished her from court on the whim of his Hand.
It's Daemon who fills the silence, stepping forward to stand beside Laena's chair. 'My brother may be many things, but he would reward you well, should you succeed'.
Rhaenys watches Flemeth's face carefully for a reaction. She had wondered, when Flemeth turned down their offers to reward her, whether it was a strategic manoeuvre. Whether she intended to leverage that debt, to reach for something higher, and if there was anything she desired that was beyond them to give, who better to grant it to her than the King?
Flemeth only waves her hand in a dismissive gesture. 'I have no need for such a thing, and even less desire for it'.
Rhaenyra frowns, the knowledge that Flemeth hasn't responded to her words turning her spine stiff. 'Well?'
Flemeth tilts her head, casting half of her face into shadow. The firelight highlights the high rise of her cheekbones, and the sharp slant of her jaw, reflecting oddly in her eye, and Rhaenys is reminded of the first time she saw Meleys' great head emerging from the dark in the Dragonpit, the shadows cradling her close, one bright eye fixed upon her.
She watches Flemeth lift her goblet to her lisp, and for a moment the gold of her irises bleeds red, as if reflecting the wine from below. 'And if I'm inclined to refuse?'
Rhaenyra blinks. 'Why would you?'
Flemeth's shoulders twitch in what might be a shrug. 'Why should I agree? I would not be welcomed there. A foreigner from the East with knowledge not vetted by the Citadel? And an old woman at that? How long would it be before the Faith brands me a witch?'
Rhaenys leans forward to catch the woman's eye, steel edging her voice when she says, 'you would be protected. Should you aid us, and become the subject of someone's ire because of it, no harm would come to you. Meleys and I would see to it personally'.
Flemeth turns that golden gaze on her, and something in her face softens a little. 'The protection of the Red Queen is no small thing', she says, an acknowledgement and a compliment in one, 'nor is that of her rider'.
Through their bond, Rhaenys senses that Meleys is pleased, and the corner of her mouth twitches. 'Then will you aid us?'
Flemeth hums. 'Its not that I don't wish to aid you. Rather, I see little point in aiding him'.
Daemon stiffens. 'He is the King -'
'He is your King, young man, not mine. A poor King, by all accounts. A man who would rather leave the running of the realm to those with their own self interest, and who is deaf to the consequences, as he only hears those who whisper false praise in his ear. Were you not living in Pentos because he'd banished you from his side? Did he not allow you and your good father to go to war he was intent on avoiding, and yet accept the benefits once you achieved victory?' Flemeth's words are harsh, but her voice is not. She watches Daemon with a look that is almost pitying. 'Do not turn your ire on me. I have said nothing that you have not said yourself'.
It's true. Rhaenys has heard Daemon's frustrations before. Perhaps that's why he remains silent, a muscle jumping in his jaw, his hand tight on the pommel of his sword. Laena lays her hand over his.
'My father is guilty of all those things, and more'. Rhaenyra sounds strained, though whether it's because even now, she loves her father and struggles to acknowledge his faults, or whether it's because the words come dangerously close to treason, even if she's in safe company, Rhaenys couldn't say. 'But to allow him die when there is a chance he may be made well again…'
'Valar Morghulis', the High Valyrian rolls from her tongue with ease, 'perhaps it is simply his time. And if so, who am I to change it?'
Laena leans forward then, a puzzled look furrowing her brow. 'If you believe such things, why save me?'
It's a good question, and the shadows seem to darken for a moment, heavy with the knowledge of what would have come to pass, had Flemeth not been present. Rhaenys restrains herself from reaching for her daughter, watching Daemon's hand settle on her shoulder in silent support.
Flemeth glances at Laena, her voice softening just a fraction. 'It was not your time, dear girl'. The corner of her mouth curls. 'And you are no man'.
Rhaenyra sucks in a sharp breath. 'You would allow my father to die simply because he's a man?'
Flemeth raises a brow. 'Should I not judge him on the sole reason he became King?'
There's a beat of tense silence. Rhaenys shares a glance with Corlys, noting the satisfied look in his eyes with some amusement. It's rare to hear anyone outside their small circle voice such an opinion. It's oddly gratifying, to know that there are those in Essos, far from the politics of the Iron Throne, that share the opinion.
'It cannot be his time yet', Rhaenyra says at last, her voice firm, 'I do not believe the gods would see fit to take him at a time where his death would plunge the Realm into chaos'.
'Oh? What chaos do you speak of?'
Rhaenyra smiles, a wry, humourless thing, and Rhaenys is somewhat startled to recognise herself in her good-daughter. 'A wise woman once warned me that men would sooner put the realm to the torch than see a woman ascend the Iron Throne'.
Flemeth scoffs, a sharp, derisive sound. 'An unfortunate truth in many places. You believe it will come to war'.
