Chapter Text
Rhaenyra had already promised herself she wouldn't cry for her father. Not in front of these men.
Ferocious strength was what they valued above all else, and therefore she would need to be the very image of ferocious strength if she intended inherit her father's crown and be their King.
And Rhaenyra intended to be their King.
Viserys had died a fortnight ago, on a routine boarding expedition. It was a medium-large fishing vessel, a simple two ship job. His brother Daemon had sailed beside him on his ship Caraxes, and together they had easily overtaken the fishermen. But the men they boarded had put up a particularly riotous fight, and somehow in the chaos, Viserys ended up with a knife in his gut, sprawled out on the deck, surrounded by dozens of flapping tuna and a mess of spilled ice.
Viserys may have been King, but he was only a man. And men in this line of work were bound to take a few knives to the body before their inevitable violent deaths. But this one had proved fatal, and that was that. Daemon had sent birds all across the sea, calling the Pirate Lords and their vessels to bid farewell to their king, and of course, (the unspoken second assignment), to consider options for the King to take his place.
And so, that was how Rhaenyra came to find herself here now, standing aboard her father's ship Balerion, shoulder to shoulder with her uncle Daemon, surrounded by pirate lords from all across the seven seas.
It wasn't too difficult for Rhaenyra to hold her tears back, looking down at his body, laid as he was on a bed of driftwood formed into a haphazard pyre. She had love for her father, but it was blackened and weatherbeaten, as all relationships were bound to be for those who had chosen this life. As soon as Rhaenyra had been old enough to scrub a deck without supervision, her father had lost half of his interest in her. Her worth became measurable. How much gold she was capable of looting, what sort of weaponry or ammo she found hidden away in ship quarters or buried on beaches, whether or not she could spot a storm approaching, kilometers before it was overhead. These were the things that made her father pay attention to her.
Luckily, Rhaenyra excelled in this line of work. She was a natural born cloud-watcher, everyone agreed she spoke the language of the sea fluently. Navigation was no issue. She practiced at fighting harder than any man, determined that nobody should expect an easy match with her simply because of her sex. In fact, her sex tended to work in her favor in this regard, as she was quicker than her opponents and smaller than them, and they very often underestimated her. For these reasons, her swordplay was a thing of amiable pirate gossip.
And as for the other necessities of this life, (thieving, ship-boarding, looting, and more often than not, out-sailing admirals), in these regards Rhaenyra was simply unmatched. She had something most of her pirate brethren did not; creative intelligence.
Rhaenyra was a dreamer, like her father. Imaginative and bold. She possessed a cunning that made even seasoned pirate males much older than herself stop and listen when she spoke. She had stolen her ship at only fifteen years of age. She made quick work of its previous captain, christened it Syrax, and claimed it as her own. And yet despite her age, it was no trouble finding a crew to follow her. As a pirate, it is essential to be feared. But Rhaenyra had more than fear; she had respect. And for these reasons, she believed herself an absolute certainty to be the next bearer of her father's crown and the title 'King of the Pirates.'
But this wasn't how things worked among the brethren. They prided themselves in their code of honor among thieves. The pirates chose their King, a King was not entitled to the role by blood or even skill. So although her father was dead, and she was a front runner for his crown, Rhaenyra would need to prove herself to secure her vote. And she had a plan.
"Would you like to light it, or should I?" Her uncle's voice pulled her out of her thoughts.
This was customary for any pirate captain of high regard. Balerion would burn along with its captain, and they would sink to their watery grave together.
Rhaenyra turned to look at him. "Eager for the real business to begin, uncle?"
Daemon smirked. "Eager to get some ale in my belly and a woman on my lap."
Rhaenyra narrowed her eyes. She didn't believe him. Daemon was a power-hungry man. She wasn't blind to the fact that he coveted her father's crown just as much as she did. And she'd admit, he wasn't without his merits as a captain. Daemon was ruthless, fearsome, reckless. His very name made sailors quake in their boots. But he lacked her restraint, and her mind. He had fear to spare, but any pirate worth their salt knew he was not a man to be respected.
"Of course." She responded simply.
"Don't act like you're not eager for the same"
"As nice as ale and women sound at the moment, uncle, I have more pressing concerns on my mind."
"Of course you do." He stared at her intently. "Scheming as always, Rhaenyra?"
She only smiled the ghost of a smile in response, reaching out to take the torch from his hand. Stepping forward, Rhaenyra took one last look down at her father. She kept her face stony, her expression unreadable, but she touched her hand to the back of his, where it rested on his chest, for just a second. Whispering a goodbye in her head, she laid the torch beside him and stepped back.
The driftwood caught, and before long the pyre was engulfed in flame. Daemon and Rhaenyra climbed onto the bannister, wrapped free hanging ropes around their wrists and held fast, before swinging across the expanse of water separating Balerion from Sea Snake.
...
The council convened on Sea Snake as Balerion burned behind them. Corlys, it's captain, was a well respected pirate lord and not an entirely unconventional choice for the next King himself. But his claim was flawed, because for all his intelligence, he was hardly the most fearsome man on that deck. And so, to his credit, Corlys graciously accepted the possibility of his claim when it was voiced, but refrained from voicing it himself.
