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The atmosphere around the entrance to the dragonmont was, in a word, chaotic, as Mysaria made her way through Dragonstone’s large, ornate stone hallways.
“What is the cause of this commotion?” Mysaria asked, reaching out to grasp the arm of one of the dragon keepers' that had just rushed through the large door that led to the dragon dragonmont.
“It’s Syrax,” the man said, “She is wroth. Keep your distance, my lady.”
“The queen…”
“Left strict orders for the council meeting not to be interrupted. Prince Jacaerys has been sent for,” the dragon keeper explained. “His presence should help to calm the dragon.”
“Thank you,” Mysaria murmured, allowing the dragon keeper to continue on towards wherever he had been going.
Despite his words, Mysaria approached the doors to the dragonmont, curious as to what was actually happening inside while waiting for Jacaerys to arrive. Syrax had been very friendly and docile since their first meeting, and Mysaria found it hard to imagine her creating such a ruckus.
As Mysaria neared the door, she could hear Syrax huffing and snorting, which she knew was a sound of displeasure, but she was still surprised when she was finally able to see fully into the room, and saw Syrax beginning to open her mouth, the terrifying glow of dragonfire growing brighter within her throat.
Without thinking, Mysaria hurried into the room, her hand outstretched as she called out, as loudly as possible, “Lykirī, Syrax! Lykirī.”
Suddenly hearing a new voice in the dragonmont, the dragon keepers' who had been struggling with the incensed dragon turned in surprise.
“Rȳbās, dohaerās, demās,” Listen, serve, sit , Mysaria continued, approaching the dragon keepers' as she drew ever closer to Syrax.
“Lady Mysaria, you mustn't…” one of the dragon keepers' began to caution when she came dangerously close to the dragon. However, his warning came to an abrupt halt when the rumbling sounds of displeasure that Syrax had been making for nearly half a candlemark suddenly ceased.
“Gevī, Syrax,” Good , Mysaria said, able to speak more softly now that she was closer to the dragon. “Embrot,” Down , Mysaria continued, close enough to now feel the dragon’s breath on her skin. “Gevī ,” Mysaria repeated, praising the magnificent creature as Syrax began to slowly lower her head.
The dragon keepers' watched, wide-eyed, as Syrax followed Lady Mysaria’s simple commands and began to calmly lower her head to rest on the edge of the platform, closing and opening her eyes in a slow blink a few moments later as she gazed at the dark-haired foreigner.
Mysaria smiled at the dragon, and then took another step towards her, and the lead dragon keeper stepped to the side, allowing her to continue approaching, because inconceivable as it was, this newcomer to Dragonstone was the reason for Syrax’s sudden calm.
Dealing with an irrationally frustrated dragon was exceptionally dangerous, even for one trained to handle them, and if Mysaria’s presence kept Syrax calm, then the keeper would not interfere and risk upsetting the dragon again.
But it was confusing.
He had never seen a dragon be so accommodating to someone who was not intimately connected to their rider, such as a rider’s children or spouse. It was why they had sent a runner to fetch Prince Jacaerys. And while it was true that Mysaria was no stranger to Syrax, having often accompanied Rhaenyra during her recent visits to Syrax, a dragon being accustomed to the sight of a person did not, in and of itself, make them deferential to someone.
As Mysaria’s thin hand lifted to caress Syrax’s snout, the sound of rapidly approaching footsteps broke the fresh silence that had fallen over the room, catching the dragon keeper’s attention and drawing his eyes towards the door as Prince Jacaerys rushed into sight.
A moment after the prince fully entered the dragonmont, he came to a sudden and abrupt stop on the platform, his eyes focused at the platform’s edge, at Mysaria who had begun to stroke Syrax affectionately, clearly surprised by the development, as the keepers had been.
The prince soon shook off his surprise however, and drawing himself up to his full height, Jacaerys continued on his way into the room, walking calmly now as he approached the dragon keepers', noting their obvious confusion as their attention shifted between him, Syrax, and Mysaria.
“Leave us,” he told them in High Valyrian.
The dragon keepers' looked at each other in surprise, but nodded to the prince, and then began to retreat from the room.
