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All the air left Rhaenyra’s lungs the moment she was pronounced Princess of Dragonstone and Heir to the Iron Throne. All of the air seemed to leave the throne room, as well. She’d stared out at the arrayed faces, the impenetrable gazes of the lords who’d knelt to pay her homage, and felt utterly hollow. She’d known for many years she was nothing but a vessel to perpetuate House Targaryen, that her womb was a thing more precious than her mind and certainly more so than her heart. Suddenly, she was something all together different now. She was House Targaryen. Rhaenyra Targaryen, not her sons or their sons after them, would be the bearer of their legacy. She was the future of their house.
She’d thought it would feel grander, divine, even. Instead all she noted was how heavy the cloak she wore was, how her earlobes ached for the golden medallions Alicent had hung on them. She needed to scratch her face, but the lords were all staring, and she wold not disgrace herself just moments after being named heir to the throne.
She sought out Alicent in the crowd, the kindest, most familiar face of them all. But even she had a new wariness in her eyes, like she didn’t know what this meant for them any more than Rhaenyra did. Usually looking to her friend made Rhaenyra feel better, but today it only made things worse.
Hours later, she stood in her chambers, shoulders and earlobes and feet aching, though she made no move to doff the ceremonial clothes she wore. She stood in the mirror again, staring at herself just as she had while Alicent’s hands had dressed her earlier that day. As hard as she tried to feel proud and royal in her regalia, mostly she felt like a child in dress up clothes.
When she could stand the silence of her chambers no longer, she hiked up her skirts and dashed to the heavy stone doors, tugging them open to see Ser Harold Westerling. He didn’t look surprised when the door opened, or to see what she was still wearing. Rhaenyra thought that after all this time, Ser Harold wasn’t surprised by much.
“Call for Alicent,” she said to him.
He watched her steadily. His eyes were warm with fondness, but questioning. “Do you think that’s wise?”
Did she think that was wise? There was something reverential about being declared heir, something that begged for solitude and silence, hours of grim contemplation. She could certainly use some of that, seeing as her head was still swimming with the prophecy her father had laid at her feet, like a cat leaving a dead mouse as a gift. Everything was suddenly so loud and big and out of her control and Rhaenyra didn’t care about wisdom. She cared about actions and people, and she wanted what she wanted.
“Call for her,” she repeated firmly.
Ser Harold gave her a nod. “As you wish, Your Highness.” He nodded again to the second guard who stood outside her chambers. The second guard departed immediately, off to find her Alicent.
“Thank you,” she said and shoved the door closed before he could say anything else.
❂
Rhaenyra was sitting in a chair by her bedside when Alicent arrived. She’d long given up on trying to identify this new person she was in her regalia, and sat thinking instead, mulling over what her father had told her. She’d yet to make heads or tails of it all, and the quiet only served to make her feel more out of her mind. She was glad to hear the opening of the door, to see Alicent silhouetted in candlelight as she entered.
“You called,” Alicent said, coming to stand before Rhaenyra’s seated form.
Rhaenyra looked up at her, her lips ticking up into a small grin. “I did,” she said.
Alicent’s hair was swept up at the sides, tendrils of curls gracefully framing her face. Her pale blue dress was immaculate, nary a wrinkle in sight. Rhaenyra thought she must have ruined the golden cloak she wore from sitting on it for so long, but she couldn’t bring herself to remove it. Maybe she wanted to feel it’s weight. Maybe that would help her understand how all of this could be real.
Alicent sighed, a troubled sound Rhaenyra knew meant she had much on her mind and knew little enough how to share it. “I wasn’t sure you’d be able to see me,” she settled on after a moment.
“Be able to?” Rhaenyra repeated incredulously. “I’m heir to the Iron Throne. I’m able to do as I please.”
Alicent just looked at her, knowing an act when she heard one.
Rhaenyra sighed. “I hoped you’d come anyway. And you did.”
“Why am I here, though, Rhaenyra?” She said quietly.
“Because you love me,” Rhaenyra said, lightly cajoling. “And because I can’t get all the lacings undone by myself.”
“You have a thousand servants at your beck and call,” Alicent said with a small shake of her head.
“Yes, but,” Rhaenyra rose and took Alicent’s hands. She rubbed her thumbs over the backs of her hands in what she hoped was a calming motion. “You put them on me so prettily. I thought it only right that you get to take them off.”
Alicent met her eyes with a dry dishumor. “We won’t be able to continue this,” she said.
“Why not?” Rhaenyra asked, feeling the first jolt of true panic in her chest. “Just because I’m the heir doesn’t mean what we have has to end—”
“Yes, it does,” Alicent said tightly. There was a silver sheen to her eyes, and her mouth was pinched in a way Rhaenyra knew meant she was close to really crying. “A male heir with a mistress is one thing. A female heir with one? That’s a scandal waiting to happen. It would irrevocably damage your position and mine if anyone found out.”