'I do'.
'Ah'. Flemeth turns her gaze towards the hearth, and there's a strange weight to her words as she murmurs, 'a precipice of change'.
For a long moment, she says nothing else. There's a tense silence, and though Rhaenys is tempted to glance at her family, she finds she can't tear her gaze from the woman.
There had been something almost playful about the way she was speaking. Despite her words, there was no cruelty in her voice, and her manner was almost light, as if she was stating simple facts that she had no real investment in.
Something has changed. She stares into the flames not in the manner of one whose mind is elsewhere, but with intense focus, and the firelight reflects in her eyes until they seem to glow.
Flemeth turns abruptly towards Rhaenyra, and the shadows leap back, as if flinching away from her. 'Convince me'.
Rhaenyra blinks, understandably thrown by the sudden shift. 'What?'
'You are your father's heir, and yet there are those you will have to convince of your right to rule simply because you are a woman. So', Flemeth leans back in her chair, her manner almost lazy, even as her eyes remain fixed on Rhaenyra, 'convince me'.
Rhaenyra glances at Rhaenys, a quick, almost imperceptible thing, and Rhaenys gives her a small, encouraging smile. This is, after all, what she's been helping Rhaenyra prepare for. Her tutelage might not be as thorough as they would both prefer, with Rhaenyra having to return to King's Landing so often, but Rhaenys has flown to Dragonstone every time she returns, imparting the lessons she once learned as her father's heir far from the watchful eyes of the Red Keep.
And while Rhaenyra can't have been expecting to utilise those lessons to convince someone like Flemeth, Rhaenys is confident that she's ready.
Rhaenyra straightens her shoulders, her gaze sharpening as she regards Flemeth, and her voice is clear when she says, 'very well. I will need a moment'.
Flemeth inclines her head, and Rhaenyra retreats to stand before one of the many windows, her hands clasped in front of her. A sound tactic. All negotiations are expected to be granted time, and she worded it not as a request, but as a given.
Rhaenys finds herself considering the matter. Flemeth has made it clear she has no interest in receiving riches, and Rhaenys senses that a reward of lands and titles would be similarly pointless. Additionally, Flemeth feels no loyalty to the Crown, and has a poor opinion of the man who wears it, so there will be no appealing to a sense of duty.
Viserys might think to command her as King, uncaring that she isn't one of his subjects, but that would be as unwise as it would be pointless.
No, Rhaenyra will have to think of something else. Something less orthodox, maybe.
When Rhaenyra turns from the window, there's a determined set to her jaw, and she strides purposefully across the room to join them, coming to a halt across from Flemeth. She doesn't sit, which allows her to stand a little above the woman.
'I wish to avoid war', Rhaenyra begins, her voice strong and steady, 'as I have no wish to rule over a kingdom of ash'.
Flemeth blinks slowly. 'You would be a poor ruler if you did'.
Her expression remains blank, and yet the words sound almost approving. Rhaenyra inclines her head, and continues, 'my hope is that I will have time to consolidate my position before my father's death, but there are those who have been scheming to see another on the throne for far longer than I have been heir'.
Daemon makes a low, furious noise. 'And Viserys refuses to see how his Hand works against you'.
'Just as he is blind to the way his own actions weaken your position'. Corlys has remained a silent, watchful sentinel for most of the proceedings, but he adds his voice now. Here, his council is heard, rather than dismissed, as it so often is on the Small Council.
Rhaenyra acknowledges them both with a nod, though her attention remains on Flemeth. 'As things stand, should my father die before my position is strengthened, there will be war. And while I and my allies might hold back on utilising our dragons, the same cannot be said for the Hand. He will use my half siblings and their dragons, whether they wish it or not. And if our dragons are forced to meet on the battlefield, death is inevitable. Dragons will fall'.
Rhaenys imagines Meleys plummeting from the sky, and banishes the image before it can lodge in her mind.
Flemeth tilts her head slightly, regarding Rhaenyra with interest. 'You're appealing to me through your dragons'.
It's phrased as a statement rather than a question, but Rhaenyra nods. 'You told Laena that it was Vhagar's cries that drew you to her. There are few left in the world who would care for a dragon's distress beyond their own immediate safety'. She pauses, and for a moment Rhaenys senses she's on the verge of asking the question they've all considered voicing. But she stays focused, and continues, 'whatever your motives, wherever your knowledge of them comes from, you care for their well being'.
Flemeth smiles. It's a sharp thing, a quick slant of her mouth that reveals the points of her canines, and her eyes gleam with amusement. 'Clever girl. Very well, I will help you'.
Pride swells in Rhaenys' chest, and when Rhaenyra turns towards her, her relief barely restrained behind her eyes, Rhaenys smiles at her, letting her approval show. Rhaenyra exhales a sharp breath, and inclines her head towards Flemeth. 'Thank you, Flemeth'.