It was only once the keepers’ were gone and he turned his attention back to Mysaria that Jacaerys realized she had started, or had already been, speaking to Syrax softly in High Valyrian. She was clearly still learning, but was capable of clear, simple communication, and for the second time in as many minutes, Jacaerys was gobsmacked.
“Lady Mysaria,” the prince said as she came to a stop at her side.
“Your highness,” Mysaria demurred, dipping her head in a nod as she turned to face him.
“It seems my presence was not required after all,” He observed, reaching out to stroke Syrax himself, smiling when the dragon closed her eyes, blinking at him affectionately. “You have my gratitude. And that of our queen.”
“I am pleased that I could be of assistance,” Mysaria said softly, humbly, as she returned to stroking Syrax.
And then, much like they had stood together on the castle’s battlements months ago, Jacaerys and Mysaria found themselves standing side by side in companionable silence, the prince occasionally glancing over at Mysaria thoughtfully, while Mysaria pretended not to notice his scrutiny.
Jace had been aware that his mother had taken Mysaria into her confidence, placing enough trust in the other woman that Mysaria was allowed to orchestrate and implement plans that even he, the crown prince, was not privy to. And, he had noted, that a more emotional connection had developed between Mysaria and his mother, having observed the soft smiles they exchanged, as well as the occasional casual touch.
A developing friendship, he had supposed.
But now…
For Syrax to behave the way she was around Mysaria…
Jace shook his head slightly before leaning forward to press his forehead against the dragon’s snout, finding the heat physically calming, even though his mind was still reeling.
In order for a dragon to possibly, possibly , allow familiarity from someone who was not their bonded rider, that someone had to be deeply loved by the rider. As Rhaenyra’s son, Syrax had been exceptionally gentle with him from the moment his mother had first introduced them when he was still but a babe in her arms. And the she-dragon had been the same, docile and welcoming, of Luc, Joffrey, Aegon, and Viserys, all of Rhaenyra’s sons. And while Syrax was not necessarily fond of Daemon, she did patiently tolerate him.
However, the keepers and all other personnel trained to care for the dragons, always had to be alert and cautious while dealing with them. Despite these individuals spending a large amount of time around the dragon’s, they got, at best, grudging obedience, and as such would very rarely get within a spear’s length of a dragon.
Syrax sitting comfortably, allowing Mysaria to casually pet her, could only mean…
“Absent the arrival of a new catastrophe,” Jacaerys began, breaking the silence between them. “I am to dine with my mother in her chamber tonight,” he continued, turning to face Mysaria fully, and in turn she respectfully did the same. “You should join us. She would like that,” he concluded.
He then bowed courteously towards Mysaria and turned to face the door, taking a few steps towards it before pausing and turning to look over his shoulder.
“Elinda will call for you,” he informed her, and when Mysaria nodded at him, he turned and continued on his way to the door.
Mysaria watched him go, and then, once there were no eyes on her but Syrax’s, she smiled and rested her head against the dragon, allowing herself a moment to enjoy the feeling of happiness coursing through her. She understood that the prince’s invitation was a peace offering of sorts, that he had reached some level of acceptance of her place at Rhaenyra’s side, and this development was significant and to be appreciated.
Rhaenyra turned from her spot before the fire when she heard the door to her chamber open, knowing that the lack of an introduction being made meant that it was Jacaerys who entered.
Turning from the flames to face the door, Rhaenyra smiled at him, and then began to walk towards him, her eyebrows crinkling as she looked behind him but saw no one else entering the room.
“What?” he asked, confused, looking behind him upon seeing his mother’s expression.
“I thought Baela would be with you,” Rhaenyra replied as they met each other in the middle of the room.
“Why?” Jace asked in confusion as he allowed himself to be hugged.
“Elinda said you told her to set an extra place,” Rhaenyra replied, gesturing towards the table where three settings had been arranged.
“Oh,” Jace said, shrugging. “I invited Mysaria to dine with us.”
Rhaenyra’s eyes widened almost comically in surprise, and Jace had to bite down on his lip to stop himself from laughing.
“Welcome news,” she began. He had known it would be. “But confusing,” Rhaenyra continued, and Jace couldn’t help but smile a little in response to her words and tone. “What prompted such an offer?”
