"Resentment" - Chapter 30 [AemondxRhaena]
He is the cause of her sufferings. He took her dragon, her betrothed, and her father. Now, he will also take away her future by having to marry him.
With so much history and bad blood between Rhaena and Aemond, their forced union has everything to fail, except that the proximity will make them discover that perhaps they have more in common than it seems.
AU - the Greens win the war.
Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6 - Chapter 7 - Chapter 8 - Chapter 9 - Chapter 10 - Chapter 11 - Chapter 12 - Chapter 13 - Chapter 14 - Chapter 15 - Chapter 16 - Chapter 17 - Chapter 18 - Chapter 19 - Chapter 20 - Chapter 21 - Chapter 22 - Chapter 23 - Chapter 24 - Chapter 25 - Chapter 26 - Chapter 27 - Chapter 28 - Chapter 29
Masterlist of my other works.
Tags: enemies to lovers, slow burn, romance, angst, drama, smut, hurt/comfort
Please remember that english is not my first language, so I'm sorry for the mistakes...
Disclaimer: these are not my characters, they belong to George R.R. Martin, HBO, etc. Only the plot of this fanfiction belongs to me.
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The guard's words echo in her head as her mind refuses to process what her eyes show her, the maid's lifeless figure surrounded by a pool of blood.
One of the guards pushes her aside at the precise moment that Morning launches another flare of fire towards the body.
“We must contain the creature,” she hears one of the guards say, before they look at each other with swords in hand, although clearly hesitant to advance towards the dragon.
Morning growls and throws fire again, spreading her wings and wanting to fly towards the dead maid, but the chain attached to one of her hind legs prevents her from doing so. The dragon roars, furious, and the new flare of dragon fire falls dangerously close to the curtains.
“She will end up burning the entire Tower if we do not capture her,” she hears the guards say.
As Rhaena watches them walk towards her dragon, armed, and clearly willing to subdue her by any means, she finally snaps out of her stupor and stands in front of them.
“I will calm her down,” she replies, trying to sound firm, though her voice wavers, “Stand back.”
There are a few seconds of clear doubt on the guards’ faces, and Rhaena gets the impression that they won’t comply with her order, but they finally lower their swords and back away. Heart pounding, Rhaena faces Morning, who struggles against the heavy chain to get closer to the maid’s body.
To her prey, she thinks and swallows.
Rhaena takes a deep breath and takes a tentative step towards Morning, who watches her for a moment before continuing her efforts to break free.
“Lykirī, Dohaeras, Morning”
The dragon looks back at her, but doesn’t slow down her attempts to be free, instead growling in her direction. Rhaena repeats the order again, and takes a few more steps towards the dragon, trying to hold the iron chain to draw Morning to her side. The creature responds by flying higher and away from Rhaena.
“Please, Morning, it’s me… just…”
The dragon lets out another burst of dragon fire and her hands begin to shake. Desperation begins to take hold of her as the minutes pass and her orders are empty words that have no effect.
Think. Think, Think, she orders herself, trying to contain the trembling of her hands and the tears that cloud her eyes.
Inspiration comes to Rhaena in the form of a memory. Of a familiar melody but almost forgotten over the years. Will it work? She doesn't know for sure, but she has no other idea, so she steps forward and sings. Her voice, shaky at first, begins to sound more determined and the melody fills the room.
Morning turns to her and stops furiously beating her wings. For a moment, Rhaena thinks she's going to cover her in dragonfire, but she doesn't stop singing or looking at her. The words in High Valyrian seem to intrigue her dragon, so Rhaena tentatively raises her hand and signals for Morning to come closer. The creature's gaze falls back on the dead maid before it looks back at Rhaena, and flies towards her, coiling around her neck.
Relief hits her body so hard that Rhaena stumbles, though she manages to grab hold of one of the walls before falling. Morning rubs her snout against her neck, nausea running through her as she smells the blood on her dragon's breath.
