Chapter Text
Rhaenys slipped through the shadows, ever so careful not to be spotted. It was normally hard to lose the Kingsguard, but in Winterfell everyone had become, foolishly, more lax.
She, though, knew better. Lady Lyanna (she would never be Queen Lyanna to Rhaenys, no matter what her father insisted) was plotting and even if Ned Stark was the least duplicitous man in Westeros, he would still help his blood gain the throne.
That's why Rhaenys’ youngest brother was marrying Sansa Stark, she knew. Oh, the girl was beautiful, obedient, and most likely won Aemon's favor out of potential matches because of his well-known liking of redheads, but with her came the North and the Riverlands to Aemon's claim.
Rhaenys wouldn't have it. Lady Lyanna humiliated her mother, she would not let her steal the throne from her brother.
It was harder to spy on the adults, but so easy to follow Aemon and his soon-to-be-betrothed. They had also slipped their guard, no escort in sight, and while most men would take the opportunity to do something inappropriate with a young lady, her brother was simply holding her arm and talking.
"It's like a song," Lady Sansa sighed out, leaning against Aemon, causing Rhaenys to wrinkle her nose.
"Being married to a prince? You're not upset I'm not a silver one?"
"You look just Northern enough I don't think I'll be able to get homesick while around you," she simpered.
"That's good, as we probably won't make it back North for some time."
Sansa looked more directly at him as they walked along, letting him guide her steps. "We'll need to stay at the court in King's Landing for a long time?" She sounded oddly excited about being in that cesspit.
"Oh, no." Aemon shook his head and Rhaenys knew that the Stark girl probably couldn't hear the laughter in his tone, but Rheanys knew it well. "There's Summerhall, and perhaps Dragonstone if Egg doesn’t mind, regardless, but I meant...well, we'll be just prince and princess, my lady, as soon as my brother has a son...we're free, my father will have no more excuses to keep me in the Kingdom. We can see the wonders of the world, travel through the Free Cities...whatever we want."
Rhaenys almost stumbled into a pillar and steadied herself, physically and mentally. Her little brother was such an idiot sometimes, but he never really changed. She still remembered his silly boyhood threats of running away and joining a sellsword company whenever father made him practice at the harp.
"But...then we will be away from...everything. We won't be much of a prince and princess if we're not even in our kingdom. And...so much happens at court, I wouldn't want to miss anything."
Aemon drew a little more away, putting distance between himself and Sansa Stark that she didn't seem to have noticed yet. He’d had plenty of practice extracting himself from overreaching ladies.
"I...don't think court life is what you think it is, cousin."
She pouted at him, lips quivering. Rhaenys would have been impressed if she didn't have the horrible feeling that it was a genuine expression.
"I'm not a little girl. I know exactly what court is like. Mother and my Septa have been preparing me to marry a Southron Lord all my life."
"Two women who have rarely been in the King's presence, let alone to the Red Keep, one of them a septa ? Sansa, I think you should speak to Lyanna--."
"The Queen and I have spoken!" Rhaenys scowled, the Northrons kept doing that, talking like their was one Queen and it was their Stark one. "She's told me all about court. And if there are parts of it I don't like--we can change them!"
Aemon turned to face Sansa, extracting his arm from hers. "Then perhaps my sister or one of her ladies." Rhaenys smiled darkly, thinking exactly what she or her ladies could make of her. "This all seems like a song, Sansa, but even Prince Duncan and his Lady Jenny couldn't do everything they wanted without consequence."
"What does it matter? What can your half-sister tell me that will make a difference? Your father is the King!"
"King he may be, but he isn't immortal."
"So? Then you or your half-brother will be King." Rhaenys let out a silent hiss, glaring at the couple.
"My brother will be King, there is no 'or'. Would you wish death upon Cregan so that Bran might become Lord of Winterfell?"
She pouted again, biting her lip, ducking her head. Rhaenys wanted to slap her.
"But everyone knows that Aunt Lyanna is the King's favorite. That he'll make you heir."
It was clear confirmation, to Rhaenys, that her fears about the North were true.
"If he tries, I'll threaten to take the Black," Aemon declared, and Rhaenys stared at him, trying to see any signs he was lying, that he knew of her presence and was putting on a show.
Perhaps, despite Lyanna attempting to sink her claws into him and Elia, Rhaenys, and Aegon having been away from King’s Landing so much over the last few years, he really was still the silly boy she’d known.
"What? No, you can't do that! It will be the King's will."
"And not the first time Lyanna has been the catalyst for a grand mistake by him," Aemon's anger, dare Rhaenys even say disgust, had seeped into his tone. "Now, if you'll excuse me, my lady, I realize I forgot a prior appointment."
He stalked off, Lady Sansa eventually sulking to who knew where, and Rhaenys stayed leaning against a pillar, lost in thought. She knew she needed allies against Lady Lyanna, she hadn't considered that her youngest brother might prove to be one of them.