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Chapter Text

An eye for an eye makes the world blind, an old Westerosi saying went.  Rhaenyra never really understood it. She didn’t understand most of the culture of Westeros, if she were to be frank. It didn’t matter that she had been born there, lived her whole life there, surrounded by this land’s people.

She had been born with a temper that was simply unfit for this world, and she had no desire to change it.  All that she thought as she watched her father and Alicent bicker over Aemond’s lost eye, and she was once again reminded of the fact that Alicent simply did not get it.

It had brought her grief and heartache once and seven hells, she wasn’t one to lie to herself, it still hurt like a bitch to think about. But she was a mother now, and watching the scene unfold made her heart squeeze with a particular kind of anguish.

Alicent didn’t get it. The gap this put between her and Rhaenyra was big, but the gap it put between Alicent and her children was abysmal. Aemond, at the tender age of thirteen, already understood the Targaryen way, and Alicent insisted on doing whatever the fuck she was doing.

Trying to change them. Trying to change her.

Dreadful.

Rhaneyra met Aemond’s gaze. She saw neither regret nor resentment, just that twinge of madness she was very familiar with. An eye for an eye. That’s what Alicent wanted. As if it was hers to demand. As if he had no say in the matter. As if he, not unlike Rhaenyra herself, hadn’t made this damning choice.

An eye for a dragon. That was how it worked in this family. Fire and blood and everything in-between.

“He wants to ask me a question.” Rhaenyra said, and her voice cut through Alicent’s high-pitched voice that made her blood boil. The room fell into silence. Rhaenyra reached Aemond with three long steps.

Alicent moved as if to stop her.

Aemond raised his hands, and Alicent halted. “It’s okay,” he mumbled. “I do.”

Rhaenyra waited. She gave him time to gather his thoughts. He was notoriously well articulated, for a kid his age, but it still took him a couple minutes to put his anguish into words. “Syrax didn’t hatch for you.”

“She did not.”

“Was there…” He took his hand to his face and went still again.

Was there a price?

That was his question. She knew he felt in his bones, just as she had on the second she claimed Syrax, that forging a bond that nature did not grant her at birth would cost her blood.  It was inevitable. It took years, but she did pay it. She reflexively brought a hand to her womb.

Aemond noticed the gesture, his gaze flicking down and back up. She crouched to go eye level with him. “That’s not what you want to ask. You already know the answer to that.”

Aemond inhaled, exhaled and licked his lips. He was picking on the skin of his thumb, and the urge to pull his hands apart from each other blindsided Rhaenyra for a second.

“Do you think the eye was enough?”

There it was. She scoffed, then stood. “I’d hope so, little brother. A word of advice?”

“Yes.”

“For things like what you did, the sooner you give what you’re due, the better. Not just because it’ll come with interest, but also for the sake of your sanity. And.” She bowed down and kissed the top of his head, then leaned to whisper on his ear, quiet enough that only he could hear. “I don’t regret it at all.”

Aemond nodded, and she could see his body language change slightly. She knew enough about herself and about him to know it was relief. The inexplicable relief of a horrendous loss that comes with the knowledge that at least it was over, it was done, the transaction was complete.

She straightened her back. And she knew she shouldn’t, she knew it was cruel, but she did it anyway. She turned to Alicent and smiled. “Targaryen matters, my dear Alicent.” She ruffled Aemond’s hair and stepped back. “You wouldn’t understand.”

Alicent flinched. Rhaenyra felt a twinge of guilt. She knew it would grow into a monumental, nausea-inducing feeling of remorse. It always did. She needed to get a grip on her anger issues.

But fuck this, fuck Alicent, honestly, all these years and this seething rage still burned inside her, and this had to be a dragon thing, this fire that just refused to go out. It blinded her, the frenzied monster that lurked in the corners of her mind.

we're all completely insane

She breathed. She focused on the cold air and hoped it would cool her insides. It was only partly effective. “I believe young Aemond and I have reached an understanding.”

Alicent looked at her son, then back at Rhaenyra. “This is absurd. What have you promised him?”

what has he promised to the darkness, more like

Rhaenyra rolled her very intact two eyes. “He has questions. I have some of the answers. It’s that simple.”  

And now Alicent was angry, too, and seeing her composure crumble brought Rhaenyra a perverse satisfaction and also another bucket load of guilt. “You can’t expect words to make up for a disfiguring, blinding wound.”

back down back down back down

Rhaenyra didn’t back down. “What more do you want, then? An eye? Fine.” She crossed her hands behind her back and stepped forward, moving into Alicent’s personal space. “Take mine. Go ahead.” She dropped her voice to a whisper. “Is that not what you desire?”

Alicent pulled a dagger from her belt. There was a ruckus, guards moving, but none attempted to stop them. Rhaenyra didn’t move. Her offer wasn’t a bluff. She tilted her chin up. “No? I don’t blame you. An eye is a hard place to hit, if you don’t want to risk killing a person. Here.” She extended a hand. “Have a finger instead.”

She met Alicent’s gaze. They stood in place, and the room was quiet enough that she could hear Alicent’s breathing. She saw Alicent grit her teeth, saw her muscles tense, saw the blow coming before she felt it. The knife, Valyrian steel, cut a deep line across the skin of her pinky, through her palm, all the way down to her wrist.

The burning pain climbed all the way from her fingertip to her elbow. She raised her hand and stared at the dark crimson blood that rolled down her arm.

what do you know, she thought, and smiled. “Well done!” She turned her palm up and offered it to Alicent. “Want another?”

Alicent didn’t get a chance to answer. They were dragged away, guards pulling her back, pulling Alicent away. The room broke into chaos. Rhaenyra barely registered when a maester wrapped cloth around her bleeding arm, and even then, even then she refused to break eye contact.

She left the room laughing.

Her hand hurt like a bitch.

The cut had been deep enough that she needed stitches. Blood kept soaking through the bandages, so she had to swap them, and to swap them she cleaned the cut with alcohol, which in turn made it hurt more. She didn’t actually lose the finger, and cuts with Valyrian steel were usually clean, so she should be fine, as long as she took care of it.

Cuts with Valyrian steel could also be magically binding, particularly when they drew first blood on a person previously unharmed by it, particularly if said blood happened to be Valyrian. And freely given as compensation for another blood magic ritual. And drawn by a wielder that had emotional history with the receiver.

But Rhaenyra was purposefully not thinking about any of that.

She finished her bandage just in time to answer a knock on her door. Aemond’s visit didn’t surprise her, and she stepped aside so he could come in. “Welcome, little brother. I assumed you’d come.”

Her words seemed to rattle him, and he hesitated. “I… still had questions.”

He was scared. Rhaenyra could tell by the rings under his eyes, too deep for a child his age. She sighed and took a seat on her bed. “You were dreaming.”

“Did you dream, too?”

Rhaenyra nodded. She took a long, deep breath. “The dreams of darkness will go away. Dreams of fire and blood come after, and those, unfortunately, will stay with you forever. Not always, though, and you’ll find them less disturbing.”

Aemond had sat down on a chair, and Rhaenyra could see him grip the wooden seat so hard, his knuckles turned white. “Anything else I should expect?”

“The stain it leaves in your soul is permanent. You’ll flirt with madness for the rest of your life, and sometimes it’ll get the better out of you.” She raised her bandaged hand. “Like so.”

He nodded and went quiet for a bit. When he spoke again, he did not meet Rhaenyra’s eyes. “Your first child was stillborn.”

