Chapter Text
Love is poison. A sweet poison, yes, but it will kill you all the same.
—Cersei Lannister
It was said that flowersickness had always existed in Westeros.
When the Conqueror took his elder sister to wife, the younger was reported to have fallen violently ill. At the wedding feast she coughed up blood; the next morning, pink petals were found alongside the vomit in her chamberpot. Their maester determined Rhaenys was flowersick, and so Aegon made her his second bride not only because he loved her but because her great love for him would be her death if it remained unfulfilled.
Rhaenyra relayed such stories with a mummer’s talent, gagging profusely while playing Rhaenys and inventing a speech worthy of the stage professing her eternal devotion to her beloved brother. It culminated in her collapsing into Alicent’s unprepared arms, fanning her forehead. She held her awkwardly as their eyes met. A look of annoyance crossed Rhaenyra’s face.
“You’re supposed to kiss me now,” she hissed up at her. Though her violet eyes were easy to get lost in, Alicent focused on her small, stubborn mouth.
“Did Aegon kiss her?” she asked.
“It’s more romantic if he did, isn’t it?”
Sighing, she dipped down and pecked her friend on the lips. Rhaenyra still looked unsatisfied.
“No, not like that. As if—as if you know I’d die without you.”
She wrapped her arms around her neck and dragged her back toward her, nudging her mouth with her tongue. Alicent’s lips parted submissively as she kissed her in full.
“There you are,” Rhaenyra said with a dazzling grin. “That’s a kiss that could cure flowersickness.”
She felt herself smiling stupidly in return. Alicent would later hear the term cunt-struck fall from the cackling mouths of men when one of their own mooned over a woman. Plain lovesickness did not tear through a person’s insides like flowersickness, but the earliest signs were the same. If she had known then, she wouldn’t have let Rhaenyra so easily into her arms, her mouth, her heart. It was the beginning of the end.
She became queen, and Rhaenyra became distant. Had the seeds of the illness already taken root in her body, her absence from her side and preoccupation with her new duties prevented their growth. First her precious son, and then her beautiful daughter filled her arms as she inhaled their fresh scent, filling the void Rhaenyra left behind. She took to calling her stepmother, Your Grace, or my queen. Never Alicent, never my friend. Sometimes when the king bade them eat together and she swiped her top lip with her tongue after taking a long, sullen sip from her goblet, Alicent remembered the times those lips had pressed against hers in the godswood, always as part of some game only Rhaenyra knew the rules to. She missed her warmth, her playful spirit. The girl who was now her stepdaughter was like the moon, showing her darkness while reserving her light for Ser Criston.
It did not escape her notice that the knight handpicked by Rhaenyra was a devastatingly handsome man. Dornish, with wavy black hair and soulful eyes, he accompanied her when she ventured out and often sat with her under the airy arches of the Red Keep, always with one hand on his sword. None could say he shirked his responsibilities. Alicent swept past one vacant hall, then turned a corner and went down another. She passed a maid and several courtiers, seeing no one of import. She kept walking the halls until she spotted Rhaenyra perched on a stool she had brought outside, half in shadow. Rhaenyra leaned forward as she spoke animatedly to her companion, her fine hands fluttering about. He had his other hand on his chin and looked as though he was eating up every word.
Alicent felt a slight tickle in her throat and cleared it before approaching.
“Stepmother,” Rhaenyra said, looking up. Ser Criston followed her gaze and stared at her too, though not impolitely. “To what do we owe the pleasure?”
We, because they were one. How she hated it.
“Rhaenyra,” Alicent said. Stepdaughter was a word she could never make herself utter. She fiddled with her hands, careful not to pick at her nails. It was painfully obvious she no longer belonged in her sphere. “I was… I was simply wondering if you would be inclined to spend time with your little brother and sister.” Pausing, she added, “And me.”
“Half-brother and half-sister, you mean,” Rhaenyra said. “You didn’t birth me.”
“Yes, of course,” said Alicent. “But it is my hope that you grow as close as full-blooded siblings.”
