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It was long past midnight when there was a timid knock on her door. The sound would not have woken her up if she had already been asleep, but now it made her stomach twist. The only one who ever sought after her this late was her husband, and always to satisfy his needs.
“Come in”, she called in the quiet night. The door opened and a young woman came inside. In the dim light, her skin looked almost translucent, but not even the dark could hide the horrified expression of a girl who had set foot inside the Queen’s chambers for the first time.
“I was told to give this to you, your Grace”, the girl said, and her voice trembled slightly. Alicent wondered when she had grown into something people feared, and the moment that followed was plagued by nostalgia for a time when she was just the Hand’s daughter. “From the Princess, your Grace.”
This, if anything, caught her attention. The rolled-up paper didn’t have any wax seals but was held in place by a silk ribbon. She took it, and the girl gave a courtesy before she swiftly left. By the time the door closed behind the poor thing, Alicent had risen from the bed. She stalked towards the one lit candle in the room, one she always kept by the window, and hesitated.
Once upon a time, this had not been unusual. Almost every night, she would get a piece of paper with something silly on it, and she would have written a reply. Often the maids and errand boys would run between the two girl’s rooms until the early hours of morning with their little notes, back and forth until the conversation died or one, if not both, of the girls, fell asleep. The following morning they would giggle about it and think themselves very clever for finding a way to communicate even when not together.
Sometimes, these notes would warrant a visit. They had snuck to see each other in the middle of the night, hiding under each other’s covers until they were too exhausted to move. They would almost always fall asleep shoulder to shoulder.
Now… it hadn’t happened since the wedding. Alicent’s wedding, not Rhaenyra’s. There had been only one such occasion since, for Alicent’s birthday that first year.
With nimble fingers, Alicent pulled the ribbon from the paper and unfolded it. Despite the size of the paper, there were only six hastily scribbled words to be found.
Come. Of this I beg you.
When Alicent found the Princess, she lay alone in an empty tub.
Her forehead shone with sweat in the candlelight, her hair sticking to her temples, and her fingers clutching the edge of the tub until they were completely white. Even in the darkness, Alicent could see the furrow between her eyebrows, and the tremble of her bottom lip. Despite the years that had passed, Alicent knew Rhaenyra’s quirks better than anyone else, and the little furrow could mean nothing but pain.
She entered slowly, gave Rhaenyra enough time to compose herself, but she didn’t. The woman sat in the tub, sat there like she hadn’t even noticed she wasn’t alone.
“Rhaenyra”, Alicent said, finally, when she was still a polite distance away. “You wished to see me.”
If Rhaenyra had looked ill before, it was nothing compared to how she looked when she opened her eyes. Glassy, violet eyes couldn’t seem to focus, and her expression seemed almost muddled; like Alicent saw her through warped glass.
“Alicent”, she said, one hand tearing itself free from the edge of the tub as she reached out. She seemed to change her mind midway and her hand hung in the air as she spoke again.
“My Queen”, she corrected herself, then visibly slumped against the back of the tub. “I thank you.”
There was a tinge to the air that Alicent couldn’t quite place, one that she had no memory of but was still faintly familiar with. If Rhaenyra noticed at all, she had nothing to say on the matter.
For a horrible minute, they were both silent. The roaring anxiety that Alicent had learned to push down, away from any prying eyes made itself reminded. Her heart pounded in her chest, and her palms felt damp. She glanced over her shoulder as if help might come her way, then turned back in time to dig a finger into the soft skin around her thumb.
“Should I call for the Maester?”
“No!”
The loud exclamation bounced off the stonewalls in the room, and for a moment she thought she was something clear in Rhaenyra’s face.
“No”, she said, once again, when the first had died out. “No, thank you.”
This , Alicent thought. Is why she is dangerous.
Even now, when Rhaenyra’s fingers curled into a clutch, she had time for niceties. The Realm’s Delight, indeed.
“I… I am afraid I cannot move”, Rhaenyra said, finally, voice but a whisper of what it normally was. “My apologies, your Grace.”
Alicent hesitated. There was nothing in this world that she thought would make Rhaenyra come crawling back to her. They kept the level of politeness that was required and expected of them, but even then it was difficult to keep the venom from words or bitterness from their eyes. Rhaenyra was just as guilty as Alicent of this, and they both knew it. There was no use in putting the blame on one singular thing, it seemed everything since Aemma’s death had led up to this, and the thought made her stomach twist. Had they always been doomed to fail?
“What do you want, Rhaenyra?”
Silence fell. Alicent could hear the footsteps of someone outside the room, and the neighs of a horse outside the window.
“I… do not wish to be alone”, Rhaenyra said quietly. She looked so small where she sat, and for a moment it felt as if no time had passed at all, as if it was only yesterday that they had fallen asleep in the same bed together.
Alicent took a reluctant step forward. When Rhaenyra didn’t protest, she slowly moved closer. She peered over the edge of the tub.
The sight probably shouldn’t have shocked her as much as it did. Rhaenyra’s white nightgown was soaked from the waist down. It looked almost black.
Alicent’s throat suddenly felt very dry, and she came to kneel next to the tub. She didn’t hesitate when one hand came to the back of Rhaenyra’s head to cradle it, and carefully pulled her closer. The half hug, with the tub still between them, felt like something they weren’t allowed to do. Still, after a moment's hesitation, Alicent could feel Rhaenyra press her face to Alicent’s chest.
A broken sound, almost feral, left Rhaenyra’s throat. When the first sob had left her, it was as if someone had opened a door to the pain she felt, and her shoulders shook as she cried, leaving Alicent’s own gown wet.
