She is Daemon's daughter but she wants nothing from him, rides a dragon and doesn't shy away from a fight. She also hides a dangerous secret and has her own reasons for coming to King's Landing.
Aemond wonders if he can tame her.
✧...
warnings: mentions of blood (literally just that, no gruesome details) and a ruined family dinner
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The long table is set for dinner but the atmosphere calls for a truce no one wants to declare. Having the last meal of the day together was Rhaenyra's idea, born out of the desire to give honor to her father. The lack of enthusiasm her proposition was met with suggested not a lot of them found Viserys to be that honorable, — and yet, no one dared to full-on reject it.
The seating hasn't changed much since they last dined with the King, only a few more chairs have been added to the table. Joffrey now sits next to Daemon, Aegon III is placed between Jace and Baela — it was once followed by a joke that they'd get some practice before having a child of their own, — and Viserys II mostly spends time on his mother's lap. Visenya is left to the nannies, and although Rhaenyra would never admit it, she came to enjoy spending dinners away from the attention-seeking one-year-old.
All conversations are muffled, words shared with a delicacy that is inherent to secrets, despite the topics being boringly mundane — the weather, the tourneys, the events at court. Rhaenyra spoon-feeds her son while glancing at the doors, a bit unnerved.
"You are more likely to worry the guards than to hasten her arrival with your glaring," Daemon notes, sipping on wine.
"I told Annora to wait for Lia and urge her to come here immediately," his wife masks her annoyance with a smile, cooing at little Viserys. "It should not be postponed any longer."
"I fear for anyone who dares to interfere with your plans," his tone is jesting but before she can talk back, he takes her hand and brings it to his lips in a conciliatory gesture. She cedes to him — or maybe to Viserys's wide-eyed gaze silently boring into her — and goes back to pretending that the spoon is a dragon that delivers food right into her son's mouth.
Daemon turns his attention to the chattering he's been listening to: it's Rhaena and her never-ending, ardent and unwavering pursuit of finding a dragon. She refuses to give up — he thinks she's got that from her mother, — she reads all the books she can find, prays and hopes and believes she'll succeed, and Daemon is her biggest supporter. He goes searching for the eggs, talks to the librarians, fetches the oldest scrolls written by the dragonkeepers, heeds to her every word. He tries to compensate for all the years, all the times he didn't do that and left her feeling neglected and alone. She granted him forgiveness long ago, but he is yet to feel like he deserves it.
Next to her, Lucerys sits with a face that expresses a humble interest, a loving understanding — he's supportive and kind to his wife, — but his eyes sometimes rove over the opposite side of the table, and uneasiness sparks in them, and he sinks into his chair just a little. Aemond acts like he doesn't notice that, tolerating Aegon's twaddle without much interest, and yet he makes sure to catch Luke's gaze at least once and give him a death stare, his eye cold and piercing. Daemon thinks the silver-haired prince only does that to toy with his nephew's feelings, and deep inside, he finds it a bit entertaining too.
