This is it, Rhaena thought to herself.
This is the day I wed the Unicorn Prince.
Rhaekar was due to leave with his armies to head west, to fight the Lannisters. With the recent coronation, and Rhaena’s presence there, it was decided that the wedding would happen here. The ceremony itself would occur in the sept of the Red Keep, and the couple would stay in Maegor’s Hold, as guests of Rhaena’s stepmother herself. In fact, Rhaenyra had taken it upon herself to prepare her for her wedding. She had requested a special breakfast for the two of them, early in the morning before the wedding.
“Be honest with me,” Rhaenyra said, “for if I sense you are lying, I will have the septa find out for me.” She turned her eyes to look at Rhaena. “Are you a maiden?”
Rhaena felt blood rush to her cheeks. “Yes, of course.”
Rhaenyra stared at the girl. She showed no change of emotion, but a curt hum left her throat. “Good. We do not want the Unicorn Prince disappointed. All the same, if you are lying to me, at least have the decency to present a good excuse to your husband. Tell him you lost your maidenhead while riding – it happens frequently with young noblewomen.”
Rhaena suddenly realized exactly for
what the queen was preparing her. She looked down at her breakfast, but found the food to be as appealing as the metal plate it rested on.
“Let me warn you, he will probably not be gentle,” Rhaenyra said. She pressed the knife into the sausage on her plate. The meat was cut clean through, and the juices flowed out underneath it. “He will take what he wants. Simply lie back, and let him think you are enjoying it. Be loud in your moans to get your mind off the pain, if you must. He will only think he is doing a marvelous job. Do not worry if he tears your dress – we will seek the tailor for a new one. Just be prepared – he may ask...specific tasks of you. Simply agree to all of it, no matter how bizarre, or even more painful.”
Under the table, Rhaena gripped her skirt. She wanted to be anywhere
but in this room.
“Be thankful, at the very least, your body has very little to grab.” Rhaenyra rolled her eyes. “By the Seven, will men grab if they can.”
Rhaena felt even more ashamed now. Partially, she felt like the queen was suggesting her body was somehow inadequate. Mostly, the queen was placing images in her head – images of the queen and her father – images that she would
rather not think about. She was torn between crying and retching… maybe even both.
“That is all I can think to tell you.” Rhaenyra glanced over at Rhaena’s plate. “What is the matter with you? Have your breakfast before it turns cold.”
Let him think you are enjoying it.
Rhaena gave her stepmother a sheepish smile, then picked up her fork and began to eat. She kept that smile on her face as she continued to dine, finishing every last bite on her plate.
Let him think you are enjoying it.
Later on, Rhaena was told that she would complete her studies with Rhaekar’s maester, Albar. He was a Valeman, as he explained himself, taking her to the Red Keep’s library. She could tell, by the way he moved about through the aisles, that he had been here plenty of times before. He reminded her of an elderly shopkeeper going about his wares, looking for something specific, even though he himself was a young man.
“Do not be intimidated by my lord,” he told her. “I know indeed that Rhaekar can appear intimidating, especially when he has a fit of temper. You will hear him tell people ‘a unicorn is majestic, but it still has a horn’ as a way of reminding them that even a nobleman can have bite when pressed into a corner.” He looked at her and smiled. “However, there is a gentle, quiet side about him. I have seen it myself. If you are good to him, he will be good to you.”
Is he telling the truth, or was he told to say this? Rhaena thought. It was hard to tell with this maester. She had to remind herself that maesters were not septons – they were under no moral obligation to always tell the truth, except perhaps to the lords they served.
As the man ran his fingers along the spine of one particular tome, his eyes considering it a quiet moment, Rhaena decided to speak. “Maester Albar – has my betrothed ever been with a woman before?”
Albar’s eyes stared at the book a moment longer. A noticeable moment. He pulled it out, then held it to his chest with both hands. He turned to her and gave a smile. “That, unfortunately, I cannot say. I do not know such things regarding him.”
I do not know for certain if he is telling the truth, the princess thought,
but I sense, deep down, he is not.
Later on, it was finally time for the ceremony. Rhaena was brought in by her father Daemon, and as they walked up to the altar, she had the inclination to hide behind her father like she did as a little girl when she saw her first dragon. Up ahead, she could see her lord husband, in full regalia. He was tall, broad-shouldered, with long silver hair as fine as any Targaryen. At his side was a sword, and flowing down his back was a scarlet cloak, the same color as his standard. As his eyes looked at her, she realized Maester Albar was right. He was intimidating...
He was also… handsome.
