Chapter Text
My rooms were a whirlwind of activity. A large trunk lay open, outfits neatly pressed within alongside gold and jewelry. Before my coronation, I’d have packed the damned thing myself and been away long before now. Instead, I stood in the centre of the room, three maids fussing over me as they ensured my cloak was sat correctly over my new riding leathers. Another glance told me that one of the older maids had successfully dissuaded some of the younger ones from adding a lavish dress that would have been ruined by its inclusion.
The younger ones, the ones not yet used to normal service to me, seemed scandalised I would go with so little finery to visit the hall of a major vassal. From the thin lips of the older maid, I rather thought they might be in for a scolding later for daring to argue with their superior in the same room as the Queen herself.
Well, they weren’t wrong. It was the endless bane of a Targaryen woman. Show up looking less than your best, or worse, or limit your dragon’s speed to that of your baggage train. Then, what was the point of having a dragon?
Yet it was a moot point in this case. The Eyrie was the home of my mother. It was ruled by my cousin, whom I may frequently be exasperated by, but whose loyalty to me was not in any kind of doubt. Its current steward was my aunt, though not in blood or by marriage anymore.
And I rode to see my sister, not a vassal who would greet me on bended knee. I let my eyes drift closed at that thought as gloves were pulled over my fingers. I could at least appreciate the delicate way it was done, with the ruin of my right hand. Although I could have managed to put my own gloves on, injured hand or no, but being queen meant sacrificing a certain amount of independence. This was apparently one of them, I had been informed in no uncertain terms.
So the moment I had mostly recovered and the realm had ceased lurching from disaster to another disaster with alarming frequency, the small army of personal maids had moved in with frightening resolve.
According to Falena, I ought to cease my complaining, as they were there for protection as much as my convenience. Upon questioning, I had been informed of all the horrific ways poison could be introduced into clothing and bedding - not to mention the lotions and soaps I used each morning. Besides, I had also been informed that my maids actually liked me and that being in my service had been a placement fought for by many.
How many of these girls and women had served Alicent? I knew she had filled the official titled positions in the court with her men, but how much inroads had she made with the staff?
A knock on the door made me open my eyes again as my maids attended to the last bits of tucking and folding my outfit. “Come!”
At my curt call, the door was opened and Joffrey limped in. He gave a cursory bow, which I sensed was more rote than respect, before affixing me with a carefully neutral look. I felt my shoulders tense without meaning.
“Yes, Joffrey, I still mean to ride with Aemond. I have no desire to be beset upon by an angry child the entire way to the Eyrie.” At my terse words, his eyebrows shot up.
“That wasn’t actually what I was here for. Besides, I have come to agree with your point that the journey will be tiresome if every castle you stay at sees your niece treat you as a tyrant to be resisted with violence if necessary,” he told me, his tone mild.
Humph. So he wasn’t angry with me, or sulking about anything.
“Why then do you come into my chambers looking as if you expect me to explode with rage at any moment?” I asked, stepping free of the gaggle of maids. Some lingered slightly and were immediately shooed away by their elders. Only one remained to lock the trunk and place the key atop it before scrambling away.
“Because I am,” he said dryly. “Lady Elenda Baratheon has asked to see you before you leave.”
“I leave upon the hour,” I told him sourly, although in truth he knew that and I wasn’t sour at him. Sweat prickled beneath my gloves, making the skin where the prosthetic rested itch uncomfortably. Without thinking, I flexed my hand and grimaced at the tightness. I had been assigned exercises now that the stitches had been removed, but mobility was slow to return.
“So you do,” he replied.
So, Elenda was aware of that, was she? I was starting to tire of this woman. To summon me oh so boldly? She was lucky I didn’t have her sent back to Nightsong and her brother so she could cease being the fly in everyone's ointment. She’d already gotten her daughter a high placement in Jocelyn’s household, but if she thought her thin hold over me would get her back into Cassandra’s circle, she had another thing coming entirely.
