A Princess' Duty

As Rhaenyra was walking through the corridors of the Red Keep with Ser Criston by her side, the princess's thoughts were turned to the person she was looking for this morning. Arthur had been as much as a blessing to her as a massive pain in her ass and the source of many of her headaches in the evening. She couldn't deny that her personal adviser was helpful and smart, and particularly good at his job. But he was just so… rudely honest!

(-)(-)(-)

One day, Rhaenyra had complained about the small council's meetings, declaring that they were long and boring, Arthur had glared at her.

"If ruling is too boring for your taste and the fate of your people not worth your time, then you'd better renounce the Iron Throne right now." He had scolded her.

Rhaenyra had never complained about the small council meetings ever again, but she didn't speak to Arthur in a week for that. That didn't stop the Stark from speaking his mind though, something he never failed to do.

Another day, she had met him in his private chamber sporting her new dress, the Northerner had frown and shaken his head the moment Ser Criston had closed the door.

"This dress is awful, you should not wear it again."

Rhaenyra had gaped as if he had slapped her.

"What are you talking about?! This dress is beautiful, it's from Pentos!"

"You look fat in it."

A sept-like silence had followed that statement, the Realm's delight had felt humiliated and defiled, she had wanted to gouge out that barbarian's grey eyes.

But Arthur had spoken first, and not to her.

"Ser Criston, be honest, what do you think of the Princess' dress?"

The Kingsguard had gasped and glared at the Northerner for putting him in such position, however, with Rhaenyra's expecting gaze on him, he had no choice but to answer, though he had chosen his words more carefully :

"This dress doesn't do your beauty justice, Princess."

"In other words : 'yes princess, this dress does make you look fat'." Arthur had translated.

Furious and devoured by shame, the Princess had stomped her foot in anger.

"You're such an oaf! You give compliments to all the other ladies in the Keep!"

Arthur had burst out laughing.

"I lie to all the other ladies in the Keep." he corrected her. "Lady Darklyn has a nose like a potato and I called her 'a lovely sight'. You're the only one who gets to hear the truth from me. Because the handmaidens, kitchen maids, ladies and ladies in waiting gossip about you every single day. I'm not doing this to slight you, quite the opposite."

Rhaenyra had bitten her tong when she heard that, once again, she had been angry but could still understand his point. On the other hand, she had come to realize something, and that had bothered her. So she had crossed her arms had shown a pouty face.

"You never complimented me." She had pointed out, with an annoyed and accusing tone.

The Stark had given her a look of dismay and had sighed.

"Why do you care?"

At that, Rhaenyra had put on a mischievous smile.

"Well I'd like to hear an honest compliment for once, that is of course if your sour tongue is capable of pronouncing sweet words without poisoning you."

Ser Criston had chuckled at her wit, while Arthur was rolling his eyes with half a smile on his face. A victory in Rhaenyra's eyes.

"Princess, you're by far one of the most beautiful women I've ever met… and this dress doesn't do your beauty justice because you look fat in it."

It took Ser Criston all his self-control to prevent him from burst out laughing. Rhaenyra, on the other hand, had frowned again but hadn't surrendered, she would get the last laugh, and she did.

"Well then, do tell me; what is my best dress?"

"The Red and Black one." he had answered truthfully. "It emphasis your feminine features, gives a glimpse of your legs and strengthens your chest."

Another mischievous smile had appeared on Rhaenyra's face.

"So you do look at your princess's body with those cold eyes of yours."

Arthur had simply shrugged.

"I'm a man, you're a beautiful woman, and my eyes might be cold but they're not blind."

Rhaenyra was far more satisfied with his answer than she herself had expected.

"Well… I came here to talk about the last council meeting, but since you've pointed out the flaws of my wardrobe; we shall talk on our way to the market, in the meantime…"

She had eyed the Northerner's doublet with a criticizing look.

"We shall also make it today's mission to find you proper clothes."

Arthur had looked offended at that.

"I ain't a bloody southern lordling that bundles up in silk." he had warned with anger.

Rhaenyra had noticed that his northern accent became more pronounced when he's upset or angry. She liked it well enough to annoy him just for the pleasure of hearing it.