Aemond’s voice reaches her and makes her jump again. She hasn’t noticed the moment her cousin has entered the room, though she finds him standing next to the guards, watching the scene before him with a frown.
“You have to calm her down, Rhaena.”
She nods and resumes the song, her fingers tentatively stroking the creature’s spiked tail. Morning doesn’t protest, so the girl continues her caresses while she watches Aemond speaking to the guards in a voice so low that she can’t hear them. The men nod and quietly leave the room.
Rhaena raises her gaze to the prince, who holds hers, though he doesn’t move from his position or make any attempt to approach them. The girl focuses her gaze back on her dragon, who seems to calm completely under the melody and her touch. She doesn't know how much time passes, although it's probably just a few minutes, but when she hears footsteps outside her room, she sings louder so as not to disturb her dragon.
Aemond nods in her direction, and heads for the door, returning a few moments later with a cage similar to the one Morning uses. Rhaena understands what the prince wants to do, so she nods as well and looks down at her dragon.
Aemond tentatively moves toward the two, walking slowly and keeping his eyes on the dragon. Morning grimaces and wags her tail, but shows no signs of aggression, so the prince walks over to Rhaena and sets the cage down on the floor.
Rhaena slowly kneels and opens the cage door. Her dragon, accustomed to action, enters without making much fuss, though she growls again when her gaze drifts to the body across the room.
“It is okay, Morning, everything is going to be okay,” she whispers as she closes the cage.
Aemond helps her to her feet, and when their gazes meet, Rhaena can clearly see the annoyance and reproach in his expression.
He doesn’t give her time to finish speaking as he crosses the room in a couple of strides and returns to the guards, who are carrying a metal litter of sorts, which they set down on the floor.
Aemond grimaces before answering, “This is what I should have done since your dragon arrived at the castle.”
Rhaena understands the meaning of his words a moment later as the guards rush to place Morning’s cage inside the litter, immediately closing it.
“Where do you think you are taking my dragon?” she asks, outraged.
“Where do you think they are taking her?” Aemond growls back, his voice full of sarcasm.
Rhaena glares at him, but as the guards begin to advance with the litter, she goes after one of them, grabbing his arm and trying to stop him.
“No, you can’t do that, you can’t…”
The guard breaks free of her grip with ease and abruptness, pushing her away and elbowing her side. Rhaena makes a pained noise, and Aemond is at her side instantly, sword in hand and pointing at the guard, “Hurt the princess one more time and you will lose your hand,” he threatens, furious.
“It is okay, I am fine,” she rushes to tell him, placing her hand on Aemond’s arm to lower his sword. The prince turns to look at her before doing so, putting his weapon away and allowing the guards to continue their advance, “Please, Aemond, order them to stop, they cannot…”
“Follow your orders,” the prince interrupts, looking at the guards.
“No, no…” Rhaena tries to follow them, but Aemond holds her arm, preventing her, “Let me go, Aemond. Now”
“Your dragon cannot remain in the Tower,” he ignores her
“Morning didn't mean to kill her,” her gaze falls on the corpse across the room, “She didn't… she didn't know”
“A dragon is not a pet, I told you that several times,” he hisses
“The maid wasn't supposed to be in my room, I forbade them entry, you know that,” tears stream down Rhaena’s face, “This shouldn’t have happened.”
“But it did! And now a maid is dead,” Aemond curses under his breath, “I should have sent your dragon to the Dragon Pit as soon as she arrived. I didn’t do it out of consideration for you, but we can’t continue to deny the obvious.”
“Morning is out of control. She barely obeys you, you had to repeat your orders dozens of times and she wouldn’t even come near you,” his voice, full of fury, strikes her insides, “By insisting on treating her like a child she hasn’t bonded properly with you.”
“That’s not true! Morning obeyed, she was just… What about you? Hasn’t Vhagar attacked someone who didn’t deserve it before?”
Aemond lets go of her arm and glares at her before turning his back and walking towards the door. Rhaena reacts immediately, following him.