Flemeth huffs, a wry sound, but her eyes soften a fraction. 'Don't thank me, child. I haven't saved him yet'.
Her warning does nothing to dim the lightness in the air. Rhaenys can hardly blame them. Given what Flemeth has already prevented, after so many of their family have succumbed to the same fate in childbirth, what is a mere illness in comparison?
'We should depart soon'. Like his father, Laenor had chosen to observe for most of the conversation, and Rhaenys watches the way Rhaenyra leans into the supportive hand he places at her elbow with a small smile. Theirs may not be a love match, but there's love there, however unconventional. 'The King's health may decline rapidly in our absence'.
'On the morrow, then?' Daemon's eagerness is hardly surprising, as he's ever been a man of action. He looks down at Laena, hesitating for a beat before he adds. 'Introducing Viserys to his nieces and nephew would be the perfect excuse to visit'.
Laena grimaces a little. 'As much as I'd rather keep them away from the Red Keep, the Hand is certain to spin our absence into a slight'.
'It would certainly send a message, should we all descend on dragonback'. Rhaenys allows herself a moment to picture the look on Otto Hightower's face, and doesn't quite manage to quell her smile. 'A reminder of what the Lords of the Realm will face, should they side with the Hand'.
With that decided, the specifics to be ironed out on the morrow, Rhaenys makes the decision to end the evening there, shooing them off to bed. They'll need their rest, she argues, if not for the flight then certainly to endure the scrutiny of the court. Corlys departs with them, wishing to check on his grandchildren before he retires for the night, and Rhaenys turns towards Flemeth as the doors shut behind them. 'Come', she says, 'I'll show you to your room'.
Flemeth rises from the chair, and Rhaenys finds she'd forgotten just how tall she is. Her lips quirk in a teasing way, and that playful manner seems to return to her. 'A task below a Princess, surely'.
Rhaenys feels a smile tug at the corner of her mouth. 'You are our honoured guest. If I wish to see to your comfort personally, then I shall'.
Flemeth's smile widens, and the weight of her gaze feels like a physical warmth against her skin. 'By all means then. Lead the way'.
They move in silence through the halls of High Tide, and Rhaenys is glad for a moment to compose herself. So much has happened since Vhagar and Caraxes alighted on Driftmark's shores, the implications of it all causing her mind to spin a little. She's been so focused on her relief that Laena is alive and well, on her delight at having another grandson, on her joy at having her family all together again, that the rest hasn't quite registered yet.
Part of her wishes that they could delay their departure a little longer. That she could enjoy her family's company away from the dangers of the Red Keep. But if Viserys can be healed, perhaps he can be convinced to listen at last. It would certainly make Rhaenyra's task easier, if she had her father's support. She's not confident that much will change, however. Viserys stopped listening to anyone but his Hand long before he fell ill. The time his recovery may grant them will have to be enough.
And then there's the woman walking silently beside her, close enough that Rhaenys imagines she can feel the warmth radiating from her. She wants to know how Flemeth knows so much about dragons, how she's so familiar with them, why they behaved the way they did around her. How she managed to heal Laena, and why her daughter appears fully recovered.
She keeps them to herself, for its easy to reveal far too much through simple questions. She'd rather consult with Daemon and Laena first. Perhaps then she won't go into the conversation blind.
If Flemeth even deigned to answer her questions.
She shakes herself from her musings when they reach their destination, and she turns to face the woman, tilting her head towards the door. 'Here we are. You will join us in breaking our fast before we depart tomorrow, I assume?'
Flemeth's eyes seem too bright in the shadowed hall, as if they contain a light of their own, and Rhaenys can't help the way her breath catches. 'If it is your wish, Princess'.
Rhaenys finds her voice, pleased at how unaffected she sounds. 'It is'.
'Then I shall'.
As Flemeth slips past her into the chamber, a thought occurs to Rhaenys, and she says, 'Flemeth?'
Flemeth turns, and with the room behind her shrouded in darkness, there's little Rhaenys can see of her face but the glow of her eyes. 'Yes?'
Rhaenys shifts to the side a little so that she's not blocking the light cast from the brazier standing in the hall. It doesn't do much, but it allows her to see Flemeth's face, at least. 'Am I correct in thinking that you'd decided to help us before Rhaenyra 'convinced' you?'
Flemeth laughs. It's a warm, delighted sound, and Rhaenys feels rather pleased to have coaxed such a genuine reaction from the woman. The laughter lingers in the creases at the corners of her eyes as she says, 'perhaps I had'.
'Then why the test?'
'I knew that if I helped you, I'd be helping to place Rhaenyra on the throne, however far in the future that may be. I wished to know the measure of the girl I'd be supporting'.
