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The Red Keep was rarely cold, but Alicent’s arms puckered with gooseflesh as she approached Rhaenyra’s chambers anyway. She couldn’t count the number of times she’d been here, could not quantify the hours spent with her best friend, lackadaisical and content in their easy, mundane life together.
Alicent was rarely so lackadaisical. She could feel her father lurking over her shoulder even when they were alone. Wanting. Demanding. Requiring. Rhaenyra’s life was entirely her own, but more often than not, Alicent felt her freedom was more of a mirage, a trick of smoke and mirrors she’d made Rhaenyra believe over the years. Or maybe one she had never bothered to look through.
Two Kingsguard stood vigil outside the chambers. Gruff Ser Harold Westerling gave her a curt nod and swung the chamber doors open for her.
Rhaenyra stood before a lone mirror, tugging at the red sleeves of her gown, turning her head this way and that, as if examining the elaborate braided coif her hair had been coaxed into. She looked pale, her hands prone to fidgeting in a way that was usually reserved only for Alicent. It was strange to see a Rhaenyra who looked nervous. She was the strong one, after all, the bold one and the steady one.
Alicent was just…Alicent.
“You called for me,” Alicent said as the heavy stone door thudded shut behind her.
Rhaenyra’s eyes met hers in the mirror. A faint smile graced her lips and she took a half-shuddering breath before she spoke. “Who else would dress me for such an event?”
“Any number of servants, I would imagine,” Alicent said, the words a gentle jest.
“I don’t want any servants dressing me,” Rhaenyra said, throwing her shoulders back and holding her head up high. Haughty. Imperious. This was the princess Alicent knew, the bold one, the strong one. “I don’t care about them. There’s no one else I would ask to help me but you.”
Alicent approached, laying her hands on Rhaenyra’s shoulders, looking her in the eyes through the mirror. “Then I hope I do not disappoint.”
Rhaenyra grabbed her hands and pulled, until Alicent was properly wrapped around her. It was easy to fall into this, to let herself be tugged forward, to tuck her head into the crook of Rhaenyra’s shoulder and let herself relax. Rhaenyra was warm and smelled of lavender soap and that trace of dragon she could never fully wash away. It was a scent as familiar to Alicent as her own. In that moment, she wanted nothing more than to hold on to Rhaenyra even tighter, to grab her and force this moment to a standstill so nothing ever had to change. So no one would be an heir and no one would be taking secret meetings with the king. She could pretend they would stay forever in their sweet summer days as long as her arms stayed wrapped over Rhaenyra’s shoulders, her cheek pressed lightly against the girl she loved the most’s.
“I’m scared,” Rhaenyra admitted, her voice small.
“I know,” Alicent said softly.
“It wasn’t supposed to be me,” Rhaenyra said, clutching Alicent’s hands tighter. Alicent did not mind. “It was supposed to be him, it was supposed to be Baelon, but now it’s me.”
“And you will be great,” Alicent said. She pulled away, but only so she could turn Rhaenyra around to face her. Up close, she could see the cloudy worry in her blue eyes, the stiff way she was holding herself together. “You’ve never doubted yourself, Rhaenyra—now is hardly the time to start.”
“I’ve never had cause to doubt myself,” Rhaenyra said. “No woman has ever been named heir before. What if—what if I prove that right? What if I’m not good enough for what I’ve been given?” She bit her lip, worrying it away like Alicent did to her nails. “I am not a son. I can never be a son. What if I just make things worse?”
“You won’t,” Alicent said, making her voice fierce and firm. If Rhaenyra was going to fall apart, Alicent could pull the bravado she’d shed over her shoulders like a cloak. She could wear Rhaenyra’s boldness until she was well enough to take it back herself. “I know you, Rhaenyra Targaryen. You are the best choice, and every lord here today knows that, too. You know how to rule, and you’ll do it well when you must.” Alicent felt sickly saying it. It was what she believed, but she understood her father’s machinations. She could see when he was about to send one into motion. She was not naive enough to misunderstand why he’d sent her to the king’s chambers, what he was hoping would kindle between them. It felt a betrayal, to have sat with Viserys as she had and yet stand here today, telling Rhaenyra what a good queen she would be.
But what else could she do? It was the truth as Alicent knew it.
Rhaenyra smiled faintly, reaching out to grab Alicent’s hands. Alicent allowed Rhaenyra to tug her forward until their foreheads rested against each others, the space between them a quiet sanctuary from the world. Rhaenyra’s eyes were closed, but Alicent was looking at her. Alicent was always looking at her, if she was being honest with herself. She was beautiful and funny and wild and hers—why shouldn’t Alicent look?
“What would I do without you?” Rhaenyra said.
“Succumb to panic, I’d think,” Alicent said.
“It’s a good thing you’re here to calm me, them,” Rhaenyra’s eyes flashed open, knowing she’d catch Alicent’s looking.
“I won’t be calm very long,” Alicent said, speaking around the catch in her throat at the look in Rhaenyra’s eyes. “We have a deadline to meet and you are not dressed in the least.”
Rhaenyra looked down at the gown she currently wore. “I am dressed, certainly not in the least. Not right now, that is.”
Alicent felt her cheeks flush at that and leaned away from Rhaenyra, trying to conceal it. “Where are your things? We must get you ready.”
Rhaenyra pointed out the ceremonial dress before situating herself back in front of the mirror. Alicent knew her cues—she stood behind Rhaenyra, loosening the laces on her gown. This was not the first time she’d done so, but she wondered if this would be the last. Their closeness was easily permissible when Rhaenyra was simply a princess. Would that remain true now that she was the heir? Alicent did not know.
So when the dress pooled at Rhaenyra’s feet, leaving her standing bare in nothing but her linen shift, Alicent tried to savor these moments. To savor the feel of her hand on Rhaenyra’s skin as she guided her new silk dress up her body, the heat from where her knuckles brushed Rhaenyra’s back as she fastened the laces. She even savored the heavy weight of the embroidered cloak as she secured it around Rhaenyra’s shoulders and clasped the heavy gold and obsidian necklace around her neck. She hung medallions of gold from Rhaenyra’s ears and watched her friend become more and more beautiful still. Beautiful, but alien. Rhaenyra and always been fierce, but when Alicent secured her back and gold headdress into place, it was a different effect entirely. For the first time, Alicent felt as if she knew why the Targaryens were called “blood of the dragon,” and it was more than just their affinity for the animals. It was this, the breathtaking regality, the enticing, imposing figures they struck all in black and red and gold. Though she had dressed her with her own hands, Alicent thought Rhaenyra did look something like a god in this.
Though perhaps that was just what Rhaenyra looked like to her.
“You’re beautiful,” Alicent said before she could stop herself.
“I hope,” Rhaenyra said wryly. “This outfit weighs a ton. The least it can do is make me look pretty.”
“You’re always pretty,” Alicent said. “Trust me. This makes you look beautiful.”
Rhaenyra looked at her, something indescribable shining in those bright blue eyes. She reached out to brush her hand against Alicent’s cheek and Alicent couldn’t help but feel like maybe Rhaenyra was savoring these moments as well.
Because after today, everything was going to change.
“They’re waiting for you,” Alicent said, the words little more than a choked whisper.
Rhaenyra’s hand dropped back to her side. Her shoulders squared and it seemed as though she grew a few inches, taking that cloak of boldness back and wearing it with a pride only she could muster. “Let’s not keep them waiting, then.”