Work Text:
Viserys was having an altogether good day. Daemon had returned, and returned in such a way that meant they were once again on good terms. They'd spent all day talking and laughing together, as they should.
He thought of his lovely wife and was considering sending for her for the night when a knock sounded.
He frowned as he looked at the door. What could this possibly be about? "Come," he called.
Ser Westerling opened the door and bowed to him before saying, "Your Grace, the Hand is here to see you."
"Send him in," Viserys said, though all he wanted to do was turn him away and send for his wife. If Otto was here to see him at this late hour, he had a good reason.
Ser Westerling bowed again, then stepped back outside. Otto walked in, looking as composed as ever despite the time. Viserys looked at his Hand expectantly. "What is it? I hope it's serious enough that it couldn't wait until morning."
"Your Grace, I am not quite sure how to say this, but you must be told."
Viserys wanted to sigh. Otto always did this when Daemon was involved. He had only been back a day. Surely that was not enough time to get into trouble again. "Tell me."
"It is a rather delicate matter."
"It always is, isn't it? Be out with it so I might get some rest."
Otto cleared his throat a little. "Princess Rhaenyra was seen in the city with Prince Daemon. She was wearing men's clothes."
"I find that rather unsurprising." Rhaenyra and Daemon were cut from the same cloth. Going out for drinks at a tavern in Flea Bottom was the least of the headaches either of them could give him. Besides, they had always been close. He should've expected something like this, even if they had barely spoken earlier.
"He took her to a pleasure den."
Headaches, the both of them. He would speak to Daemon, but it didn't warrant this visit. "She's of age. It's natural that she's curious."
"Your Grace, my source says the two of them kissed. Quite heavily, in fact."
"Who's your source?" Viserys demanded.
"I promised to keep their anonymity, but rest assured, I trust their information. They have never led me astray."
"When did they get this supposed information?"
"Immediately. They let me know straight away, and I came to inform you."
Gods damn it all. Viserys pushed himself up and grabbed a robe. He would go to Rhaenyra's room and ask her the truth of this matter at once. And, when she told him that all she did was look, he'd have a talk with Otto. It was inappropriate behavior for a Princess, but it was unacceptable for a Hand.
"Your Grace, might I ask where you are going?"
"To speak to my daughter."
"I am not sure that is the wisest course of action. It might do you well to speak to your brother first, to see if he manipulated her."
Of course Daemon had manipulated her, but that did not make her completely innocent. "Daemon would tell me he did to vex me,” was what he said aloud. “Rhaenyra would at least tell me the truth, and the truth is all I want."
"Your Grace-"
"I have made my decision!" Viserys screamed, the good taste of the day turned sour in his mouth. He was at the end of his rope, not just with Daemon and Rhaenyra, but Otto as well. It felt that every time he started to get his family in order, the Hand had new information or advice to share that broke the foundation once more. "I will speak to you at the Council meeting tomorrow, and not a moment sooner."
For a moment, Otto didn't respond. Viserys could see the wheels in his mind turning, wondering whether he should push the matter or accept Viserys's final word. Tension began to thread the air, but it eased when Otto inclined his head and said, "Of course, Your Grace."
He left, and it was only a few minutes later that Viserys also left the room.
Ser Westerling must have been surprised by Viserys venturing out of his room so late, but he didn't say a word as they walked.
Viserys went straight for Rhaenyra's room, though a part of him wanted to barge into Daemon's and demand to know what he was thinking, bringing the heir to the Iron Throne out into the city at night without adequate protection or respect for her position. That Daemon would treat her as if she were a mirror version of himself was unthinkable to the rest of the realm, but something his brother had no doubt delighted in. He grit his teeth and continued to Rhaenyra's room. Daemon was always a thorn in his side, but Rhaenyra had her moments where they got along. He hoped to continue like that, to continue salvaging their relationship instead of letting it deteriorate.
He believed that there was some measure of truth to Otto's report, but he didn't truly believe that his daughter had gotten into an unsalvageable situation until he neared her door and saw no guard. "Who was to be guarding the princess tonight?" he asked Ser Westerling.
The Lord Commander frowned at the empty hall, seeming as concerned about the absence as the king was. "Ser Cole."