"You're my personal adviser," she had reminded him, "and you shall display an elegant figure worthy of the princess you serve."

"I ain't wearing silk." he retorted stubbornly.

But Rhaenyra had had enough of his antics.

"For the love of the Seven, Arthur! We're going to buy better quality clothes than the ones you've brought with you! We are not going to put you in a dress! Now quit whining and come, by order of your princess!"

She had turned her heels without waiting for his response and leave his room with Ser Criston by her side, she did remember hearing her sworn shield chuckle at the Stark's misery though.

At the end of the day, Arthur had still been sulking, but Rhaenyra had suspected that he was simply brooding over his defeat against her. The next day he had presented himself to her with a brand new doublet made with a far better quality leather and a much fiercer and prettier direwolf sewn on his chest. The direwolf had golden eyes like Shadow, Rhaenyra thought it was perfect, and her adviser had never looked more handsome.

It took Arthur days to swallow back his pride and properly thank her for the gold she had spent on his wardrobe, Rhaenyra had internally boasted for that.

(-)(-)(-)

She smiled as she remembered her victory, she wished she could drag Arthur to the market again, but today would not be hers. She needed to find him, and she needed to do so quickly. But the Northerner wasn't in his room, nor was he in the training yard or in the library as he usually was when he had free time.

"He might be in the gardens," Ser Criston suggested. "He worships the Old Gods, we might find him by the weirwood."

Her sworn shield had been right; they found Arthur sitting with his back against the trunk of the white tree, his eyes closed, and his arms crossed. Rhaenyra scanned the area looking for Shadow, but the direwolf was nowhere to be seen.

"Arthur!" She called with an annoyed tone. "I've been looking for you all morning!"

To her surprise, the Northerner did not open his eyes. Annoyed, the princess rushed to his side and started shaking by the shoulders.

In a blink, the young man had grabbed her wrists, opened his eyes and looked at her with a feral expression on his face that startled the princess.

"Don't fookin'…!" he started yelling, then he realized who he was yelling at, and his gaze and face softened in an instant. "I'm sorry." he said genuinely. "Please… never do that again… did I hurt you?"

"No." Rhaenyra answered as he softened his grasp on her wrists. "Are you all right?"

"Yes, don't worry about me."

She looked at the weirwood with a curious glance.

"What were you doing?" She asked more curious than afraid or angry.

"A northern thing." He answered cryptically.

The Princess threw him an annoyed look as they both got up, his hands still on her wrists, he gently let go of her after crossing Ser Criston's stern look.

"Was that 'northern thing' involving sacrifices to your gods?"

Arthur scoffed at that.

"If sacrificing people to the Old Gods truly made men more powerful, then lords and kings would do it all the time."

She nodded, acknowledging the logic of his words.

"Where is Shadow?"

"Off hunting in the King's wood. You usually don't need me this early, shouldn't you be at a small council meeting?"

His words reminded the Realm's delight of the reason why she had been looking for him for almost an hour. She shook her head to brush away her questions.

"My father asked for your presence at today's council," she informed him.

Arthur rose a curious eyebrow at that.

"Why?"

"I don't know, he simply asked me to bring you for today's meeting."

"Then let's not make him wait any longer." Arthur declared as he stretched.

(-)(-)(-)

They arrived just in time for today's meeting, King Viserys welcomed the Northerner with his usual friendly smile.

"Ah, Lord Arthur! Thank you for coming!"

"Thank you for inviting me, Your Grace." Arthur answered diplomatically as Ser Criston closed the door behind Rhaenyra and him.

"Please take a sit."

Arthur's sit was at the edge of the table, but that wasn't very surprising since his presence was exceptional. He nodded at the other members of the Small Council to greet them, only Ser Otto failed to greet him back. Rhaenyra sat next to the Lord Hand.

"You're probably wondering why I've called for your presence." Viserys said as the Stark nodded.

"Well, you see, the situation in the Stepstones has gotten worse. Lord Corlys and Prince Daemon have not made any progress in months, and their supply line has been cut."

Arthur refrained himself from frowning, he knew exactly where this was going.