“It’s best you stay here.”
“I must go with Morning.”
“She doesn’t need you now,” he replies, stopping at the door to the room, “Stay in the Tower until the situation is sorted out.”
“No! I’ll go with you or…”
“Guard!” Aemond calls out and the man appears immediately, “The princess is not to leave her chambers under any circumstances.”
“This is ridiculous!” Rhaena protests as she takes a step and is intercepted by the guard, “You cannot do this!”
The prince looks at her one last time before disappearing down the hall without another word.
“The dragon will be protected as per your command, prince.”
Aemond nods as he watches Morning’s litter fade into the darkness of the Dragonpit.
It has been years since he visited the place. The last time had been the day he had inspected that it had been properly rebuilt to house Tessarion and hopefully any other dragons that might be born later. After that occasion, he had not needed to return. Vhagar had always preferred to seek shelter near the beaches, so that was where the prince visited her since he claimed her.
“I want a couple extra guards watching the entrance to the cave,” he orders, “With orders to attack if they see suspicious activity. Also, no new servants or strange people are to enter, only the designated caretakers and my brother.”
“As you command, prince.”
He doesn't plan to take any chances with the safety of the last dragons of House Targaryen. The news of the servant's death would surely be public knowledge soon enough, and although the people have not rebelled or attacked a dragon again since the days of the war, he prefers not to assume that they will remain as peaceful after what happened.
Aemond returns to his horse and rides quickly to the castle, wanting to go directly to the Tower, but having to go to the Council instead.
The members of the council stand as he enters, sitting immediately as he takes his place at the head and places the marble sphere on the table..
"I assume you heard what happened to Rhaena's dragon," he says, addressing no one in particular.
"Very unfortunate news," Tyland Lannister comments.
“Indeed,” the Grand Maester agrees, “Poor girl.”
“A brother. He works as a blacksmith’s apprentice in the city.”
“Has the news reached him?”
“Mmm,” Aemond looks up at Tyland, “It would be best for him to know at once. Rumors will soon spread.”
“Of course,” the Lannister nods, adding, “It would probably be a good idea to offer him some monetary compensation for his loss.”
“The silent sisters have already taken care of the body,” the Maester continues, “It appears it was a quick death and the girl did not suffer too much.”
Aemond does not answer, but instead fiddles with the marble sphere as he listens to the exchange between the two men about small mercies, feeling inwardly annoyed with the situation with each passing moment. Although he knows that no member of the council will directly say to him, they probably internally blame him for having allowed the dragon to live in the Court when never, in the history of his house, had a dragon remained in the halls as if it were just another pet.
“Shall we assume the dragon is already at the Dragonpit?” Lannister asks
“I gave orders to tighten security,” Aemond nods and then glances at Ser Criston
“I will see that it is carried out as instructed, my prince.”
“Keep an eye on the city as well.”
Tyland Lannister shifts uncomfortably in his chair, “I doubt we have another mutiny on our hands, my prince. I am sorry to say, but the lass was a young girl of no great importance, it would be a stretch to think the common people would rise up over an accident.”
“It cannot be ruled out,” Ser Criston replies
“Any other news?” Aemond asks
“A raven has arrived reporting Ser Adrian’s arrival at Maidenpool.”
“Maidenpool? They left days ago, how come they are only just at Maidenpool?”
“The snow, my lord. It hasn’t fallen on the city yet, but it slows the advance of the party.”
“Mmm,” Aemond grimaces. He had sent Ser Adrian Celtigar a few days ago in command of a group of men to gather information on the attacks on the nobles.
“Ser Adrian is a capable warrior,” Cole interjects, looking at him and surely aware of the prince’s reservations, “Surely he will be able to make up for lost time quickly, and we will have news soon.”
“Good. Inform me as soon as anything is known,” he says, turning to the maester and standing up, ending the meeting and heading straight to the Tower, where he is greeted by a strange aroma similar to the incense of the Great Sept, “What is that smell?” he asks his servant.