“Then we won’t let anyone find out,” Rhaenyra said, though it was a weak protest. She was headstrong, not stupid. It was a difficult thing to keep secrets in the Red Keep, and with all eyes on her, Alicent was right that it would be near impossible to keep this one.
“Your Kingsguard already know,” Alicent said.
“Ser Harold would never betray me,” Rhaenyra said. “Of that, you should have little doubt.”
“Still,” she hissed. “It’s one more person with knowledge that could destroy us both. Perhaps you have the luxury of caring less because your reputation could survive it if people knew. Mine could not. I won’t be queen, no one will be scrabbling for my hand the way they will yours.”
“You’re worried about marriage propositions?” Rhaenyra scoffed.
“Of course I am,” Alicent said, though there was something in her words that sounded distant, off. Rhaenyra couldn’t place it. “We’re getting to that age, you and I. My father wants me to marry well.”
“Your father should just let you be,” Rhaenyra reached up to cup Alicent’s face, to force their eyes to meet. Alicent looked pained and Rhaenyra hated that there was nothing she could do to fix it. “We’re still young. We don’t have to worry about all that yet.”
“Then when will we start worrying?” Alicent asked.
Rhaenyra contemplated for a moment, absently twirling a tendril of Alicent’s hair as she thought. “In the morning,” she said. “In the morning we’ll be women, proper and grown up and ready to make sacrifices and all that. Tonight, let’s just be girls a little while longer.”
“My father will know that I am gone,” Alicent said.
“Your father will know that you are attending to me,” Rhaenyra corrected, unable to help a small smirk. “He wouldn’t deny the crown princess anything, now would he?”
“I suppose not,” Alicent said, the barest hint of a smile showing on her face. “Still, it’s probably not wise for me to stay.”
“Fuck wisdom,” Rhaenyra said resolutely. “I don’t care about being wise. I care about you. And if this is all the time we have left, then I intend to use it.”
“Do you, now?” Alicent asked.
“I certainly do,” Rhaenyra said. “Once you get all these layers off me.”
Gingerly, Alicent reached out a hand and touched the tip of one finger to the massive golden amulet Rhaenyra wore, laying her finger in the center of the House Targaryen sigil inscribed in the gold. “I hardly feel like I should be allowed to touch this,” she said.
“It belongs to me,” Rhaenyra said. “And I give you permission to touch it. You can touch anything of mine.”
That was all it took for Alicent to bring her mouth to Rhaenyra’s, to unlock the eager, wild girl that hid beneath her tight-laced exterior. Rheanyra smiled into the kiss, wove her hands through Alicent’s hair, and held on tighter.
The undressing was not a careful one, with the exception of the heavy golden chain of Westerosi house sigils that Alicent carefully lifted over Rhaenyra’s head. She set it down gently on the side-table before returning, running her hands through Rhaenyra’s hair now, removing her headdress, releasing her long silver hair from its braided confinement. By the time her cloak was shed and her dress unlaced, they were both panting with desire, hands roaming over soft skin, mouths warm and searching. This was a dance they were skilled at, one they had spent much of their time practicing. Her touches were familiar and Rhaenyra was overcome with an almost wanton lust for her. Her best friend. The girl who pushed the shift off Rhaenyra’s frame and kissed a line down her belly and further as if there was nothing she would rather have spent her time doing.
By the time they were both spent, naked and sweating in the candlelight, Rhaenyra had almost forgotten she’d said this had to end. How could they let this end, this beautiful thing between them?
“What?” Alicent said, still breathless. She lay on her side on the bed, and Rhaenyra turned on her side to mirror her.
Rhaenyra reached out and tucked a loose curl behind Alicent’s ear. Most of her hair had long come undone, and the action served nothing except to let Rhaenyra touch her. “Promise me,” she said softly. “Promise me we’ll never let anything come between us. If we can’t have this, then our friendship must be stronger than ever. I don’t want to lose you, Alicent.”
Alicent watched her for a long moment, brown eyes warm but unreadable. Wordlessly, she reached for Rhaenyra, bringing her into a deep, lingering kiss that sent sparks all through Rhaenyra’s body.
When Alicent pulled away, she rested her head against Rhaenyra’s. “I’ll always love you,” Alicent said. “Nothing will ever change that.”
It wasn’t quite a promise, but Rhaenyra didn’t want to push the issue. She didn’t want to know what the somber note in Alicent’s voice meant. She’d rather lay her head on Alicent’s chest and forget that come morning, nothing would ever be the same again.
So that was what she did. She held on to Alicent and together they awaited the dawn.