“My half-sister is still a babe,” Rhaenyra pointed out. “There isn’t much one can do with her.”
“Aegon is three, though,” she countered. “At that age, they enjoy company. Perhaps you could hold Helaena while telling him a story. There’s not a story in Westeros you don’t know, and—” She allowed a soft smile. “You’ve always had a child’s imagination.”
Rhaenyra bristled, getting up from her seat.
“So I’m childish now, is that so? The childish princess. As opposed to you, the woman grown, the wife and mother. I despise it. Just because I have dreams beyond your narrow imaginings does not make me a child.”
Ser Criston’s eyebrows raised while Alicent stepped back, momentarily stunned. “I didn’t—I only meant that you think vividly, and that a small boy like Aegon would be delighted by your words.”
“I took Her Grace’s meaning as such,” he said quietly.
Don’t you defend me, she wanted to snap, but Rhaenyra’s shoulders suddenly slumped as she let out a breath, blowing a silver strand that had fallen between her eyes. She glanced back at her with a faint look of guilt. “I may be feeling uncharitable today. If it please Your Grace, I could… talk to him. How many words does he know?”
By the Seven, she didn’t interact with her brother at all. “Well,” Alicent said. “You’ve likely heard him asking why to everyone he meets. Why is the sky blue, why do dragons fly. He knows his manners, except for when he’s throwing a fit, which is often, and he understands long sentences. And he loves to talk about things that are green.”
The corner of Rhaenyra’s mouth lifted, making hope patter in her chest. “Shall I bring him an emerald, then?” she asked.
Alicent smiled. “I’d rather you bring him a plate of vegetables.”
She studied her for several agonizing moments until her lips finally curved in response and she resembled the girl she had been. Before. Cherish this small victory, Alicent told herself as she willingly went with her to where Aegon played and slept and dreamed verdant dreams. This is enough.
It wasn’t.
Viserys welcomed Rhaenyra tentatively getting to know her half-siblings.
“You must realize, my lady, that you cannot raise two young children alone,” he told Alicent one night, his arms around her less of a cage than they usually felt. "There is an old Valyrian saying, all but forgotten in this age. It translates to, 'A tribe of women raises a man.' Rhaenyra can be… something of a second mother to her brother and sister. Since they are some years apart. It pleases me that you've encouraged her in this."
"I am altogether grateful she's… maturing," she said, staring into the darkness. Her voice sounded matronly even to her, a gulf between her and the girlish princess. "Aegon can't say her name, or doesn't want to, so he calls her 'Nyra.' In truth, it's, well, adorable," she admitted. "I would hate for him to form any ill will toward her. I have seen how she feels about him. It is… complicated."
He laughed, and the cage grew tighter. "She is a complicated girl, as you know well enough. But things have been good, and their bond will only grow deeper."
"Helaena doesn't cry as much now when Rhaenyra holds her," Alicent pointed out. "Before she would be spooked, as if seeing a monster."
"Then she's warming. That is a good thing."
Though he spoke truly, she still frowned. "You are correct in that us ladies are complex. Do you ever feel uneasy?"
"About whom, my queen? About you or Rhaenyra?"
"Why should you feel uneasy about me, my lord?" Alicent asked.
"Because you have brought me comfort, and I confess I worry for your own happiness."
If she weren't locked in place with him breathing down her neck, she'd worry at her nails again.
"I am happy to bring you happiness," Alicent said after a long pause. "And that of Rhaenyra. My uneasiness is only that I shouldn't like for her to become bitter and jealous when it comes to your other children. Especially Aegon."
"I trust she won't. Not with my lady by her side."
