( it is a conflicting thing, to have enough power to be recognized as something other than you — something greater than or less, but never entirely reaching the truth; just one myopic lens shifting in exchange for another.
rhaenyra, to a degree, had grown up expecting this — to most, she is more a representation of something (or was, until this abrupt uprooting); a spoiled princess, a rightful queen, or a reminder of a nation divided.
in thorne, she is nothing but herself, and that is a startling solitude to be ware of. not because she’d not had a a sense of self, shaped messy before this, but because that is all she has. a haphazard foundation.
all she has is the surety of her posture, and the masks to show she’s more collected than she feels. she twists at her hands, ringless and thus, absent of anything to fuss with in a show of nerves. she catches the gesture early, and stills, and keeps her attention focused on the woman in front of her instead.
(It’s the eyes. targaryen eyes, that telltale violet of old bloodlines. but she cannot think of home now.) )
I am, ( new, she thinks. new and lost and alone and she can only allow herself to be one of those things. a small incline of her head. ) I’m — Rhaenyra Targaryen. ( a brief pause, between her name. it’s a bizarre sort of freedom. no princess or queen, the latter of which seems a bitter title regardless. she cannot expect this world to receive her titles — there are no claims of her own to yield anything useful. she’s not so bold to think herself deserving of such entitlement here.
but, she’s long been made aware that she’s not entirely toothless, either, even without it all. it certainly feels like that now though, a hatchling unable to breathe even the smallest flame.
no — she is the blood of dragons. that flame is not to be doused. she takes a breath, and her voice is quiet, but steady. )
I’ve been here for a short time. And yet, Ive heard plenty in regards to the state of things, in this realm. ( a delicate topic to broach; ) The threat of war, amongst the kingdoms here.
As it has been made clear to me in no short a term that Her Grace is not one to entertain audience lightly, I seek a different avenue of information. ( the fact that this kingdom does have a queen, one it clearly accepts to at least some degree, is not lost to her. But it is not something that is at the forefront right now. she takes a small step forward, as if to strengthen her point of: ) If I may be direct —
Advisors tend to know more of the crown’s affairs than the crown itself. ( it isn’t just an empty appeal to yennefer; there’s a truth to it. she thinks of her father’s small councils. of Otto Hightower and his machinations. of larys strong whispering to Alicent, all under the nose of an ailing king, and his declared heir. Advisors know a side of things rulers do not. and whilst there has long existed some supposed shroud to the courtly social games — the necessity of indirectness — Rhaenyra wishes to take a different approach here. If she represents no one but herself, then she must speak as such. nothing that teeters too close to sedition — in that, she still has some care.
And if court life here rings so familiar, then it’s similarities must extend more than skin deep. )
I understand that — this is forthright of me. But I will risk imprudence if it allows me understanding, so that I may better address my purpose here, as Summoned, given all that they force me to leave behind. ( and thereby, some edge of truth. that edge of anger that hasn’t quite died down from the weeks, a hollow beast that stands guard of a worse feeling (fear).
still, she offers a small smile, searching. ) I hope, in that, we might find common ground.
[ and that is the exchange she has to make. power is something yennefer has become so used to reaching for, so used to collecting, because if she had power then she would survive, because that is just how the world works. it was how her sphere had done it, and how it seemed to work for her here, as well. the reputation that has built up around her is equal parts armor and vines of thorns, keeping her rooted to decisions she had - once upon a time - been able to run from (to varying degrees of success).
as it stands now, she is rooted to this spot, to this image of herself, that new summoned as much as members of the thornean elite all know her to be. someone to talk to, someone to ask questions of, a center of knowledge and of magic and of everything else too. it was easier when there were others to push questions away to - kylo and ronan had been fantastic scapegoats in that. but now there is only her (and stephen, but that is another story entirely).
so for now, yennefer stills that impatience within her. gives a small, albeit tired and only marginally polite smile. ] It's a pleasure, Rhaenyra. [ and yennefer notes the pause, no matter how brief. she wonders if there is a title there she is used to supplying, if there is another piece of this puzzle that the woman is just now getting used to using, or ignoring.
so as the woman continues, yennefer simply waits. she knows there is more to be learned in this exchange simply by listening, that there are layers and clues and information that are not being said. in many ways, yennefer finds herself exhausted by it - if she wants help, if she wants information, she should just ask. but, in the same breath, yennefer recognizes it for what it is - this woman is asking, in the only way you can when you know ever word, every statement, every part of you can be used by someone else. it has been some time since yennefer has seen it so clearly in someone else, and where her frustration had been, shifts into something more...curious, almost.