It wasn’t a question. She still saw it fit to answer. “Indeed. Born with a body covered in scales, hands twisted into claws, a mouth with rows and rows of sharp teeth. Not that I ever told anyone else of it. But that’s the price I paid for the blood magic. That, Aemond, is also the reason why Laenor and I never tried again. Do you understand now?”

Aemond flinched. “I thought… the people said he’s just…”

“Not fond of women? He isn’t. But he made an effort. We both did.” She laid down on the bed and stared at the ceiling. “It’s… horrifically unfair that he, too, had to suffer the consequences of my actions, when it was so hard for him to…” she paused. “Things are hardly fair for creatures such as we, little brother. I recommend you to not lose sleep over right and wrong. Lose sleep over consequences, if you must.”

“Why didn’t you tell them?”

“Why have I not told my children they are bastards?” She shrugged. “I simply don’t see how it matters. I believe the man who raised them is as much of a father as the man who sired them.”

Aemond seemed to consider it, his gaze unfocused. When he came back to, he sighed. “I shouldn’t have said the things I did. I’m sorry.”

“You’re just a kid.”

“Still. I’m an older kid.”

“You should start thinking about the political weight of your actions. And the costs of the blood magic you engage in. But still, you are just a kid.”

“I let Aegon sway me,” He insisted, and the frustration in his voice was palpable. “I should have known better.”

“There is something profoundly wrong with your brother. I loathe to think what he could do, if given too much power. But all of this hardly matters.” She sat up and ran her fingers through his hair. “You realize bonding with Vhagar would cost you blood, regardless of how it happened?”

“Yes, but I – “ He leaned a little on her shoulder. “It was always meant to be an eye. That’s what Helaena kept telling me. That I would have a dragon when I closed an eye.”

Rhaenyra nodded. She pulled him a little closer. “Lucerys deeply regrets what he did. Would you accept his apology?”

“I don’t know.”

Rhaenyra smiled. “A good answer. Think about it. Things got… difficult between Laenor and I after…everything. It took me a great amount of effort to not let this poison sour the friendship between us. We’re family, Aemond, and one unlike any other in this land. Forgiveness can’t be rushed, but try not to let this magic wither things between you. Don’t let it take more than it’s due.”

“Okay.”

Rhaenyra kissed the top of his head. He leaned a little further, and she shifted so he could lie on her lap. It brought her the unexpected memory of how his mother would do just that, when they were younger. The searing heartache that followed left her breathless.

He had violet eyes and his hair was the classical Targaryen silver. He looked nothing like Alicent, yet so much of her showed on his brightness and his temper. He was a soft, sweet child, when away from the public eye.

“I wish you came over more often.” He mumbled. “Father is nothing but a husk, Aegon is horrible, and mother is… not like us.”

He was lonely. Rhaenyra would beat herself over this, probably forever. Her dutiful avoidance of King’s Landing had nothing to do with him, yet he suffered from it nonetheless. “I’ll visit more. Promise.”

“Mmh.” It was evident he did not believe it. Rhaenyra tickled his belly, and he giggled. “Nooo –“

Rhaenyra poked his nose and let him catch his breath. “Promise-promise.”

“All right. Can I ask another question?”

Something about his expression told Rhaenyra it was wiser to send him to bed. But she was not known for her wise decisions. “Go ahead.”

“Was it the magic that drove you and mother apart?”

“No. Alicent and I… it was something else.”

“What was it?”

Rhaenyra sighed. “You won’t let this go, will you?”

“No.” He paused. “I’ll let Luke apologize to me, if you tell me.”

“What the – that’s what I get for telling you to be political.” She scoffed. Aemond had a very satisfied little smile, and it made her soft. “The kind of love that I have for your mother… It’s… difficult, when things like that don’t go right.”

“…oh.” He blinked one, two, three times. “Ohhhh! Like husband and wife! And then she got wed to your father – oh, that’s just terrible.”

Rhaenyra was stunned for a whole second, then she burst out laughing. “I can’t believe you saw it this quickly when your mother hasn’t – “

“And with only one eye!”

“Aemond! That’s a horrible thing to say – pffthahaha –“

He sat up, grinning wide. “This is the best piece of private information that I have ever heard.”

“Don’t tell your brother.”

“No. He’s awful and wouldn’t care. Helaena, though – and Jace. And Luke, if he apologizes with passion. Do you think… father is nearly dead, and mother is queen, but you’re set to be queen after her, do you think – and then you could stay over -”

“That, Aemond, is a thought you should not dare entertain.”

“But you said it was the love you have. Not had.”

Rhaenyra tensed her jaw and stood. “When you love a person that much, it never really goes away.” She led him to the door with a series of pats on the back. “Now off you go. Bedtime. And don’t fill your head with worms.”

“Yes, princess.” He halted at the door. “Would you go with me to the dragon pit tomorrow? I am still getting to know Vhagar, and father can’t teach me, and I don’t want Aegon to do it, either.”

“Of course.”

“Thank you. If only you could stay – you could definitely stay if –“

“Aemond, do not.”

“Yes, princess.”

He was as good of a liar as his mother, and Rhaenyra didn’t believe him for a second.

Chapter Text

She held Aemond’s hand when they made their way to the Godswood, and so she could tell by the sweat of his skin just how anxious he was, even though she could barely see him in the dim moonlight. She had her index and middle fingers over his pulse. She knew exactly how quickened it was. She could have soothed him, but she didn’t.

He’d be a lot more scared before the night ended, and the fear was part of the experience.

“Maybe we should go back.” He muttered.

“Maybe.”

“We can come in the morning! Perhaps mother would like to accompany us.”

“She most definitely wouldn’t. You probably shouldn’t tell her about it, either. Alicent is…” Rhaenyra took a very deep breath. “She’s very particular about the things she finds right and wrong. She might not approve.”

“So it is something wrong that you’re taking me to do.”

“Not at all. Just… a bit inhuman.”

They were far for the castle now, only its massive door still visible, and the dry leaves crunching beneath their boots were the only sound that cut through the silence. The quiet was eerie, even for that place and that hour, as if the trees knew what they were there for.

They probably did.

“I really think we should –“

“No! Here we are.” She patted her hand on the white bark of the weirwood. “Aemond, there’s someone I want to introduce you to. This is my friend - tree. Tree, this is Aemond. I expect you two to meet many times in the years to come.”

“Um…”

“Greet the tree, Aemond.”

“Good evening?”

Rhaenyra grinned and took a seat, her back against a large root, sideways enough that she could glimpse the face carved on the bark. She patted the ground next to her, and Aemond hesitantly joined her. She stretched her legs. The stars always shone brighter under the branches of a heart tree, and she took a moment to appreciate the view. They were particularly pretty that night, not a cloud to be seen. 

She let Aemond get used to the place before speaking again. “You know what they say about those woods?”

“That the old gods watch them with a thousand unseen eyes.”

“That’s right. And you know what they say about the Targaryen?”

This time, he hesitated. “That we’re all mad?”

Rhaenyra laughed. “Yes, that, too. But they also say we are closer to gods than to men. Have you ever heard that?”

“Yes. Mother doesn’t like it. Says it’s arrogant.”

It sounded exactly like Alicent, and Rhaenyra smiled on reflex. “And you? Do you think it’s true?”

“I’m… not sure?”