Viserys had a pit growing in his stomach, but he refused to give thought to it. If he let the idea fully form, he would have to deal with it, whether or not he would be proven correct. "Wait here," he told Ser Westerling, then continued down the hallway on his own. He put his hand on the door and hesitated for the briefest of moments before he eased it open. He glanced towards her bed, and-
He closed the door again, knuckles whitening from his grip on the handle.
He turned on his heel and started storming down the hallway. He could not believe -
No. No, he would not think of it. The hour was late, he was tired, and Rhaenyra had already made her choice. There was nothing about this disaster that wouldn't still exist in the morning. Besides, he would need as much rest as he could get tonight, because he was sure he would not be getting any for the next week.
"Your Grace, should I send someone to look for Ser Cole?" Ser Westerling asked. "It is unlike him to shirk his duties."
"Rhaenyra is safe. We need not worry over it until tomorrow." He was going to think about it tomorrow, not tonight. That was the theme, almost. Rhaenyra, Ser Cole, Daemon, Otto, all of them could wait until tomorrow. Even time with his beloved wife would have to wait, for he would not make good company.
Although he did like that, for once, Daemon was not the biggest problem. He did dislike that Rhaenyra had filled that role, but for now, he would enjoy this small happiness that Daemon would be the easiest to deal with.
Rhaenyra woke, feeling a mixture of pleased and frustrated. Pleased because of what had happened with Ser Criston, and frustrated because of what had happened with Daemon. She got dressed for the day, wondering how it would be with both of them.
Ser Criston was a King's Guard. He wasn't supposed to bed anyone, especially not the princess. He might have ignored that last night, but she didn't know how many more nights he would be able to forget his duty. He was handsome and kind, but she did not love him. It would not break her heart to never be with him again.
Her uncle was another matter altogether. He'd left her. He'd run out after making her think- after making her feel- she almost couldn't believe it. The way he'd looked at her last night had been like a dream come true, to say nothing of the way he'd kissed her and touched her. She didn't understand why he'd started it but not finished it. No one knew what went on in Daemon's head, and she was beginning to think that was true of Daemon himself. The contentment from her body was a shadow to the swirling of her thoughts where he was concerned.
She purposely forwent the necklace Daemon had given her. She chose a golden one that better complemented her dress, but she missed the heavier weight of Valyrian Steel.
A knock sounded on the door, and she turned with a small smile, expecting it to be Ser Criston.
It wasn't.
It was another member of the King's Guard, and she tried not to show her confusion. He bowed to her, helmet tucked under one arm, and said, "Princess, the king has asked me to escort you to the throne room."
"The throne room?" she repeated, nerves starting to needle at her. "What for?"
"He wishes to speak with you," was all he said in response, and it made her nerves spike.
If her father wished to speak with her in the throne room, it couldn't be good. Her first thought was that something had happened to Alicent, but he would tell her such news in one of their rooms. Was he naming Aegon his heir? He had sworn that he wouldn't replace her, but that had been a year ago. A lot had happened in that year, much of which could change his mind concerning his heir.
That must be it. He was naming Aegon his heir due to Otto Hightower's machinations, and she had no way of stopping it; it was too late.
Setting her jaw, she swept out of her room. She would bear this news with her head held high, and the small consolation that he would no longer throw a fuss over her getting married soon. It wouldn't be as important to him, anymore. It was the smallest comfort she could imagine, and she grit her teeth.
Rage fueled her steps, but she felt every inch a queen as she strode through the halls. People usually didn't part for her here, but this time, they did.
Otto Hightower was a poison. She should've convinced Father to remove him as Hand years ago, but he trusted the man too much. He relied on his advice more than anyone else in the realm. It would've been admirable had the Hand not been someone working to his own goals instead of the King's. It wouldn't undo the damage, but perhaps she could still speak to her father about the matter. It would prevent Hightower from doing further harm, at least.
Rhaenyra entered the throne room, and her anger ebbed to make way for confusion. Ser Criston was standing in front of the throne as if he were being questioned. Aside from the other members of the King's Guard, herself, and her father, the only other person in the room was her uncle. She had no idea what Daemon was doing here, but clearly she was wrong about this being an announcement of Aegon becoming heir. The Hand wasn't here. Alicent wasn't here.
"Rhaenyra," her father said, his voice ringing through the empty hall. "Come."
She walked closer, slowing to a stop in line with Ser Criston, though several feet away. She tucked her hands behind her back and looked up at her father. "What's this about?"
