Chapter Text
The King and his attendants startled when his chamber door slammed open, the decaying beta saved from meeting the ground only due to the quick thinking of a nearby servant. Rhaenyra payed them no mind though, far too caught up in her anger to give them more than a second of thought.
“Anyone who is not myself or the King can either get out or face my dragon.” Rhaenyras voice was cold but her eyes blazed as she locked gazes with her startled father. “I suggest you choose wisely.”
The room cleared rather quickly in the face of the wrathful Crown Princess, leaving Rhaenyra alone with her father. The man had struggled to his feet, a look of confusion upon his face as he approached his eldest daughter and Rhaenyra fought the urge to step back as he grew closer to her, swallowing her revulsion as his rotting scent invaded her senses.
“Rhaenyra, my dear girl.” Her father reached for her, his smile fond, but Rhaenyra couldn’t help but duck out of his reach. Twirling around him, she ignored his hurt expression as she stepped further into the room to avoid him.
“Tell the Kingsguard that we are not to be disturbed.” She swallowed, refusing to meet her father’s imploring gaze. “We need to speak and I do not wish to be interrupted.”
Viserys blinked in confusion but moved to do as she asked, leaving Rhaenyra to pace around the room. Ser Harrolds face betrayed no emotion as he nodded solemnly at his kings orders, but Rhaenyra did not miss the way his gaze darted between father and daughter. Rhaenyra slowed as he left, his gaze lingering on her for a mere moment. Digging her nails into her palm, the princess huffed a sigh as she reminded herself of his vows.
Of the vows of each and every guard in the Keep.
She could not harm her father, no matter how much she itched to. She ached with fury, her blood roaring in her ears as she restrained her anger. Her blood felt as if it was boiling in her veins, a sensation that had not abated ever since the maester had put Alicents letter into her hand.
Since she had been confronted with her childhood friend’s desperate pleas, begging her to protect her children. To not let them suffer as she had suffered, as Rhaenyras own mother had suffered.
She could not attack the king. Could not scratch his eyes out and finally give him an excuse for being so blind or take his tongue or his hearing so that he may finally have a reason to be so ignorant to what was happening. But Rhaenyra could make her fury clear, could spit cutting words at Viserys until he finally, finally, understood what he had done. The damage he had brought about.
“You know,” she spoke before the king could, coming to a stop before the fireplace, unable to draw her eyes from the flames. “I love you dearly, Father. You are the only parent I have left and you have entrusted me with so much.” Her voice was quiet, her gaze wistful as she watched the flames flicker. “You aim to be kind and unwavering in your quest for peace.”
“I am glad to hear that you think so, my dear girl.” Her father’s voice was hesitant, undoubtedly having realised that the bitter and angry scent that had filled the room did not match up with her words. Typical, Rhaenyra thought, that that was what he noticed.
Outside, Syrax let loose a fierce roar and the king startled at it. Her golden lady had stayed close to the Keep, close to her.
Rhaenyra resisted the urge to turn towards him. To rush to reassure him that she was not angry at him, to give into the hope that this whole thing was some simple misunderstanding and allow him to explain so. To tuck her head into his chest and soothe the hurt and rot that marred his own smokey scent. For her brothers sake, for Alicents sake, she could not give in.
Finally, Rhaenyra raised her eyes from the flames.
“But that is also why I hate you.” Her voice hardened with her heart, Rhaenyra finally turned her gaze upon her father. Queen Aemma stared down upon them, the flame casting shadows across her painted face. “Because you are a fool Father.”
Viserys stepped back, his face stricken at Rhaenyras words. Rhaenyra didn’t move a muscle, her gaze unreadable as she stared him down.
“And perhaps if you were not the King I could forgive you for being such a fool.” Rhaenyra tilted her head, making no move to steady Viserys as he collapsed into the couch. “But you are the King and you are a fool and I cannot forgive you for that. Not when it takes so much from me and from my family.”
“Rhaenyra, what - “ Viserys croaked, alarm and heartbreak painted across his face as he stared at his unmoving daughter. Desperation coaxed his words as he considered her words. “What has happened. Tell me why you say these words, what has made you feel so.”
“You dare ask why I feel this!” Rhaenyra broke her stillness, striding forward in anger as Viserys pressed himself into his seat. “You dare to ask me what has happened as if you are not the cause of it!” Rhaenyra resisted the urge to snarl as her instincts raged, hurling against the walls of her tight control.
“Rhaenyra - “ Viserys protested feebly, shrinking in the face of her fury.
“Are you truly that blind, Father.” She demanded, her face twisted in outrage as smoke permeated the air around them. Viserys coughed at it, but Rhaenyra could not bring herself to reign it in. “Are you truly so ignorant that you cannot even fathom why I am so angry!”
Viserys swallowed, speechless in the face of his heirs ire.
Rhaenyra scoffed in disgust when the King simply ducked his head, turning away as he found himself unable to face her displeasure.