And she'd clearly approved of what she'd seen. That flame of pride warms Rhaenys' heart again, and she inclines her head. She turns to go, and pauses again. 'Out of interest, when did you decide to help us?'
The smile she receives is as warm and genuine as the laughter still lingering in the air between them. 'Why, when you asked, of course'.
Corlys stirs when she slips into bed, and she murmurs an apology for waking him as he draws her into his arms. 'No need', he murmurs, and as he props himself up on his elbow to look down at her, she sees he's much more alert than she'd thought, 'I was waiting for you'.
She sighs, leaning up to press a kiss to his cheek, and says, 'will you depart with us on the morrow?'
Years ago, when they used to divide their time between King's Landing and Driftmark, Corlys would set sail a few days before her, allowing them to arrive around the same time, depending on the conditions at sea.
He makes a thoughtful noise, running his hand up and down her side in a soothing manner. 'I had thought to ride with you all, actually'.
She shoots him a surprised look. It's well known he prefers to sail when he can, though there have been times he's joined her upon Meleys. 'It's unlike you to volunteer to fly with us, husband'.
He smiles, a familiar glint lighting his eyes. 'Perhaps I don't wish to miss the Hand's reaction to our new friend'.
She snorts at that, a rare inelegant sound that few but her husband have heard. 'A sound reason'.
'Though perhaps I might ride with Laenor, as a change. You would be free to take Flemeth upon Meleys'.
There's a familiar knowing note to his voice, and she narrows her eyes at him. He chuckles, easing back into the pillows, and she shifts to rest her head on his chest. She's quiet for a moment, considering their guest, before she murmurs, 'what do you think of her?'
He's seen many things on his travels, after all. He hums, his fingers playing absently with her hair, and says, 'she's certainly no humble healer. Laena and Daemon have been… tight lipped about what exactly happened, though I suspect that's out of a desire to shield her from those who might disapprove of her methods'.
Rhaenys frowns. 'Blood magic, do you think?' Such knowledge has been mostly shunned among their family since the time of Queen Visenya, and everything that came to pass with Maegor, though there were rumours that Queen Rhaena took up the study in her twilight years.
'Perhaps not blood magic, but certainly some type of sorcery'. He pauses, his words slower as he continues, as if he's trying to puzzle it out as he speaks. 'She's well travelled, and appeared familiar with my tales of Yi Ti and Asshai. They are lands well known for their knowledge and practice of magic'.
Rhaenys considers that. 'It might explain why she appears to know so much about dragons. Perhaps she's studied texts we thought lost with the Doom'.
'That, or she's a descendant of another family to escape the fate of Old Valyria'. He shrugs at her incredulous look. 'That is Daemon's theory, I believe'.
It's not certainly not impossible. House Velaryon escaped the Doom because their ancestors settled on Westeros long before Daenys' dream. And yet neither House Velaryon nor House Celtigar have ever demonstrated knowledge of dragons, as their ancestors were not dragonlords. That certainly doesn't fit with what they've seen of Flemeth. And even if she had acquired her knowledge through research in the far East, that doesn't explain the dragons strange behaviour around her.
Rhaenys grimaces, reaching up to pinch the bridge of her nose. She's beginning to get a headache, her mind twisting and turning in an attempt to make sense of a puzzle to which she doesn't have all the pieces. Corlys makes a sympathetic sound, sweeping her hair aside to rub his fingers carefully against the base of her skull. A soft sigh leaves her as the pressure behind her eyes begins to ease.
'At least she's on our side', she murmurs, her eyes drifting closed as the weight of the day finally catches up with her.
Corlys chuckles. 'Indeed. Whatever magic she wields, she'd be a dangerous enemy'. Even half asleep, she doesn't miss the delight in his voice. 'I'm rather eager to see how the Red Keep fares against her'.
She dreams of warm laughter upon the wind, and a dragon with golden eyes.
Notes:
the concept of these two has been bouncing around in my head for a while now and i finALLY came up with an idea that i think fits well into the story of hotd. so here i present the dragons milfs and my love for them hjksdf
there's an interview with eve best where she talks about wanting to do a rom com, and i immediately thought about the contrast of rhaenys experiencing a rom com while everyone else is dealing with the reality of westeros hsdkjf so this is basically that, while resolving the plot of the show.
i'm by no means an expert on asoiaf, so im doing my best with the help of the wiki to get all the lore details right etc, but please feel free to point out errors if you see them. but pls keep in mind im just writing this for fun. ive got the basic plot points worked out, and several dynamics i want to establish between the characters etc, but i'm very open to suggestions :)
next chapter the fam arrives in kings landing, corlys gets his entertainment, and helaena finally meets someone who understands her.
hope you enjoyed!!
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