“The incense of the silent sisters, my prince,” the man informs, “The body was taken a few hours ago.”
“Right,” he nods, “My wife?”
“In her chambers, my prince.”
Aemond sighs and debates whether or not to go meet her. Rhaena had been very agitated after the incident, and had not taken kindly to the idea of parting with her dragon, which was ridiculous considering the circumstances. She was probably still angry with him, although perhaps the hours had allowed her to think more calmly about the situation.
“Go and tell her that I wish her to dine with me.”
The servant bows and goes to carry out his orders while Aemond sits at the table set in front of him. The man returns a moment later.
“The princess… she said…” the man looks down, “The princess says she does not wish to dine, my prince.”
“Mmm,” Aemond fiddles with the dinner knife, “Go again and tell her I insist she join me.”
The servant leaves again, but when he returns, the answer is the same, “The princess says she will remain in her chambers, my lord. As… as you ordered.”
Aemond slams the knife down on the table, his temper beginning to flare. Standing up so abruptly that he knocks over his chair, he strides toward Rhaena’s room. The guard steps aside immediately, letting him through.
“I said I did not want to dine with you,” Rhaena’s words greet him, though she is facing away from him and looking out the window at the view of the Bay.
“Are you going to spend the whole night locked in here?” he asks, his voice oddly calm despite the anger he feels.
“Isn’t that what you wanted?” Rhaena turns to face him, “You locked me in here, didn’t you?”
“Because I needed you to stay here for a while, not because…”
“I am not interested in your explanations,” she retorts, cutting him off, “Or in your company. “Go away, Aemond.”
“Rhaena,” the prince threatens, moving closer to her, “You are my wife. I wish to dine with you tonight. Put this charade aside and come with me.”
“I do not want to,” she replies once more.
“You do not wish to know about your dragon either?”
His wife’s face betrays her, her interest and hunger for news clearly visible in her expression. The prince thinks she will relent, but ultimately Rhaena just shakes her head, “I wish to be alone.”
Aemond clenches his hands into fists and bites back his words, though he glares at her, “Fine. If you wish to be treated as a prisoner, then so be it.”
The prince leaves the room and again orders the guard not to let his wife out. Still, he calls for a maid, and orders her to bring a tray of food for Rhaena before locking himself in his own chambers.
The night passes slowly in a state between wakefulness and sleep. As the sun begins to rise on the horizon, Aemond gets out of bed and dresses for training. As he gets ready, his gaze wanders to the empty side where Rhaena's figure should be. After spending the last few weeks sleeping next to her, waking up without finding her or feeling the warmth of her body hugging his own, had been strange and depressing.
After leaving his room, he can't help but pass by Rhaena's. The guard greets him with a bow and Aemond is tempted to enter, to see her for at least a few minutes, perhaps to persuade her to... The prince tilts his head. No. He hasn't done anything wrong. It's she who is behaving in a reprehensible and capricious manner.
Aemond leaves the Tower and focuses his mind on his training. If Ser Criston notices his disquiet, he doesn't say anything, they just fight side by side until it's time to go to the council room. As he heads there, he encounters Daeron and his betrothed. Although he hadn't planned to stop and talk to them, he finds himself approaching them both.
“Good morning, my prince,” the young woman greets.
“Brother, Lady Westerling,” he flicks his eye to the lady, “I assume you’re on your way to see Rhaena?”
“Indeed, my lord, Lady Rhaena has an… an audience this morning, but after what happened, I wasn’t uh… I wasn’t sure she would go through with it.”
“We heard about what happened with the maid,” Daeron chimes in.
“Indeed,” Aemond grimaces, “It’s best that you, Lady Westerling, go to the Tower. Rhaena is… confined to her chambers.”