“Of course you can’t.” She muttered, cursing herself for the disappointment that coursed through her. She didn’t know why she had expected anything else from him. “How could you? Your utter lack of care for anything you consider distasteful or too difficult has always been apparent.” Rhaenyra smiled sardonically, a mocking laugh escaping her lips.
“I just never thought that your negligence, your carelessness, would extend to your own son.”
Viserys started at that, his brow furrowing in bewilderment. Rhaenyra barrelled on though, allowing Viserys no opportunity to speak.
She had not landed her killing blow yet.
“I never thought that after what happened to Mother, after what you did to her!” Rhaenyras voice hitched and she curled her hands into fists as she fought back the urge to cry at the thought of what had been done to her beloved mother. “I never thought that you would dare to do the same to your son!”
“I do not know what it is that you are talking about!” Viserys scowled, the mention of the fate he had wrought upon his beloved mate seemingly stoking a fire Rhaenyra had long though estinguished. “I loved your mother! I bitterly regret what happened to her and I live with it everyday!”
“Then why would subject Aemond to the same fate!” Rhaenyra cried. “Why would you, no, how could you agree to this marriage after seeing what happened to mother!”
“Aemond has to marry, Rhaenyra.” Viserys sighed. “And after what happened on Driftmark he should be honoured and thankful that the Baratheons are able to overlook his obvious deformities. It is a good match.”
“It’s funny.” She scoffed, staring at him in sardonic amusement. “You speak and Otto Hightowers voice comes out of your mouth. How do you do it?”
“You overstep Rhaenyra.” Viserys warned. “The Hand has offered sound advice and has striven only to secure his grandsons future. A future that I will remind you is only threatened because of the actions of your son!”
“Don’t you dare bring my son into this.” Rhaenyras voice dropped, her tone spelling danger as her instincts snarled in fury at the perceived threat to her child. “And don’t you dare try and use Aemonds injury as an excuse for your horrid decisions.”
“I have done the boy a favour, have done my duty as his father.” Viserys sighed, rubbing at his temples. “It is time for him - and for his others siblings - to set aside such childish pursuits and look towards his future.”
“He’s ten !” Rhaenyra roared, pounding a fist onto the table in front of her. “He is not ready to be married! To have his childhood end!”
“It’s his duty!” Viserys snapped. “To the realm and to his family. You know this because you yourself did it!”
“Is that how you justified bedding mother at ten and one?” She hissed, striding forward to loom over him. “Is that what you told yourself as you put babe after babe into her, knowing that it was killing her as she lost them one by one?”
Viserys reared back as if he had hit her but Rhaenyra simply leaned over him, placing one hand on the armrest as she forced the beta to meet her gaze. Viserys squirmed but he could not escape, his previous fire gone as he crumbled in the face of her wrath.
“You’re pathetic.” Rhaenyra hissed, her piercing gaze drilling into him. “You are a weak and pathetic man and mother would be so ashamed of you.”
Viserys slumped in his seat as the princess finally wheeled away, returning to her previous spot by the fire. Rhaenyra inhaled as she sought to regain her control, squeezing her hand into a fist before releasing it and turning back to him.
“My siblings will be coming with me back to Dragonstone.” She forced herself to keep her tone level, stuffing her anger and hurt away as she watched the king gather himself. “My husband and I have agreed that it is time for Luke to start fostering at Driftmark, so he and Aemond will not have to come into contract with each other. Borros Baratheon will simply have to find himself a new bride, preferably one who is not still a child.”
“I am still the king, Rhaenyra. You cannot just make demands of me.” Rhaenyra glanced at him, surprised that the withering man still had the energy to fight her on this. How deep did Otto Hightowers influence go.
“And I am your heir.” She snapped back, balling her hand into a fist as she fought the urge to snarl at him. “Your only heir at the moment, might I remind you.” For unless Daeron presented as an alpha, none of her father’s younger children could inherit. If her father wanted to pass over her and her line then he would have to pass the throne to the next alpha in the line of succession. Most of the realm believed that was Daemon, including the King.
Not when she was Aemma’s daughter.
“Yet you are not acting as one! Your actions will deprive your brother of a splendid match, of the chance to be a Lord Paramounts Consort.” Rhaenyra buried a hand into the side of her riding leathers, reminding herself once again that she could not strike the King of the Seven Kingdoms. “This marriage not only strengthens our ties with the Baratheons but also provides your brother with an inheritance and a purpose.”
“Aemond is young yet and a prince to boot.” Rhaenyra spoke with a calm she did not feel. “He shall find another match when he is ready and the Baratheons will see children of Jocelyn Baratheons line sit the throne. That is more then enough to strengthen our ties with them.”
“Aemond is damaged now, his face marred. Not many noble alphas would be able to overlook his injury as Lord Baratheon has so graciously agreed to. Viserys scoffed as she stared stonily at him. “Shall you let him rot away, deprive him of his only opportunity for marriage? No. I shall not allow it. You may take his siblings, but unless you can provide a better match, Aemond shall wed Borros Baratheon in three moons times.”
