forum Crowns of bone and shadow ((one-on-one//closed//18+, R))

Started August 02, 2023 by @ElderGod-Carrots

tune

(Saw this and thought I would send it to you. Rhaenys being protective of Baela and Rhaena ;))

Rhaenys inhaled slowly and lifted her chin as he answered. From what she could tell, his answer seemed genuine. But this man was a highly skilled and well-trained assassin. He could easily lie through his teeth. And Rhaenys was well accustomed to good liars from all her years surrounding the Iron Throne and Great Council.

The Great Council. Somewhere deep in her heart, Rhaenys would always resent the wicked men who had tricked her into thinking she had a chance for the crown, then snatched it off her head to give to her cousin. While she had never despised Viserys, she had envied him for a long while. But by now, Rhaenys had made peace with the fact that she had been passed over for the Iron Throne. She'd told Corlys as such.

What she couldn't make peace with, however, was the fact that some old gods of another realm had deemed her husband worthy of death. Blatant, brutal death at the hands of this assassin standing in front of her. Her fingers tightened their grip on her dagger. Her whip also lay in waiting in her other hand, ready to strike again with incredible precision and accuracy.

"Well can't you find out?" she asked shortly. A fire sparked again behind her watery brown eyes. Another teardrop spilled down her cheek, but the firmness of her stare never wavered. If anything, the tears made her more intimidating as her entire body remained tense and ready to strike. "I need to know why my husband was marked for death. There must be a reason."

Eurion swallowed. It was the only sign of his nerves. The thought of asking the Gods about why they wanted Corlys dead was nerve wracking, but he didn’t know if he had any other choice. Rhaenys seemed set on finding out why her husband had to die, and Eurion wasn’t going to fault her for that. It was the only reasonable response to watching your partner die in front of you. Asking about it for her, though, was surely going to end him. And if he was going to die, he’d rather it be at the hand of her compared to that of his fucked overseers.

“I can only ask if they contact me,” He tried to explain. In very slow movements, he put his daggers away, slipping them back into the pockets in which he had grabbed them in the first place, “I don’t know when that would be. Soon, most likely, but you would have to keep me alive in order to find that information.”

He was no use to her dead. Messengers were the only way for anyone to contact the Old Gods. Especially anyone on Westeros. There would be no one here with the abilities or the knowledge to try and attempt to contact them. Either way, the Gods came to you, not the other way around. Locked away in another realm they were still powerful enough to contact others in this realm. But if Rhaenys was to kill him now, then she really wouldn’t know why her husband had been marked for death by patrons who didn’t even rule this world.

Rhaenys listened to his reply and studied him carefully. Her eyes narrowed as she watched him slide his daggers back into their sheaths. While he was now technically unarmed, Rhaenys didn’t drop her guard. He also had control of magic. Something she definitely didn’t have. She still had to be careful.

But his words sparked suspicion in her mind that had already been brewing. “What ploy is this?” she demanded, a snarl edging her words again. “How do I know you won’t put a dagger through my chest when my back is turned?”

Though she did relax her grip on her own dagger slightly. Her arm bent a bit, but the blade still pointed true towards his chest. She didn’t dare sheath her weapon.

“Tell me truthfully,” she stated. “How do I know this isn’t a trick and you won’t kill me the first chance you get? You just murdered my husband. Why should I trust you?”

"If I wanted you dead you would have been gone the moment you started grieving."

Eurion would have stabbed her just as he had done Corlys. He wouldn't have toyed with her, smirked and taunted until she had the courage to grab a weapon and hit back. No, she would already have been dead. Eurion was smarter than that. When it came to his kills, his targets, he wasn't about to let one live for longer than was necessary.

And if he hadn't been intending to kill her with his daggers, he would have used his magic. But there was no sign of the shadows that he wielded. No sign of them lurking anywhere near Rhaenys' legs or arms, not even a shadow weapon forming in his hands. There was no indication he was going to attack. Because truthfully, he wasn't. Eurion had done his job, and either he left, or he stuck around to ask the Gods why they wanted this man, out of all the men he could have killed, dead.

"I am not a good man, but I am not a liar. My word may mean nothing, but you have it. Lock me up for all I care, but if you want answers you have to keep me alive." No one else would be able to provide them.

