Dream Of Winter | C. Stark & H. Targaryen

Gods Save The Queen

Rhaenyra POV

There was certainly a magical aspect to their ancestral seat. Dragonstone was a dark swirling architectural masterpiece. No man of westerosi descent could ever fashion such a morbidly beautiful fort.

The dragon jaws adorned the heads of the sky reaching towers like jewels further embellishing their haunting perfection. Drache and wyrm gargoyles spread out on every surface. A testament to the unquestionable valyrian blood pumping through their Targaryen veins.

The vipers and lickspittles at court like the pompous Hightowers and pretentious Lannisters could scheme and plot all they like. But at the end of the day she and Daemon were the blood of the dragon. The true heirs to her father's throne and the would be restores to the ancient glory of the their fallen empire.

**

Rhaenyra was quite amused when the letter from King's Landing arrived notifying of the marriage between the Warden of the North Cregan Stark and her sweet simple sister Helaena.

She had the least amount of scorn for Alicent's daughter. Unlike her brutish half-brothers, Helaena was gentle, docile and inconfrontational, if often stuck in her own mind. Her valyrian appearance and dragon made her an ideal wife for her eldest son.

She was willing to let her wed her heir Jace and become Queen of the seven kingdoms, despite her grudges against the grasping usurping Greens and the courtiers' many whispers of her lack of wit.

But as always, the Queen stuck her santimonious nose in matters that concern her not and refused her generous offer.

How her father ever let his consort, a woman with no right to power as the daughter of a mere second son, persuade him is beyond her.

She suspects she seduced him as she did after her beloved mother's death. Rhaenyra had believed her then, confided in Alicent and thought her the only support she had.

But like a snake in the garden, she met her father in secret each night. Whispered sweet honey into his ears and took advantage of his grief to further her own ends. The crown was all that mattered to her. Perhaps it always was. Becoming friends with the princess was just the first step to entering the king's bed.

How she played innocent victim, pleading for a chance to explain herself after the wedding took place, was a poorly fabricated deception. A tool to spy on her son's new rival to the throne and figure how best to disinherit her and steal her birthright.

Thankfully, Rhaenyra was smart enough to see through her facade. She ignored every fake apology and attempt at reconciliation until the snake was tired and had to shed its false skin.

The Queen's true colors finally came to light when she accused her of coupling with Daemon the night of his return. It doesn't matter if she did it or not. She was the crown princess. To question her virtue is tantamount to treason. How Alicent and Otto must've salivated like hungry hounds when their little spies left their crevices to tell them of her exploits.

She refused such vile accusations to tarnish her claim or rob her of her rightful throne. Her father fortunately saw reason for the first time in years and fired that honorless wretch Otto Hightower. Such a sniveling landless power-hungry man should never be allowed access to the position of Hand to begin with.

That he was reinstated is the biggest of follies. But his tenure is not going to last forever. Once her father dies, the badge of the Hand and Otto's head will be collected by her husband.

She doesn't wish to expedite her father's death, but he was already sick and had lost an arm before she and Daemon made Dragonstone their permanent home. He must be much worst now.