She ran her fingers through his hair. “You will be, soon enough. I’m going to teach you something that my father taught me when I was your age. It… saddens me that he can’t be the one to do it for you, but I’ll do my best in his stead. And when the time comes, if I cannot do it, I expect you’ll pass it on to Jace, who will pass it to Luke, then to Helaena, then to Joff. Promise me, Aemond.”

“I promise.” He paused. “What of Aegon?”

“I fear he’s too far gone, little one.” She pulled him a little closer. “It takes a certain state of mind to commune with the gods as we do. His is too muddled by his bad habits. It would make things horrifically unpleasant.”

“You’re scaring me.”

“It is essential that you be at least a little scared. So you can feel when it leaves your body. That’s when you’ll know that we are something else. Now, let me explain some things to you.” She patted her lap. “Here, get comfortable.”

He did. He was still wearing a bandage over his wounded eye, though she’d seen him talk to Alicent about getting a sapphire to put on the hole to scare the other boys, and an eyepatch to put over the sapphire so he didn’t scare the girls.

She toyed with a strand of his silver hair, rolling it between her index and middle fingers. “Have you heard of skinchangers? How they bond with beasts and sometimes enter their minds to control them?”

“Yes. Is that what we are?”

“Not…quite. Dragons are very powerful creatures. We could never impose our will over theirs. But eventually, if you practice, you may learn to see through Vhagar’s eyes.”

“You can do that?!”

“Yes. Hush. I’m telling you family secrets.” She flicked his ear. “Dragons are beings of purest magic. So much so, that magic waned when Valyria burned, and some believe that if they were to go extinct, then magic itself would disappear with them. What this means is that we,” she poked his nose, “Are bound to the fabric of the world itself. And places like here – focus -  can you feel it’s special?”

He closed his eye and breathed deep for a few seconds. “Yes.”

“What’s it like?”

“Blurry.” He curled his fingers on the grass. “Everything feels funny.”

“That’s right. Sit up.” 

He did, shaking his hair back into place. Alicent had given him such a bowl cut. He looked silly. Rhaenyra smiled a little at the thought.

“Are we here so you can teach me magic?”

“I could never. The kind of magic we have can’t really be taught. It just happens. Sometimes the world will feel malleable, like clay, and if you tug it just right, then you'll change it into a different shape. You’ll know it when you feel it. No, I’m here to teach you something else.”

He seemed about to say something, but Rhaenyra didn’t wait for it. She stood and leaned against the trunk of the tree. “If you’ll excuse us,” she said, and brought her index to the corned of the carved face’s eye. For a moment, nothing happened.

Then the tree, as Aemond had so aptly described, grew blurry. A single trickle of vivid scarlet sap sprouted from the wood and slowly rolled to her finger. Rhaenyra caught herself thinking, for no particular reason, that it was odd that it was that color, because it was deep crimson blood that leaked. Bright red blood like that always came out in gushes.

It touched her skin, warm and sticky, and she let it cover her finger before moving back to the ground. She took Aemond’s hand and touched his finger on it, until the tip was fully covered.

“You won’t always need the sap,” she explained. “Just for the first time. Then you’ll learn to do it on your own. I’ll take it too, this one time.”

“Why?”

“Because you’ll think I’m poisoning you, if I don’t.”

She nudged his shoulder with her own, then brought her index to her lips and licked it. The sap was sickly sweet, yet somehow also bitter and salty, unlike anything else in the world. Aemond hesitated for a long time before doing the same. He scrunched his face at the taste.

“Now what?”

“Count to three.”

He did not make it to three. The world around them crumbled. The earth fell down in chunks into a pitch black abyss without a sound. In the distance, the castle seemed to stir and detach itself from the ground, as if it had grown legs. Gradually, the dissolving ground reached them, until there was nothing left but the tree root they sat in.

Aemond had gripped her left hand with his right, tight enough that it hurt, and as the air around grew a bright blue and the wind started whirring on their ears, she grabbed his other hand and laughed.

They were falling. They were high up and falling, plunging through clouds thick enough that it left their clothes dripping. Aemond’s silver hair was plastered against his face, and she figured hers must have looked the same.

Lightning flashed around them.

“We’re going to fall to our deaths!”

“We’re falling up, actually,” she pointed out, and looked up, just as he did.

The heart tree grew smaller and smaller, the rustling leaves soon blurring into an invisible blob of red, deep crimson this time. The wind had ripped the bandages from Aemond’s face, and the eye below was of an unnatural, bright blue color.

“Aemond,” she said, and smiled when their gazes met. “Touch the sky.”

She let go.

The thunder drowned out his screams.

Rhaenyra laughed until she couldn’t anymore, because she was a tree, she was the grass, she was the river and the water that floated to the sky and joined a cloud and fell back down, she was the thunder, the flying birds and also the bugs it ate, she was everything at once, and then it all slowed down and she was –

A great white wolf looking at a nameless young man. When he looked at her, something in his expression changed, and she wondered whether he sensed that she was there.

Then she was the fire on top of a candlewick, and it felt right to be fire, and as she cast light in the room around her she could hear, chopped, bits and pieces of conversation that seemed to match the way she flicked, more like hisses than like proper voices.

“King’s death -  to prepare – get the princess – out of the way.”

She knew that voice. She couldn’t pinpoint it right then, not while she was a disembodied consciousness, but it would come to her, eventually.

The world changed again. She was herself this time, standing on a small circle of grass that floated on top of an infinity of pure white light. There was a tree across from her, on a similar island of matter on top of nothingness. It was a heart tree, older than the one in King’s Landing, its trunk as thick as a watchtower.

A boy knelt in front of it, holding a knife, carving a face on the bark. With each stroke, it bled a deep crimson sap. The boy turned around. His blonde hair was almost golden, and Rhaenyra could have mistaken him for a cousin of hers, if not for his impossibly green eyes.

She waved at him. He smiled and waved back.

The ground turned into sand, and she slipped down with it. She was falling again, through layers and layers of white clouds, and though people below thought that clouds looked like cotton, she knew better. They were not soft, but rather freezing liquid, and flying through them felt like a dive on a cold ocean just before sunrise.

She crashed back into her own body as softly as a jouster being knocked out of his horse. She was soaked to the bone, a torrential rain turning the earth around her into mud, even though the sky had been clear when they started dreaming.

It hadn’t been that long. It was just that this kind of magic bled into the world, sometimes. Aemond woke up gasping, eye wide, breathing fast. Had he not been under such rain, Rhaenyra was sure she’d see sweat rolling down his skin. He was trembling, most likely not from the cold. 

“What in the world are you two doing out there?!”

Rhaenyra turned towards the voice. Alicent stood behind the castle doors, cupping her hands around her mouth so that her voice could be heard.

“Meditating!” Rhaenyra replied.

Aemond blinked a good five times, still stunned, then burst out laughing. “Oh gods. Oh gods – what the fuck.”

“Language, Aemond.”

“What the – what the fuck.” He stood, stumbled, held onto Rhaenyra for balance. “What was that?! What in the world?” He laughed again, wiping the water from his face so it could be replaced for even more water.

She could feel the insanity creep into his voice with each giggle.

She pushed her hair away from her face, with no success. The rain pushed it right back to where it had been. Aemond's euphoria was contagious, and she caught herself grinning. “This is how you keep it in check. The madness. When it takes over, when it coils around you and squeezes, you sit under a weirwood, close your eyes, and you touch the sky.” She offered him her hand. “And if you ever need me, then seek me out with your thoughts, so that we may both sleep under a heart tree and dream together, wherever we are.”