it is the mention of ellya that has yennefer back in the moment, which also means that she is more than prepared to see that look. the statement of if i may be direct. without meaning to, this rhaenyra has already gained just a bit of interest from yennefer, mostly because she does find she likes (because she would not go as far as to say respect, quite yet) the way in which she is getting right down to the point.
yennefer feels her brow arching, impressed in the slightest way, at the way in which the woman says advisors tend to know more of the crown's affairs than the crown itself. ]
Feel free to risk imprudence as much as you'd like around me, truth be told I couldn't care less about the machinations of courtly manners, but we all learn to take advantage of what we must. [ the skin-deep smile that yennefer had earlier offered now shifts into something...not quite sharp, but more honest. an allowed crack in her own armor if for the sake of showing her hand, too. ] And this common ground is much closer than you might think.
Here- [ yennefer closes her books, her things, and then walks around her desk to stand by rhaenyra's side. ] Walk with me, so we might discuss more.
( survival is a funny thing, isn't it? it comes in so many shapes, from a ferocity of a blade to a ferocity of a lie and anything in between (is accepting duty itself not a form of survival, too?) more than that, this experience is proving time and time again that powerlessness is no feeling rhaenyra wishes to hold. that it serves to ignite a fire inherent to her very blood and inspires her to stand steadfast. it might be easier — or rather simpler — to shake free of the bonds with which she comes here. the necessity of power, the interplay of politics, all gone.
but the truth is just as simple — it is all she has known. and in some ways, unlike alicent who had been shaped and bound by duty at the cost of herself, rhaenyra knows who she is. strip away the crown, the title and the inheritance and she is still fire and blood. she is still that which can bare her teeth and sink them in if she has to, despite the uncertainty with which she has grappled with in her time here.
if she has spent less time arming herself with words that couldn't be used against her, careful of being too direct else it might be yet another slight for otto hightower and alicent to levy against her within the consistency of their rivalry, she would be less hesitant of speaking openly here and now.
she's careful, to watch the other woman's face — the polite smile (the sort of polite that reserved for distance, the sort practiced in courts and wielded akin to swords) — and how it shifts to something else.
rhaenyra's posture remains stock-straight, but there's curiosity in how she watches yennefer, with a light tilt of a chin, in how she follows her movements and how there's unabated surprise that crosses her expression when she speaks.
it had been a long time since she felt hope; or rather, it had felt like an eternity, since princess rhaenys announced her father's death, had proclaimed an usurper had stolen her throne. rhaenyra does not feel whole, half a person and half an ember, the rest of her still scattered (between worlds, now). back with her father (did they burn him, like a proper targaryen?), back with her beautiful visenya (ashes in the wind), back with her boys sent away into the horizon towards an unknowable end and even back with daemon, all vicious madness and fire.
so when hope flourishes in her chest, in shallows her breathing. the hardness of her gaze softens, just a little. it would be foolish to trust so readily, and so blindly, so she knows she will tread carefully — and yet her directness is received with just the same. common ground is much closer than you think, and the footing does not feel so impossibly slippery. ) I am relieved to hear you say so, Lady Yennefer, ( a quiet admittance, before she can build the pieces back up. she swallows, as the other woman approaches. ) I'd — spent more time in court than out of it. Directness is often misconstrued. ( is supplied, for small context that might have been obvious enough without.
whatever perfumed oils are in yennefer's hair, it's a distinctly delicate scent that settles around her senses — like lilacs and gooseberries. rhaenyra nods. ) — Of course. Thank you.
[ it is no small thing, either, to recognize the woman standing across from you as a mirror. a layered piece of fabric that, when pulled back, reveals more patterns, more bright colors, more sharp lines. yennefer, prior to her time here in the thornean castle, had all but thrown away the courtly cloth. had run, when she'd seen the chance, and had torn her path through the countryside. it had been against her will in many ways to recognize that when upon her summoning that her best chance at survival, at progression, would be right back in the one place she had felt so stagnate. and yet now, as the summoned come looking for her and the court still whispers her name, is the furthest she's been in decades, the furthest she really ever wanted to go, but for all the dangers and the complications and the unsteady footing, this is her place, and it is what she's made for herself.
yennefer does notice the surprise cross rhaenyra's face at her words, and it is enough to curl that sharpness of her mouth slightly more. she may not understand the depth of what this connection could mean between the two of them, but yennefer has seen her fair share of women - those who were well-practiced in the art of making themselves small, those who bucked up and were punished for their inability to adapt, and those who found their place within it all, who took their power by the horns and steered.
it would be too soon to say in this moment, exactly, if this would be anything more than a few shallow interactions and exchanged smiles, but it has been some time since yennefer last found herself even so much as in the mood to entertain possible connections like this, let alone see the potential for something new. ]
Directness is often misconstrued when it comes from a woman, you mean. [ yennefer says bluntly, not bothering to see if rhaenyra agrees with her statement or not. it is an assumption, yes, but one that yennefer feels confident enough to make, as she steps around her desk and gestures for the door for rhaenyra to follow. ]
It is because I'm curious, but tell me- what are the rumors you've heard so far?
