Rhaella Targaryen always knew that there was more behind her mother's death than what she was told. Alysanne was a healthy, strong woman, and yet she was gone in a couple of days because of a mysterious illness. Rhaella was only a child when the tra...
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WINTERFELL
134 AC
“A BETROTHAL?” RHAELLA ASKED JACAERYS as soon as the oak doors of their chambers in Winterfell closed behind them. Rhaella was relieved that the council that Cregan Stark had gathered hadn't lasted the entire morning as she had feared ― she still felt weak and she didn't want to admit it, so the opportunity to withdraw from the chaos was a relief. She didn't want people to notice the bags under her eyes, her dull expression, the yawn that she did her best to hide. She and Jace had been invited to attend supper with the Stark family, as Jace had done during the days he had spent there, and they of course had accepted, but Rhaella had at least one hour to rest her mind. Even if she and her husband needed to have a conversation that she feared wouldn't be too pleasant.
Jacaerys sighed, shaking his head lightly. “I'm sorry. I'm sorry, Ella. I meant to talk about it, I... it was the right thing to do, you know it”
Rhaella knew he was right. And maybe that was the reason why she felt so upset, why her stomach clenched at the thought of the alliance that Jacaerys had made with Cregan Stark ― she didn't find fair the fact that they were living in a world in which a daughter, her daughter, had to be treated like an object, used as a trade goods before she was even conceived. She hated that world in which women were considered nothing more than that, a mean to carry children and continue the bloodline of a man. Rhaella was aware that many Ladies were Head of their own Houses, but the truth was that most of the time it was not considered something natural, something that shouldn't happen.
Rhaenyra was the rightful Heir to the Iron Throne and she had been denied her birthright merely because she didn't have a cock. It was humiliating, the way many men thought about women, and infuriating ― Rhaella, Rhaenyra, Baela, Rhaena, Helaena, they were all much stronger than most of the men in the whole Westeros and yet they wouldn't be trusted with ruling a kingdom. Once Rhaenyra would ascend the Iron Throne, things would change.
But not for Rhaella's daughter.
“You could have at least mentioned it, Jace” she said. She didn't wish to argue, especially because she was aware that Jacaerys had had very few choices. Cregan Stark seemed his friend but he needed something more than friendship to guide not only his House, but the whole North, to war for Rhaenyra. And joining their Houses in blood seemed the most logical thing to do.
“I know, but I didn't have the time” he replied, taking a step towards her. “I had no idea Cregan would announce it so soon―”
“You had no idea he would mention it during a council that had the purpose to discuss our alliance?”
“Ella, please” Jacaerys begged, his chocolate eyes pleading. “I don't want to argue”
Rhaella swallowed, her eyes fluttering shut. She was overreacting, and she hated herself for it, but how was she supposed to explain to Jace the fact that she had no intention of having children until that weird dance the Blacks and the Greens were doing for the Iron Throne was concluded, now that he had promised a daughter to Cregan's first son? And what if they didn't have a daughter? Gods, she hated politics. And she hated the Greens, for the suffering they had been causing since Aegon's ascension. She could still see Visenya's small body wrapped in the white cloth of Rhaenyra's gown. She could still feel the heavy silence that had filled the room after Visenya had come out of her mother's womb.