“I understand.” He covered his face with his palms. "Hahahaha -" he hiccuped and laughed some more. "I can't believe - this is just - I think I'll never fear flying again."

“As a Targaryen shouldn't. Now come. Your mother will murder me, if I keep you in the rain and you end up catching something.”

Before she could move, lightning struck the tree directly in front of them, and as she took a step away from it, as she saw the wood crack and heard it groan, as she waited for the thunder, it was something else that hit her. It was the realization that voice she had was none other than Otto Hightower, and as she grabbed Aemond, dodged the falling branches and ran back inside, all she could think was, your mother may murder me for other reasons, too.

Chapter Text

Rhaenyra had just finished wrapping her arm with fresh bandages when Alicent knocked on the door. She knew it was Alicent just from the way she tapped, and she entertained the possibility of pretending she was already asleep, but Aemond’s loneliness was burned in her mind, and she wouldn’t rest easy if she didn’t try to mend things between herself and his mother.

She opened the door. Alicent had already turned back. Rhaenyra wondered if she, too, considered pretending no one was there.

But she turned, visibly bothered. “Aemond was adamant that I come talk to you.”

“Of course he was.” Rhaenyra pinched the bridge of her nose. “The things we do for our children, huh?” She sighed. “Come in, then.”

Alicent, for once, did not argue. It was dark, probably past midnight already, and Rhaenyra lit an oil lamp and placed it on the tableso they could see each other. Alicent sat on the bed. Rhaenyra sat on the wooden chair in front of it.

She let the silence stretch between them for a very long time. Or at least it felt like a long time to her. But she was notoriously impatient, so she always ended up apologizing first.

Maybe that was why she was always the only one who apologized.

“I,” she said, emphatically. “Am sorry. I said a lot of very horrible things and I should not have provoked you as I did.”

“Did you mean any of those things?”

“I always do. I say exactly what I want to say. It’s just that sometimes what I want to say is really stupid.”

Alicent smiled. Rhaenyra wondered, right then, how could they have drifted so far apart. “Aemond has taken such a liking to you. He looks at you with an admiration I’ve only ever seen him give to his father.”

“He’s my brother, Alicent. It’s only natural.”

“Love between family is… not always a given.” Alicent stared at her own feet. She hardly did any eye contact. “Is that why you came to King’s Landing? For the sake of your siblings? Or was it to prepare for the throne?”

“Both. Neither.” Rhaenyra absently ran her fingers through her damp hair. “All of those things, but mostly, I’m here because of you.”

Alicent flinched. “You know, I knew this day would come. I fully expected you to return and… take from me everything I’ve ever built. My throne, my home, I even thought – “ she paused.

Rhaenyra looked at her. She still refused to look back. She was tearing through the cuticles of her own fingers, and it was anguishing to watch, how she’d rip the skin as far as it went. Sometimes, the skin flap cut down halfway through, and she’d pick at the remaining stub until it bled, until she could finish skinning herself.

“I caught your boys playing with Helaena today.” Alicent’s tone was almost a whisper. “All three of them, by the garden. She was tending to – she has this box full of worms. Three boxes on top of each other. She raises them, collects them, I don’t know. But your boys had a glass jar each, and they were digging up the earth and plucking worms from the ground. Trying to see who could find her the most. And she –“

Her voice broke.

Rhaenyra’s heart broke a little with it.

“She wasn’t too odd for them, that’s what got me. That she’s too odd for me to understand, but not for your boys. And I hadn’t realized until then how much it mattered to her. Just… having someone genuinely interested in digging her worms.” Alicent took a very deep breath. “She’s happier with them around. So is Aemond. He’s smiled more in a couple weeks than he has his whole life, even though he’s missing an eye.”

Rhaenyra felt awful for her words a few days before, for the way she’d meant to hurt and clearly succeeded. “He’s a sweet boy. You’ve raised him well.”

“I have not.” Alicent straightened her back. “He’s a sweet boy despite it. So are yours. They’re all so much like you, it hurts to –“ She stopped again. She was visibly struggling with her words. “What I mean to say is… if this is how it is. If this is how you take my children from me, then I – I can’t say I’m fine with it. But I’m relieved. And. And I owe it to then to ask you to stay.”

what in the seven’s seven hells

Rhaenyra raised a hand, signaling her to slow down. “Your mind takes some sharp turns I could not hope to follow. Robbing you of all joy in life is not what I’m going for.”

“What then, Rhaenyra? What then?” She let go of her own hands and clutched the bedsheets. For once, she met Rhaenyra’s gaze. “I can see the anger you harbor for me. What else do you want from me? A finger or two?”

“This is the fucking problem with you.” Rhaenyra said despite herself, going from regret to annoyance with a spark. “Not only do you assume things, but you assume all the wrong things. It took Aemond five minutes to see – he’s right. Maybe you just have too many eyes.”

“Excuse me?!”

Rhaenyra stood, unable to keep her frustration in check. “Why do you think I resent you, Alicent? Because you were seeing my father in secret? Because you ended up marrying him?”

Alicent hesitated, frowned, her expression growing guarded. “Isn’t that it?”

“No! No!!” Rhaenyra combed the hair off her face with her fingers. “I resent you because you never even considered me – you don’t! You still don’t, and it kills me! My father is about to die, and he’s going to leave you inside a pit of vipers with three fucking children and you still won’t even consider – for fuck’s sake. I need a drink.”

She turned around. Alicent grabbed her wrist. They looked at one another for a tense couple seconds. Then Rhaenyra gave in, felt her anger sizzle down to a mix of sadness and hurt and remorse.

“I don’t want what you have.” Rhaenyra looked down to Alicent’s fingers against the bandage of her arm, then up to her eyes. “I want you. Can’t you see? I want you.”

She saw a lot of emotions cycle through Alicent’s expression – shock, confusion, shock again, something akin to fear, something akin to longing, then a mix of everything at once, and Rhaenyra thought Alicent might cry, and then she would, too.

“You’re bleeding.”

Rhaenyra was, too, bright scarlet blood quickly soaking the bandage, and though she didn’t feel any pain, it had been less than a day since she removed the stitches, and the color of the blood alarmed her. She clutched at her arm to slow down the bleed. “Fuck.”

“Here,” Alicent said, and pulled a dagger from her belt. Rhaneyra briefly wondered why Alicent had brought it on first place. But then Alicent was cutting through her bandages, and Rhaenyra waited to see the size of the wreck below them.

The skin was intact.

It wasn’t just that the laceration had not opened again, but rather that it had become nothing but a thin line of scar tissue. The kind of scar she’d see from a years-old wound. The bandage had fallen, sprinkling droplets of red on the floor, staining Alicent’s nightgown.

Nothing bled. Rhaenyra touched the scar to feel the bump. “Huh.”

“What in the world.” Alicent traced the scar with her index, her fingertip cold against Rhaenyra’s skin. Perhaps she didn’t notice the intimacy of the gesture. Perhaps she was too stunned to care. “What does this mean?”

“Your guess is as good as mine. But it was not a regular wound to start with.” She flexed her fingers and watched the tendons move under. “Valyrian steel on Valyrian blood. You’ve cut me – you were the first one to cut me. In more ways than one.”

Alicent pulled her hand back. “I’m sorry.”