“Confined? Why?” Marianne pales, “Is she ill? Did something happen to her? They said she wasn’t hurt, I thought…”
The girl trails off at Aemond’s displeased expression. Daeron rolls his eyes at his brother and places his hand on his betrothed’s shoulder, “Surely Rhaena can explain the situation better.”
Marianne nods, “With your permission, I will go see her.”
Aemond nods, and watches her offer a smile to his brother before disappearing into the halls. When they are alone, Daeron speaks again.
“Rhaena didn’t take too well to her dragon being moved to the Dragonpit?”
“And so, you locked her in her chambers?” There is a note of amusement in his brother’s tone.
“Of course not,” he replies, “Not permanently. I just want to keep her from going after Morning, you know she must learn to obey the caretakers before she begins to bond with Rhaena. She won’t be able to if Rhaena interferes in the process.”
“Of course,” Daeron nods, “It’s a shame the incident with the maid happened. Mother told me she was a young woman who had only just begun working at the palace. She and Lord Lannister met with her brother yesterday to let him know the news.”
Aemond snorts, “I thought Mother was too busy with Aegon to take care of other matters.”
“You know her, she couldn’t just stand aside,” Daeron walks beside him, “Still I think it was appropriate for a family member to show concern for what happened instead of just trivializing the fact.”
Aemond nods and they walk in silence for a few moments, “Did Mother tell you about your betrothal?”
“What would she have to say to me?”
“The idea of advancing the wedding date was discussed,” explains the prince
Daeron stops and looks down for a moment, when he turns back to face his older brother, there is a shadow of apprehension on his face, “For what reason?”
“The usual reason. Heirs.”
Aemond seems to notice his brother’s expression darken briefly, but it passes so quickly that he may have just imagined it, “Of course. The heirs,” he sighs, “Did she mention when I should be married?”
“No. Though I doubt it will take too long,” he replies and, because he can’t help but be curious, comments, “You seem to be getting along well with your betrothed.”
Daeron smirks and nods, “She will be a fine wife.”
The prince narrows his eye and examines his younger brother, but in the end simply lets his suspicions go. He has enough to worry about without adding Daeron’s possible displeasure at the idea of marriage, “We will speak later. The council awaits me.”
Rhaena wakes up drenched in sweat, with the sheets tangled at her feet.
A nightmare. It had only been a nightmare.
Her eyes immediately drift to the spot where three days ago she had found the corpse of the poor maid Morning had attacked. Even though the silent sisters and other maids had thoroughly cleaned her room, she can still see the scene clearly, she can smell the blood on her dragon's snout, the heat of the dragon fire…
Rhaena sighs and walks around the room. It's barely dawn, and it's very cold, but she wraps herself in her coat and drops onto one of the sofas, hugging her legs, unable to sleep. The sound of footsteps, like the days before, warns her of the prince's presence outside her room. And, like the days before, he stays there. Without entering. Just like her, who has refused his invitations to dine together, preferring to stay in her chambers. At least at night, because during the day she walks around the Tower with Marianne, unable to spend too much time in her own room surrounded by the memory of the crime.
And then there’s Morning. She hasn’t seen her dragon in days and hasn’t pressed for information because she knows that, despite their argument, Aemond is taking good care of her. She knows the prince won’t let anything bad happen to her. Still… the urge to go to the Dragon Pit was latent inside her. She hadn’t left her dragon’s side for a single day since she hatched from the egg, and being separated now causes her pain and anguish. Her dragon had been her company, her friend, her…
Rhaena closes her eyes at the sight of Morning roaring and wanting to get closer to the corpse. Maybe – although deep down she’s sure – the prince was right. Her dragon was out of control, it wasn’t sustainable to have her by her side or in her day to day life anymore, but… she had wanted it to be her decision to send her to the Dragon Pit. She hadn’t wanted…
“I hadn’t wanted her to kill someone,” she whispers to the darkness, a tear rolling down her face again. Rhaena takes a deep breath before calling a maid to take a bath. After eating something, Marianne joins her in her private parlor, just like the other days.
