the-pearl-of-the-realm

[the-pearl-of-the-realm]

He drinks “power” like saltwater all because he cannot swim

The Conflict Challenge for @asongofgoldenfireandblackblood

It was rare for Rhaena to walk the Red Keep halls unaccompanied, but she had just left the courtyard after speaking with some ladies around her age whose attendance was rare in King's Landing—determined to ingratiate her peers amongst the daughters of The Reach to the new kind of court her mũna, Baela, and Rhaena herself were bringing to life—and was taking the years-long memorized steps back to the wing of the castle she shared with her twin and their ladies. A few years ago she would've been overwhelmingly anxious just to walk the well-beaten path alone, but a few years ago she had not developed the reputation that now led people to move out of her way without a moment's hesitation and smile as she always made sure to return their greetings in kind, a few years ago she was not a Princess of the Realm engaged to marry the Prince-Hand, a few years ago this was not Queen Rhaenyra's court.

"Oi! In the pink!" Rhaena did not startle, but still snapped towards the voice quickly, stopping as she was about to start up the stairs in the entry hall and came to face the boy who'd called out to her. He was still a boy to be sure, at least, he was still young, no more than five years her senior she was certain. Rhaena didn't recognize him, but he looked similar to several Marcher families from the Stormlands, and a handful of members she'd met from Houses in the Westerlands; He had the same angular face and almond-shaped eyes as the Lannisport Lannisters, but the all black attire and mop of dark curls that suited him well enough almost made her think of Gysella's family—no, she'd have told her if any of the Blacktydes were sailing in—and all the lions were far too proud to go out not flaunting their house colors in some way; he must be a Dondarrion, Prince Aegon got along well with their lord and his brother, and she'd only ever heard good things about the family herelf.

"May I help you?" Rhaena greeted him with her usual, bright smile.

The boy seemed to be teetering between flustered and annoyed, asking bluntly, "Have you seen my siblings?"

"Do I look like I know the whereabouts of every noble child in this castle?" Her tone remained gentle as she crossed her arms, always a firm believer in returning the energy others offered her.

"Well, no," He laughed, and Rhaena could hear the words he had the good sense not to add aloud in the noise, 'you don't look like you know much of anything', she knew the sound of boys laughing at her far too well.

Strike One; Her father and grandmother had instilled in Rhaena young—each in their own ways—that men are dangerous creatures, and more dangerous still to women as beautiful and privileged as her. Don't allow one to set off your alarm bells three times in a row, after that you'll either need to be leaving, or resorting to screaming.

He continued on, "But you look like the girls who circle around those Princesses who've made leashing a fair few of them look easy."

The list of potential candidates for the boy's identity narrowed to all of three in the same instant she realized he was unaware of hers. All of the options were indictments unto themselves, she kept her tone unconcerned, "I may, who might you be?"

"Lord Toron Greyjoy, at your service," He offered a grin that did not reach his eyes while imbuing the greeting with unmistakable mockery, appearing to expect as soon as he spoke that the name alone would scare her; it very well may have frightened the Crane, Oakheart, and Caswell girls back in the courtyard, but she was far too aware the implicit threat in his tone was nothing more than yappy-barking.

Strike Two; A mixture of loathing and morbid curiosity kept Rhaena planted.

"Aren't you one of what? Fourteen? My Lord, I know for certain I can't tell you all their whereabouts."

Toron barked out another laugh, "No, that would be quite a feat, even their mothers usually don't know where any of them who aren't their blood are. I'm just after the older third though, Asha, Rodrik, and Elyanna, there was some noise about them going somewhere with Briar and Megga, but now I've lost track of all five of them and if they come back with another surprise boyfriend or spur-of-the-moment...well, whatever you lot call all of that—" He just gestured vaguely towards Rhaena's bright pink gown, elaborately styled twists, and artistically designed cosmetics. "—I'll be the one with hells to pay for not keeping them out of trouble.'

"Haven't seen any of them I'm afraid," She responded placidly, it was all she could do to keep herself from grabbing Toron by the collar and scolding him like a disrespectful child. Rodrik had assured her four or five times by now their father's heir was far more charming than himself, but he proved to be as sweet and mildly oblivious as ever; Toron was charismatic, if he was trying maybe he'd even be magnetic, but he didn't contain an ounce of charm.