"Ser Criston is being relieved of his service as a King's Guard."
"What?" She looked from her father to Ser Criston, but he had clearly already been told this. He was looking down at the floor, expression somber. She looked back to her father.
There was barely concealed rage in his expression, but she didn't understand it. She glanced at Daemon for a brief moment, so quickly she wasn't certain anyone had seen her do it. Usually, when her father was upset and Daemon was nearby, he was the cause. She didn't think that was the case this time, if only because she was the one stood in front of the throne and Daemon the one at his side. "It's a lifelong position," she said, hoping this would prod her father into sharing more about his decision.
"There has never been cause to relieve one of their position before. Breaking his oaths is justification enough."
"And what oaths do you imagine he's broken?"
"He bedded you," Father said, glaring down at her, and ice ran through her veins. He knew. How did he know?
The ice in her blood turned into fire. She wasn't going to be shamed by this. She wasn't going to let this happen to her instead of taking responsibility. Ser Criston had told her himself that his posting as King's Guard was the best thing to happen in his life, and something he was unendingly proud of. Rhaenyra didn't need to be told what sort of future he'd have if he was relieved of his position to know it would be horrible. It had been her idea, and she wasn't going to let this ruin him. "At my request," she said, voice even.
That enraged the king further. "He should have refused you."
"Do you imagine I left him much choice in the matter? Tell me, Father, when was the last time you were able to dissuade me from doing what I wanted?"
"This is not a game, Rhaenyra! The world does not bend for your whims, simply because you wish them to."
"I wanted a night of fun, and Ser Criston was both nearby and trustworthy. Would you rather I fucked a commoner? You should not punish a talented knight who has been nothing but loyal to you. Reassign him from my detail, fine, but dismissing him entirely would be a mistake."
"You have ruined yourself, and you are more concerned with the state of the King's Guard?" Father asked incredulously.
Rhaenyra raised an eyebrow as if to say 'what else did you expect from me?' and waited.
"I will reconsider the matter. Leave," he told Ser Criston with an impatient wave of his hand.
Ser Criston bowed and left. He tried to keep his mood from showing too obviously in his steps, but he failed. The usual proud way he held himself was gone, and his steps unsteady.
A couple of the other King's Guard left with him, but Rhaenyra didn't try to follow. It was clear that he wasn't done with her. She folded her hands behind her back and waited once more.
"Are you not going to apologize for what you've done?"
"I've done nothing wrong. Why would I ask for forgiveness?" She saw Daemon smirk out of the corner of her eye. The King, from where he was atop the throne, couldn't see it. Rhaenyra wanted to glance at him and see his reaction more fully, but she'd have to wait until after this to talk to him.
"Who will marry you now? You have been defiled and-"
"I did not want to marry. You were forcing me to, and now I am meant to care about the possibility being lost?"
"You are either an imbecile or willfully ignorant. You are my heir. You need to marry respectably and have children to further the Targaryen line," Father said, voice hard.
She never thought of him as being a particularly firm man, but he looked every inch one right now. His grip on his sword, the tilt of his head, and the timber of his voice, all of it made him seem the strong, forceful King that people wanted him to be, but she'd never seen before. Unfortunately, as he grew harder, so too did she.
"Your position comes with many privileges, but it also comes with responsibilities,” he continued. “Responsibilities that you claim to understand but refuse to fulfill."
"So because I did something for myself for once, you think to push me further out of your life?"
"This is not about you and I-"
"It never is," she sneered. The last time she thought they had mended the bridge between them, he married Alicent. They had not given it another honest try since. "It's always about duty and tradition, except when it comes to you. You get to pick and choose what duty you follow, but I must adhere to all of them?"
"This is not an obscure duty no one knows about!" he screamed, and they were firmly back to father and daughter, not King and Princess. "No one of respectable birth will marry you now! What are we to do? I will not let my heir take to the throne only for the succession after her to be questioned!"
"Tell me, does the Hand still whisper in your ear about all the reasons you should replace me, or do you now think of them yourself?" she asked, spitting the words out in anger. Where the Hand ended and her father began, she could hardly tell these days.
"You speak of everything except a solution," Father said, equally incensed. "You will need heirs of your own. They cannot be bastards, where will you find a husband?"
Rhaenyra took a breath in, ready to scream at him that as much he felt she wasn't listening to him, he was not listening to her.
