Chapter Text
The first time she saw her, it's nothing special; the day was sunny and she'd got up early to sneak away from her mother, does it really count as running away if everyone already knows when and where she's going? Getting to Syrax is easy and she feels her blood boil as she rides dragonback past the Red Keep; freedom. A feeling that very few people get to feel in this world and, once again, despite her young age, all the cockiness and arrogance, Rhaenyra can't help but feel deeply grateful. She had something to hold on to, Syrax would never forsake her no matter what.
With the curiosity of a ten and one year old, she can't take her eyes off the new invaders to her home. She doesn't like strangers, her parents always behave more serious, rigid, around strange people. They reprove harshly for her unladylike behavior. She does not want to be a lady, stuck with a boring Lord, having to hide her ambitions and intelligence in fear that the foolish husband will feel attacked by it. Most men didn't handle intelligence very well, in her opinion.
"Father, I would rather be a knight a thousand times over, I would wield a sword for honor and justice, I would protect my people and eliminate those who would try to harm our family and the kingdom". She had exclaimed once when at the height of her seventh onomastic, a foolish child son of some nameless Lord had taken her hand without permission determined to kiss her knuckles against her will. She had twisted her little hand with a growl unbecoming of a lady and shoved the little idiot so hard that his bottom crashed to the floor. The disorienting silence of the room had been broken by some commentary and sharp looks from Uncle Damon and her father had ordered her to retire to her rooms for the rest of the celebration. Good, the intricate hairstyle her mother had gotten her into was beginning to hurt her head.
"Would rather be a knight", she had missed the shared look between her parents, too focused on eating the amazing cake the kitchen maid had prepared for her. She loved cake. The next morning, she claims Syrax as her own entirely, a new friend, new freedom, new dragonrider, the youngest of them all in fact.
Her parents smile at her, and those three words shouldn't have that much power over anyone, especially a child, but they do; "we are so proud".
Hours later, she found herself on the training ground with Sir Westerling; the king's command. A training sword in her hands, eyes serious, ears attentive to the knight's commands. She is unaware of her parents, resting, watching her from the upper arch, a smirk full of love and concern that only another loving parent would understand. A promise. We are very proud.
A new crest on the Red Keep, the green flags are raised in proud swags and as usual, her parents stand proudly to greet the guests courteously.
He comes out first, a man with a lot of hair on his face, nothing interesting, a common face like so many other Lords. Otto Hightower is not to her liking, she usually ignored him, but once she heard him shout at the cook, he is a bad man, she had decided before then in her 6 year old mind. And then...Gusts of cold air.
A clump of brunette curls...brown...red...An in-between, she finally decides. A girl, maybe her age, in a beautiful green dress representing her house a perfect courtesy, the perfect lady. Nothing interesting, there are many ladies at court, they are all the same as all the Lords are the same.
And yet...
blasts of cold air that don't affect her as much as a pair of hazel eyes, the girl looks at the rider or the dragon? Both. Awe or fear, she can't quite tell from this distance. blasts of cold air that are no match for the heat that spreads from her chest to every part of her small body, the fire of old valyria pouring through her veins with nothing to stop it, it overwhelms her. It's like pain, but it doesn't hurt; it's like the thrill of riding for the first time, but more...different. She can't take it. I'm having a heart attack, she thinks in despair, I'm going to die. She hugs the saddle with all her might and, needing nothing more than the pure understanding between dragon and rider, Syrax rises even higher, leaving the girl with hazel eyes and hair not so red and not so brown behind.
The next time she feels it, that pain that doesn't hurt, it's the next day.
It's very early, she'd just left Syrax after her morning flight and still hadn't changed out of her riding clothes; an intricately tailored black and red leather trousers and shirt with trouser legs. Not fit for a lady, but you can't ride a dragon in silk dresses and, oddly enough, her parents have been less insistent in certain regards, the rigorous education runs its course and she understands, she is the princess after all and does not wish to disrespect her house or her people; but the hairdos that hurt and exhausting days of hour-long embroidery have diminished considerably. And, in an unexpected breakthrough, Ser Westerling had traded her wooden sword for one of valyrian steel. "It is ready, Princess, have it specially made for you, it is small and lighter than normal, but it can be extremely lethal and loyal, if wielded responsibly."
