13

Chapter 13: Interlude: Laena INotes:

I really should have added this disclaimer years ago, but better late than never, I suppose.

Disclaimer: I do not endorse or support anything that happens in this chapter. I wrote this while in a really horrible episode of drunken depression.

I have since tried to rewrite and redo this chapter, but by that point, I was already like 50 chapters in and couldn't do it without essentially rewriting the whole plot and story.

I'm horribly ashamed and disappointed in myself for writing this chapter, but still won't delete it. I feel that one bad decision should not be grounds to torpedo a good story.

I understand any and all disgust levelled at this chapter and story. If you want to burn me in effigy or summarily drop this fic, I understand perfectly. Such is your right, and I will not infringe on that.

However, I can and have deleted verbally abusive and insulting comments that are posted. Writers have feelings too, and if anything, insulting me is more likely to trigger another one of my depression episodes, like the one that spawned this particular horror.

Apologies once again for what you are about to read.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

"That bitch hides a mind like a steel trap. Piss her off and you'll lose fingers."

-Quote by Lady Olenna Tyrell and Lady Margaery Tyrell on Lady Cersei Lannister, and vice versa

104 AC, Laena's Room, Maegor's Holdfast

Laena always had a crush on Prince Daemon, like every other girl in the Red Keep. Roguish and charming, with a dashing smile and the trim body of a dancer, Daemon Targaryen was the embodiment of the 'Bad Boy'. The type of man whom father warned their daughter against, who would sneak into their chambers at the dead of night and steal their maidenheads and hearts in one swift move. It was something taboo, the knowledge that he was married and unfaithful actually being spice in the wine instead of a detriment. It made him even more desirable. The perennial forbidden fruit.

Women knew that he'd give them a good time, which was why wives were willing to go behind their husbands' backs and maids willing to enter his chambers unchaperoned. How could a run-of-the-mill, dime a dozen, man even compete with Prince Daemon? Even Septas were seduced into breaking their holy vows of chastity. So great was the temptation of Daemon's loins.

To Laena's surprise, she found that the thought of Daemon bedding other women aroused her even more. Every night, when she pleasured herself before bed, her head would be filled with vivid scenes of the Rogue Prince deflowering her while kissing Alicent. Of her writhing in pleasure from his skilled fingers as he thrust into a whore. Of her riding his face while a pair of nubile servant girls enjoyed his hands while yet another woman rode his cock. Of him ploughing her senseless while Rhae suckled Laena's teats and rubbed Laena's cunt with her fingers.

It was after that erotic image of her and Rhae sharing Daemon that her imagination began wandering. Night after night, she'd picture her and Rhae performing increasingly daring acts together to entice Daemon. At some point, he left her mind entirely, leaving her alone with Rhae more and more frequently. And then Rhae vanished, and Alicent took her place. Then that busty maid that she saw in the hallway. Then that handsome knight she saw guarding Lord Rosby. More and more imaginary lovers graced her thoughts, both men and women. Sometimes alone, sometimes together.

It soon became obvious to Laena that she lusted after both men and women, with no discrimination between whom shared her bed. And yet, of all those she pictured herself bedding, Rhae and Daemon came back the most frequently, with only Alicent coming close. Sadly Rhae had shown zero interest in romance so far, not even taking notice of Laena's flirtations, even when they were both naked in the bath together.

When she tried to broach the subject with Alicent, phrasing it as something she heard men liked, Alicent had agreed, saying that men liked it when women pleasured each other before them. However the Hightower scion had then proceeded to state that it was degenerate, wanton and shameful. Women bedding women and men bedding men was a sin in the Faith of the Seven, punishable by the women having their womanly parts burned with a hot poker and men being gelded. To fornicate with one of the same gender was heretical misuse of the parts granted to men by the gods, she had said.

Thankfully, the older girl had believed that Laena's fear and horror was from the harsh punishments, and not because Laena was one of said heretics, even if it was solely imaginary, reassuring Laena that women of the Faith had nothing to fear from such people, for the Maiden would smite any whom would dare disgrace a maid so. And while their friendships had endured, that conversation had shut the doors on any notion of Alicent coming into her bed.

And so Daemon alone remained, and unlike the other two, he was receptive.

Laena hadn't bedded him yet, as she was a maid yet to flower, but she could see it in his eyes. He desired her. Her slender and athletic body, from hours upon hours of riding horses, swimming and climbing trees. Her platinum hair, which shone like moonlight. Her beautiful facial features, courtesy of her famously handsome father and generations of purebreeding. Her alabaster skin that never tanned, a quirk of those descended from Old Valyria. Her modest bust, just starting to swell now that she was twelve, with the promise of more to come. She knew, with the certainty that the sun would rise every morning, that the day she woke up in a bed of blood was the night he'd take her.