“What for?” Rhaenyra picked the bandage from the floor and took it to the dirty laundry bin, giving her back to Alicent. “This is the first time you’ve ever apologized to me. There’s a certain backlog.”

“I… am sorry about that, too.”

Rhaenyra scoffed. She sat on the bed, opposite to Alicent, so that their backs touched. “You’ll need to do better than that.”

She felt Alicent sigh. They spent a minute in silence. “What can I do to make you like me?”

“I already like you.”

“You don’t. You care for me, and you… want me. But you hate me, too.”

“You vastly overestimate the amount of feelings I can have at any given moment.”

“You know what? You’re right.” Alicent turned sideways. Rhaenyra laid on her back so they could look at each other. The angle was as awkward as their relationship right then. She saw Alicent move her hand, then pull it back. “I miss the trust we shared.”

“There isn’t a single reason for us to not share it again.” Except maybe for that part where your father is planning to have me killed.

Alicent’s expression shifted into barely conceived pain. “I don’t know if we can. Not after the kind of lies we told each other.”

“I didn’t even – “ She covered her face with her hands. “Aaaagh.” Rhaenyra took a very deep breath.

Then she burst out laughing.

Alicent scowled. She always seemed disturbed by little things like these, by Rhaenyra’s humorless laughter at inappropriate moments, by the little slip ups that showed Rhaenyra wasn’t entirely sound of mind.

“Care to share what amuses you?”

Rhaenyra sat up and slapped her fists against her own knees. “You’re so infuriating, it’s downright ridiculous. It’s stupid!! It’s – hahahaha – gods!! Why!! Why must I fall for such a complicated woman! Why – pfft.”

Alicent didn’t answer. Rhaenyra didn’t need her to.

“I did not fuck my uncle!! I didn’t!!” Rhaenyra jumped to her feet. “It was another man!! I don’t even know his name anymore! I didn’t lie!”

Alicent tensed and stood. “You didn’t say the truth, either. You didn’t tell me you were no longer a maiden.”

“Because it was not what you fucking asked, Alicent!” Rhaenyra paced. She was too agitated to stand still. “How was I supposed to know that by ‘did you sleep with your uncle’ you meant ‘did you sleep with any man ever’?!”

Alicent raised her chin. “I expected you to, because it’s such an obvious matter of virtue!”

“I don’t do virtue! I don’t –“ Rhaenyra tapped her own head with her index. She did it fast, her eyes wide, a twitch that was barely a gesture. “There’s no virtue here! I have too much power for right and wrong to matter!”

“Trust me, I have noticed.”

Rhaenyra faced her. She felt her good old rage bubble to the surface. She walked to Alicent, right into her personal space. She’d grown almost a head taller since their teen years. She raised her hands. She lowered them back. She brought them to her head, bunched her hair between her fists and forcibly squeezed her eyes shut.

A red haze descended over her mind, deep crimson, leaking into her thoughts. The world felt blurry. She was going to scream.

She felt it build up in her throat, hot and burning, ripping through her chest. The flash of lightning that followed was so bright, it was blinding even though she had her eyes closed. And then the thunder came after rattling the stone walls of the castle, and that was when she screamed. Or maybe the thunder was the scream. She couldn’t tell.

She gasped like a nearly-drowned woman reaching the surface. The energy in her body dissipated, just a little.

Alicent was looking at her. Her face was marked not by horror or disgust, but rather by cold detachment. She had her fingers around her dagger. No fear, no anger, just the calculated movement of her fingers.

Rhaenyra laughed again. Then she stopped abruptly, halfway through a laughter, her face immediately going serious. “Tell your son you’ll talk to his sister. Tell your father you’ll end his adversary. Walk up here with a dagger so you can decide on the spot whether you’ll lodge it between my ribs. Is that not who you are, Alicent? You are every bit the viper that Otto made you into.”

Alicent slapped her. On the face. Right across the cheek. The sound echoed between the walls even though a sound like that should not echo.

Rhaenyra grinned wide.

“I did all I could. I always do. For you, for my father, for my children. I give all I can, and nonetheless I fail.  No matter how hard I try, the people I love slip through my fingers like smoke. And you –“ She shoved Rhaenyra back. “You’re the opposite. You succeed at everything I try to be, without a hint of effort and sacrifice. And I hate you for that.”

“You don’t.” Rhaenyra’s cheek was still burning from the slap. Her heart was racing with the same exhilaration she got from flying. She grabbed Alicent’s wrist.

Alicent didn’t try to pull it back. “I wish I did.”

“You don’t.”

“Fine! I don’t! I envy you! Is that what you want to hear?”

Rhaenyra had never seen Alicent quite that angry, not even when she’d cut Rhaenyra open with Valyrian steel. She seemed on the verge of tears. Rhaenyra regretted pushing her that far, but not enough to stop.

“I just envy you. I do everything by the books, everything that’s expected of me, and when I turn to the side I see you, doing none of that and still being better than me in everything I aspire to be. You’re a better mother. A better queen. A better wife, even, absurd as your marriage is. Meanwhile I have carved my way to where I am, and it cost me everything. What the fuck am I supposed to do with myself?”

“Your mind is your own prison.”

“The world is my prison! What was I to do? Your father is a good man. My children will never be in need. It wasn’t what I wanted, but it was a wise move nonetheless. Even you must acknowledge that.”

“Oh, but I do. Ruthlessness suits you better than victimhood. Don’t act as if you had no choice. It’s unbecoming. You saw your chance at power, and you went for it, even though it fucked me up in the head!” She punctuated the sentence by slapping her palm on her forehead. She interrupted the movement abruptly, straightened her back and turned her voice into a neutral tone. “I can respect that.”

“You had everything and valued nothing, and you know what, fuck you, Rhaenyra. Fuck you!” Alicent shoved Rhaenyra back, but the way Alicent had to come closer to push her again only made the distance between them smaller. “I didn’t seek power. I sought safety. Of all the impossible, fucking –“ She shoved Rhaenyra again, “- all the fucking miserable options given to me, I chose the one that let me keep at least a figment of joy and dignity. I made the best choice.”

“You didn’t.”

“What, then?! Enlighten me with your insight. What else could I have done? Was I to say no to the king?”

She met Alicent’s eyes. There was so much turmoil between them, so much tension, so much resentment and regret. Their insistence on each other was madness. Rhaenyra never expected anything different from herself, but it surprised her that Alicent would follow her into this spiral.

Rhaenyra moved. The space between them felt nonexistent.

“You could have said yes to me.”

Alicent pulled a sharp breath. Again her shock was visible, and again Rhaenyra felt an insurmountable anger at not being seen. It wasn’t a feeling she had often. One she shouldn’t have at all, not her, a person – a creature? – who refused to be ignored.

“I’m going to ask again.” Rhaenyra said. This time, she raised her hand. She touched Alicent’s face. Her fingers were trembling, and her movement was erratic, too fast, then too slow.  “Even though you’ve brought a dagger to my room. Even though I dream of your father and your son planning to usurp my throne, and my dreams aren’t just dreams, Alicent, you should know better. But I’m going to ask again.” She ran a finger over Alicent’s cheek. “Say yes to me.”

Alicent did not move a millimeter. Rhaenyra watched her breathing grow from quick and shallow to long and deep. “You’re insane.”

“That’s a given.”

Alicent scoffed. She covered Rhaenyra’s hand with her own. “Give me a reason why you want me so.”