Before she got the chance, Daemon spoke. "Wed her to me," he said, and it stunned both of them into silence as they looked over at him sharply. His expression was unreadable to her, and she wasn't used to that. With the exception of last night, she didn't think it had happened before. The fight in the Stepstones had changed him more than his cut hair.
"What?" Father said.
"I don't care who she's fucked. Wed her to me." Daemon looked away from Rhaenyra so that he could meet the King's eyes. "When I gave you my crown, you said I could have anything. I want my marriage dissolved, and I will wed Rhaenyra."
He looked over at Rhaenyra once more, as if his gaze was drawn to her against his will, and her blood rushed loudly through her ears. His eyes were intent on hers, but warm as well. He cared for her, in his way. She would think he had planned this confrontation, except there was no way for him to know that she would bed Ser Criston after he ran out on her in that pleasure den.
Why would he want to marry her? It wouldn't bring him closer to the Iron Throne. If they wed, she would be the one ruling, not him; his distance from the Iron Throne would be the same as it ever was. If they were married, it wouldn't be a victory for his ambitions, and yet he seemed pleased with himself. She'd heard stories of his wedding to Lady Rhea, how it had been a fight to get him to the sept, so why was he offering himself to another marriage immediately after? The offer was genuine. He was willing to marry her, to be chained to her for the rest of his life. Her brain conjured his words from last night, that being married didn't stop people from doing what they wanted or fucking who they wanted, but she didn't believe that was his line of thinking in this moment. He wanted to marry her, for reasons she couldn't decipher.
While Rhaenyra was looking at her uncle and trying to parse out what he was thinking, her father was looking at her. He hadn't given much thought to the report Otto had given to him because of what he discovered in Rhaenyra's room, but maybe there were feelings there. Feelings he had never noticed between them, but which were plain on both of their faces as they looked at each other across the throne room. It was as if they had both forgotten he was there, trapped in the other's eyes as they were.
He stood, and they looked at him, broken from the spell of each other. "You will wed Prince Daemon, and you will do so without complaint," he said, though he suspected she would offer no complaint if given the option. "Neither of you will speak of this until we have contacted the Vale. I will not soothe the situation here only to create an incident there."
"Yes, Father," Rhaenyra said automatically. The only people she would speak of it with were Daemon himself or Alicent-- and Alicent would surely be aware of the situation before the end of the day.
"Summon Lord Strong. Tell him to meet me in the Small Council room," he told one of the King's Guard as he walked down the steps, and the guard nodded. They left the throne room, but Rhaenyra and Daemon stayed where they were.
Once the door closed, she looked towards her uncle. He had walked closer while the others left, but he was still on the steps. She walked the rest of the space that separated them. "You told him you would marry me," she said in Valyrian.
"And I will."
No one truly knew what Daemon thought. Including Daemon, her mind whispered, now sure of it where before it had only been a suspicion. She asked the question that had been rolling through her mind from the moment it happened. "Then why did you leave me last night?"
His eyes flickered towards the door as if worried someone had snuck in without their noticing. "I did not mean for it to happen like that," he said quietly
"What did you mean to happen?" she asked.
He met her gaze evenly, and now that she was closer, she could see the truth. He'd meant to go through with it.
"Why didn't you stay? Finish what you started?" It's what she had wanted. Even now, it is what she wanted.
He gave her a small smile. "It was a bad time to be struck with a conscience."
"A problem you did not have five minutes ago, I presume."
His eyes flickered down to her neck, where she wasn't wearing his necklace.
And then it hit her. He wanted her. Not because of her position to the Iron Throne, but because she was herself. She could be Rhaenyra, forgotten daughter of the late Queen, and he would still be stood in front of her, looking at her like that. He'd gotten her gifts when he stood nothing to gain from it. He had brought her out last night partially to spend time with her yes, but partially to further his own goals. When he'd realized what she was now discovering, he'd run. In that moment where he ran, he hadn't wanted to ruin her; he hadn't wanted to manipulate her; all he'd wanted was her, and he didn't know how to keep her. Now, with her being discovered with Ser Criston, he could.
She reached out and took his hand.
He stilled.
"You should have asked me."
"Asked you what?"
"If I wanted to marry you. Last night, while we were out, you should have asked." She squeezed his fingers. She would've said yes.