And so it was bitter irony, that the morning she woke up and felt stickiness between her legs, was the day after he died.

She still didn't believe that he was capable of harming even a hair on Rhae's head. He coveted the throne, yes, but he was willing to claim it by marrying Rhae. He showered her with gifts. He tried to impress and flirt with her. And yet Rhae never took, spurning his affections at every turn. After the reading of the will, he had been angry. Angry at Rhae for writing and reading out orders for him to stop fooling around unless he wished to lose his beloved sword permanently. Angry at Rhae for ignoring his love. Angry at Rhae for being declared above him by the greatest king in history.

He was drunk and angry, and lost his temper. He'd only meant to scare Rhae, and killed Ser Clement in self defence, Laena had wanted to say, but she didn't. For Rhae had been so broken and angry that night, that she dared not speak up. How could she? Against her best friend and crush. Not even to spare her first love. So she kept quiet, and said not a thing that night. A decision that would haunt her for the rest of her years to come.

Rhae had promised to persuade her father, and she fulfilled it with contemptuous ease. She strutted out of Laena's room, carefully rearranging her clothes and hair as she walked. Her black mourning dress was made creased and wrinkled. Her elaborately braided hair was undone carelessly and rumpled up by her small hands. She rubbed her eyes till they were red, and snorted slime onto her sleeves.

Laena had watched with fascinated horror, as the beautiful Princess unravelled herself into a broken shadow of herself.

Suddenly, Rhae produced a dirk from under her skirt. It was the blunted Goldcloak dirk that came with her miniature armour. Her favourite gift from Prince Daemon. Twirling the knife in her hands with surprising delicacy and dexterity, Rhae sighed and roughly hacked and tore at her lustrous hair. The metal knife cut through her electrum locks with ease. Rhae must have had it secretly sharpened. Laena and Aemma had been too shocked to scream as Rhae ripped chunks of hair out uncaringly before tossing them into a nearby brazier. Then she turned the dagger and her hands on her dress, ripping roughly at it and exposing her chest and legs before discarding the blade into a vase.

Aemma looked scandalised and Laena concurred, the two of them following in their princess' wake unthinkingly.

And just when Laena thought she couldn't look any more miserable, the instant they approached the King's solar, she lost all will in her footsteps. Rhae slumped over, and gripped on to her mother and Laena's hands as though they were her lifeline. When the door to the solar was opened by the White Knights, Laena saw King Viserys turn around, and he had looked angrier than she'd ever seen in her life. She didn't even think that he was capable of such fury.

And then he saw his beloved daughter and the sorry state she was in. And he got even angrier.

Rhae freed herself from their grips and bounded across the room, weeping inconsolably into her father's doublet. And in that instant, Viserys' rage, already at the highest in recorded history, reached new heights of unparalleled fury. The sheer primal rage wafting off him was nearly a physical thing, and Laena struggled to breath, choking from the weight of it.

Between sobs, Rhae wailed about her uncle. How he had ambushed her in her room, and how she asked Ser Clement to give them privacy, believing that he could never harm her. How he had threatened her with a knife, demanding that she become a Silent Sister and surrender her claim to the throne. How he hit her when she refused, before threatening to rape her unless she complied. How she tried to flee, only for him to seize her by the throat and rip her dress as he tried to force himself on her. How she barely managed to kick the door open, and Ser Clement Crabb immediately leapt to her rescue, defending her life and virtue at the cost of his life. She barely finished her tale before dissolving into sobs and tears once again, refusing to let go of her father.

And then, Queen Aemma Targaryen spoke but one sentence:

"Now that you have seen what he has done to our daughter, will you still defend him?" The Arryn Queen had asked, staring straight into the Young King's eyes.

And those warm and amicable eyes, which never seemed to harbour a single foul thought, turned sharper than Blackfyre, stormier than the Stormlands and harder than Dragonstone's walls as a blaze greater than even Balerion the Black Dread's flames raged within.

"No." The Young King said with the firmness of inviolable inevitability.

The very next day, King Viserys had summoned the court. The Kingsguard dragged Daemon out, bound and gagged, and the Master of Laws Lyonel Stong read out a list of crimes, including murder of two Kingsguard, four men-at-arms, attempted rape and attempted regicide. With overwhelming evidence, there was no doubt of the crime and thus no judge or jury. Solely the executioner.

King Viserys did it himself, indicting his younger brother of the crimes committed, and declaring him scum too horrid for even the Night's Watch. And with a single swing of Blackfyre, Daemon Targaryen's head hit the floor.

Across the city, Caraxes roared in grief and anger at the Dragonpit, the sound carrying all the way into the throne room.