“Would that I had returned on Vermax early enough that I might have attended the council meeting and witnessed first hand what was said to so enrage the dragon within you,” Jace replied, moving over to the set dinner table and taking a seat. “Because it had Syrax agitated enough that the keeper’s sent for me to try and calm her down.”
Rhaenyra joined him at the table, sighing irritably as she did. “I’m sure you’ve already heard plenty about what went on in the council meeting,” she said, knowing how fast news spread in any castle. Then, straightening in her seat, so as not to appear so petulant, she said, “I’m glad you were able to help.”
“I didn’t,” Jace said calmly, watching as his mother’s gaze narrowed at him suspiciously, “Mysaria had already accomplished the task by the time I arrived,” he continued, noting a subtle widening of her eyes and telling twitch of her lips.
The news surprised her, but also pleased her.
“Syrax was like a sleepy cat receiving scratches upon her head,” Jace went on, at this point unsurprised by the faint blush that touched Rhaenyra’s cheeks upon hearing that description, knowing that her son her would know that it suggested Rhaenyra was also calmed by Mysaria’s touch.
“We have become genuinely fond of each other,” Rhaenyra began, speaking slowly, carefully. “Besides which, she has accompanied me during recent visits to the dragonmont. Syrax is familiar with the sight and scent of her. You have been aware of this for weeks.”
Jace leaned back in his chair and simply met her gaze, remaining silent.
“Syrax knows that she is a friend,” Rhaenyra continued, breaking the uncomfortable silence.
“She was petting her, Mother,” Jace replied pointedly, though his voice was calm and non-confrontational. He was simply stating a fact that they both knew the implication of. His mother had only to admit it. “She is not merely a friend.”
Rhaenyra held his eyes for a moment, and then sighed softly, her fingers subconsciously beginning to fiddle with each other.
“No,” Rhaenyra murmured, chewing on her bottom lip for a moment, “she is not,” she admitted, tugging at her thumb. “Well?” she asked, finally lifting her eyes to meet her son’s once more.
“Well…I invited her to dinner, didn’t I?” Jace said, smiling a little, and then a little more when his mother’s tense posture visibly relaxed. “We should become better acquainted, Mysaria and I.”
“Thank you,” Rhaenyra said, reaching out to cover his hand with her own and giving it a squeeze. “It is a …”
The door to her chambers opened, interrupting Rhaenyra, as Ser Lorent entered and announced Mysaria, before stepping aside to allow her entrance into the room.
Mysaria walked to the open seat by Rhaenyra’s side, but before she sat down, Rhaenyra extended her hand to her and Mysaria placed her hand in the queen’s, unable to stop the smile that grew on her lips or the faint blush that rose to her cheeks, when Rhaenyra kissed the back of her hand before murmuring, “Lady Mysaria,” and then releasing her hand. “Please, sit.”
“It is an honour, your grace. I thank you for the invitation, my prince,” she continued, nodding respectfully at Jace, who regarded them with a touch of amusement.
“You are most welcome,” Jace replied, trying his best not to let his amusement show as Mysaria took a seat, though a quick glance at the look on his mother’s face, gave him the impression that he had not entirely succeeded. “I have wondered,” Jace continued as Mysaria made herself comfortable. “Which member of your council was it, whose tongue was barely spared from your ire, by Lady Mysaria’s adept handling of Syrax?”
“Lord Emmon,” Rhaenyra replied with a touch of exasperation at both her son's sassy question and the reminder of her exceedingly unpleasant interaction with Lord Emmon earlier that day.
“Hmm,” Jace hummed. “Then it is a shame perhaps, that you arrived so quickly, my lady,” he continued, smiling over at Mysaria mischievously.
“Jacaerys,” Rhaenyra hissed chastisingly, though the twitching of her lips hinted at the fact that she had found his jest amusing, despite the inappropriateness of it.
He lifted his hands in supplication, and murmured, “Apologies,” before standing and reaching for the decanter of wine that rested nearby on the table. “My Lady Mysaria, would you care for a drink?” he asked as he picked it up.
Mysaria’s eyes widened slightly, and her gaze shifted briefly to Rhaenyra before she turned back to Jacaerys and said, “My Lord, it is I who should…” she began, shifting to rise out of her chair, however Rhaenyra reached out and placed her hand on top of Mysaria’s, urging her to sit back down.