"Have you seen the Crown Princess then? They all speak so highly of her, I imagine it's good fun to keep them as her own little, captivated audience. Or Lady Tyshara, for that matter? She appears no longer satisfied with only collaring my little brother and seems to want the whole lot of them as pets."

Rhaena nearly broke as it dawned on her with every passing word he was joking. His grin growing but never managing to spark up his eyes as he spoke, clearly expecting her to consider his siblings no more than menagerie displays, and content to laugh along without even the pretext of them being worth greater respect. It struck her how much he must truly believe the only way they could've found favor amongst her circle was through meekness, obedience, subservience…how happy he must still be to drink Lord Dalton's saltwater lies about loyalty and loneliness she only knew through coaxed confessions and secrets shared between seedlings. "I'm sorry, I don't, and I'm expected upstairs."

Strike three; Toron didn't get to know the easiest way to open up the scabs on her notoriously bleeding heart was to speak ill of her friends, and above all her twin. She was not in the business of educating men on the alternatives to pesky little siblings and mothers still alive and well to keep track of them at all.

"That must make you Baela," He scoffed as she began to walk away. "I must admit I'm disappointed our future Queen can be so easily driven away by mild taunts. Or you're not, and you're truly just too dim to know, and too embarrassed to admit they don't tell you anything, Lady Velaryon."

For a split second Rhaena wished she was a Velaryon, blessed with all of her mother's grace and none of her father's nature, just so she could walk away. But she wasn't, and the fight in her that drove her to claim one of the oldest living dragons alone just to prove she could, and made her extravagantly embrace what most considered the most contemptible parts of herself just to show she could outshine them all while doing so, compelled her back to face him.

Strike four; He brought this on himself, she knew his siblings weren't going to yell at him for all this childish cruelty, but by the Gods someone had to and she could use the stress-relief of some screaming.

"Since you've decided to put our niceties aside, you will address me as your Grace or Princess, your choice. Though, I think I won't like hearing either near as much off your lips as all the rest of your—I must say—far more silver-tongued siblings."

"Princess Rhaena," He sneered, "And here I thought you'd at least have enough sense not to unlock your dollhouse doors while this castle is crawling with all manner of eyesores."

Rhaena finally laughed, humorless and mocking as she knew he had tried to keep his from sounding, "Aw, poor pup, are you growling from the anxiety of your brother and sisters deciding to live outside of your great, big shadow? Or just in the hope that if daddy hears you did it so loud and scary he'll give you a pat on the head and a treat?"

"You dare to—" Toron's hand went to the scabbard on his hip, but Rhaena called calmly to the Kingsguard standing only a few feet away at the doors to the Great Hall,

"Ser Lorent, if Lord Greyjoy here draws his blade, seize him before he causes a panic."

"Aye Princess," The Kingsguard had known and often guarded Rhaena since she first came to live at the Red Keep when she was not quite ten, he didn't need her to ask, she simply needed him on alert.

"And to call your guard on me too, how—"

"How pitiful," She stopped his raging before it could truly start. "All those cruel jabs and you can't handle a bit of mockery in return without resorting to the one skill you know most can't compete against. But it hurts, doesn't it? To be treated like the dog you accuse your siblings of becoming over such banalities as lipgloss or eyeliner. Are you that insecure? The heir to a Great House, perhaps the best swordsman of your age, yet still threatened by your younger siblings becoming more popular, shining brighter, simply being prettier than you."

"The last thing I want is for you to find me pretty, I can assure you."

Rhaena laughed again, unable to hide her growing amusement, "If that was true you wouldn't feel the need to insult and demean anyone who wants different, you simply wouldn't care. No—" She pouted, brushing a stray curl away from his face before he could swat her back. "—You wish I could make you half as pretty to the girls in this court as I could see a vision for within ten seconds of meeting your brother. You want to be adored like Asha, sought after like Briar and even little Lysa, envied like Rodrik and Tyshara have become. Because for the first time in your lives you're not the golden son of the black kraken, you're just another young Lord driven to self-sabatoge because you don't know what or who you want to be besides your father's favorite hunting hound. But the harsh truth is all the things I do you were too self-conscious to even say out loud, all my aesthetic, romantic, cosmetic, idealistic sensibilities you find so distasteful? It's nothing more than set-dressing, I don't write new scripts, just have a talent for knowing which backdrop would best set the scene. All the fixes and improvements I could give you would be completely worthless, because there's nothing in this world uglier than a bully, laughing at everyone else just to feel big enough to face the world. And that won't change until you can conjure up a new vision for yourself."