The words were both the firm truth and a shocking realization. He was right. Rhaenys had completely let herself be vulnerable in those moments. The tragedy of Corlys’ death had been overwhelming, and she would have fallen easily to his blade. But he hadn’t.

Despite slaughtering her husband, the assassin had spared her. Rhaenys sheathed her dagger in a fluid motion. Then, her focus turned to her whip as she coiled it up again and slipped it back at her side.

“I’ve spared you as you spared me,” she muttered. “We’re even then.” Her eyes, still piercing but slightly softer now without the rage and vengeance clouding them, lifted to his. “What is your name, and how long until you get answers?” she asked. She needed to know how long he’d be casting a shadow over Driftmark with his presence.

Then, after a short pause, she asked, “How is your face?” Referring to the strike she’d landed with her whip would hopefully remind him that she was completely capable of equaling him in a fight if he didn’t use his magic.

Eurion almost breathed a sigh of relief. For a moment he was sure that Rhaenys was going to kill him. She had been poised to strike no matter how slack her arm had gone for the time being, ready to kill him the second he stepped the wrong way or moved an arm too quickly. Instead, she spared him. He didn't deserve it, and maybe when he asked the Gods about their reasoning behind why they wanted Corlys dead he would end up facing death himself, and that would be his just reward for all his wrongdoings.

"Eurion," He said, doing a quick stretch of his neck before returning his gaze back to her, "Eurion Beddoe. Shadow Fae, Messenger of the Old Gods." He nearly said how much of a pleasure it was to meet her, but refrained at the last second, "The Gods don't like consistency, as I've learned. It could be tonight, a month, I couldn't tell you."

And there was no way for him to go to them. He didn't possess the magical abilities that they did in order to contact others from different realms. He was strong, powerful, more so than most with his dark magic, but there was only so much that he could do. Realm travel was not one of them. She would have to wait, just as he would.

He reached up to grab at his cheek where she had struck him, "I've had worse than a whip to the face."

Rhaenys made a note of his name. He definitely was not a native of Westeros. She’d never heard of a name like that before. His titles, however, very much caught her attention. He had already told her about being the gods’ messenger, but now she knew he was fae.

“Rhaenys Velaryon,” she replied, choosing her husband’s house over her father’s for now. “Princess of Westeros, Lady of Driftmark.” She was sure he already knew that, but a little reminder always helped. Though… now Rhaenys wondered if he knew of her other title. The Queen Who Never Was. She wondered if he knew how close she had been to being seated on the Iron Throne.

Her expression tightened at his explanation. A month? There was potential to be in Driftmark for an entire month? Or longer, if what he said was true. Oh gods… His hand reached up to cover his wound. She didn’t doubt he’d had worse injuries. She had too. But the fact that she’d landed the blow and he was holding his face again gave her no small amount of satisfaction.

“Let me be perfectly clear,” she began. “For whatever duration of time you are here, you must swear to me that you will not touch or harm anyone who resides in this castle.” Especially Baela and Rhaena. “If I find out that you have, I will not hesitate to kill you and figure out some other way to get my answer. Do you understand?”

Eurion nearly snorted. He hadn't been surprised with the threat, it only made sense that she would make such a comment considering he had just murdered her husband. He held his hands up in a surrender motion, "Assassin's honour. I only came here to kill one person. I don't have any other agenda to follow through with."

He didn't simply kill for the fun of it. He wasn't a cold-blooded murderer, not in that sense. He killed who he was tasked to kill. Whether that be from the Gods giving him missions or others that he took jobs from during the months or weeks where he heard nothing from his patrons. But he didn't just kill without reason. There had to be someone out there tasking him with doing so. If there wasn't money or the promise of safety involved, what was the point?

Of course, there were the times where he had been tempted to change his way of thinking. Days where he had needed to get his rage out and the best way at doing so was to kill. But he wasn't on his homeland anymore. This was unknown territory to him. One wrong move and he could be dead within an instance. There seemed to be no Fae here, not that he had seen, as of yet, but from the way Rhaenys had reacted to his magic, he doubted there were many, if any, others like him round these parts.

"You won't find any other way to gather your desired information," He continued before lowering his hands, "I'm your only option regardless."