"I've received a letter, from Vaemond Velaryon, a plea for aid. And thanks to the sound advice of my Queen, I've decided to send reinforcement. However, the closest fleet we could call upon to arrive on time would be the Manderly's, and Queen Alicent has shared with me the words you've told her, regarding the undeniable unpopularity of a royal command to send the northern fleet. Which is why I have asked for your presence at this meeting. Tell me; is there a way to make this decision popular among the northerners?"

Arthur had listened to the King's words with a straight face, which ended up being quite intimidating for those who did not know him. Rhaenyra was quite amused by the looks of unease from the other lords, but she was more interested in Arthur's reply.

The Northerner took a moment to think, truth be told, he hated what was asked of him. From his point of view, the King was asking him to sacrifice northern lives to save his foolish brother who had rushed in a war in a quest for glory. The North had no use for glory, there was nothing more useless during Winter than glory.

He thought of the Triarchy, of Lys, Myr and Tyrosh, this unconventional alliance that had turned three merchants cities into a supposed naval force. Before the War had started, before he had come to the capital, Lord Manderly had informed him during a visit in White Harbor, that the merchants had rejoiced when they had heard that the Stepstones had been cleaned. Mostly because the tax that was asked by the Crabfeeder at the time was considered a fair price to sail those waters without danger. But Craghas Drahar had become greedier, his tax had increased to the point where he had started to raid the ships that could not pay. This resulted in the current war, war that was all about greed and gold, this was the goal of the Triarchy when they assembled. Perhaps there was a way for the North to profit from this war.

"I do not think there is a way to make this command 'popular', Your Grace." He answered truthfully. "But there might be a way to make it 'acceptable'."

"I'm listening." Viserys said perhaps too eagerly.

"The Triarchy was founded for one reason only : to make profit. That's why they took the Stepstones; to implement taxes in order to make them richer…"

"We already know all this." said Lord Otto in disdain.

"I was not done talking, Lord Hand." Arthur said with crushing tone. "I was actually very far from being done, please have the courtesy and the patience to wait until I'm done before expressing your opinion."

Rhaenyra had to bit her lower lip to prevent a burst of laughter from escaping her throat, while Lord Hightower's brother had his fists clenched in anger.

"Let the lad speak, Otto." Viserys said before motioning for the Northerner to continue.

"Thank you, Your Grace. As I was saying the Triarchy has one goal, and one goal only; gold. That's the point of this war. If Prince Daemon and Lord Corlys were to lose, their taxes and plunder will only increase, as will their fleet and number, and sooner than we expect, they'll have all the men and ships necessary to control many more naval routes of the Narrow sea."

Otto almost snorted when he heard him, clearly not believing that things would escalate this far, while the other members of the small council were exchanging worried glances. Rhaenyra was astonished, she had never thought about that.

"This war needs to be won, that much is undeniable, but winning this war is merely the first step. The Stepstones must fall under the control of the Crown permanently, watchtowers will need to be built, garrisons of soldiers will need to be installed as well as a permanent fleet to collect a reasonable tax to allow safe passage to every ship that wishes to cross this naval route."

"So you wish to do as the Free cities did." Ser Otto summed up. "That will simply anger the Triarchy and start another war."

"That is only if the Triarchy still exists after the war is done. And that is where my idea to rally the Manderly fleet to our cause comes."

He waited for a second to make sure he had everyone's undivided attention -Only Ser Tyland Lannister wasn't taking him seriously from what he could notice, and the Grandmaester was busy writing every word he was saying.-

"In the North, there is a garden, a glass garden. It is not a garden made for children to play or ladies to read, it is a green house, essential for winter because we can grow a great amount of vegetables from it, even during winter years. Its made of myrish glass."

He took a moment, the he spoke again :

"Your Grace, here is my plan; in exchange for the Manderly's help in the war of the Stepstones, you can promise that a second glass garden will be rewarded to the North for its help. Many northerners will gladly volunteer for this war, since a second glass garden would considerably increase the number of northerners -commonfolk especially- who would survive the next winter. Many fathers, brothers and sons will be fighting for the future of their family, and not for glory. That is what would make your command acceptable."