She had seen Aemma’s struggles since she was a child. Pregnancy had worried and scared her, but Alicent had been lucky, truly. Her pregnancies had been bordering on easy and she had yet to lose a child. Birth was always unpleasant, but after the first one, they had only ever lasted a few hours. She had been able to breastfeed with little trouble, and longer than most.
When Rhaenyra’s sobs turned into something closer to whines and whimpers, Alicent brushed a hand over her sweaty scalp.
“I’ll fetch the Maester”, she said quietly, loud enough for only Rhaenyra to hear. “Perhaps they can help.”
A soft hold on her wrist stopped her, and when she glanced down at Rhaenyra her lips held a weak, plastered-on smile.
“No”, she whispered, and her voice cracked. “Please, no. You and I both know what he’ll say.”
They did. Of course, they did. Rhaenyra would likely have to suffer birth, but not feel the joy of motherhood. Not this time.
In silence, they sat, until the warm glow of the morning reached them. The blood that had looked black in the night shifted into something red, something brown where it had dried.
Rhaenyra sat leaned against Alicent’s shoulder most of the night, sometimes sobbing quietly, other times staring into the dark nothingness of the night. Alicent tried to offer comfort where she could, a soft squeeze of a shoulder or a light hand brushing hair from her damp forehead.
This was, perhaps, something only mothers would ever understand. Viserys and Laenor and every other man in the Keep could pretend to understand the loss, but they never would. They had never carried a babe in their womb, had never felt the warmth blossom in their chest at the first flutter of a kick and they never would.
There was a joy in pregnancies that only mothers would ever understand. Even for Rhaenyra, Alicent assumed, even through the panic of the memory of her mother, and the unwillingness to be a parent.
Alicent had felt it, even though she had never thought she would. She had never wished to marry Viserys, and even less to carry his children. Still, when the Maester pointed out the first signs, she had been happy. She had been happy, even when she lurched over a basin with a lump in her throat, and when she couldn’t find rest because of the endless movements. She had been happy when the first signs of labor, even though her father had told her what had happened Aemma. She had been happy, and she had known complete and unfaltering love for the first time in her life.
When the sky had turned from a dark purple to a soft orange, Alicent moved from the spot where she sat. Rhaenyra didn’t even seem to notice, as Alicent stood.
Alicent found a neatly folded towel by the basin and dipped it in the water. She wrung the cold water from the rag, then returned. The first swipe of the rag came to Rhaenyra’s hands, clutched so tightly they were almost white under the rusty blood. She unclenched her fingers only when Alicent carefully pried them open. She worked slowly, carefully, and thoroughly. Rhaenyra’s hands and as much of her arms as the nightgown allowed, then Alicent returned to the basin. She dipped the cloth in the water again and returned to Rhaenyra’s side not a minute later.
Rhaenyra didn’t hesitate when she grabbed the edge of the tub and practically hauled herself up. Her fingers lingered at the laced up front of her nightgown, then untied it. The soft fabric, stiff with dried blood, pooled at her feet.
Alicent tried not to stare, tried not to let her eyes linger too long on any spots of blood, but rather came to kneel by the edge of the tub again. She glanced up at Rhaenyra as if to ask her permission before gentle hands brushed the cloth over blotched skin. She didn’t touch Rhaenyra’s belly, even to wash the blood away.
The task was tedious; the basin was on the other side of the room and the rag could only be used so much before all she did was smear the blood, but she didn’t complain. Rhaenyra had come to her for help, and this was something she couldn’t deny the woman that she had grown to hate.
By the time Rhaenyra was as clean as she could possibly get without a proper bath, Alicent helped her out of the tub and fetched a new gown for her. If not for the gravity of the situation, it might have been funny, how Rhaenyra held out her arms like a child and Alicent hoisted the fabric over her head and shoulders and helped her dress.
Rhaenyra’s heavy breathing caught Alicent off guard, but she didn’t comment. Instead, she wrapped an arm around Rhaenyra’s middle and helped the other woman to the bed. She made herself small on the bed, wrapped an arm around her stomach, and dragged both legs up as close to her chest as she could, and Alicent carefully draped one of the covers over her.
Alicent turned around to leave, then, to let the other woman rest, when she once again felt Rhaenyra’s fingers graze her wrist. She stilled and glanced over her shoulder. Their eyes met, and Alicent’s stomach twisted.
“Stay”, she whispered. “Please, just until I fall asleep.”
They watched each other, watched for any sign that this was not what the other wanted before Alicent finally caved. She rounded the bed and climbed in. She laid down next to the other but made sure not to touch her. That felt too much like before, too much like things had never changed between them, and she didn’t want to overstep that boundary.
Rhaenyra moved to face Alicent, still with one arm wrapped around her belly, and let her other hand come to rest between them. Alicent should have hesitated. They both had husbands, and Alicent had several children. Rhaenyra had just lost one. Shouldn’t she want to be with her husband? Alicent knew the answer to that question, but it still refused to leave her.
Her hand came to rest atop Rhaenyra’s and it wasn’t long until their fingers were intertwined, another memory of those nights they had once spent together. Rhaenyra moved closer until she could bury her face in the crook of Alicent’s shoulder.
“It will be okay”, Alicent promised, voice just barely above a whisper. Her free hand rested, splayed against Rhaenyra’s back. “You’re the strongest person I know. You will recover from this.”
Alicent felt Rhaenyra relax, felt her slump until she was all but putty in Alicent’s, and listened until her shallow breaths were heavy and the woman in her arms had fallen asleep.