Eurion’s answer nearly made Rhaenys scoff. “Assassin’s honor” wasn’t very reassuring, but… it was all she had for the moment. The one person he’d come to kill had been Corlys. Rhaenys didn’t think she could ever forgive the man in front of her for what he’d done, but she could at least use him for her own gain.

She realized quickly the way she was thinking and swore to herself. That was how all the other fools in Westeros thought. Hell, it was how she and Corlys had thought for so long. How could they take back the Iron Throne? How could their descendants rule Westeros? She still remembered the devoted words he’ spoken to her.

"The crown was yours until those fools at the Great Council plucked it from your head. Is it such a terrible thing for your husband to wish to win it back?"

His words had rang true in her heart, though she’d long ago made peace with the fact that she hadn’t been chosen as queen. Though it was becoming harder and harder to make peace with it now.

Eurion’s statement made her eyes narrow further. She watched his hands keenly, in case he intended to pull any tricks. “Very well,” she muttered. “We’re at a draw, then?”

A draw was one word for it. A bypass. There was nothing that they could do for the time being but wait it out. Eurion knew that there would be no redemption for him in the eyes of Rhaenys, and he didn't deserve it, either. He had just killed her husband in front of her, no one should have had to see that.

But it had been his only choice or fuck over his fate. His life was in the hands of his Gods and if he failed at the last moment? He didn't want to think about what would have happened. He didn't want to think about what was going to happen when he asked that dreaded question of why he had to kill Corlys. He wasn't getting out of it, no matter how much he wanted to fight against Rhaenys.

Maybe he could bide his time. Get out when he had the first opportunity and never look back. The only issue with that was if he had to return to Westeros at some point he would no doubt have a mark on his head by everyone in Rhaenys' court, anyone she had under her belt. That wasn't a good fate to have, either. It was a lose lose situation for the assassin.

"We are at a draw, Your Highness," Eurion have her a curt nod, "Care to show me around the grounds now we're not trying to kill each other?"

This time, Rhaenys did scoff at his words. “Don’t call me that,” she muttered, edging past him. First thing’s first, she had to find a nursemaid and inform her of Corlys’ death. Though… he had been ill on his deathbed. The dagger wound through the torso would be incredibly difficult to explain, even to the servants who were undoubtedly loyal to her. She and Corlys had always treated them with respect, which was why Driftmark ran so smoothly day in and day out.

Rhaenys reached the door and steeled herself for what came next. As hard as it was to watch Corlys die, she had to remain strong for everyone else in Driftmark. Glimpses of the last conversation she’d had with him played through her mind, and she turned to look at Eurion. “What I must do now is no easy task,” she stated blandly. “Either remain silent, or call whatever magic it is that you possess to stay concealed from their eyes.”

With that, Rhaenys opened the door and stepped into the hall. A nursemaid, the one who had been integral in Corlys’ survival, was approaching the door. She stopped when she saw Rhaenys and immediately sunk into a curtesy. “My lady,” she greeted. “How is he?”

Rhaenys stood up straighter and swallowed heavily. “He is dead.”

The nursemaid’s face changed from shock to disbelief to despair. “My lady,” she whispered. “It cannot be. Let me see him-“

As much as it pained her, Rhaenys stepped in her way, blocking the nursemaid from the door. “Do not enter,” she commanded. “I have checked, and I am certain. I would not lie… the Lord of the Tides is dead.”

The nursemaid’s eyes filled with tears. “Oh…” she whispered, trying to collect herself.

Rhaenys placed a delicate hand on the woman’s shoulder. “Go and rest yourself,” she murmured. “There is no more we can do. And tell no one,” she added. “Not yet. Let us grieve in our own right before spreading news.”

The nursemaid nodded and turned to leave. But she seemed to remember something and turned back around. “My lady… Ser Vaemond Velaryon is here to seek your audience.”

Rhaenys blinked quickly, inhaled and straightened. Of course he was. Hearing about Corlys’ illness, why wouldn’t he come? “Right, thank you,” she answered, about to stride off when the young woman chimed up again.

“My lady… your armor?”

Rhaenys inhaled firmly at her words. “Tell him I shall meet him in a moment,” she said as she began to walk again. She needed to change, now. Out of Targaryen red and into Velaryon blue. She knew what he wanted. What he always wanted when he came recently.