No, the lords of the council seemed to be in agreement. There were only two claims of real merit at this juncture. Daemon, and Rhaenyra.
Rhaenyra knew her sex was the only reason that thorny driftwood crown was not sitting on her head at this very moment, but she wisely refrained from addressing this matter. She had something else up her sleeve, at any rate. Rhaenyra had a plan.
"My father made clear his intention to legally secure the land and holding rights to the island of Dragonstone, so that all of our kind may have a safe port to sail into when the seas grow rough, no matter their creed or situation. A homeland, where our kin cannot be hunted, where we can live as the free men and women we were born to be. Libertalia." Rhaenyra began.
"A fantasy," Daemon interjected, rolling his eyes.
"I intend to make it a reality." She responded evenly. "And I have a plan."
They were listening. Her father's dream of this free pirate colony had not been what won him his Kingship in the first place, but it had certainly elevated his popularity. Pirates were wanderers, nomadic by nature, volatile when cooped up together for extended periods of time. But they also longed for a place to call their own, somewhere to return to in the lulls between adventures, where they could walk free without fear of prosecution. Unfortunately, a pirate cannot simply walk into a port and purchase land, and all of Viserys' less-than-honest attempts at obtaining a legally binding deed to the island in question had always proved fruitless.
Rhaenyra smiled, "I intend to sail to Oldtown tonight, after Balerion is sunk, and kidnap Governor Hightower's beloved daughter, Alicent. Then, I will ransom her back to him in exchange for an honest-man's deed to Dragonstone."
The lords stared at her. Nobody spoke. After a moment, two of them roared with laughter, as if they were certain she was joking. When they realized she was serious, they fell silent.
"Are you mad?" Corlys broke the silence.
"I've been planning it for some time now." She ignored his question. "I have a way into the city, and a way out. I have paid off a kitchen maid at his estate. I have a map. The whole ordeal won't take me longer than three hours."
The lords continued to stare. Daemon's brow was furrowed, and he studied her face intently, as if he were looking for something written there.
"You are mad." He said. "They'll kill you. You'll be strung up in the square."
"Then you will have no one to stand between you and your crown, uncle."
The ghost of a smile crossed Daemon's face in response. "Kidnapping is a nasty business Rhaenyra. Most of us tend to avoid it if we can. It's almost always more trouble than it's worth."
"Well apparently I am not like most of us, uncle." Her lip curled. "And it will be worth every ounce of trouble, when I claim Dragonstone."
Silence fell once more.
"If you manage to pull this off, girl, I will place that crown on your head myself." Corlys said, and a murmur of assent spread throughout the lords. Rhaenyra's heart pounded with excitement at his words.
"I'll need time."
The lords agreed with this, and so it was decided that the council would reconvene in a fortnight on the island of Pentos to finalize the election of their new King. If Rhaenyra showed up with the girl, the crown would be hers. The lords would gladly follow her to their new home, and anywhere thereafter. If she did not show up at all, she would be presumed dead, and Daemon could have his way.
...
Back on board Syrax, Rhaenyra stood at its starboard side, her hands resting on the wooden rail. She watched Balerion succumb to its flame and crumble inward on itself. She wouldn't shed a tear for her father, but she would make him proud by turning his dream into a reality. And it would be more than that, because she would accomplish what he had never been able to. She would prove herself to be a better King than he had been, and history would remember her name. She smirked at the thought, before giving her crew their command. They lifted anchor and pointed their bow towards Oldtown.
...
Oldtown was quiet this late at night. It was a sleepy island, filled to the brim with members of the royal navy. Their type tended to keep order, for the most part, and Rhaenyra knew this would make her task that much harder. They had dropped anchor some distance away from the island, before donning black caps and dark cloaks and commandeering a small rowboat. They steered it now around the shore, keeping to the shadows cast by the cliff side, to the place where Rhaenyra knew they'd be able to sneak into the city.
They would surely have been stopped at the port, and more than likely arrested simply for the look of them. They were very clearly out of place among the kind that usually sailed in and out of Oldtown. Rhaenyra knew, even once they were past the gates and within the city walls, they would need to stay out of sight.
Only four of them could fit in the obscenely tiny rowboat, but this was all the better for Rhaenyra. It would be easier to sneak in and out with less people. Her heart raced and her palms itched with anticipation, as they neared the alcove.
She had paid a whore in Lannisport for this information. One of the woman's repeat patrons was an admiral from Oldtown, and he was prone to falling asleep after their encounters. Rhaenyra hired the woman to sneak a map of the city out of his pocket each time she heard him snoring, and trace it onto a piece of parchment. That piece of parchment was rolled tightly in her pocket now, but she didn't need to pull it out. She had spent so many nights staring at it, she knew it by heart.
The alcove in question came into view, and Rhaenyra inhaled sharply. She nodded to her crewman Rudy, and he banked the rowboat sharply to the left and allowed it to glide to a stop in the sand. They hopped out, tugging the boat further up behind them and tucking it away behind a boulder. It had served its purpose.