The queen understood that this was her son’s way of showing her that he acknowledged the position Mysaria held in her life, and would treat more respectfully with the woman going forward.
So, when Mysaria settled in her chair once again, Jace continued on his way over to the woman and poured a glass for her, before doing the same for his mother, and then himself.
“I was not aware you knew High Vayrian,” Jace began conversationally, upon retaking his seat, lifting his cup to his lips to take a sip of wine as he looked over at Mysaria.
Now that he understood more about her relationship with his mother, Jacaerys supposed he had best get started getting to know the woman better.
Dessert had already been served, and the dishes cleared, by the time Elinda knocked at the chamber door and then opened it, walking inside to tell Mysaria that she was needed in another part of the castle. Jacaerys found this strange, yet his mother did not seem the least bit curious, and this he found suspicious.
No doubt the urgent business was in relation to some plot the two of them were hatching.
Without him.
“Well, let’s have it,” Rhaenyra said, noticing the furrow that came to Jace’s brow as he watched Mysaria leave.
“After what I have seen today, I cannot deny the happiness she brings you, or her importance to our cause as Mistress of Whispers. It was nice to see you smile again this night. To see it reflected in your eyes. But, I have concerns,” Jace replied truthfully.
“What is their nature?” Rhaenyra inquired guardedly.
“A lack of discretion,” Jace began.
The expression that came onto Rhaenyra’s face upon hearing that made it clear that she did not agree that she and Mysaria had been indiscrete, but she did not interrupt him.
“It is known she has spent the night in these chambers more than once. And Emmon is not the only one upset about her seat on the council. Much is being made of the influence she has on you. In time, there will be speculation - untrue as it may be,” he emphasized, “about how she came about that influence. Speculation that may begin to take a particular turn if idle talk among the dragon keepers' were to reach the ears of gossips. One or two of these issues on their own is but a hassle to deal with, an inconvenience that can be powered through,” Jace continued, unconsciously lifting his hand to his curly dark hair, and tucking a few unruly strands behind his ear. “But when they are combined…” Jace sighed, unhappily, not wanting to continue, but believing that he had to.
“I am happy for your heart, mother,” he said, lifting his hand to cover his own heart, “But I am worried for your crown.”
“You exagger…”
“I do not. Before this latest … display, there was already worry about Daemon’s loyalty to …”
Rhaenyra breathed out harshly, and rose to her feet, beginning to pace as she was filled with a restless energy she had no way to adequately relieve.
“Daemon,” Rhaenyra stated, affixing her gaze upon Jace’s when she had suitably gathered herself, “is responsible for worries over his loyalty to my cause. Daemon is the one who stormed out of these very chambers like a … a …. a … toddler, throwing a fit because they were made to look upon a mess of their own making. In fact, you were never such a terror as an actual child,” Rhaenyra continued, before finally pausing when the words she was saying registered with her, in addition to the fervour with which she unloading too much upon her son.
Rhaenyra sighed, took a deep and calming breath, and then continued in a more appropriate tone.
“Every loss I have had thus far, has been dictated by the impatience and narcissism of the men surrounding me. Every victory I have had, all of them bloodless, I have gained through Mysaria’s wisdom, and her humanity,” Rhaenyra began anew, speaking more softly as she approached her son, shifting away from talk of Daemon, who remained a raw nerve for her.
“You know why I am fighting this war, Jacaerys. You alone know none of it is for glory. I do not want to rule upon a land of corpses, burned by dragons ridden under my banner; disembowelled by swords wielded in my name. And so, I cannot fight this war in the way others have been fought, with no disregard for the smallfolk, or the indignities and atrocities inflicted upon by rulers who care not as long as they can terrorize them into obedience once in power.”
Rhaenyra paused by his chair, placing her hand on the back of it.
“Unconventional tactics have aided me in ways both obvious and not,” she continued, alluding to the deliveries of food to the shores of King’s Landing in boats carrying her banner, while thinking about her visit to the city to meet with Alicent in person, which while not providing peaceful an end to the conflict, had strengthened Rhaenyra’s resolve to follow this fight through to the end, so that she might sit upon the throne and protect the realm as her father had wanted.