She made it to her own personal chambers, not the ones Corlys had been kept in. Rhaenys entered, waited for the door to shut, and looked around. “Well?” she asked, looking for an indication Eurion was still with her.

Eurion couldn't help his smirk at her words. He may not be killing her anytime soon, or anyone, for that matter, but that didn't mean he was going to stop being who he was. Which, was a bit of an ass, all things considered. If she didn't want to be called 'your highness' then he would have to keep that in mind and only pull out the title when she was annoying him. Or he wanted to piss her off.

He hoped he wouldn't have to be there long. He hoped the Gods would contact him soon in order to get this shit over and done with. THe quicker they came around to him, the better. The quicker he could get the torture over and done with. Eurion looked down at his wrists, pulling back his sleeves to have a look at his skin. The black veins, those chains that they had around him grew darker and darker as the days went on. They hadn't been present to begin with when he had first started working for them, but as they grew stronger and their power seeped into his own world, so had their magic, and their control. At first, they had only been faint, very dull grey and black on his wrists, ankles and neck. Now they were as black as the shadows he controlled, and were starting to extend up his arm. Eurion shoved his sleeves down and tucked his hands away. He didn't want to think about it, even though it was always there, nagging at the back of his mind no matter what he tried to do in order to forget it.

The assassin was silent when Rhaenys told him to stay quite or use his magic. All he did was give her a curt nod in response before he used his shadows to conceal himself away. This whispered in his ear, told him to run while he had the chance. Get away, get out. Stick to them, in the shadows and the darkness that lurked in the corners of the castle and leave. But he had made a promise, he was going to stick to it. For once, he would try and do right by someone, no matter how hard it was for him to do so. So, Eurion watched, listened, and kept himself hidden in the shadows and followed Rhaenys through the halls and to her chambers, slipping through the door behind her.

When the door was shut, he stepped out, hands in his pockets, and a picture of nonchalance, "Nice room. Bit big, if you ask me."

Rhaenys stiffened when Eurion materialized out of the shadows. “Now I understand,” she muttered, almost half to herself. He’d broken in so easily. Without any effort. He was made for this, sneaking around, putting a dagger through someone’s chest, stealing the last breaths of life from people’s lungs…

She shook her head and began to remove her armor, piece by piece. Normally, she’d have a servant summoned, but there wasn’t enough time and Rhaenys was in the mood to do it herself. She whirled around, removing her armor until she was in her black leathers underneath.

Then, she selected a deep blue dress with white and gold embroidery along the bodice. Rhaenys paced to the other side of the room and hid behind a changing screen while she slipped out of the skintight garment and into the soft, silk blue dress. It moved around her like waves in the ocean, and she looked truly like the Lady of the Tides.

When she re-emerged, she approached her mirror, but as she walked by Eurion, her back was entirely visible. Her dress needed buttoning, but before that, she was focused on her hair. She took the holder out and let half of it fall down her back. Then, Rhaenys adjusted her braids slightly and moved the hair to the side.

Taking a deep breath, she asked, “Can you please button up my dress?” Per rules of mourning, she should be wearing black, but she didn’t want Vaemond to know Corlys had died.

Eurion didn't need to be able to read minds to know what she was thinking when he emerged from the shadows. The full extent of his power hadn't even been revealed to her, but it was enough to know that yes, he was made for this life.

Ever since he had been born his parents knew that he was going to be destined to partake in… less than favourable deeds. His magic was rooted in the dark elements, everyone knew that, and everyone who had the abilities that he did ended up in some way or another, being apart of teams of people that dealt with death. Usually, that was the royal guards. Eurion had been training to join the royal army for a long time, but the Gods got to him before he could accept any position in the Fae armies.

He never went home again. Due to a multitude of reasons, but the Gods were a large contributing factor to all of that. It didn't help that Eurion no longer knew whether he, or a plague, killed his parents. A twist of his mind from his patrons.

When Rhaenys asked him to button her dress, he almost said no. But, after all that he had put her through in the last hour, he couldn't really deny her. And there was no one else to help. Silently, he moved to her, standing at her back. Calloused hands and quick fingers buttoned her dress, skin grazing skin as he did so, and being far too gentle for the act that he had just committed.