“What do the Court rumors say?”
“They think you’re still processing what happened,” her lady replies, “I explained to them that you were taking a few days off from engagements for personal reasons,” when Rhaena snorts, asking, “Did I do wrong?”
“No, no, of course not,” she is quick to reply, taking her lady’s hand, “I just do not want to give the wrong impression. I do not want them to think I crumble easily.”
“It is not an easy situation. I don’t think anyone see it that way.”
“There is not much I can do, anyway.”
“Have you spoken to the prince? Have you asked him how long this situation will continue?”
“I don’t want to speak to him,” she replies, stubborn.
“I think he is genuinely sorry,” Marianne smirks, “He seems more irritable than usual these days. He surely misses you.”
“He should have thought of that before confining me to my chambers.”
Marianne clicks her tongue, “I know it wasn’t right of him, but the situation got out of hand, Rhaena. Morning…”
“I know,” Rhaena cuts her off, “I know I should have sent her to the Dragon Pit a long time ago. “I know it is basically my fault what happened.”
“I never said that!” Marianne retorts, “You were clear with your orders, it is not your fault that the young lady was not properly informed by the other maids. It was not your fault either that the cage gave way and Morning escaped.”
“I just… don’t understand,” she drops down onto the couch, defeated, “I locked her cage tight, I know I did, how could that happen?”
“She is a wild creature, Rhaena. And powerful. She broke her chains and the poor servant was in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
Rhaena tries to make her words lessen her guilt, though they have little effect. Deep inside, she knows it was her negligence for her desire to have Morning by her side.
“Let us talk about something else, please,” she finally asks.
“Of course,” Marianne takes some scrolls she has brought in a chest, “I have the guest list for your name day party and also possible menus, as well as some activities we could do on those days. Nothing too extravagant…”
Rhaena concentrates on approving Marianne’s ideas, making changes where she deems necessary, and helping her assign seats to the noble guests. The task takes up a good part of the day and, when evening comes, her lady takes her leave to go in search of her uncle. Rhaena remains in the parlor until night falls, knitting and focusing on intricate embroidery patterns to keep her mind off Morning, so she is unaware of the prince’s presence until he is almost in front of her.
“I see you decided to leave your room.”
“Do not worry,” she replies, standing up, “I will return to my confines right away.”
“I’d rather you stayed here.”
Rhaena thinks she detects a note of hope and vulnerability in Aemond’s voice, but when she looks at his expression, she finds it as serious and indifferent as ever, “And I prefer to return to my solitude.” Pushing her embroidery aside, she stands up and begins to walk to the door.
“Rhaena,” the prince’s voice makes her pause, “How long will you continue to behave like a spoiled child?” She bites her tongue to keep from responding and falling for his provocation, walking again. His words make her pause again, “You are my wife. You owe me obedience.”
Rhaena turns to look at him, “Are you going to order me to spend time with you now?”
Aemond glares at her, “Of course not. I simply meant that I… I…”
The prince stops talking and Rhaena watches how nervous he seems, drumming his fingers on his thighs. She waits for him to finish what he was going to say, but it is clear that he will not. Part of her feels disappointed, as she would like to know what it is that is so hard for him to admit.
“Then, unless you are going to take by force what you want from me, I prefer to go to my rooms.”
Aemond has a budding headache as he enters the council chamber.
“What is it?” he asks without wasting any time.
A servant had interrupted his inspection of the new weapons acquired for the Kingsguard, informing him that the council was urgently awaiting him.
“Ser Adrian Celtigar, my lord,” the Grand Maester speaks, “We received a raven from Lord Darry. They found the bodies of Ser Adrian and the entire party you sent… slaughtered.”
Aemond’s fury is palpable, his hand involuntarily going to his Valyrian steel dagger as he processes the news.
“Are you telling me that common bandits managed to kill trained knights?”
“We have no certainty that it was the bandits, my prince,” Lannister interjects.