Viserys looked happy that an apparent solution had been found, Otto, however was more dubious.

"A glass garden would be extremely costly." He said sternly. "And I've yet to hear how you intend to see the Triarchy broken."

"Because once again, Lord Hand, you didn't let me finish." Arthur answered harshly, clearly annoyed by the Hightower's constant interruptions.

He didn't allow him the time to form an answer or even an apology; he went on.

"This glass garden will not cost a copper to the Crown for a simple reason; since the Crown will control the Stepstones after the war, taxes will be raised on any ships that wishes to sail those waters with the protection of the Crown. And the Triarchy will not object, or rather cannot object, since Drahar is not officially one of their own, but a Prince that lost his mind due to greyscale and turned pirate. Officially, the Seven Kingdoms will simply get rid of mere pirates. And after it is done, commerce will return, and a deal will be stroke with Myr; a tax discharge to any myrish ship for the next two years in exchange for the construction of a new glass garden in the North."

Looks of realization appeared on the faces of the members of the Small Council, Arthur waited a little for them to digest this part of his plan before he went on.

"Naturally, Myr will gladly accept this offer for it is cheap in their eyes, but I suspect that Tyrosh and Lys will be quite angered with the myrish magisters. Because with the return of commerce, Myrish ships will sail with more goods than any tyroshi or lysian ship for the next two years, since their goods won't be taxed, and Myr will grow richer while its so called allies will loose more gold than they have already lost funding the Crabfeeder. Discord will rise and the Triarchy will either be disbanded, or, if we're unlucky, it will still be years before they will be able to assemble again. Which will give the Crown plenty of time to strengthen its hold on the Stepstones. Any questions, my lords? Your Grace?"

Silence was the only answer he was given, for all members of the Small council -except Otto and Rhaenyra- were flabbergasted.

In Viserys' eyes, the plan was perfect! They would not only be able to help Daemon, but they would also feed the people of the North while create discord among the Triarchy and strengthen themselves with the official acquisition of the Stepstones through conquest. They would also grow richer from the taxes that will be charged on merchants ships. It was brilliant from his point of view.

Lord Lyonel Strong looked clearly impressed by Arthur's reasoning, and had already decided to support his plan. Lord Beesbury was of the same mind.

Lord Tyland Lannister was genuinely impressed, but also bitter that a northerner had thought of it and not himself. The Lord Hand's face was emotionless.

"I do have a question." Rhaenyra said, and everyone looked in her direction. "Who would man the watchtowers and provide the fleet to guard the Stepstones?"

The question was directed at Arthur, so it was his answer and no one else's that was expected.

"I… don't know." He admitted with a shrug. "Do you have any suggestion, Princess?"

"I do." She answered, surprising them all. "The Redwyne fleet."

Otto rudely snorted at that.

"Princess," he spoke slowly as if he was speaking to a child. "The Redwyne fleet is west of the continent and had nothing to do with that conflict. Why should they spare men and ships to guard the Stepstones?"

Rhaenyra answered him with a stern tone.

"Because, the Redwynes have often complained about the war and the fact that their trading ships were blocked and their profits lessened. They've also complained about the fact that they couldn't buy goods from the southern free cities or Qarth because of the war. If they were to man this… border, their profits will grow anew, we could offer them a tax discharge in order to repay them for providing the necessary ships and men to guard the Stepstones."

"And who would protect the Western side of the continent without the Redwyne fleet to guard it?" Ser Otto asked clearly unimpressed.

It was Arthur who snorted this time.

"The Princess did not say that the whole Redwyne fleet should be sent," he remarked, "only a large enough number of ships. And unless the Hightower and Lannister fleets were incinerated last night, I assume that there are more than enough ships to guaranty the safety of the western side, where the only potential enemies are the Ironborns when they get up on the wrong foot. The Princess's idea is sound, I support it."

Lord Tyland and Ser Otto were clearly displeased by the Stark's intervention, while Rhaenyra thanked him with a nod and a smile. The Princess and her personal adviser turned their heads towards Viserys, who sighed in amusement… and perhaps there was a bit of relief.

"What do you think?" He asked to all the members of his council.

Lord Lyonel spoke first.