Rhaenys inhaled slowly as she waited. For a moment, she didn’t think he would come. But the sudden feeling of rough fingers brushing her bare skin startled her. She gasped and arched her back ever so slightly. She forced herself to remain still, even holding her breath for a moment. His fingers working their way up her dress were lithe and gentle. But she would not allow herself to fall into the touch.

She was already thinking about what Vaemond wanted. What he desired, how he would ask for it, replies for Rhaenys to counter him with. It was obvious to Rhaenys what the man wanted. He’d already demanded as such from her on previous visits. He wanted Driftmark. As the brother of Corlys, Vaemond claimed the throne of Driftmark was his by birthright. But Corlys has already named an heir. And Rhaenys would not publicly cross him, not even in death.

Though Vaemond was stubborn. Rhaenys had granted his audience twice times now during Corlys’ absence. Now, a third time was apparently necessary. The princess waited a few seconds after she felt Eurion thread the last button before turning around. She brushed her hair back over her shoulder and let it fall smoothly down her back in a white sheet. Targaryen white hair, which she had passed down to her children and grandchildren.

“Thank you,” Rhaenys murmured, looking at the door and not at Eurion. “I must meet with Vaemond now. He is cunning and ambitious, and he seeks what is currently mine.” She shook her head. “But I must meet with him or it will be suspicious.”

It was odd to be buttoning up a woman's dress, let alone the woman of the man he had just murdered, a princess. But such was life, and Eurion's was never straightforward or easy. In fact, it was the exact opposite, and it never would be simple, no matter how much he wished for it to be so.

Long ago he never would have dreamed to be thinking such a way. He had enjoyed his life as the Gods messenger, fuck he enjoyed killing more than anything, which definitely said something about his personality and who he was, but these days he couldn't help but wish for something different. Death, or peace. He supposed they went hand in hand, in some way or another. He shook off that thread of thought before he could delve too deeply into his unsolved personal issues.

His hands were quick to move back into his pockets and he took a few steps back from Rhaenys when she spoke, "I will go with you," There was no room for argument in his voice, "Can't leave me here, I'll just be your new… body guard." Because he wasn't going to attack her, and if this man was shitty maybe he would just kill him, too, get him out of her hair. It wouldn't make up for the death of her husband, but it was the least he could do.

Rhaenys couldn’t shake the feeling of Eurion’s hands brushing against her skin so lightly. A fit of chills ran through her body, and she was glad for the dress’ long sleeves so that he couldn’t see.

Her eyes caught the motions, and she lifted her chin slightly. She was a powerful woman, one of the most powerful women in the realm. And she carried it clearly. Her gaze narrowed at his statement. A moment of silence passed before she let out a quiet scoff. “Very well,” she relented. “But dealing with anyone other than myself and my grandchildren is a risky game to play. Please do so with caution, and let me talk with Vaemond.”

With that, she headed for the door and left the room. The path to the throne room of Driftmark was darkened by the cloudy sky outside. Like the world itself knew that Corlys had died. Rhaenys stiffened. Vaemond could not know about Corlys’ death under any circumstances.

When she reached the throne room, she was shocked to see Baela already there, standing beside the throne of Driftmark. “Baela?” she asked. “Skoros issi ao doing kesīr? [What are you doing here?]”

Baela noticed Rhaenys’ stride and the strange man walking beside her. So she took the hint and replied in flawless High Valyrian. “Nyke kesīr naejot nykeōragon paktot ao, grand muñnykeā, [I am here to stand beside you, grandmother,]” she said evenly.

Rhaenys frowned. As much as she admired her granddaughter’s courage, she shook her head. “Daor. Daor isse naejon hen Vaemond. [No. Not in front of Vaemond.]”

Baela frowned. “Skoro syt daor? [Why not?]” she protested. “īlon jorrāelagon nykeā kostōba naejon. [We need a strong front.]”

“Nyke jāhor daor risk ao lo things jikagon quba, [I will not risk you if things go bad,]” Rhaenys countered firmly. She’d already lost Corlys today. She would not loose Baela or Rhaena too. Not if she could help it.

“Nyke kostagon mīsagon nykēla. [I can protect myself.]”