Rhaenyra let go of her and turned around. She gripped the edge of her table. She stared at the oil lamp. Stared at the fire. Stared at her own reflection in the glass. “Haven’t we just gone through it? I’m insane. Completely fucking –” The fire in the oil lamp flared brighter, shedding light into the corners of the room.

Rhaenyra laughed, breathed deep, then turned around. Alicent had moved closer, and before Rhaenyra could speak again, she brought her hand to Rhaenyra’s chest, fingertips right over her sternum.

It was a disarming gesture. Rhaenyra didn’t know what to do with it. She ran her fingers over Alicent’s knuckles, one by one.

“Is it reassurances that you need? For you, for your children? For your father?” She squeezed Alicent’s hand. “I cannot give you that last one, but I promise you all the others. You’ll be as safe with me as you were with my father.”

“What were your words to me?” Alicent bunched her hand on the collar of Rhaenyra’s shirt. “Right - that’s not what I fucking asked. I want to know why.”

She looked at Alicent in the eyes, and was delighted when Alicent did not look away. “You do everything that is expected of you, and you call that duty. You call it sacrifice. You call it virtue. But that’s not the virtue I see in you.” She turned her wrist to expose her scar. “It’s this. How you’ll do whatever it takes to defend yourself and yours. You’re the only kind of person I can ever trust. The kind that goes all the way through.”

Alicent touched Rhaenyra’s wrist with her index. “You’re drawn to me at my darkest. I suppose it’s flattering. It’s definitely freeing.”

“I’m drawn to you because you’re ruthless when you have to be, and tender when you don’t. We’re so different, you and I, yet we’re the same in the one thing that matters. We’ll both do whatever it takes.”

Alicent went quiet for a very long time. Her fingers were still on Rhaenyra’s skin. They were still far too close to each other. Rhaenyra wanted to cry. She wanted to kiss Alicent. She’d wanted to do both for a very long time. She had a feeling Alicent wanted the same.

“I do need assurances.”

Right back to business. Rhaenyra found it a relief. “What would you have me do?”

“I understand I cannot save my father. I just ask for it to be quick.”

“Dragonfire.”

Alicent flinched. She tilted her chin up, her jaw tense, and Rhaenrya thought, whatever it takes.  “That’s – fine. I want all of my children safe. Even Aegon.”

“He’s… not a good person, Alicent.”

“No. He’s not. He’s my son nonetheless.”

Rhaenyra could sympathize with her, truly, but it put her in an impossible situation. “He will never let this go. He’ll want my head. Sooner or later, he’ll come for me.“

“This is non-negotiable! Let me send him away. Let him take the black. I’ll talk to him, I’ll think of something. Fuck.”

Rhaenyra wanted to reach out. She did it hesitantly, treating this delicate trust they’d built between them like a crystal. “I’ll let you think of something. I’ll help you with that something, if you do figure it out. I can promise you as much.”

“Thank you.” Alicent leaned into her touch. “You’re always so feverishly warm.” She kissed Rhaenyra’s wrist. “What about you? My sweet Rhaenyra. What would you have me do?”

Rhaenyra shivered. She took a step back and hugged herself. It was an alien gesture, something she wasn’t used to doing. “I need to know what your father is planning.”

“Yes, obviously, you’ll need my full political support.” Alicent's confusion was evident. “Is that all?”

“I want you to consider me.” Rhaenyra looked away, grit her teeth, then forced herself to look Alicent in the eyes even though she felt on the verge of tears. “Just that. Consider me.”

Alicent took both of Rhaenyra’s hands. Rhaenyra touched the corners of Alicent’s fingers, where the skin was raw.

“I thought you would want more. Everyone does.” Alicent looked at their hands. “I would give you so much more. I would give you all of me.”

“When we stop bringing out the worst of each other.” Rhaenyra interlaced their fingers. “Then I’ll give you all of me, too. Even though you didn’t ask.”

“I didn’t know I could.”

“My dear Alicent.” Rhaenyra smiled. “That has been the problem all along.” She kissed Alicent’s forehead. “Stay the night. I want to hold you. I’ve missed you so.”

“The people will talk.”

“The people won’t even consider it.”

“You’re right.” Alicent smiled. “They won’t.”

Chapter Text

The crowning of house Lothston as the new lords of Harrenhal was the only thing Rhaenyra had heard about in the last few months, and it was an event she was not looking forward to, at all. The politics of it were exhausting, and so was the two-sided game she was playing with Alicent, which required her to be aggressive and hostile when she didn’t want to.

And this party was bound to be a nightmare. House Lothston was as torn as house Targaryen – no, even more so. House Targaryen was massively in support of Rhaenyra’s side, with Daemon working to secure external allies and Rhaenyra putting in the effort to sway people to her side internally. 

Otto had Aegon, true, but Rhaenyra had a firm hold on Alicent’s youngest and on Alicent herself. The court was a different matter. The people who opposed her did it for reasons no charisma could ever overcome; it was self-interest, power hunger, greed, ideological divergences or all of those tied together.

It was beyond her to handle all of that. That’s what she had Daemon for, anyway – the man behind the curtains, pulling the strings. He’d make for a fine Hand, when the time came, and Rhaenyra could only hope he’d be more loyal to her than Otto was to her father.

All of that she thought about while getting ready for dinner. By getting ready, of course, she meant stowing away knives between her boots and slipping a vial of antidote inside a hidden pocket of her dress. It wasn’t her prettiest, but it was her most practical, and she had to account for the possibility that she might have to kill a man or two before the night ended.

She saved her Valyrian steel dagger for last, hid it where it was easy to reach. It was special, that one, particularly now that it had tasted her blood. And Rhaenyra didn’t usually choose it as her go-to stealthy weapon, but something about Harrenhal was profoundly unsettling, and Rhaenyra felt she should keep it close.

Maybe it was the inherent political tension of the situation, but she’d been on edge since she’d set foot on the place.

“You seem tense. You’ve hardly looked at me, and we both know how much you love looking at me. Is something the matter?” 

Rhaenyra blinked, then faced Alicent as if seeing her for the first time. She blinked. She rubbed her own arms. It wasn’t cold, but her hairs were standing on end. “No – I mean, nothing I can put my finger on. I just wish we could get this done with already. Have you learned what your father is planning for tonight?”

“No.  I feel like he trusts me less and less each day. I don’t think we can keep our ruse up for much longer. It has something to do with you, though. Aemond told me as much.” 

“Otto is trying to rope him into his schemes?”

“No, he learned it as our best intelligence soldiers would: by hiding under the bed and listening in. I don’t know how to keep him from this kind of danger.”

“You can’t. He’s old enough to understand what’s happening around him, and definitely old enough to pick a side and act on it. Just teach him to minimize the risks.”

“I hate that it has to be this way.”

“We both do.”

She sat on the bed and stared at the mosaic glass windows. They were very pretty, she supposed, each window representing the ravens, ships, pines and grapes of house Hoare, the house who built the castle and the first ones to rule them.

This bedroom, the one Alicent had been granted, had the picture of grapes. Of all the options, grapes were the ones with the least potential of being unsettling. Nonetheless they were formed by a mosaic of bright red glass shards. She’d never seen grapes that color. 

She stood. Alicent seemed more distracted than she was, if that was possible. She put a hand on Alicent’s bare shoulder.

“She’s fine, you know.”

Alicent put down the pins she was using to hold her hair with and turned around. She hugged herself and looked away. “You can’t know that. I know it’s just a fever, but Helaena is… I worry about her, that’s all. I’m glad your boys offered to stay with her. She’s a lonely child. Excruciatingly so. And she loves their company.” 