“I will continue to make decisions with temperance and consideration. I will not be harassed into sending my blood, as well as countless people’s children, and spouses, and parents, into poorly planned battles of ego as if they were nought but fodder,” Rhaenyra finished, breathless from voicing so many words she had kept buried inside for so long.
“I am not unfeeling, Mother,” Jace said as Rhaenyra paused to take a breath. “I understand your sentiments. But you have not addressed the heart of the concerns I voiced,” he continued, respectfully standing his ground.
“But I have,” Rhaenyra sighed. “If my bannermen or any others wish to follow a Red Dragon who is as hungry for blood, glory, and titles as they are, then they will have to break the oaths they swore to me and my father before me. Daemon will no doubt gladly accept them. What Daemon will not be, is the true power behind my crown. I will not be a queen in name only.”
Rhaenyra reached down, taking Jace’s face gently into her hands.
“The only way Daemon, or any other, will sit comfortably upon the Iron Throne is if I am dead. I swore an oath to my father, and to the realm, and I will keep it. And if I am going to die for this cause, my love, I must wage this war in a way that is worthy of a legacy of life . Of the sacred duty I inherited from my father, and that you will inherit from me, as all Targaryen rulers have inherited from their forebears, all the way back to the conqueror,” Rhaenyra pronounced, dipping her head down to press a kiss against Jace’s forehead. “This is my decision, and I will accept the consequences of it, be they good or ill.”
Rhaenyra then sighed deeply, wearily, as she retook her seat.
“I am your mother, not your master, Jacaerys,” she said, her eyes shining wetly when they met his, though no tears had yet fallen. “If you have more faith in Daemon’s ability to not just take back the Iron Throne, but to also rule justly over the hundreds of thousands of lives that will be placed - without restraint - into his hands, then go to him,” she continued, blinking rapidly before emotion forced her to momentarily look away. “I do not want this, but I will not hinder you. I brought you into this world to live. I refuse to now lock you in a cage.”
It was a lot to take in, and Jace was quiet for some time as he tried to process everything his mother said. Though, he soon came to realize, it really came down to the last of it. Did he want to live with the consequences, short and long-term, of helping to put his uncle on the throne? If he was to kill, to incinerate other living beings in dragon-fire, did he want to do it in Daemon’s name and for the legacy and the future that Daemon would forge?
The answer he arrived at was that, he did not.
“I understand,” Jace said, looking over to meet his mother’s eyes, his gaze and demeanour, serious. “I stand ever committed to the rightful queen, Rhaenyra Taragaryen,” he proclaimed, kneeling at her feet. “And I will try to be less impertinent,” he added, and blinking back tears, Rhaenyra smiled at him and knelt on the floor as well so that she could embrace him.
“What is it?” she asked when she pulled back and saw a certain playful look in his eyes.
“She’s pretty, Mysaria,” he said, smiling jocularly as he gave his mother an impressed little nod.
Rhaenyra looked at him consideringly for a moment, and then clapped her hands together decisively before rising to her feet as a blush warmed her cheeks. Mysaria was exceptionally pretty, more than, she was rare and considerable beauty, inside and out, but given how easy it was for her to become, apparently, quite visibly smitten, Mysaria’s attractiveness was not something she wished to discuss with her son.
“It is time, I think, for you to retire for the night,” Rhaenyra proclaimed, looking over at Jacaerys with definitiveness.
“I’m not a child,” Jace replied lightly, more amused by her attempt to avoid his teasing than anything else. “The sun has barely set.”
“You are a child. You are my child,” Rhaenyra replied, “It is black as pitch out there, and you will take yourself to bed before you embarrass both of us with further foolery.”
“You mean embarrass you ,” Jace corrected.
“I said both of us,” Rhaenyra replied, her tone and demeanor playfully prim and proper.
“Yes, but, in truth it is only you,” Jace retorted, continuing the foolery his mother had mentioned. “My Gentlemom,” he continued playfully, watching as her lips twitched with the effort of containing a smile. “Given your recent success, perhaps you could provide me with some tips for courting Bael…”
“I thought you said you would try to be less impertinent,” Rhaenyra interrupted, arching her eyebrow at him imperiously.
Jace thought for a moment, and then said, “Commencing tomorrow.”