The words struck true in Rhaenys’ heart. She herself had spoken them many times before. Now, it was Baela’s turn. With a sigh, Rhaenys conceded. “Olvie sȳrī. [Very well.]”

Baela dipped her head in respectful acknowledgment and thanks. “Kirimvose, [Thank you,]” she replied. Her eyes darted briefly to Eurion, and she added, “Qilōni iksos ziry? [Who is he?]”

Rhaenys lowered herself onto the throne of Driftmark and sat upright with confidence and power. Her arms draped over the sides of the throne, and she glanced at Baela briefly. “I will explain later,” she murmured.

Eurion held his hands up in surrender but didn't say a word to the other as she spoke about dealing with others in her court. Not that he particularly wanted to. The more people who knew that he wasn't from around these parts the worse it was going to be for him. He wasn't human. He could control magic, talk to Gods and was a very well-trained killer on top of it all. If anyone found out any of that information who knows what they would do with it. What they would do to Rhaenys if they were aware she had a foreigner of such like in her court.

He would stay silent, unless provoked. Or she was provoked.

The assassin followed one step behind her the entire journey to her throne. He took in every entry and exit, every window and passageway, the different faces that he saw around the castle. All information that may be necessary later for his time at Driftmark.

He remained silent still when she conversed with her granddaughter, but he did give the young girl a nod of acknowledgement when she asked who he was. Nothing more, and no words.

Eurion didn't want to invoke Rhaenys right now by stepping out of line when she was already so tense. Instead, he stood beside the throne, half in the shadows and using them to conceal most of his presence, and narrowed his eyes at the door.

Rhaenys’ eyes caught a flicker of movement by the throne room’s grand door, and she lowered her voice. “Speak of your grandfather.”

“It's been near six weeks since I last saw him,” Baela replied, her voice edging with emotion that she kept reigned in. “I must know… will he live?”

Rhaenys inhaled slowly and replied, “The wound was severe,” she replied. “Much blood was lost. But the greater concer is the fever that has followed. The nursemaid said he burns from within.”

Baela inclined herself directly toward Rhaenys as a lone figure fully entered the room. “The Sea Snake is strong,” she declared. Using Corlys’ famed title made Rhaenys aware of Baela’s awareness that Vaemond had entered, and she hummed plainly.

“No doubt,” Vaemond said, stepping out of the darkness in the room and approaching the throne. Rhaenys looked away and inclined her head down as he spoke. “And yet, I have seen blood fever overcome men half his age.” He wisely stopped before the steps of the dais that led up to Rhaenys’ throne.

The Lady of Driftmark tensed, though she did not look at him. “I will not suffer the talk of crows in my house, Vaemond,” she replied firmly.

“I love my brother, but we must be honest with ourselves,” Vaemond countered. “We may endure the fever to find him gone by the end.” Rhaenys didn’t move her body, but her eyes cut to her brother-in-law. What an ambitious snake he was. “And who will take the Driftwood Throne?”

Before Rhaenys could speak, Baela did. “My grandmother seems quite comfortable here,” the girl said with clear confidence. Not for the first time, Rhaenys adored her granddaughter’s quick wit and wished Corlys had agreed for House Velaryon to be passed through Laena’s line to her.

But Vaemond was already replying again, his voice light but his words pointed. “She presides only in the absence of her husband. On his death, the seat passes.”

“To Lucerys Velaryon,” Rhaenys cut in sharply. She too had been prepared for Vaemond’s argument. “As is my lord husband's desire.”

“I am the Sea Snake's own blood. The closest kin he has left!” Vaemond demanded, sounding more emotional than Rhaenys had thought of him.

“Be careful, good-brother,” she replied softly, but her words were not without edge. She straightened on the throne now and met his gaze with her own to further emphasize herself. “One could take your words for treason.”

Vaemond slowly began to walk toward her. His steps put Baela on edge, but she didn’t move from Rhaenys’ side, and the princess on the throne did not flinch. Vaemond stopped three steps away from where Rhaenys sat and lowered his voice to a breathy statement, “I speak the truth, Rhaenys. And you know it.”