“I hate the way you talk about her.” Rhaenyra kept her eyes on the window. The grapes were elegantly pierced together. The glass around them made Rhaenyra anxious. “I hate those fucking windows, too.” 

“What do you mean?”

“It’s all these colors. The grapes are too red. It’s not a proper color for grapes. And all the shards of glass around them, the ones that aren’t making any shapes - depending on how the light goes through them, they could be making any shape.”

“I’m talking about Helaena, not about – are you certain you are all right?”

Rhaenyra walked to the windows and pulled the curtains shut. “I’m fine.” She turned back to Alicent. “You always talk about Helaena as if the boys were doing a favor by tolerating her. That’s awful. And untrue. They’re around her because they enjoy her presence, and it’s very likely that they chose to stay because they want to do boyish things while their mom is away. And if she chose to stay, it’s probably because –“

because she knows better than to come here

“ – because she wants to do boyish things, too. Probably more than any of the boys. I bet you never let her do boyish things.”

“That’s because she’s a girl.”

“It is not the Targaryen way to discriminate between genders like that. She’ll resent you if you do.” 

Alicent went quiet, thoughtful, and Rhaenyra once again brought her hands to Alicent’s shoulder, knowing how much Alicent craved touch without ever asking for it. Alicent covered Rhaenyra’s hand with her own.

“I didn’t realize my thoughts about her were so cruel. Thank you for bringing it to my attention. I suppose she’s… she’s odd for most people, but not to you. All of you Targaryen. I’m slowly coming to terms with the fact that you don’t see the world as we do. It stings a little, that I’ll never understand my children, but it is what it is.”

“No one can ever truly understand another person. That’s why I rather ask than make assumptions.” 

“I appreciate that about you.” She let go of Rhaenyra’s hand and resumed working on her braids. “It’s funny that you hate the place so much. Helaena seemed as repulsed by the castle as you. A part of me believes her fever was somehow caused by how much she didn’t want to come.”  

“She’s right, you know.”

“You think the place is haunted?”

“Not exactly. This is a – “ Rhaenyra struggled to find the right words. “A blurry place. That’s what Aemond called it.”

“I’m not sure what you mean.”

Rhaenyra thought about what to say for a long minute. “Some places have more magic than others. I’m not sure what makes them so, but I can feel them. I can taste them.” She licked her lips. “There are places where reality has been split open, and things leak between the cracks in the shell, like the whites of an egg. Some of the things that can happen here wouldn’t happen anywhere else.”

Alicent had stopped her excruciating process of getting ready, and now she stared at Rhaenyra with narrowed eyes and a focused expression. “Bad things?”

“Unnatural things. Whether bad or good depends on what you’re trying to do and how. Helaena was right not to come. She dreams deeper than any of us, and the magic here has been tainted too many times. We should leave. Not tomorrow, definitely not in a week as planned. Tonight. As soon as it is polite to excuse ourselves from the party. On dragon back. To get away from here as fast as possible.” 

Alicent moved closer, into Rhaenyra’s personal space. Slowly, hesitantly, she wrapped an arm around Rhaenyra’s waist. Rhaenyra returned the touch with a hug. The slow, loose yet enveloping kind which gave Alicent space to make herself comfortable. The kind of hug that had no hurry attached, just the feeling of familiarity, the feeling of home.

“What you ask for is unreasonable. It’ll raise too many questions. It might tear to pieces whatever is left of my father’s trust in me. Make it obvious that I’ve changed sides. We’ll risk everything we’ve been working to build in the last months. Is it worth all that?”

“Yes.” Rhaenyra replied without hesitation. She met Alicent’s eyes. “Please.”

Alicent frowned. She ran her thumb over Rhaenyra’s cheekbone. “You’re afraid.”

“I’m not afraid of anything. I don’t get afraid of things.”

Alicent scoffed. “Fine. I’ll cite my gnawing worry over my sick child as an excuse. I’ll make up a story. Say I had a bad dream. No one would question a mother’s dedication to her daughter.”

Rhaenyra leaned her forehead on Alicent’s shoulder so she could look away from everything in the room and see nothing but Alicent’s shirt. “Thank you. I’m glad you believe me on the gravity of the situation.”

“I believe you care for me. That’s enough.” Alicent said each word with a careful pause between them. “And, if nothing else, the place is making you unwell.”  

Rhaenyra pressed their cheeks together, then kissed Alicent’s bare shoulder. Alicent’s dress was far more complex than her own, because Alicent, normal human being that she was, did not dress for disaster but rather for the night’s planned event.

Rhaenyra held Alicent. She slowed down her breathing and closed her eyes. “Promise me something. Promise that if anything feels odd tonight, you’ll come to me. Not the guards, not your father, not even your queensguard. To me.”

“I promise.” 

“And promise that you’ll listen to what I say. Even if it doesn’t make sense.”

“You hardly ever do, yet here I am.” 

“Don’t be mean.”

Alicent scoffed. She took Rhaenyra’s hand, her fingers moving thoughtlessly to where Rhaenyra had been cut. She always did that, whenever they held hands, something which had been happening with growing frequency. They were slowly but surely bridging the horrible gap between them, despite the moments when they stumbled.

Never in moments like these, though. In moments like these, when danger creeped closer, when their loyalty to each other was tested, Alicent supported her firmly and without hesitation, even if they argued over it afterwards.

“I better go back to my quarters. Before someone comes to check in on me.”

“You should. Thank you for coming.”

“What kind of conspirator would I be if I didn’t?”

Alicent was smiling when she shooed Rhaenyra off the door.

--

She knew there was something wrong with the corridor as soon as she stepped outside Alicent’s room. Nothing immediately caught her attention, though, other than the shiver down her spine and the distinct feeling of wrongness. She stood there for a whole minute, not sure what she was searching for, but searching anyway.

The more she looked, the more it got to her, so she decided to not look at all. She turned around, ready to go back to Alicent’s room and wait out whatever unnatural thing was going on.

She reached for the doorknob, only to realize it wasn’t there at all. 

So that’s what was wrong , she thought, slowly running her hand over the wood of the door, where the knob should have been. There wasn’t a hole, a scratch, any sign that it had been there at all. The door had no hinges. 

“Just like me. Unhinged.” She took a deep breath and turned around again.

It wasn’t the same. She was no longer looking at the wide corridor with a wooden floor that led to a staircase and to another set of bedrooms. Rather, what she saw was a hallway, narrow enough to make her claustrophobic. She couldn’t see the end at either side, just the walls disappearing into blackness.

It was made worse by the fact that the wood had turned into a pitch black something, from which tendrils of smoke crawled all the way up to her knees. Rhaenyra took a step. Her boots sunk on a thick liquid.

It was probably blood. She didn’t bother checking to make sure.

She picked a random direction and started walking. She was acutely aware of both the thud of her boots hitting the ground and the high-pitched splash that came with it. The way it echoed strengthened her awareness of how close the walls were around her, and how far the corridor went.

Rhaenyra walked. 

A constant buzzing sound rung in her ears, like a harm of distant bees. There were other sounds, too. Sometimes, hisses that could have been whispers. Sometimes, a long, even sound that was disturbingly close to a human scream. Metal grinding against metal. Heavy things hitting wood. The howling of a distant wind.

