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"ANOTHER LETTER?" Lyra smirked, the handmaiden hoping her joking tone would hide her inner concern. The truth being that with every day a letter would come from a vassal of House Baratheon renouncing their loyalty to Lady Rikkia, she would grow more and more worried over her lady's safety.
Each day Rikki would smile and wave it off with a joke, but there was only so many times she could comment 'oh well, they brought nothing but trouble anyway' before her lack of support started to visibly sadden her. The excuses were always the same, the majority of letters claiming they refused to believe she was a trueborn Baratheon. But a small few even refused to follow her because she was a woman. Either way, Rikkia was running out of allies and fast.
"I can guarantee this one will shock you, though," Rikki promised, turning to her trusted handmaiden with a coy smile of her own.
"Try me."
"It's from my Uncle Tyrion," she revealed, comically raising her eyebrows high enough to elicit a laugh. "Nice to know he hasn't died since the wedding of the century."
"Tyrion Lannister?" Lyra gasped in surprise, positively dying to know what scandalous words rested on the scroll within her hands.
"He seems to have shacked up with Daenerys Targaryen, she has even named him her Hand," Rikki reiterated the words she was told, becoming less and less surprised as the days in Westeros went by with one scandal after another. "Even better, him and the Dragon Queen would love for me to meet with them at Dragonstone, where she rests with an army of Unsullied, Dothraki riders and three bloody full grown dragons."
"Are you going to go?"
"Are pigs flying?" The blonde scoffed, before glancing down at the three-headed dragon wax seal that originally enclosed the letter. "Actually don't answer that, dragons are roaming the sky. The gods know what else will follow."
"Probably a wise choice, my lady," Lyra commented, careful not to voice too much of an opinion. Even though the handmaiden had looked after the Princess since she was only a girl, she never forgot her place. The world never let her forget it.
"I'm going to invite him here instead," she announced, fetching for a blank scroll of her own to write as a determined flash spread across her expression. "If he expects me to trust him enough to go to Dragonstone, he should trust me enough to come to Storm's End."
"And pray tell, my lady - what happens when your traitor uncle lands on your doorstep with three dragons, an army of Unsullied and a Dothraki horde at his back?" The clever maid smartly pointed out as she gathered Rikki's discarded clothing to take them to be washed, leaving the blonde naked in preparation for the bath that had been drawn for her. Leaving the quill and letter behind on her desk, the Lady trailed towards the bath to soak deep in the heated water - allowing all of the stress and pressures of the day to ebb away with the steam.
Unlike others who would become squeamish at the temperature, Rikkia always revelled in boiling temperatures. It was almost masochistic how she revelled in the burn against her skin; or perhaps just simply enjoyed the distraction of it all.
While she lay submerged, Rikki took a deep breath before diving underneath the surface of the water - completely covered from head to toe. It was a common practice of the young Princess, finding enjoyment in the absolute silence. She would stay under for as long as she could, until her lungs would scream for respite and the blonde would finally poke her head above water once more for a gulp of air.
It was there in the tub, as the water cooled to a temperature she found unsatisfactory, that Rikkia decided to follow through with her decision to invite her uncle for negotiations. Her mother would disapprove - to put it mildly. But Rikki wasn't the Lady of King's Landing, she was the Leader of Storm's End and all it's vassals. Even if said vassal houses didn't respect her claim.
Nevertheless, she knew her Uncle Tyrion to be an intelligent man, who would never have followed a brutal or imperialistic tyrant. She would listen to him with an open heart, but he owed her enough to at least be the one to take the first step.
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"Surely she can't expect me to put my Hand's life in danger?" Daenerys continued to rant, the warm candle light cast upon her face making her bitter expression seem warm ever still. "She doesn't get to make demands, this could very well be a trap."
"It's not a trap," Tyrion reassured with a sigh, wondering how he could possibly explain the nature of Rikkia Baratheon. "Trust me. Rikki would never lead me into a trap or put me in danger. It is Storm's End we're traveling to, not the Red Keep."
"How could you possibly be so sure? You haven't even seen the girl in nigh on three years," Daenerys spat wearily, full of paranoia and disbelief.
"Because I wouldn't see her nor anyone ever again if she hadn't helped me escape King's Landing during my trial," the imp finally admitted, silencing his Queen effectively. She could tell by the pride in his words it was no lie, but it took her by surprise nonetheless. "I owe her enough to extend the olive branch first and meet with her. Rikki may be temperamental and every bit a Lannister, but there were many times I prayed she would be the one to take the throne instead of Joffrey."
Daenerys still appeared somewhat skeptical, deciding she couldn't make a formal judgement of anyone until meeting them officially. Sure, the Lady sounded just and intelligent from Tyrion's words - but only she would make the final judgement, which was already heavily clouded by the knowledge that Rikkia was loyal to her family.
"If I may interject," Melisandre voiced from across the room, where she had been stood staring at the roaring waves of the sea surrounding Dragonstone. "I have had one too many visions on the months that lie ahead, and each time I see a girl with hair the colour of honey by your side. Something tells me she plays a part in his plan."
"You're asking me to trust your visions a lot this day," Daenerys fired back, alluding to the Priestess' earlier suggestion of reaching out to Jon Snow, the King in the North. After taking a further moment to internally debate, the Dragon Queen closed her eyes in defeat. "Very well, but on one condition. I want you to convince her on your visit to come to Dragonstone and treat with me directly."
"And if I can't get her to?" Tyrion dared to ask, nervously curling his lips in.
"Be persuasive," she answered with a tone of finality, waving her hand dismissively to all the occupants in the council room. She could practically smell the metallic scent of the Iron Throne from here, but by the looks of things it would be yet another time before it's rightful owner would sit upon it.
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How is this chapter length for everyone? It's shorter than I usually write but it means I can update faster!