But Rhaenys was having none of it. She spoke and turned her head down and away again. “The matter has been decided.” The woman took deep breaths to calm herself while Vaemond spoke again. Baela watched the interaction carefully, occasionally glancing over at the man her grandmother had brought. She still wondered his role.

“By a man whose ambition has brought down on us calamity after calamity!” Vaemond claimed.

At that, Rhaenys lifted her chin and inclined her head knowingly. She knew which one of the brothers truly had more ambition. Yes, Corlys was ambitious, but Rhaenys was grounded and practical to counter that. Her eyes sharpened and her motions became surer with discernible anger while Vaemond continued with his airy voice and determined words.

“My brother cares only for the history books. But what of the Velaryon line? Is it to be snuffed out, supplanted by the pups of House Strong? Driftmark is mine by all rights. And while I should like your support, I do not…” he paused, “need it. The winds have shifted. The crown has good reason to take my side.”

Rhaenys forced herself to calm a bit before she replied quietly, “My cousin the King would have your tongue for this.” She would have had his tongue for this if it was truly within her power to make it so. Her anger was rising still, but she presented as calm for Baela’s sake. And perhaps a bit of Eurion’s sake too.

“But it's not a king who sits the Iron Throne these days, good-sister,” Vaemond hissed, taking another step closer to her throne. “It's a queen.”

“The word of my house is not fickle,” Rhaenys replied coldly. “I’ve given you the answer from my lord husband’s lips. Leave, Vaemond. Seek ambition elsewhere.”

There was a reason Rhaenys had fallen for Corlys and not Vaemond. The brother of her husband, or former husband, narrowed his eyes at her and coiled his fingers into a striking fist, but Rhaenys noticed the action and immediately sat up straighter. Vaemond’s eyes narrowed at her, but he took a step back. “I will take my matter to the Great Council and to the King. I’m sure they will see reason,” he hissed before turning his back on Rhaenys and her throne.

Eurion fell back into the shadow of the throne completely when Vaemond walked into the throne room. For the time being he was going to keep himself as hidden as possible. He did, however, unsheath one of his daggers from its pocket, just in case. He didn't know what things were going to get like, what their relationship was like, but he was going to be prepared for anything, more so for the kid's sake than Rhaenys'.

And he listened, quietly, taking in their words, the strange ways they spoke. He wondered what the hierarchy was like in Westeros. Who really was the ruler? Or was it like back home, where each kingdom had their own leader, their own royal to rule? Just as the Fae had their king that followed.

Odd was an understatement running through his mind on the whole ordeal.

But then he was stalking towards the throne and he was tensing, ready to step in if necessary. He didn't, because it seemed everything would be okay. And then Vaemond was still talking. Eurion narrowed his eyes, and finally, when the man's back was turned, he couldn't stop himself from stepping out of the shadows.

"If I didn't know any better, it sounds as if you're making a threat." His voice was low, carrying a dark tone to it that was different to how he had been speaking to Rhaenys previously. The dagger was hidden behind his cape.

Rhaenys narrowed her eyes when Vaemond turned his back on her. She clutched the arms of her throne tighter and finally spared a look at Baela. Her eldest granddaughter was rooted in the same spot she'd been in the entire time, her body stiff and poised. Rhaenys noticed the glint of steel hiding in the folds of Baela's blue gown, and her eyes flickered up to the girl's face. Baela met her stare and nodded imperceptively. She had been ready to attack if things went south.

But just as Vaemond was walking away, Rhaenys heard the low, rough voice off her left shoulder that was starting to become familiar. She inhaled and sat up straighter while Vaemond stopped and turned with a sharp glint in his eyes. His gaze flicked from the now-visible man beside Rhaenys before trailing back to the princess.

"I wasn't aware you had company, Princess," Vaemond remarked quietly.

Rhaenys looked him dead in the eyes and shot back, "If you hadn't been so insistent, Vaemond, my company wouldn't be a problem, now would he?"

Vaemond's eyes narrowed slightly, then glanced back at the assassin. "Who are you?" he asked evenly.

Eurion was taller than the man in front of him. Even if they had been standing on the same level he would have towered over the man with ease, and it almost made him smirk. It helped that he had the upper hand that Vaemond didn't know who he was and the magic he possessed, how he could overpower him with ease if things went south. Just like Baela, his dagger was at the ready behind him, and Euroin was more than willing to call on his shadows, too.