Toron didn't speak, Rhaena didn't care to know how he would respond, and turned to leave. "Last I heard Asha, Gysella, and Briar went to the stables, no clue about the others, and if you come looking for them in my chambers I'll see you spend a night in the cells for the intrusion. Consider us even," She glanced back to smile brightly at him one last time, "We're all friends now after all, maybe you should be scared."

[the-pearl-of-the-realm]

Baby if you thought that I was trouble then you’re gonna hate what’s coming next

Rhaena stepped out of the wheelhouse, one ivory and rose toned boot resting on its step as she kissed Prince Aemond on the cheek goodbye, and then turned to greet the boy she'd come to accompany with a bright smile, declaring, "Lovely to see you, Lord Davos!" as the carriage disappeared down the road. She bid the Kingsguard assigned to accompany her into the city that day to follow far enough back that the pair could converse privately, and then looped her arm through Davos', before starting off towards the building a few paces ahead they were here to survey.

This was her third time meeting the Lord of Godsgrace, though the first had been little more than a passing introduction. Most she knew were wary of Davos, put on edge by the abundant array of whispers that followed him, but Rhaena traded in rumors, it was bad for business to trust them—and contrary to what such talk would suggest—Rhaena quite liked the boy beside her. After exchanging greetings Davos remarked on her betrothed,

"You could do better than him, you know."

“And you could do better than that ratty bowl cut but I don’t judge your preferences.” Taking his amusement at her retort as encouragement, she explained as they walked into the space properly, "This was originally built as a bathhouse, you know, the spring water that runs under here to the Red Keep's supply isn't any good to drink, but it's better than most for, well, just about everything else. It was forced to close during the Concilliator's reign, though, and it's been a dozen things since. After the attack on Queen Alysanne in Maidenpool women didn't feel safe attending public baths." Her conclusion went unspoken because it was overt, once women stopped coming, soon no one did.

Rhaena stopped to inspect where the original marble floors were in the process of being restored, then added, "The bones of it all are still good, though, I think we could really make something here." Another unspoken sentiment hung in the air, I think we could make people want to come here.

There was no singular why for what had endeared the young Lord to Rhaena, she found him clever and darkly comedic in the same way she adored in both Baela and Aemond. She found it hard not to like anyone who shared her enthusiasm for cosmetics, potions, and all things aesthetic when other's derision had gone hand in hand with her passion for as long as she had held it. In a broader sense, it delighted her to know a boy who, despite every incentive not to, seemed unable not to love so many of the supposedly feminine’ facets of life that had gotten Rhaena written off as a waste of time by not only other boys but other people so frequently.

"Tell me, my Lord," Rhaena smiled once more while watching Davos inspect the space for himself, "What do you wish to bring here most? I sent you those listings you requested of the kinds of treatments and products that would likely sell best. However, if you'll induldge an observation on operating between the lines of propriety amongst this court, the best approach isn't to supply what's popular. It is to make them envy whatever you wish to supply."

[the-pearl-of-the-realm]

Rhaena had been planning the surprise for nearly a fortnight. Early on in her romance with Aemond she had taken every opportunity for them to celebrate their relationship, every moon’s anniversary for the first six, then the eighth, around the tenth was when he had proposed, and for their year she had commissioned a matching set of saddles made especially to seat two so they could more easily fly on dragon back together. Over the past half year, though, with him stepping up as Hand, the festivities marking one year of her Mũna’s reign, and the throes of autumn now dawning into full winter—and the many anxieties and responsibilities that’s came with it—putting together celebrations on such a schedule had become not only elaborate but impractical.