Rhaenyra led the way over to the cliff side, where a circular grate, about five feet in diameter, protruded ever so slightly from the rocks. She smirked in triumph.
The next part of her plan involved wedging three iron rods (stored in the rowboat before, and returned to it after) between the center bars of the grate, and using them as a lever to apply tremendous force, until the grate bars bent apart wide enough for the crew to pass. This took all four of them, throwing their weight behind the rods, to accomplish. Finally, sweating and panting, they were able to squeeze themselves through and begin the journey through the tunnels.
Rhaenyra knew this part by heart as well. Three lefts, a right, a left again, and two more rights. Up a ladder to a second tier, three more meters down and she should be standing below the sewer grate directly across the square from the governors estate. She lifted it gently at first, peeking out from underneath it.
As she had hoped, the square was relatively empty. A fountain bubbled in the center, and a drunkard sat on the edge of it singing, or rather groaning, a lilting tune to himself. He wouldn't be a problem. Three naval officers marched through complaining about worn boots and long patrols, but she waited for them to disappear around the corner. A barmaid wiped a table clean outside the pub on the right side of the square, and collected the mugs before heading back inside.
This was Rhaenyra's chosen moment. She pushed the grate aside and pulled herself out of the hole. The crew followed her, Rudy sliding the metal back into place. They wouldn't be returning this way. A bird chirped nearby and Rhaenyra jumped, then collected herself.
Sticking exclusively to the shadows, they skirted the square until they reached the low rock wall in front of the governors house. The drunkard saw them, his eyes meeting Rhaenyra's. He laughed, waving a hand, and she paid him no mind. Three guards patrolled the rooftop of the governors house, the crew ducked behind the rock wall and watched them. All it would take was one well-seized moment, a split second when they turned their backs to her, all at once. When she saw it, she ran.
Light footsteps, deliberate strides, as fast as she could across the lawn. Her crew took cover behind bushes and in darkened alcoves between buildings, once they saw she had safely reached the wall of the house and pressed herself against it, out of sight. This part of the plan she would execute alone. They'd be there to help if it came to a fight, or they could flee and survive should she be caught. But she needed to enter the house alone. It was impossible enough to sneak one person in, how could an entire handful hope to be successful?
Rhaenyra slipped around the house, pressed close to the wall where the guards couldn't look down with ease and spot her. At the back, she found the servers entrance. Two sharp knocks, a pause, and then a third knock. This was the code to alert the kitchen maid she had paid off. Five full minutes passed, and Rhaenyra felt a sense of unease settle in her chest. She tried the code again, and held her breath.
The door opened. And familiar green eyes stared into her own. She let out the breath she hadn't realized she had been holding in.
"Quickly." The maid said.
Rhaenyra grinned and stepped inside. Easy, just as she had said. She pulled a bag of coins out her pocket and tucked it into the maid's hand. "The other half of your payment."
The girl nodded solemnly. "Upstairs, third door on the left. The house is asleep."
Grin settling into a self assured smirk, Rhaenyra clasped her hands together behind her back, gave the girl a nod, and started off in the direction of the stairs with a light bounce in her step.
"Please," the maid interjected. Rhaenyra paused and looked back, raising an eyebrow. "Don't hurt her. She's...good."
The maid dropped her gaze, embarrassed, and Rhaenyra sighed.
"Don't worry," She smiled encouragingly. "I'm sure it won't come to that. He'll give me what I want without argument. Before you know it you'll be back to cooking her meals, and pouring her wine, and washing her clothes, and cleaning up after her..."
She forced herself to contain the bitterness that had seeped into her voice. This wasn't the time. She breathed deeply, and looked the maid up and down once. Then she shot another smile in her direction, and resumed her walk towards the stairs.
Up the stairs, third door on the left. The wood creaked, but Rhaenyra was light-footed, and she made her way to door three uninterrupted. It wasn't closed all the way, and as she pushed on it gently, thrilled to find the hinges were freshly oiled.
The bitterness returned to her at the sight of the room. It was unreasonably large, far too much space for one person alone. The wallpaper betrayed not a single crack. Fresh flowers in blue vases sat on damn near every flat surface. The four-poster bed looked absolutely plush. The girl was spoiled, there was no doubt in Rhaenyra's mind. She had never known discomfort in her life. Rhaenyra looked forward to the opportunity to teach her all about it. One candle was still burning on the bedside table, which Rhaenyra had to assume was an oversight, although she was grateful for it, because it made her task far easier.
She made her way to the bed and looked down at the girl sleeping there. Her brow furrowed in confusion. This whole time she had been imagining someone much younger, a teen at most. This girl was about her own age. And she was beautiful, Rhaenyra wasn't too proud to admit it. Her hair fell around her shoulders in unruly copper waves, framing her face, and the ghost of a dimple dotted her cheek, as she smiled lightly in her sleep. She looked so at peace that for one single moment Rhaenyra regretted that she had come here to disturb her.
Rhaenyra shook the distracting thoughts from her mind and settled to the task at hand. Brown eyes shot open in confusion as she clamped a hand down over Alicent's mouth.