[ she does need somewhere to start, if they're to get anywhere, and yennefer's had this conversation enough times to know what is safe to discuss while they wander the halls. ]
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no subject
rhaenyra, to a degree, had grown up expecting this — to most, she is more a representation of something (or was, until this abrupt uprooting); a spoiled princess, a rightful queen, or a reminder of a nation divided.
in thorne, she is nothing but herself, and that is a startling solitude to be ware of. not because she’d not had a a sense of self, shaped messy before this, but because that is all she has. a haphazard foundation.
all she has is the surety of her posture, and the masks to show she’s more collected than she feels. she twists at her hands, ringless and thus, absent of anything to fuss with in a show of nerves. she catches the gesture early, and stills, and keeps her attention focused on the woman in front of her instead.
(It’s the eyes. targaryen eyes, that telltale violet of old bloodlines. but she cannot think of home now.) )
I am, ( new, she thinks. new and lost and alone and she can only allow herself to be one of those things. a small incline of her head. ) I’m — Rhaenyra Targaryen. ( a brief pause, between her name. it’s a bizarre sort of freedom. no princess or queen, the latter of which seems a bitter title regardless. she cannot expect this world to receive her titles — there are no claims of her own to yield anything useful. she’s not so bold to think herself deserving of such entitlement here.
but, she’s long been made aware that she’s not entirely toothless, either, even without it all. it certainly feels like that now though, a hatchling unable to breathe even the smallest flame.
no — she is the blood of dragons. that flame is not to be doused. she takes a breath, and her voice is quiet, but steady. )
I’ve been here for a short time. And yet, Ive heard plenty in regards to the state of things, in this realm. ( a delicate topic to broach; ) The threat of war, amongst the kingdoms here.
As it has been made clear to me in no short a term that Her Grace is not one to entertain audience lightly, I seek a different avenue of information. ( the fact that this kingdom does have a queen, one it clearly accepts to at least some degree, is not lost to her. But it is not something that is at the forefront right now. she takes a small step forward, as if to strengthen her point of: ) If I may be direct —
Advisors tend to know more of the crown’s affairs than the crown itself. ( it isn’t just an empty appeal to yennefer; there’s a truth to it. she thinks of her father’s small councils. of Otto Hightower and his machinations. of larys strong whispering to Alicent, all under the nose of an ailing king, and his declared heir. Advisors know a side of things rulers do not. and whilst there has long existed some supposed shroud to the courtly social games — the necessity of indirectness — Rhaenyra wishes to take a different approach here. If she represents no one but herself, then she must speak as such. nothing that teeters too close to sedition — in that, she still has some care.
And if court life here rings so familiar, then it’s similarities must extend more than skin deep. )
I understand that — this is forthright of me. But I will risk imprudence if it allows me understanding, so that I may better address my purpose here, as Summoned, given all that they force me to leave behind. ( and thereby, some edge of truth. that edge of anger that hasn’t quite died down from the weeks, a hollow beast that stands guard of a worse feeling (fear).
still, she offers a small smile, searching. ) I hope, in that, we might find common ground.
no subject
as it stands now, she is rooted to this spot, to this image of herself, that new summoned as much as members of the thornean elite all know her to be. someone to talk to, someone to ask questions of, a center of knowledge and of magic and of everything else too. it was easier when there were others to push questions away to - kylo and ronan had been fantastic scapegoats in that. but now there is only her (and stephen, but that is another story entirely).
so for now, yennefer stills that impatience within her. gives a small, albeit tired and only marginally polite smile. ] It's a pleasure, Rhaenyra. [ and yennefer notes the pause, no matter how brief. she wonders if there is a title there she is used to supplying, if there is another piece of this puzzle that the woman is just now getting used to using, or ignoring.