She had almost jumped at the man, belatedly remembering politeness and decorum; she had taken the sword with a slight bow, waiting for the thanks to seep into her voice so that her sworn protector would know how much she appreciated it and him. She's no fool, she knows girls aren't supposed to use swords, knows that ladies aren't supposed to have stiff hands from training. But Sir Westerling had nodded in proud affirmation. Looking around she could see a bunch of servants and guards looking at her with a kindly smile; suddenly the looks of displeasure from the court no longer mattered much to her. And there, in front of the man who gave her her first sword, she swore again to protect her family and the kingdom, in a whisper that no one heard.
Back in the present, Rhaenyra finds herself telling the news to her parents, the three of them walking through the gardens chatting briefly. This kind of family activity had been another recent event, her parents setting aside an hour three days a week to simply walk with her and talk. Not that they had been distant before, but this inflection of the King and Queen setting aside a blameless hour without interruption was extremely rare, and Rhaenyra knew it all about that. She had heard the Lord hand reminding her father several times how borrowed time with his daughter and his wife got in the way of his duty as king.
The hand, which now turns towards them, is not alone.
She feels her before she sees her, the fire inside her fluttering before crackling uncontrollably as she comes face to face with the hazel eyes. Presses both hands together behind her back and holds her breath in the hope that her traitorous hands don't go to press against her chest in the hope of calming the fire. The pain that doesn't hurt.
Now that she is not on Syrax's back several feet away she can watch her clearer, the beautiful light blue and gold dress over smooth skin, taller than Rhaenyra, her girlish body giving off an aura of poise that reminds her slightly of her mother when facing court lords; painfully straight back and a perfectly practised smirk. The not-so-brown, not-so-red hair she remembers perfectly, seems to burn under the sun's rays, catches her attention, she wonders if the curls are as soft as they look and now, her hands itch to run her fingers through the fiery hair. Her hands clasp tighter behind her back at the strange thought and, aware of the outside, she straightens her back.
-Your Majesty, a pleasure to meet you here. Princess Rhaenyra, I would like to formally introduce my daughter, Lady Alicent Hightower." Otto Hightower introduces her, followed by a bow in formal greeting from the girl.
-It is a pleasure to meet you personally, Princess. It is an honour to be part of your company. - Focused on maintaining a perfect curtsy, Alicent is unaware of the questioning look the princess gives her parents; she had not asked for a bunch of ladies companion. She had emphasized not needing any, in fact. Education first, private questions later.
-Lady Alicent - a brief bow in acknowledgement - Your visit honours me and the royal family. -
With Lady Alicent's movement, her hair slides down her shoulders, perfect ringlets brushing the soft skin of her face. The pain that does not hurt settles in her chest with greater resistance, Rhaenyra has to inhale deeply to maintain her composure.
-Lord Hand, perhaps our daughters can meet after they finish their morning duties. Princess Rhaenyra will personally give Lady Alicent a tour of Red Keep," interjects her mother, the queen unaware of her young daughter's inner struggle.
-Of course, your majesty, thank you for the honourable offer. -
With a brief reference, father and daughter return the way to the castle.
The non-pain remains this time.
-Mother, I was not aware that you arranged the arrival of a lady to be my companion,"- she talks absently at dinner.
-You know that, despite your denials, it is appropriate to have trusted friend in the court, we can start with one for now... And - a single glance quiets the princess from rudely interrupting. - I must admit that I have not only been moved by tradition, Lady Alicent's mother has recently passed away and I heard that her father was planning to betroth her to one of the sirs from the Valle. I know Ser Otto, the man may be...- her mother does not finish the sentence, but it is not necessary, she knows, Lord Hand is not a good man - I knew Lady Alerie, we were very good friends, a kind woman with a good heart, she adored her children and I do not think she would have wanted her 12 year old daughter married to an unknown man and sent to an unknown place; to honor her memory I proposed to your father the name of Lady Alicent to be your lady companion. -
Rhaenyra remains calm, grateful for her mother's clarity; she knows that other adults would not waste words to explain decisions to any child, even if they were their own children.
She cannot imagine the pain of losing a mother, nor having to marry an old man while still a child and having to move to an unfamiliar place full of unfamiliar people;where good people existed, evil seemed to abound these days. A new thought of admiration arises for the hazel-eyed girl, if she was still standing here on her feet with her head held high, she must be very strong and brave.
Nodding in new understanding, she offers no further argument.
-I understand, mother. I will be a good friend to Lady Alicent as you were to Lady Alerie.-
Little does she know, ignorant of the future and its prerogatives, ignorant that her soul has found its other half and will not leave her behind.