Laena wept at the death of her first love, his killer hugging her tight. Viserys may have swung the sword, but it was Rhae that killed Daemon. Rhae that baited him into attacking her before hammering hard on him. Rhae that played the broken bird, singing lies to infuriate her father into becoming a kinslayer. Rhae that grinned triumphantly the instant her father had left the office, shedding her broken facade like a lady changing clothes. Rhae that grinned that same grin as she saw her uncle's head literally roll.

She didn't remember the rest of the day, spending her time weeping in her room. Alicent dropped by a few times, trying to console her. Each time she left, she returned with more news. The Goldcloaks rioted, she told Laena, and had to be put down by guards of the highborn present in the city for King Jaehaerys' funeral. Caraxes had broken free of its chains and tried to escape, but Vermithor and Silverwing subdued it quickly. Laenor had claimed a dragon of his own, naming it Seasmoke. He, Rhae and Mother had bathed the last redoubts of the City Guard with dragonfire, completing the purge of Daemon's loyalists.

She was still crying when Rhae entered her quarters, dressed in the full suit of riding gear Laena had gifted to Rhae on her fifth nameday. Ash and blood stained the dress. And contrition and lament was painted on her face.

Was it even genuine? Laena wondered. Was anything?

Rhae put even the finest mummers to shame, capable of playing any role she needed. As her lady-in-waiting, Laena had seen how the princess could switch from wrathful to forgiving in an instant, from mischievous to contrite. Whatever mask suited her needs the most. Mother had taught Laena how to tell if someone was lying. There was a certain spot in the wrists, where you could find the pulse. Hearts don't lie, Mother had said, demonstrating how to hold someone's hand in the exact manner that allowed her to discreetly keep a literal finger on the pulse. Laena had held Rhae's hand enough times to know that that wasn't true. Rhae's heart could lie, her pulse never changing no matter how blatant the falsehood.

And there was that grin. That damn grin.

It wasn't like her smiles, all of them ranging from elegant to charming to cute. This one was savage. A baring of teeth. Vicious and malicious. The smile of a shark. She only made it when she thought she was alone, and each time heralded the successful completion of a plan. At first, Laena had enjoyed it, seeing a side of Rhae that none other in the world did. She loved it when Rhae grinned that savage grin after a successful theft from the library, or after stealing a bottle of wine from the cellars and enjoying it illicitly together. But then she realised that Rhae grinned that same grin whenever she finished manipulating someone into doing her bidding. Treating people like the pieces of that game of Cyvasse she so loved.

Rhaenyra Targaryen was a monster, Laena realised now. The realisation sinking bone-deep into her. A monster with the face of an adorable angel.

Was this what Daemon saw? Laena asked herself. Was this why he tried to murder her? 

"I brought you supper." The monster said, placing down the tray of food with a tinkle of cutlery. She sighed when Laena didn't budge from her bed, sitting down beside her.

"I'm sorry about Daemon, but it was necessary." She sadly said. 

"You murdered him." Laena got out between sobs. "He loved you and yet you provoked and killed him."

"He didn't love me. He loved the throne I'm inheriting. He would have married me to sit it, and killed me once I've finished giving him an heir." The monster calmly stated. "It would have been trivially easy. Women die in childbirth all the time."

Was that amusement Laena heard in the monster's voice, like she was laughing at some ironic joke?

"Even so, killing him was too far!" Laena protested. "You should have exiled him—"

"He'd have gone to Essos with Caraxes and raised himself a sellsword army, turning his Goldcloaks into the Golden Company, and probably bargain with the Triarchy or Volantis to support him in a bid for the throne. It would have been war. So long as he and his heirs remained, they could challenge us for the Iron Throne time after time, generation after generation." The monster interrupted, listing out each point in a matter-of-fact tone.

"The Wall then. He'd could join the Night's Watch and—"

"He'd have fled in the dead of the night with Caraxes and gone to the Greyjoys. They'd ally with his warmonger supporters and carve out a kingdom in the Stepstones, with Daemon as the king. And he'd send assassin after assassin until all other Targaryens were dead and claim the Iron Throne over our corpses." The monster flatly stated. "Or he'd lose himself north of the Wall and probably show up a decade later as King Beyond the Wall, with a Wilding army at his back. Or become Lord Commander and lead a black brother uprising. Daemon is charismatic and a proven battle commander. He can inspire men to join his banner with ease, and with Caraxes at his back, Lord Stark would be forced to kneel before we could get up there in time."

"Then we imprison Caraxes—"

"Nothing short of death can separate a dragon from its rider. If we'd killed Caraxes, he'd vanish in the dead of the night and sneak into the Dragonpit or Dragonstone to claim another dragon. The Dragonkeepers are recruited from the Goldcloaks. They stayed loyal to us this time, but what about the next? Next time, your mother might not be able to scare them into submission."

