Chapter Text
"Father," Rhaenyra interrupted, voice calm but lilac eyes alight in dragon fire, "why is there a whore in my mothers bed not even a day after her death bringing your son into the world?"
Both Viserys and Alicent froze for a moment at the words, before a flurry of movement occurred in the Royal bed. Alicent, clearly nude, covered herself with a sheet, one that clung to her due to the amount of bodily fluids on her. The dress on the floor, one of Alicent's late mothers if she was correct, told Rhaenyra all she needed to know about the events unfolding before her.
Her father, flushed and clearly having just completed, could not meet her eyes. Good, she thought viciously, Wyrm King. Waste of a Dragon's Blood.
"Rhaenyra, my dear, it is not what you-"
Rhaenyra cut her fathers words off with a vicious glare. "It is not what a think? Let me tell you what I think, then, father. I think I see my only Lady in Waiting, a pios lady not two summers older than I, in your bed. I see a disgrace of a whore, and a treasonous one at that, who coupled in her Mistresses parents bed before my mothers blood is even dried. I see you, with your whore, who has disgraced me by taking one of my household into your bed. Your bed. The bed of my dear mother, who we burned yesterday. Oh, I see plenty, father, and never have I been more disgusted."
"Princess!" The Whore pleaded, "please!"
Rhaenyra turned her gaze on the whore, the girl who had been her sole companion for years, her friend, now sullied by her own father. "I have no words to give a Whore, except that you, Alicent Hightower are officially dismissed from my service. Were you bedding anyone else, I would have you sent to the Silent Sisters, but, alas, I can no longer command that. Instead, I will say that your... services to the Crown have been noted, and your belongings will be delivered to the Whore's quarters before morning."
She ignored the crowd who gathered behind her and walked back to her rooms, each step carefully calm instead of fiery. She pushed back her rage, her loathing, as she moved quickly through Maegors Holdfast.
Despite what she led people to believe, the Realm's delight was not a stupid child. Oh, she played one perfectly, but underneath the lace and silk was still a Dragon waiting to be unleashed and tested in Flames. Her act had been so effective because she honestly never wanted the Throne. She never wanted to be the heiress. If her parents had successfully brought a son into the world, she would have been thrilled! She had refused to play the Game of Thrones for so long, but now, suddenly, all of that was now gone.
Rhaenyra sat gracefully on her bed, she didn't have a choice anymore. She had to play if she wanted to live.
Because her father would marry the whore. He had no choice after publicly being caught deflowering the girl. Well, no, that wasn't quite true. Viserys was King, he could absolutely abandon the whore to the streets. But he wouldn't because fucking Otto Cuntower, the Hand, would whisper poison in the ear of the King.
Through the whore, Viserys could gain the sons he so craved.
The utter humiliation of her fathers actions made the girl shiver.
She was only four and ten, but she would need to marry before the whore and her father if she wanted her mothers blood on the throne. Her options weren't as numerous as she had once hoped, not with the amount of political discourse her father was bringing in by choosing a queen who had nothing.
Stark, Lannister, Velaryon.
Maybe Strong.
Stark would be useful to the kingdom by further connecting the North to the Kingdom. They had an access of Steel and Furs to trade as well, which were always useful to have. The Stark in question would have to be Rickon, the future Lord of Winterfell who was but a few months older than her. He was known to be a quiet man, a knight, who had the viciousness of a wolf against his enemies. But Winterfell was unstable.
Lannister, most likely Jason, she thought with a grimace, was a rich house. Powerful and plentiful enough that should they rise up, her family could struggle. More than that though, they were just as power hungry as the House of Hightower, but Jason Lannister could be so very cruel. Though, admittedly, no one could say the man wasn't intelligent. While he wouldn't be thrilled to kneel, he would be happy to have his bloodline intertwine with her own.
She much preferred the company of Ser Tyland, Lord Jason's younger twin, but, alas, she would never be permitted to marry a second son. Even if he did have his own title and land.
Laenor Valeryon would financially be the best choice. His family was hers, and the Valeryon's had the largest Fleets in the kingdom. But... she knew his tastes well. She had personally caught him and his fellow squire in a position not dissimilar to the one her father was just in. Rumors of his tastes had reached the Red Keep dozens of times over, and thus, any heirs she had with him would always have their legitimacy questioned. Assuming he could give her heirs in the first place.
Finally, there was House Strong.
Truthfully, the inclusion of Ser Harwin onto her short list of potential husband was due exclusively to her petty nature. She remembered how the whore had swooned over the man at the tournament just yesterday. She had seen how the then Lady Alicent had blushed and averted her eyes when the man looked her way, the beginnings of feelings she had teased the traitor with obvious.
The only reason she wanted Ser Harwin was because Alicent did.
Politically, he offered no great riches, no great armies, his house was stable and loyal, but not overwhelmingly so. Though he was the Heir of Lord Lyonal Stark, he was easy to overlook. Oh, the man was dangerous, but in a different way than the rest on her list. She wanted him purely for her own benefit.
But her opinion could not matter any longer. Maybe if she hadn't found the Whore in her fathers bed, she could pursue Breakbones. But then again, if she hadn't, then she wouldn't have even considered the man.
Shivers raked her body, making her feel freezing cold somewhere deep inside her chest as she realized who she would choose.
Choose.
What a funny little word. Oh, she had the appearance of choice, certainly, but unless she wanted a kingdom of Ashes in her future, there was only one choice.
She could not marry Laenor and have her future children questioned. No matter how much Corlys and Rhaenys complained about a so called slight, she would not take the chance that Laenor could not do his duty and give her heirs.
She could not marry Rickon, as he was caught in a dispute about his status as Lord Benjens heir. The young man was far too busy up in Winterfell to be a proper support in the Red Keep. Their entire family was stabilizing, but not enough to pull him into the Game.
She could not marry Harwin Strong out of spite. The man seemed nice enough, and while she would love rubbing the Whore's face in that kind of marriage, Ser Harwin deserved better.
That left one name, the one she liked the least.
She would marry Jason Lannister. Quickly. She would rebuild her household, including a Stark, Alys Strong, and Laena Velaryon. To ease the sting of Lord Corlys' son not being her husband, she would make Lady Laena her Chief Lady in Waiting. Maybe she would even bring Ser Harwin into her personal guard. Away from Alicent.
Hopefully, that would keep the Keep from falling on her head. No, she told herself firmly as the voices of her people filled her ears, it would be enough. She would keep their House, and their Throne for her heirs and their heirs.
Damn Viserys and his whore.