"I strongly support Lord Arthur's plan, Your Grace, as well as the Princess'."

"So do I." Lord Beesbury added.

"I'm sure my brother, Lord Jason, would gladly spare a few ships and men to help guard the Stepstones once it's taken, Your Grace." Lord Tyland said.

His words weren't lost on Arthur and Rhaenyra, the Lannister also wanted a tax discharge.

"The plan is good and sound." Otto said without conviction.

Viserys either didn't notice his tone or chose to ignore it.

"Then we will put that plan into motion. Lord Arthur? I ask that you write personally the message that will be sent to Lord Manderly, I think you'll be more capable to convince him than any of us."

"It will be done, Your Grace."

"Good, this meeting is adjourned. Rhaenyra? Stay, I'd like to talk with you."

The Princess merely raised an eyebrow as the men started to leave the room, as they went out, she didn't miss the looks that Ser Otto and Ser Tyland were throwing at Arthur who chose to ignore them.

Once she was alone with her father, she got up to pour herself a cup of wine, she felt she was going to need it. She was kind enough to pour one for her father as well though.

"Thank you." he said as she gave the cup to him. "You've done well today."

"I can't help but feel that Arthur outshined me." She admitted as she sipped her wine.

"Did you really expect to best him on northern matters?" Viserys smiled. "He's got years of experience and you've never set foot in the North. Your idea to use the disgruntled lords to our advantage was a sound one, one he did not think about. Does it have to be a competition?"

"It's not what you think." Rhaenyra assured him. "We do have some kind of competition but I would call it friendly and beneficial for both of us."

"Good." Viserys sipped on his wine. "Do tell me, on what matters did he advise you?"

Rhaenyra instantly got on the defensive.

"If you refer to intend to marry me off to Casterly Roc, then no, we haven't spoken about this."

Viserys sighed.

"I'm sorry Rhaenyra, I was trying to help you… will you not be helped?"

She gave no answer, which frustrated her father.

"Why must every effort on your behalf be resisted, as if to the death?"

"I did not resist you when you asked Arthur to be my adviser since he proved himself quickly enough." She retorted. "And I rarely resist his efforts because he is able to show me that it is for the best. So tell me, father, why do you think I resist your efforts?"

"I don't know." Viserys answered truthfully. "I'm doing everything I can for you."

Rhaenyra felt her blood boil at this.

"No you're not! You intend to replace me with Alicent Hightower's son! The boy you always wanted!"

She could have stoped there but she didn't, her heart was filled with frustration and anger, and she felt the uncanny need to empty it.

"During Aegon's nameday, Lord Hightower, Lord Lannister and your Hand humiliated me countless times! They named Aegon heir and treated me as if I was nothing more than a broodmare with a Valyrian womb and you supported them! You could have defended me! You could have renewed my position in front of all those lords but you kept you mouth shut and tried to sell me off to the Roc! The only person who ever supported me and my claim, who defended me, stood before all those lickspittles and called me Queen and heir, was Arthur! Now do tell me, Father; why did a Northern barbarian I've known for barely ten hours did more for me than my own father ever did in the past three years?!"

Rhaenyra's breath was heavy as she ended her tirade, her eyes were red with tears and heart was pounding in her chest. Yet, Viserys looked far sadder.

He put his face in the palm of his three-fingers hand and downed his cup, his daughter could tell that he was crying. He grabbed the pitcher and poured himself another cup that he downed in a blink.

"I'm sorry Rhaenyra," he whispered, "I'm sorry."

It took him a moment, and a third cup of wine to wash away his sorrow, then he looked at his only daughter with all the love he felt for her, partially breaking her angry face.

"I did waver," he confessed, "at one time…"

"Until I brought you the White Hart." Rhaenyra sneered. "Yet another thing I have to thank Arthur for."

Viserys rose his eyebrows in confusion, so his daughter elaborated.

"I did not want to kill it, its presence alone was enough to persuade me that the Gods had chosen me, and not Aegon. Arthur convinced me that killing that poor beast would prove to everyone that I was the rightful heir. And I did it, out of pride. I wanted Otto to swallow his pride back and be the one to gloat for once."