I ought to ignore this entirely and damn what slander she spread in the meantime. Let her understand exactly where her place was, which was not pulling any strings attached to me. Another part of me wanted to march right over there and put her in her place.
I decided to treat myself. I rolled my head from side to side and let myself breath for a moment.
I had secured Cassandra’s loyalty, so why fawn over the mother anymore?
“Let us go then, Lord Joffrey, and see what Lady Elenda has to say for herself.” Someone who did not know him would have missed the subtle signs of relief that touched his face, but I did not. As we exited the room, Ser Garibald fell into step behind with a reassuring clatter.
“Thank you for this,” Joffrey said quietly. I glanced at him and I could see the frown on his face now, one he was letting free because he now knew I wasn’t going to throw something at the mere news of Elenda’s presumptuous summons.
Then it occurred to me that from his point of view, I hadn’t really reacted at all. In fact, I had been downright accepting. Of course, I had been cheered significantly by the thought of threatening to have the damned woman’s tongue ripped out and her fingers cut off if she so much breathed a word of Luke’s heritage.
Maybe he simply assumed I was trying to avoid thoughts of my upcoming trip.
Well, he wouldn’t be wrong in assuming that.
The sun was beginning its climb into mid-morning, and not producing much heat at all, I noted with a little worry, when we sighted Elenda herself. Dressed in a harsher yellow than the Baratheon variant, she stood beneath a tree, her head tilted upward as a crow jumped from branch to branch above her.
“Lady Elenda,” I called, forcing my tone into a false brightness. Her gaze lowered and she turned to me.
“Your Grace,” she murmured, curtseying. “Lord Joffrey.”
“Lord Joffrey told me you wished to discuss some matter.” At my tone, she frowned. Likely she had been expecting anger.
“Indeed, regarding my daughter,” she told me. I met her eyes and smiled.
“I’m afraid I have no news regarding Maris. I expect some soon, however. My daughter would have sailed with the fleet weeks ago,” I cheerfully informed her. If she sensed the edge of warning there, she did not heed it.
“It is regarding Cassandra,” she told me stiffly. “I am told she gave shelter to your errant daughter. I apologise.”
“Why would you? Cassandra did as best she could and I have rewarded her accordingly.” There was now a flat and unfriendly look on Elenda’s face, and I cast away the pretenses. Blood singing and vision narrowing, I forced a long deep breath and let my smile drop.
“I would have thought-” Elenda began, moving to face me head on.
“Then stop thinking,” I told her, and her mouth snapped shut so hard I heard her teeth clack. “Cassndra rules the Stormlands and she rules them ably. She has good men to support her, and with time and patience she will grow into it splendidly. She is not you. She is not her father.”
“She is my daughter!” snapped Elenda. “Mine! Not yours!”
“She is no one but her own,” I hissed. “Leave well enough alone, Elenda. I have granted that child my favour. Tell me, why do you think I let Wylde go? Did you assume it was but a whim?”
Elenda stepped back, on the retreat, and I could see her thinking now. Her eyes darted from me, to Joffrey, and to me again. I could see the bad decision and pursued her, reaching out and grasping her arm in the tightest grip I could manage with my off-hand, meeting her gaze.
“I do not know why you believe yourself to be so emboldened around me, but I believe it is time you cast aside this boldness and went home. Your father is ill, your brother needs your aid. Cease interfering in your daughter’s lives and cease interfering in the court.”
She attempted to pull free but I held on fast, some part of me laughing with glee. “I am your Queen and you will harken to me. Open your mouth about anything concerning my household, and I’ll have your tongue. Point your fingers at any of mine, and you will not have fingers to point. Lucerys has a role to play now, and if you interfere in such, I will consider it treason and have you hanged!”
I kept her gaze for a few moments more and then released her. She pulled back, pulling her arm close and watched me carefully.