"Then we replace the Dragonkeepers—"

"Oh, I will be doing that. But the point is, he's intimately familiar with the Dragonpit and Dragonstone. Sneaking in and claiming another dragon isn't difficult for him. And don't suggest building another Dragonpit. While we can afford it, I have plans for that gold and am not squandering it to keep one man alive."

"Was there no way to let him live?" Laena plaintively whimpered, utterly defeated and spent.

"No." The monster sighed, hugging her tight. "I wish it were not so, but I had no choice. Daemon is persistent and relentless. Nothing short of the grave will stop him permanently."

Laena said nothing, sobbing into the monster's duster. She cried and cried and cried, ignoring every single one of the monster's attempts to cheer her up or distract her. Eventually, the monster sighed, and made a strange gesture, putting her index finger to her right temple with her thumb perpendicular before flicking her wrist upwards, jerking her head away and to the side as though someone clubbed her on said temple.

"I know how you feel. Your pain on losing the man you loved." Whispered the monster, no not the monster, this was Rhae. Wait, no, it was not Rhae either. This was someone else. Someone completely different.

"I lost the woman I loved too." The mysterious stranger sadly recounted. And somehow, Laena knew that the sorrow was genuine. "I'd impregnated her, and she gave birth to our daughter. But we lived in different countries, and her father would have disowned her if he found out she was a mother."

Laena listened, enraptured as the stranger in her best friend's body spoke. Rhae and the monster were good at faking emotion, making lies sound like truth. But the sadness, the melancholy in the voice now, that wasn't an act. Not even the finest mummer in the world could convey such heartbreaking sorrow.

"So we split up. I took our daughter home, and she returned to her family, pretending that nothing was amiss, and we never met again for years." A solitary tear trickled down the face of Rhaenyra Targaryen. Laena had seen Rhae cry entire pools of tears before, and yet all of them weighed less, than the tiny droplet currently on her cheek.

"I eventually found myself a new lover who was willing to accept my daughter as her own, but still my old lover never left my mind, until one day, I couldn't take it anymore, and went to see her again." The mysterious stranger whispered longingly. "She was so happy to see us again. To see our daughter. To see me."

The person beside her sniffed, dabbing at her eyes with her sleeve.

"But despite everything, we never got back together. Our lives had diverged too much, and we couldn't change that." Laena's own tears came back at the sad tale. How could anyone have survived their heart being torn into pieces like that. "And thus we stayed apart from each other, despite how much we still loved each other and our daughter."

"Do you miss her?" Laena softly asked, Rhaenyra Targaryen's body tuning to face her. The sheer emptiness and longing in the eyes was like an unending abyss, never fulfilled no matter how much it devoured. Laena's heart broke anew at that.

"Every single second of both my lives."

"What was her name?" Laena asked.

"Mochizuki Yuuki." The stranger longingly whispered. "Uh, Mochizuki is the family name."

It was a strange name. Laena had heard of her father's many voyages, but never had she heard of anything that sounded similar. Maybe Yi-Ti came close, but not really.

"I may not be Mochizuki Yuuki, but I am your best friend and companion." Laena said, resting her forehead on the other's own. "I'll try to fill the hole in your heart up as much as possible, so in return, please do the same for me."

And without thinking, Laena went lower and kissed Rhae on the lips. She struggled at first, but then relented, letting Laena's tongue into her mouth. They kept kissing until they were forced to break apart for air, faces flushed and eyes wide. And just when Laena was afraid she ruined their friendship, Rhae bent forwards and kissed her passionately again.

It didn't matter who she was. Laena realised as their tongues wrestled. Rhae was a monster, but she was her monster. And at the end of the day, that was all that mattered.

Appetite restored, Laena disentangled herself from Rhae and ate her food, by now cold and horrid, but she was too hungry to care. After that, the two girls entered the bath together, scrubbing each other's back, with plenty of giggling and groping involved. Eventually, after wrestling naked a few times, the two of them put on their sleeping shifts and curled up in Laena's bed.

And they spent the rest of the night in comfortable silence, hugging each other close.

Notes:

Congratulations! You've just survived the worst and most horrible chapter of this entire fanfic by far.

Again, I apologise profusely for writing this chapter. But like I said, my depression should not be taken as the sum of myself.

Paedophilia is a horrible crime, and I believe that anyone engaging in it should be dealt with appropriately.

I have a daughter. An adorable little girl. I shudder to imagine her in this situation, and would probably murder everyone involved if it came to pass IRL.

I once again beg forgiveness, and hope that I have not lost another reader.

Thank you.