That hardly meant, however, that Rhaena had eased off her displays of affection, in truth, that prospect would’ve sent her reeling; the love she felt for her Prince needed, demanded, to be manifested into physical forms. It would incapacitate her, perhaps cause her heart to implode altogether from the sheer pressure of its every beat coursing with the feeling, if she could not turn her love into action. So, Rhaena did what she had always done best, externalized the depths of her devotion and made magic in small moments to express just how much valued the very presence of the man she loved most. Spare evenings and free mornings she endured could be dedicated only to each other, favorite treats and meals, any excuse to make things he needed into gifts all their own, and seizing every opportunity to upgrade and embroider his clothes, brew him her best potions, and—in all possible ways—show the world that as much as she adored being his he was just as much hers. With the week that marked a full year and a half together now upon them, Rhaena was eager to create something impactful for him in a way she hadn’t had the chance to in what felt like an age. The spontaneity of small surprises was its own kind of fun, but to the occasion she wanted to make Aemond feel wholeheartedly understood.

Rhaena greeted Aemond’s arrival at her door with a tight hug, wrapping her arms around his waist in the way that had become a shorthand between them she was hoping he would pick her up to kiss her, and told him with a giddy grin, “A joy to see you as always, sweet prince,” after he had. Sitting on the edge of her zealously plush, pink bed, she listened in rapt as he presented his own gift she realized he had come to bring her.

The gasp she let out once the necklace was in her hands was overwhelmingly sincere, and tears began to well in her eyes entirely of their own accord in quick pursuit, she had wanted to create something meaningful for him and it was clear Aemond’s greatest priority with this gesture was to do the same. She knew, if there was anything more important to him in this world than her, it was Vhagar and it was a bond she felt just as deeply in her own soul. The dragon’s presence had accompanied all manner of the most important moments of her life, and in a romance that to most was so unexpected in large part because of their shared history with the old Queen, it was impossible to overstate how deeply Rhaena valued how far Aemond had gone out of his way to assure her he was doing her mother’s memory proud with how dearly he loved Vhagar.

“It’s beautiful, it’s so, so…” she trailed off, choked with emotion, and kissed him until they were both breathless instead; she was well aware her adoration for him would always be conveyed best through touch. After, she added, “Gods I love you, and I love her, and I love how much you love her,” Rhaena looked up at him in wonder and cupped her hand around the side of his face, stroking her thumb against his cheekbone, “It’s been too long since I’ve told you, you are far and beyond the greatest stroke of luck that has graced my life.”

Before they got caught up kissing again, Rhaena took Aemond’s hand in hers and grinned, “I have a gift for you too, actually, why don’t you come see?”

A piece of her, for both of us.

(for @the-pearl-of-the-realm)

The Royal jeweler had tried to talk Aemond into something more... worthy of a Princess.

He laid out amethysts, pink rubies, pearls the size of cherries. There were opals, garnets, delicate diamonds and topaz pendents. Chains of gold and silver and valyrian steel, charms craved into the shapes of roses and birds; one was a silver dragon with dragon glass chips for eyes. Nothing suited. Aemond feels like he had gone over the jeweler's entire collection and nothing seemed to satisfy him. It had to be perfect.

"Is that all?" He'd asked and the jeweler almost looked offended that Aemond didn't seem impressed by any of his offerings.

"These are the finest pieces I have to offer, my Prince, anything less would not be worthy of a lady who's caught a Prince's eye.."

Aemond had.... tastefully, ignored that, and ordered the jeweler to bring forward the rest of his collection, the things he didn't plan to make significant coin from.

That was where he found it. It was a teardrop shaped stone, set in a pendant of bronze. The stone was a light green with shades of bronze and brown; the tone of the color was warmer than emeralds or jade. He holds it in his palm, and as he admires it, he can see Vhagar. It was nearly the same shade as her scales when the sun caught them just right.

Aemond could see it around her neck. If he really tried, he could figure the exact length of chain needed for the pendant to rest in the perfect spot, against the top of her breastbone, against her soft bare skin...

Aemond hands the jeweler the coin he charged for the pendant and chain, and tucks it into his tunic, where it would be safe as he left to find Rhaena. Servants answered him quickly, and he was soon on her trail, tracking her down as she went about her day.

[the-pearl-of-the-realm]

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