She paused.

"But then I saw you, and the way you looked at me. You had never looked at me that way before. And for a moment… I was proud that I had made you proud… But since then I realized… I realized that all it took for you to finally support me was a fucking dead stag, and not your love for me or even your duty to defend your heir."

A long silence followed that statement, Viserys hid his tears behind his hand until he was able to swallow them back, but he also had to swallow a fourth cup to do so.

"I promise you," he said as he looked at her once again, "you'll not be supplanted."

Rhaenyra wanted to attack again, but she held back, she still loved her father, and causing him pain brought her no joy. She did not wish to abuse the power given to her by his current weak state.

"Rhaenyra," he said with a gentle tone, "I never tried to sell you off, I wanted to help you find a good match to strengthen your claim and to see you happy."

"And you thought Jason Lannister would have made me happy?" She snorted.

"A terrible mistake on my part." The King admitted. "The Lord was a good match, the man… less so. I realized that when I spoke to him after you had fled. What I'm trying to say… is that I will not live forever."

He looked at his missing fingers, and for a moment, Rhaenyra's look softened, a hint of fear appeared in her violet eyes.

"But before I die, I wish to see you contempt, happy even. Oh, Rhaenyra, how I wish you were happy."

His declaration brought a sad smile to the Princess's face.

"You think a man would make me happy?" She asked dubiously.

Now it was Viserys' turn to smile.

"From your recent experience with our Stark friend, I think you can acknowledge that sometimes, just sometimes men can be useful."

Rhaenyra actually chuckled at that, and a slight blush appeared on her cheeks, yet, at the meantime, a sadness glinted in her eyes.

"That was one man out of thousands." She retorted. "And Arthur doesn't want to marry me."

"No?" Her father was astonished. "Why?"

"He said he was a terrible match. That I should aim higher…"

Viserys had to bit his tongue just in time to prevent himself from agreeing with the Northerner.

"… Arthur is not interested in me," Rhaenyra added sadly, "It's the North that he is concerned about. He is here and helps me out of duty for his home country, not out of duty for me."

Rhaenyra had always known that and she understood and respected his reason, yet, she couldn't help but feel bitter. The one person that had helped her the most in the past few weeks, hadn't done so for her.

"So he did advise you on the choice of your betrothed." Viserys said with a thoughtful tone.

His daughter's expression turned sour, she was upset.

"Rhaenyra… as rulers we must marry for advantage…"

"Then why didn't you wed Laena Velaryon?" She retorted with disdain.

Viserys lowered his head, not in shame though.

"Because she was twelve," he answered truthfully, "and her father had always wanted his blood on the Iron Throne out of ambition alone. Marrying her would have been wrong… in so many ways…"

Rhaenyra snorted loudly at that.

"Arthur wants to see me wed to Laenor, despite the fact that he knows he is a sword swallower."

"Ser Lyonel Strong is of the same mind." Viserys pointed out. "He is a logical choice but…"

Once again, he bit his tongue. His daughter was as angry as she was sad, and after the exposition of his recent faults, he did not wish to anger her, merely make her understand.

"But he would never be able to make you happy due to his… preferences." Viserys sighed. "Rhaenyra… You must marry, that much is certain. To strengthen your own claim, shore up your succession, multiply. If you wish to sit on the Iron Throne one day, you'll need a strong consort by your side to help you rule, like Jaehaerys and Alysanne… Like your mother and I. You can't do this alone, and as I've stated… I will not live forever."

Sadness and sorrow overwhelmed the young woman at his statement, she knew her father was right, yet she dreaded her marriage and the man that would be her husband. She feared that it would turn into a battle that she was sure to lose, and that her consort would rule through her name, while she would be cloistered in her private chambers, getting heavy with child every year like her mother.

Viserys kept talking.

"As to your match… make it yourself."

Rhaenyra's eyes almost popped out of their sockets, did her father truly…? In an instant her fear was replaced with hope.

"Search him out… find one that pleases you, as I did."

She wanted to cry in joy and relief, but she was a Targaryen, so she only smiled in gratefulness.

"Thank you."

"Anytime, my dear." Viserys smiled in return.