Rhaenyra stared at him for a moment, and then smiled before reaching out to start tickling him, following him as he laughed while trying to squirm away from her fingers.
“I yield, congratulations,” Jace said when he managed to place a chair between himself and his mother. “I will leave for my chamber presently,” he continued, eying her suspiciously as he began to back away from the chair and towards the door. “But for posterity, that-” Jace said, waving his hand in the general direction of the table his mother had chased him around, “was exceedingly immature.”
“Oh?” Rhaenyra said, her eyes widening innocently. “Was it exceedingly so,” she continued, beginning to walk towards him, wiggling her fingers.
“Rhaenyra the Unruly,” he replied boldly, though he kept a close eye on her hands.
“Tickling may I reign,” Rhaenyra said, smiling teasingly in response before she took a step towards Jace, prompting him to scramble backwards until he bumped against her closed chamber door.
Having reached his destination, Jace dipped his head quickly in her direction, and then scrambled to open the door and rushed outside, nearly crashing into Mysaria and then just avoiding Ser Lorent, who also stood nearby.
“My lady,” he said, bowing his head, “Ser Lorent,” he continued, bowing again. “Goodnight,” he concluded, and he began to walk away, brusquely.
“Your timing is impeccable,” Rhaenyra noted, skin flushed, breathing quick, eyes a little wild as she smiled at the other woman.
“Not quite,” Mysaria said, finding Rhaenyra distractingly beautiful at that moment. “I heard you laughing and did not wish to interrupt. So, I loitered briefly with Ser Lorent.”
“Thank you,” Rhaenyra breathed out, approaching her paramour. “Levity has not been an emotion in abundance between Jacaerys and I lately, and… What?” Rhaenyra asked curiously, noting the way Mysaria was looking at her.
“You’re glowing,” Mysaria breathed out. “My queen is very beautiful,” she continued, and under the adoration in her gaze, Rhaenyra could feel nothing but. “It is, at times, distracting.”
“My lady does not have to flatter me so,” Rhaenyra said, somewhat bashfully as she averted her eyes. “I had not planned on going to bed without you.”
Mysaria smiled at that, and released a soft sound of amusement. “I am glad to hear it, but I do not flatter. You are beautiful,” she said, not letting Rhaenyra escape her gaze as a blush rose to tint the queen’s cheeks.
“Thank you,” Rhaenyra said softly, cheeks still tinged with colour though she returned her gaze to Mysaria. “As are you, my lady,” she continued, her voice soft as a whisper, as she leaned in to brush her lips across Mysaria’s cheek. “A fact, it appears, that my son will be teasing me about for the foreseeable future.”
“He does seem to enjoy that,” Mysaria noted dryly, having had the chance to witness the two of them interacting over dinner, the comment drawing a soft laugh from Rhaenyra. “What does he … understand our relationship to be?” Mysaria asked, as Rhaenyra moved to sit in her favourite chair by the fireplace.
Rhaenyra placing a kiss on her hand at the beginning of the evening, and occasionally touching her hand or arm as the meal wore on, made it clear to Mysaria that Jacaerys was aware that there was an element intimacy to their relationship, but was not sure if he understood all of the ways in which that intimacy manifested itself.
“Join me?” Rhaenyra asked, holding out her hand.
Mysaria smiled, and closed the distance between them, slipping onto Rhaenyra’s lap easily.
“He found your visit with Syrax to be very, illuminating,” Rhaenyra began once Mysaria had settled, answering the question Mysaria had asked before Rhaenyra had requested that Mysaria join her.
“According to the knowledge from what has been passed down to us from the days of Old Valyria, it is not unusual for a dragon to be affectionate with their bonded riders' children. I had no fear of allowing my boys to be near Syrax when they were still in diapers because I knew my girl would never hurt them,” Rhaenyra continued, smiling fondly at the memories of Syrax with her sons that her words had evoked. “And generally, spouses are tolerated by a rider’s dragon. What has been shared only amidst the members of our family, is that it is believed that spouses are tolerated due to a transfer of scent, as a consequence of regular prolonged physical contact with the rider.”
“I did not know,” Mysaria breathed out, watching Rhaenyra carefully to determine if her queen was upset about what her impulsive, though well-intentioned, actions in the dragon dragonmont had revealed to her son.