so as the woman continues, yennefer simply waits. she knows there is more to be learned in this exchange simply by listening, that there are layers and clues and information that are not being said. in many ways, yennefer finds herself exhausted by it - if she wants help, if she wants information, she should just ask. but, in the same breath, yennefer recognizes it for what it is - this woman is asking, in the only way you can when you know ever word, every statement, every part of you can be used by someone else. it has been some time since yennefer has seen it so clearly in someone else, and where her frustration had been, shifts into something more...curious, almost.
it is the mention of ellya that has yennefer back in the moment, which also means that she is more than prepared to see that look. the statement of if i may be direct. without meaning to, this rhaenyra has already gained just a bit of interest from yennefer, mostly because she does find she likes (because she would not go as far as to say respect, quite yet) the way in which she is getting right down to the point.
yennefer feels her brow arching, impressed in the slightest way, at the way in which the woman says advisors tend to know more of the crown's affairs than the crown itself. ]
Feel free to risk imprudence as much as you'd like around me, truth be told I couldn't care less about the machinations of courtly manners, but we all learn to take advantage of what we must. [ the skin-deep smile that yennefer had earlier offered now shifts into something...not quite sharp, but more honest. an allowed crack in her own armor if for the sake of showing her hand, too. ] And this common ground is much closer than you might think.
Here- [ yennefer closes her books, her things, and then walks around her desk to stand by rhaenyra's side. ] Walk with me, so we might discuss more.
no subject
but the truth is just as simple — it is all she has known. and in some ways, unlike alicent who had been shaped and bound by duty at the cost of herself, rhaenyra knows who she is. strip away the crown, the title and the inheritance and she is still fire and blood. she is still that which can bare her teeth and sink them in if she has to, despite the uncertainty with which she has grappled with in her time here.
if she has spent less time arming herself with words that couldn't be used against her, careful of being too direct else it might be yet another slight for otto hightower and alicent to levy against her within the consistency of their rivalry, she would be less hesitant of speaking openly here and now.
she's careful, to watch the other woman's face — the polite smile (the sort of polite that reserved for distance, the sort practiced in courts and wielded akin to swords) — and how it shifts to something else.
rhaenyra's posture remains stock-straight, but there's curiosity in how she watches yennefer, with a light tilt of a chin, in how she follows her movements and how there's unabated surprise that crosses her expression when she speaks.
it had been a long time since she felt hope; or rather, it had felt like an eternity, since princess rhaenys announced her father's death, had proclaimed an usurper had stolen her throne. rhaenyra does not feel whole, half a person and half an ember, the rest of her still scattered (between worlds, now). back with her father (did they burn him, like a proper targaryen?), back with her beautiful visenya (ashes in the wind), back with her boys sent away into the horizon towards an unknowable end and even back with daemon, all vicious madness and fire.
so when hope flourishes in her chest, in shallows her breathing. the hardness of her gaze softens, just a little. it would be foolish to trust so readily, and so blindly, so she knows she will tread carefully — and yet her directness is received with just the same. common ground is much closer than you think, and the footing does not feel so impossibly slippery. ) I am relieved to hear you say so, Lady Yennefer, ( a quiet admittance, before she can build the pieces back up. she swallows, as the other woman approaches. ) I'd — spent more time in court than out of it. Directness is often misconstrued. ( is supplied, for small context that might have been obvious enough without.
whatever perfumed oils are in yennefer's hair, it's a distinctly delicate scent that settles around her senses — like lilacs and gooseberries. rhaenyra nods. ) — Of course. Thank you.
no subject
yennefer does notice the surprise cross rhaenyra's face at her words, and it is enough to curl that sharpness of her mouth slightly more. she may not understand the depth of what this connection could mean between the two of them, but yennefer has seen her fair share of women - those who were well-practiced in the art of making themselves small, those who bucked up and were punished for their inability to adapt, and those who found their place within it all, who took their power by the horns and steered.
it would be too soon to say in this moment, exactly, if this would be anything more than a few shallow interactions and exchanged smiles, but it has been some time since yennefer last found herself even so much as in the mood to entertain possible connections like this, let alone see the potential for something new. ]
Directness is often misconstrued when it comes from a woman, you mean. [ yennefer says bluntly, not bothering to see if rhaenyra agrees with her statement or not. it is an assumption, yes, but one that yennefer feels confident enough to make, as she steps around her desk and gestures for the door for rhaenyra to follow. ]
It is because I'm curious, but tell me- what are the rumors you've heard so far?
[ she does need somewhere to start, if they're to get anywhere, and yennefer's had this conversation enough times to know what is safe to discuss while they wander the halls. ]