“That’s even worse,” Aemond hisses, “Who would dare assassinate envoys of the Crown? That affront is reason enough to call to arms.”
The men look at each other, but no one says anything for a few seconds until the Grand Master dares to extend another piece of parchment towards Aemond.
“My prince, this… this was stuck in Ser Adrian’s head.”
Aemond takes the scroll and opens it, finding a drawing of a familiar banner he thought he would never see again.
“This is treason,” he retorts, tossing up the drawing of the coat of arms used by Rhaenyra during the rebellion, “We must act immediately. Prepare my departure as soon as possible, I will go myself.”
“My prince, no, it is not wise,” Lord Tyland says quickly, “You are the regent, you cannot be absent…”
“This could mean war,” Aemond interrupts, “And I clearly cannot send other soldiers because they do not seem capable enough to fulfill their duty.”
“Send me, my prince,” Ser Criston proposes, “I can go with a few men, and gather information on the situation.”
“No, I prefer that you remain here.”
“Prince Daeron, then,” the grand maester says, “Along with his dragon, he will surely be of help in deterring the rebels.”
“My brother will remain in the city,” he answers flatly. He had already erred in trust once and left King’s Landing unprotected. His foolishness had brought terrible consequences for his family. He did not intend to repeat his mistake and leave his family, leave Rhaena, in the care of simple soldiers, “Daeron will act as regent on my behalf. Ser Criston, I want your best men ready to leave this very afternoon.”
“But, my prince…” the maester intervenes again, “With winter beginning, you cannot simply leave the city. The provisions…”
“I suggest you take care of that immediately, then,” his tone lets the man know that it is not a simple suggestion, but an order. After that, no one else dares to dissuade him or suggest otherwise, “One more thing. My wife will participate in the council meetings during my absence.”
“My prince?” Tyland Lannister looks at him, astonished.
“What you heard, Lannister,” he replies abruptly, “Lady Rhaena must be informed of the situation of the city and the kingdom, as well as being able to decide with you on whatever is necessary.”
“But, my prince, your brother Daeron will be the regent, I do not understand.”
“You do not need to understand, only obey,” Aemond says.
And with that, he leaves the council room with Ser Criston.
The door to her private parlor opens to allow her cousin to enter.
“Daeron?” Rhaena smiles at him as she stands, “I was not expecting you.”
“I am sorry if I interrupt your activities,” the prince takes her hand and brings it to his lips, brushing her knuckles, “I thought you might want to get out of the Tower for a bit.”
“Oh, well…” Rhaena sighs and looks away, “I do not know if you are aware, Marianne probably mentioned it, but I am currently confined to the Tower.”
“Yes, I heard,” he nods, “Though my brother assured me it wasn’t permanent.”
In that, Rhaena thinks, he was right. She had heard Aemond inform the guards that Rhaena could leave if she so wished, but she had wanted to irritate him a little more by staying a few more days in the Tower.
“I thought we could visit the Dragon Pit.”
“Really?” Rhaena looks at him, amazed
“Yes, of course I can’t guarantee that you will see Morning, but I think you’d feel more at ease if you knew more about the place where she is staying.”
Rhaena smiles at him, grateful. Apart from having seen the building in passing during her arrival in the city or her walks, she hadn’t explored it inside.
“Do you think it is wise?”
“It is now,” her cousin assures, “Dragons are usually accustomed to the presence of caretakers from birth. Yours didn’t have that experience, which is why Aemond insisted you not see Morning for the time being. My brother didn’t mean to take you away from your dragon, I promise.”
Rhaena knows that. She had let herself be blinded by grief and guilt the first few days, but she knew that the best thing for Morning was to remain in the Dragonpit, and be treated and trained like the other dragons in her family.
“I am ashamed, to tell the truth,” she admits as she takes the arm her cousin offers her as they leave the Tower, “I was too stubborn to insist on having Morning with me, even when I knew I couldn’t control her. We cannot deny her instincts.”