Yes, Alicent thought as their nighttime conversation petered out. She would be at Rhaenyra's side, though Rhaenyra was the thorn in hers. The issue of succession was bound to be a quagmire despite her amity with her siblings. Viserys was blind if he didn't see the implications for their family once Aegon grew into manhood. Whispers of true heir turning to shouts in the streets. She pictured Rhaenyra in her chambers, thinking similar thoughts before sleep caressed her eyelids. Alicent used to warm her bed and wrap her arms around Rhaenyra as Viserys did to her, only without the suggestion of marriage. Sometimes she would stroke her soft hair from behind, quietly singing a melody the bards had stuck in Rhaenyra's head. She missed the innocence of girlhood with every fiber in her body. Holding hands and stolen kisses that were never shied away from.
When she heard Viserys' snores, she took his arms and removed them from her. The only thing Alicent found handsome about her husband was his coloring: white hair and purple eyes. But very old men had white hair too, and his skin was too aged for his complexion to show off the pale creaminess found in his daughter.
Not that it mattered. He could have been as dashing and dangerous as his brother, the rogue prince. He could have been as powerful and bold as her son's namesake. He could have been a Valyrian god.
She didn't love him.
“Are there dragons in Yi-Ti?” Aegon asked Rhaenyra. It must’ve been so out of the blue to her she stuttered and looked to Alicent for help. Alicent had been trying to nurse Helaena herself for once, having shooed away the wet nurse. When she had taken her breasts out, there had been prolonged awkwardness between her and Rhaenyra. Rhaenyra had looked everywhere but at her.
“We’re both women,” Alicent had said.
“Quite,” said Rhaenyra, staring at the floor of the nursery.
Now she was finally looking at her in a silent plea. It might have been the only question about fantastical lore Rhaenyra couldn’t conjure up an answer to. Luckily, Alicent had one at the ready.
“Yes, sweetling. There are. The dragons in Yi-Ti are long and spindly, like worms. More like centipedes, because they can have many legs. They all look like Caraxes’ neck. Snakelike, they weave through the air and are a sign of benevolence and good luck. They can be fierce, though. So watch out!”
Aegon gasped, stars in his eyes.
“What’s ben-uh-lo-lence?” he asked her.
“Goodness. It means goodness,” Rhaenyra said. After Aegon tired of listening to them and decided to run off into the halls, she gazed at Alicent as if appraising her.
“How did you come up with that?”
“Your father once spoke at length about Yi-Tish dragon legends compared to the facts maesters know,” Alicent replied, shrugging. “For some reason, it stuck with me. I suppose it is rather interesting learning other cultures’ perceptions of things.”
“Lately he’s been speaking of the far east more,” said Rhaenyra. “We know so little about it. My uncle tells me there was a Yi-Tish empress who had multiple husbands, like a woman Aegon. He gave me a jade egg that belonged to her.”
“Oh?” Alicent asked politely. She had less than little interest in whatever Daemon Targaryen had to say, especially about queer marriage customs.
“He said I could be like the Conqueror if the people love me enough, once I am queen. I could rewrite the rules of marriage as I wished.”
Disregarding Alicent’s frown, she said, “Imagine me having a husband for every hair color. Brown, blond, red…”
Something hurt.
“…Silver,” she added with a smirk.
Helaena’s latch was shallow; she bit her with her erupting new teeth and Alicent flinched. At the same time, her throat constricted. Something was stuck in it as she was stuck feeding her baby. She smiled through the pain and shifted her position a bit to nurse better. Helaena would be completely weaned off milk soon, and she wanted to have that intimate moment with her daughter, giving her the stuff she needed. Even if such a thing was beneath her as queen.
“It would never happen, I do realize that,” Rhaenyra said. “But I believe I could easily fall in love more than once.”
“If that’s so… I hope you… marry a man you fall in love with over and over again,” Alicent ground out.
It was getting awfully hard for her to breathe; she was about to swoon. I shouldn’t have banished the wet nurse, Alicent thought. I wasn’t cut out for this task. Turning from Rhaenyra, she paid attention to the sweet little girl suckling at her breast.
“We’ll see,” Rhaenyra said. She came to her side and tickled one of Helaena’s stubby fingers with her forefinger. Helaena’s hand was on Alicent’s chest, and behind it sat her heart, melting.
Following the setting sun, she was plagued by a wet cough.