Rhaenyra shook her head, turning away from her father in disgust. He would not budge on this, she realised. He was too blind to see what was happening here, what Otto was doing.
Alicent three eldest children may pose no threat to Rhaenyras claim, but Daeron remained in Oldtown, unpresented. No doubt Otto was already shifting his plans to center around her youngest brother in anticipation of his presentation as an alpha. Securing the Baratheons loyalty through a royal marriage would only be the beginning and Rhaenyra could not let that happen.
Staring up at the portrait of her mother, Rhaenyra closed her eyes and silently sent an apology to Aemond for what she was about to do.
“What about a prince?” She asked, ducking her head, unable to look upon the image of her mother. “Would that be a prestigious enough match to satisfy you.”
“Do you think that Daemon would agree to such a match?” Viserys mused, a look of contemplation coming over him. “I suppose Aemond could be a balm to him in his grief as Alicent was me after your mother’s death. Aemond is of an age with Daemons daughters as well, I am sure that he could make himself a comfort to them as they grow.”
“Daemon would sooner tip himself over a cliff than marry a boy of ten.” Rhaenyra scoffed, finally gathering the ability to turn around and look upon the man her father had become. “No, Aemond can marry one of my sons once they have both come of age. Jace has already settled into his presentation and - “
“Absolutely not.” Viserys interrupted, his eyes hard as he contemplated her words. “Jace will one day be King and Aemond is in no way acceptable as his Consort. He is too headstrong, too disobedient. As your heir and the future Prince of Dragonstone, Jace will have far too many responsibilities to be worried about having to ensure Aemond knows his place and his duties as his husband.”
Rhaenyra swallowed her rage and disgust at his words, forcing herself to ignore the implications of his words, of what they would have meant for her mother, for Alicent…
“Baela then.” She forced out, shoving her anger down. “ Or Rhaena, perhaps -“
“He will marry Luke.” Viserys cut her off, a pleased look coming over his face as he nodded as his own words. “It will mend the rift between them and I am sure that Laenor will be able to guide Aemond into accepting and fulfilling his role as a Velaryon omega. A duty Lucerys will no doubt be able to take over upon their wedding.”
“Are you insane!” Rhaenyra exclaimed, eyes wide as she stared at her father in horror. “You wish to marry Aemond to the boy who cut out his eye! To have Luke enter a marriage with someone who he has harmed so!”
“Lucerys has an impressive inheritance.” Viserys explained, his tone bordering on being condescending. “The betrothal to Lord Borros was made so that Aemond would marry someone who would be able to keep him as his status and rank demands. Neither Baela nor Rhaena have such an inheritance and there would be no point in betrothing him to a babe such as Joffrey. No, Lucerys is best for him.”
He was serious, she realised. This was not a fever dream, not some jest he made in poor taste. He actually wished to marry his son to the boy who had taken his eye. Accident or not, Rhaenyra had no doubt that would matter little to Aemond. She didn’t even want to think of how Luke would react.
But Rhaenyra knew that she would not be able to convince him otherwise, not without putting Aemond at risk of having to marry Borros Baratheon.
“Fine.” She gritted out. “They will marry. But only when both have come of age and only once both Laenor and myself have agreed that they are ready.”
“Fine, fine! That is acceptable. I understand that you would want Lucerys to grow into his role a bit before dumping Aemond on him.” Viserys waved her off, a pleased smile gracing his lips. “It will be a good match Rhaenyra. One that will unite the realm. I am pleased we came to an agreement!” He declared. “I trust that you will ensure that your siblings are raised properly, to be well mannered and proper royal omegas. It is something that I have found Alicent has failed to teach them.”
Probably because your idea of a ‘proper omega’ is unattainable, Rhaenyra thought viciously. Or because you refuse to act as their father and left your too young wife to raise them all on her own.
“I will take my siblings and bid you farewell then, Your Grace.” She said shortly. “Oh and I wouldn’t worry about informing Lord Borros of the dissolution of his betrothal. Princess Rhaenys has already offered her own services in delivering the message to her cousin.”
Rhaenyra left before the king could react to her parting words, though Viserys said nothing as she stormed out without even giving him a proper bow. It would seem that for all his bluster, Rhaenyras anger had shaken him.
Rhaenyra resisted the urge to slam the door shut only because she was unwilling to deal with the court rumour mill spreading tales of the heir to the throne throwing a tantrum, though it was a near thing.
The clinking of armour trailed her and a quick glance behind her revealed that Ser Harrold was trailing behind her.
Just as he had in her youth, when things were simpler. Sighing, Rhaenyra made quick work of flagging down a servant in search of her siblings and took comfort in the familiar footsteps that sounded behind her.
It would seem even sacred oaths had their limits.