“It is true,” Daeron nods.
“And a young girl paid for my mistakes. Her name was Betsy, she had just started serving at the castle,” Rhaena had finally dared to make inquiries about the maid, “Have you heard anything about her family?”
“My mother met with her brother to give him the news.”
“Do you know where I can find him? I would like to speak to him, I would like to…”
“Offer your condolences?” Daeron looks at her sympathetically, though his expression hardens, “It is not a good idea, Rhaena. As much sympathy as we have for the servant, you are a princess and the wife of the Hand of the King. To visit or summon this man would be to give the matter more importance.”
“But it is important!” she replies, “She was a young girl, an innocent life.”
“I know, I am aware of that,” his cousin assures, “But you must understand that the accident happened in the castle, in a place where she should have been safe. If we cannot guarantee her safety within our own keep, they will begin to perceive us as a weak family. We cannot afford that now, just as we cannot afford you to show too much sympathy towards the young girl. There is a reason we are the royal family and they are…”
“The common people,” Rhaena finishes, feeling inwardly sickened by his words, “It is not fair.”
They remain silent for a long moment as the carriage takes them to the Dragonpit. When Daeron helps her down, he speaks again, “Don’t let yourself be consumed by grief, Rhaena. It was an accident, you never wanted it to happen. You must put it behind you and move on.”
Rhaena wants to tell him that it's not as easy as he thinks, but she knows he's right. She knows that, as harsh as reality is, there's not much she can do to change it.
“I'd like to at least be able to help her brother, even if it's anonymously.”
“We've already taken care of that, don't worry.”
Rhaena gives him a sad smile, and allows him to lead her into the building, which is bathed in shadows and barely lit by a few torches on the walls. Six golden cloaks greet them, and a moment later, the dragon keepers appear to inform her about her dragon, who they say has adapted quite well to her new home.
“This place is very well guarded,” Rhaena comments as they leave.
“My brother ordered security to be doubled when Morning was brought in.”
Daeron's words manage to form a knot in her stomach. She knew Aemond was protecting her dragon, but seeing firsthand that he had done everything he could to ensure Morning was safe warms her heart.
“I have been a fool,” she admits as they walk back to the carriage. Daeron simply looks at her, raising his eyebrows and tacitly asking for an explanation. “I took my guilt and pain out on Aemond. I knew he was right about this whole matter, and that he was looking to resolve it in the best way possible, but I chose to be angry with him instead. I owe him an apology.”
A smirk appears on the prince’s face, “Funny.”
“I just… remembered the first time we were in a carriage, when you had just arrived in the city,” he explains, “I remember your expression when you found out you were to marry Aemond. You seemed horrified at the prospect, and now… a lot has changed between you two since then.”
Rhaena blushes and looks down, though a small smile appears on her face. Fortunately, the carriage stops in the courtyard of the Keep, and her cousin helps her out.
“What’s all the hustle and bustle?” she asks as she watches soldiers giving orders, and servants placing different objects on carriages.
“Let’s find out,” Daeron proposes, and heads over to Criston Cole, “Ser Criston, what is happening here?”
“My prince, princess,” the knight greets them, “The royal council urgently requires both of your presence.”
“Now?” Daeron frowns, confused.
“Yes, my prince, troubling news has arrived from the Riverlands.”
Rhaena receives his words with a jolt in her heart, “What kind of troubling news?” she hears Daeron ask, but she looks to Ser Criston instead and asks, “Where is Aemond?”
There is a moment of confusion and hesitation in his expression, but finally the knight answers, “The prince insisted on personally taking care of the matter, and leaving to Maidenpool.”
“When will he leave? How come I didn’t know about this? Where is he?”
Rhaena scans the courtyard with her gaze, trying to find Aemond’s platinum hair, but without success. It isn’t until Ser Criston gently places one of his hands on her shoulder, that she faces the knight again.
“The prince is not in the castle, Lady Rhaena. He left a few hours ago.”
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