She had noticed Jace considering her as they stood by Syrax together, but only now fully understood just how much her mere ability to exist beside him at Syrax’s side implied.
“Most do not,” Rhaenyra said easily, her tone and manner unperturbed. “I myself was not entirely sure what role scent played versus Targaryen blood. Laenor of course had it, and with Daemon…” Rhaenyra trailed off, aware that Mysaria knew both conditions were met by him.
“But with me, there is no question,” Mysaria murmured, aiming to keep her voice calm and even, though the implications of Rhaenyra’s words made her heart beat faster, and her insides warm.
“Hmm,” Rhaenyra hummed in agreement. “So, yes, Jace understands. He understands … and makes jests,” she grumbled, causing Mysaria to bite down on a small that wanted to emerge upon seeing her queen’s pouty expression.
“What of the fact that I am a woman?” Mysaria asked a few moments later, when Rhaenyra looked up at her.
“Our line's reign in Westeros began with a marriage between two women,” Rhaenyra replied, “Visenya and Rhaenys were not wives in name only as the histories written by Maesters claim,” she continued, smiling when Mysaria’s eyes widened with interest and then speculation, wondering if stumbling upon a book that explicitly discussed the nature of the relationship between the two first Targaryen Queens was another reason Rhaenyra revered Visenya as she did.
“We have never truly followed the ways of the Seven. In Old Valyria, and for many centuries now on Dragonstone, as long as one entered into an acceptable marriage and produced heirs, love between those who are built alike has not been a cause for concern,” Rhaenyra paused to allow herself to place an explanatory kiss on Mysaria’s neck, and then another, and another, until their lips met in a sweet kiss. “When alone with him, we need not obscure our affection,” Rhaenyra whispered when their lips parted.
“I am pleased,” Mysaria said, her eyes shining happily as she gazed at Rhaenyra softly.
It had been a wonderful feeling, during dinner, being touched fondly by Rhaenyra in the sight of another. And it always stirred tender feelings within Mysaria to see Rhaenyra interact with her son.
Mysaria had spent much time with Rhaenyra the queen, and an ever increasing amount of time with Rhaenyra the woman, but it had been rare for her to see Rhaenyra the mother while she was safely secured away from the eyes and ears that roamed the halls of the castle, and Mysaria found herself, unsurprisingly, enchanted with this aspect of her lover’s personality as well.
The way Rhaenyra listened intently to Jacaerys when he spoke, the way she was often unable to stop herself from smiling, at least a little bit, at his jests, the adoration and pride in her eyes she sat back watching as Jace told Mysaria about his excursion North and to the Great Wall itself. It brought joy to Mysaria’s heart to know that she would have the honour of being privy to such domestic scenes in the future.
“As am I,” Rhaenyra breathed out, relieved to now be able to be open with Jace about this development in her life. “The time I spent with him today has been, restorative.”
Mysaria reached out, stroking Rhaenyra’s cheek fondly.
“In that case,” the dark-haired beauty began, her tone playfully thoughtful, her eyes amused. “Perhaps my queen would be gracious enough to help me practice my dragon-taming skills,” she purred, her heart stopping for a moment, frozen in her chest when Rhaenyra’s lips parted longingly as she gazed up at Mysaria, her pupils blown wide as she unconsciously nodded her head.
“Vēzot,” Up , Mysaria directed, sliding off of Rhaenyra’s lap to allow the queen to rise. “Ynot,” Come .
Mysaria held her hand out to Rhaenyra, and Rhaenyra took it, and allowed herself to be walked towards their bed.
It was only when Mysaria came to a stop at the edge of the bed and turned to face Rhaenyra, that the queen realized Mysaria had unfastened her robe as they walked, which allowed her to drop the material to floor under Rhaenyra’s eyes, leaving her nude before her dragon.
She sat down on the edge of the bed.
“Dohaerās,” Serve , she said, looking straight into Rhaenyra’s eyes as she spread her legs.
The queen breathed in and out deeply as Mysaria’s treasure was revealed to her hungry eyes, and then, with a smile on her face and fire burning in her eyes, Rhaenyra sank down to her knees and obeyed.
The End