“I would sooner be tongueless and fingerless and hanging from a bough than live to see my children mere puppets,” she spat.
“Her Grace has little desire for puppets, Lady Elenda,” Joffrey said softly and I jumped, remembering he was still there and had seen all of that. “Only competent men and women that she can set to their tasks without fear of failure or need to oversee them. I assure you, she considers Cassandra thusly.”
“The girl has done nothing and less than nothing to earn your favour, and yet you lavish her with it! Why? You gave her a Valyrian steel sword! What task has she accomplished worthy of such a gift, if you do not mean to make her a puppet?” Elenda spat.
“Her father fought and died for me. Daemon turned her lands into a charnel house and made Storm’s End into something even worse - a man of House Targaryen, for all I wish they had dashed his head against a wall the moment he was born! Her people, your people, even now are emerging from their servitude to him barely alive, a servitude crueler than any mere slave collar! She is weak now, yes, but only because her strength was spent in my name! If I only sought out allies for their current strength, I would be a poor ruler indeed,” I told her shortly.
She stared at me for a good long time. Then after a moment, lowered her head. “I beg your forgiveness, Your Grace. I misunderstood your actions in my love for my daughter. Surely you can understand a mother’s fear? Still, it matters not. I have failed to represent Lady Cassandra here at court adequately. I can only beg you not blame her for my actions.” The sudden surrender extinguished my anger like a draft would extinguish a candle. Grovelling? From Elenda? “You are correct that it would be best for me to return to Nightsong.”
She curtseyed again deep and low this time and the action left me staring as she rose again. “Might I leave to begin my preparations?”
What?
“What?” I asked. She looked at me, her eyebrows almost forming a V.
“Go, Elenda,” Joffrey said and she curtseyed again and left.
“What was that!?” I asked, still baffled. Surely defeating Elenda would not be so easy?
“A surrender,” Joffrey told me. “She’s beaten and she knows it. She’ll not cause trouble if she thinks it’s for nought, no matter what pride might demand.”
“What?” I asked him again and he gave me a look of impossible amusement.
“Rhaenyra, you are the Queen. Undisputed. Every living dragonrider knelt as you were crowned. Going against you, in this moment, is suicide. You could order her death on the morrow and maybe only Cassandra would protest overly much. You could give Laenor Storm’s End and nobody could gainsay you, much less Elenda. Do you think this boldness was anything other than desperation?”
I opened my mouth and closed it again. Joffrey snorted in amusement. I was Queen, I wanted to protest. I knew what that meant. It meant balancing upon a tightrope above a pool filled with sharks, balancing duty and responsibility with my desires and designs upon the realm, knowing that if I fell, those same sharks that professed to follow me would devour me.
Except when I said as much to Joffrey, he stared at me dumbfounded.
“Rhaenyra,” he finally managed to sigh. “That’s… not right at all. You are the Queen, you balance nothing. You speak and we obey - we can counsel you, but if you decide upon something, we cannot gainsay you. You are not balancing above a realm of sharks, you are a teamster and we your horses, the realm your carriage. You decide the direction and we harken to ensure that’s where you are taken.”
“Was Maegor a teamster then?” I asked shortly. Joffrey rolled his eyes, as if I were being the impossible one.
“Maegor was, why do you think so many followed him regardless of his cruelty and brutality? Why did King Jaehaerys proclaim him king? It was not all due to the proclamations regarding the Faith Militant, for they were already broken. It was because, despite everything, the realm knelt to him and followed him. Even if he was the teamster that beat all his best horses to death.”
I absorbed that for a moment, my mind rebelling against the notion. Absolute power? It did not feel like I had absolute power.
“Dear Rhaenyra, I do believe you’ve spent so long balancing on the rope as you grasped for the throne, you’ve forgotten what it is you sought to attain.” His hand came to rest gently on my shoulder, although the amusement was back on his face. “That is fine. We’ll work on this matter when you return.”