"I am none of your concern," He replied, eyes narrowing at the man in front of him. He took another step closer, and even though he had no royal blood in his body, he held himself in a way that conveyed power. Especially as his dark eyes narrowed at the man in front of them. He could very well have been presumed a king, "That is, unless you're making a threat to Her Highness."

Because until he received a message from his Gods he was stuck here. He was stuck and would have to presume the roll of someone in the court, a personal body guard, anything, until he was contacted. That way Rhaenys would have him in her sights at all times in order to keep an eye on him, and would know when the Gods were around to contact him, and in response, her.

Rhaenys forced herself to remain seated. Project unity and power, even when she didn’t feel it. This was something she was used to with Corlys. Strong front in public, disagree in private. She angled her head slightly so a sheen of her white hair fell over her shoulder. The motion was coy, intentional, and commanding.

Vaemond’s eyes darted between the confident princess and the new, strange man he didn’t know. “I was not,” he answered shortly. “I’m allowed to state my business.” His gaze sharpened at Rhaenys. “Normally we disclose guests.”

“Not this time,” Rhaenys replied evenly. Her own eyes flashed, silently ordering Vaemond to leave. Or she knew what would happen. Eurion had no qualms with death. She’d seen it firsthand. It wouldn’t be hard to pass him off as a bodyguard. But if he killed Vaemond? And Baela saw?

Thankfully, Vaemond seemed to realize he would be outmatched, and he dipped his head to Rhaenys — not quite a bow — and turned for the exit again.

This time Eurion didn't say anything as the man turned towards the door. He took a few steps back, not exactly hiding in the shadows once again but standing behind Rhaenys as if he was, in fact, her bodyguard. It was more so for if Vaemond was to turn around and look at them again he would see him standing where he would have been expected, rather than standing in front of the princess and taking the main focus away from her.

He was no royal. He didn't have the capacity, even if he might have looked confident and strong enough to be one. Eurion was and always would be an assassin. A commoner. He had no place in a royal court, nothing to do with politics and certainly no political lean in any direction back home, less so here, of all places. He would never be a member of a royal court unless something terrible was to happen and he was the final option. Who would want an assassin as part of their table? A mad man, that was who. Either way, he was bound to the Gods that he served and they would never free him, no matter how badly he might have wished for it to be so.

And when Vaemond finally left, he sheathed his dagger once again and turned to Rhaenys, and in a hushed tone, as if he could still hear him said, "He seems like an asshole. Want him dead?" Because it was obvious they didn't like each other and he was more than happy to take him out if she so wished it to be so.

Vaemond, in fact, did turn around. The sight that met him was cold and intimidating. The image of Rhaenys, still seating proudly on her husband’s throne, flanked by her granddaughter and the mysterious new man struck him anew.

He could only assume the new man was Rhaenys’ bodyguard from the way he was standing. But that only raised more questions to his mind. Where had he come from? Why had Rhaenys been hiding him? And what situation was her husband in that she might find need for a bodyguard? Vaemond swore to find answers as the door shut behind him.

Once her brother-in-law was out of sight, Rhaenys finally relented her posture and slumped back a bit. She glanced at Baela first to make sure her granddaughter was alright. Then she looked over at Eurion as he spoke. Her eyes caught the sheathing of his dagger, and it made her at ease.

“He is,” she replied. “But no. That would only cause more problems. Let him take his claim to Viserys. My cousin has little ill will toward me. I’ll go as well and present Corlys’ proposal for the inheritance of Driftmark.” Rhaenys rose to her feet and looked at Baela’s set features. She frowned slightly. “What?”

“I want to come with you,” Baela insisted.

“Absolutely not,” the Targaryen princess countered. “You will stay here at Driftmark where it’s safe.”

Baela frowned, but Rhaenys cupped her granddaughter’s cheek softly, the motion conveying more meaning than words. Rhaenys’ eyes spoke what her lips didn’t want to say. I can’t loose you too.

With her lips pressed together, Baela sighed. “As you wish,” she relented.

Rhaenys nodded her head in appreciation before turning to look over her shoulder at the incredibly tall assassin behind her. “This is my granddaughter, Baela,” she introduced simply.