Rhaena felt a slight flush come over her cheeks. When her father let her go, she stood by her husband’s side, and suddenly felt very out of place. She was still a young girl in every way, and he was a battle-hardened veteran. He had stormed the walls of the Red Keep and fought his way to the Iron Throne itself, while the Battle of King’s Landing raged all around. What was she to compare? She had stood outside and watched it from afar. The thought of him, in armor, slashing about, fighting off the usurper’s men, standing before the Iron Throne, covered in the blood of the enemies he had slain valiantly in combat… she lost her breath, and she nearly forgot her lines when it came time to give her pledge.
When he placed the cloak bearing the crimson field and the white unicorn around her, she felt his hands touch her shoulders. They were strong. They were masculine. She imagined him using those hands in bed… She remembered his tongue wiping the wine off of his lips at the coronation feast, and now considered his strong hands holding her down while his tongue…
Gods, what was
happening to her?
The ceremony moved into the Queen’s Ballroom for a feast. It was much more modest than the coronation feast, with only Rhaekar’s household staff and the top officials of King’s Landing, Rhaena’s family included. Rhaekar and Rhaenyra had both decided to forgo the “bedding” custom, much to Rhaena’s pleasure. Indeed, when they retired to their room, it was most unceremonious: Rhaekar led the way with a candelabra, while Rhaena followed a few steps behind.
As they made their way up the steps, Rhaekar spoke to her with the first casual words he had spoken to her all night. “Whatever you wish to call me, you may. I only ask you not call me Unicorn Prince.”
Rhaena swallowed. She didn’t want to make him upset. Albar had said he could be kind, but she wasn’t sure if that had been the full truth. “Yes, my lord.”
He said not a word until they reached their room. Inside, there were many items of furniture, but the first thing Rhaena saw was the bed. It was large, plush, and beautifully ornate, with the design of dragon heads at each post. She swallowed. She knew what was expected of her once she reached it. She knew precisely what happened on beds on wedding nights.
Rhaekar undid his sword from his belt and leaned it against a chair. He turned to her. “Do you need a moment alone, while you prepare for bed?”
She turned to him, expecting to see impatience or anger on his face. Instead, his violet eyes, reflected in the light of the candles, showed that he was absolutely serious. He looked at her as if he was simply expecting her response – not a particular kind. Her lips parted, then shut again. “I… perhaps, my lord.”
“I shall leave you be, then.”
He went into another section of the room, around a corner. Without thinking, Rhaena began to undress. Her wedding dress came off first, then her chemise, then her shoes, then anything else that dared connect with her flesh, save her hair. Nude, she rushed over to the bed and scrambled under the covers. She pulled the sheets up to her collarbone, then waited.
As silence settled in the room, Rhaekar peeked around the corner. When he saw her in bed, he smiled. He walked around and moved towards a mirror hanging on the wall. Rhaena could see he had already undone the simple leather chestpiece, and was down to his tunic, pants, and boots. He looked at himself in the mirror as he slipped his boots off.
“I do not know what you have heard of me,” Rhaekar began, “but I do not bed every woman I know, and I have never struck a woman except in battle. You can ask my spymaster Annara, or my steward back in Duskendale, and they will tell you I treat women in my court with the same respect I treat men.” He rested the boots under the mirror, then undid his tunic. As it came off, his torso was revealed. In the glowing candlelight, Rhaena could see his muscles. They were not bulky, as they were for men who worked down by the fishing port; rather, they were toned, curved, and shapely. Every time he moved, the muscles would contract or expand, shifting about. His biceps especially seemed to expand whenever strength was exerted. Rhaena began to bite her lip as she saw him move down to his trousers. “And I want you to know that whatever you are not comfortable with, I will not force upon you. I know I am much older than you, and I am not certain how you will feel about this...”
Shut up and come to bed, came a sudden thought.
“...but I do not want to cause you any pain or sadness. I will not force it upon you.”
Off went the pants. Rhaena’s eyes went below his waist. Her fingers clutched the sheets tightly. She wasn’t even aware they had fallen down to her stomach, exposing her chest. Rhaekar looked over, and his eyes dropped. He smiled a little, then he turned his head away. Rhaena’s toes curled as she realized that he wasn’t disgusted by her. The remnants of shyness within her heart evaporated.
Without another word, Rhaekar gathered his clothes and placed them on a chair nearby. Quietly he moved over to her bed, lifted up the sheets, and got in. “It was a lovely ceremony, would you not agr-”
Rhaena was at once upon him.
She sat on him and looked down at her prey, her young hair cascading over her shoulders. Rhaekar looked back her, his violet eyes wide. “What are you-”
She planted a hand over his mouth.
“Make love to me.”
Let him think you are enjoying it.
And that night, she certainly was.