The only hint that she’d moved any distance was how the corridor slowly got darker. The only hint any time had passed was the soreness of her legs. And then finally, finally , she approached what initially seemed like a dead end.

It wasn’t. It was just a ninety degree turn. She didn’t bother peeking around the corner, when she got to it. There was no point. In an endless hallway, danger could come from either side. Her back was just as vulnerable as her front, and she found no safety in the path she’d already walked through.

She turned. The hallway that stretched ahead of her then was different, wide, bright light going through hundreds of stained-glass windows. The pictures on them followed the pattern of house Hoare – a golden ship, a black raven, a green pine tree, and those fucking red grapes, and the disordered shards that surround them.

They looked like eyes. They looked like teeth. The windows smiled at her. Then they didn’t. Then they did again.

And then a new sound.

Footsteps, right behind her. She wasn’t sure she’d heard them, at first, because they moved when she moved, and they stopped when she stopped. She counted the windows – ship, raven, pine, grape, ship, raven, pine, grape, ship, raven, pine –

Rhaenyra turned around. The window in front of her was a grape, even though the one on the other side had been a grape, too.

A hulking shadow stood behind her, a few meters away. It was made of such a deep black that it warped her perception of depth, and she could not make out anything but its silhouette, like a two-dimensional figure that floated on a three-dimensional world.

Rhaenyra stared at it for a couple seconds, then waved. It waved back in an uncanny, familiar way. Rhaenyra blinked, then tested her hypothesis by waving again, then wiggling her fingers. Sure enough, the creature mimicked her gestures, as if it were her own shadow, mirroring her movements.

Rhaenyra took a step back.

The creature took two steps forward.

“Can I help you with anything?”

The thing smiled. It split its face from ear to ear, exposing rows upon rows of sharp teeth on top of that impossible blackness.

Rhaenyra felt a twinge of irritation. “Making me walk on an endless corridor while creeping after me will achieve nothing for either of us. You’ll have to be more specific.”

The shadow was still smiling. Slowly, it lifted its hand above its teeth, covering where its eyes would have been. It had impossibly long fingers that looked human when they left its hand, but grew into claw-like shapes at the ends.

“All right.” Rhaenyra imitated the movement, covering her eyes.

Nothing happened. She turned around, touched her free hand on the brick wall, and resumed walking without uncovering her eyes. The shadow was no longer following her, or if it was, it no longer made a sound. All she could hear was her own footsteps, splash-splash-splash.

Her fingers touched something viscous and warm. She was completely, unequivocally certain it was blood. She uncovered her eyes and looked at her fingers, and sure enough, there it was – the deep crimson kind. The one that leaked.

And leak it did, from between the bricks of the walls, slowly flowing into the infinite puddle she’d been walking on top of. 

Rhaenyra looked at her hand again. She rubbed the blood between her index and her thumb. Then she took her fingers to her mouth and licked them.

The buzzing on her ear grew into a deafening loudness, and the world around her blurred, until she was engulfed by the same darkness of the creature that followed her. She closed her eyes. 

When she opened her eyes again, she was standing at another, different corridor, one with hundreds of open doors next to each other. She moved. Every time she came closer, the doors on her sides slammed shut, as if pushed by a strong wind. It happened faster and faster. The echoes made it seem as if there were thousands of doors. For all she knew, there were.

Then silence.

Then the creaking of a single door slowly opening behind her. 

Rhaenyra walked to it. There was a bedroom inside – the one she was supposed to spend the night in. The same bed, the same pillows, even her luggage was on the floor, with her clothes still on top of the chairs. 

There was an open book on the desk. It hadn’t been there before. Rhaenyra walked to it. It was written in a mix of High Valyrian and the twisted shapes that words got when she tried to read within a dream, and she could only understand bits and pieces. Something about a ritual. Something about blood. Drinking blood and feasting on flesh, inside a ring of fire. She couldn’t make out the details.

Then she reached an empty page.

Rhaenyra stopped flipping. She stared at it for a long time, enthralled by the blankness. She brought her fingers to the paper and smeared a line of blood on it. For a moment, nothing happened. Then the red sunk into the paper and faded until it disappeared.

A letter began to form, sharp and thin like a scratch. An L, then an O, then another O, then another and another, to form words -

LOOK BEHIND YOU 

The buzzing in her head grew louder. 

She looked. There was nothing unusual about the room, except that her knife, the Valyrian glass knife she’d hid on her belt, was now lying on top of the bed. She picked it up and turned around –

A creature stood there. Rhaenyra backpedaled on instinct, tripping and falling on the bed as she did. “What the f – gods! You people really aren’t satisfied until you get a rise out of me!” 

It smiled, all empty gums with no teeth. She couldn’t make it out at first, but now she realized she was looking at what had once been a man, the skin of his neck molten together with the gold of his necklace, one half of his face crushed into an unrecognizable mess of soft brain parts and broken bone that was charred at the edges that stuck out of the flesh. 

He approached. Rhaenyra didn’t move. “I can’t read it.” She said, motioning toward the book. “You made me walk through at least a kilometer of haunted hallway. I think I’m owed a little bit more information.”

The man didn’t answer. Rhaenyra wasn’t sure he was capable of speech. She could see his vocal cords, torn by a shard of bright red glass, the exact same color used to make the grapes. Or maybe it was just covered in blood.

He gripped her hand. The right one, the one Alicent had cut through. He ran his index over the scar there, then grabbed Rhaenyra’s other hand, the one that held the knife, and guided the tip to his own arm.

Rhaenyra frowned. He repeated the motion again. And again.

“You want me to cut her where she cut me? Why?”

The man let go of her. He gestured wildly, and the room was filled with smoke and the roar of fire. Rhaenyra saw the flames close in, but she didn’t feel the heat. She never felt it, in places that were blurry. Right then, with the air thick with magic, the fire couldn’t touch her at all.

Her eyes drifted scanned the room. The fire burned in a circle. From the man’s throat, where the glass was lodged, blood gushed, leaving stains on the walls and the floor and the bed. She could smell his burning flesh.

“Fire and blood. A ritual?” 

The man grew more agitated. He handed Rhaenyra the knife, then ripped a page off the book and shoved it inside her pocket. The smoke grew thicker, burning her throat. The fire grew wider, and Rhaenyra could see nothing but its blinding light, could hear nothing but its roar. She closed her eyes.

Silence.

She opened her eyes again.

She was standing in her bedroom, as she’d just been. There was no sign of a fire, but the room was on top of the kitchens, and the smell of roasted meat that came from it was nauseating. She reached into her pocket.

The page was still there, and she uncrumpled the paper and stared at it. She was fluent in High Valyrian, but this was something else - the kind spoken on the free cities, the one they called Bastard Valyrian. She struggled with the words. 

“Cut and cut back with the steel of old Valyria – mix the blood – close with fire?” She squinted. She would have understood it as a warning, if not for the way the ghost had been emphatic that he wanted her to do it. 

She tried reading it again, experimenting with different possible meanings for each word until she could form a sentence that made sense.

“The other half of the binding ritual that Alicent and I have unwittingly performed when she cut me.” Rhaenyra said out loud, hoping another friendly haunting would her and offer her answers. “I cut her back. We hold each other’s hands and make a mess. We close the wounds with a hot knife?”

Rhaenyra touched her arm. The wound there had closed under magical circumstances. She was sure that other, equally magical circumstances could open it again. This was the least of her problems. “Why’d you want me to perform this? A binding ritual. It seems a bit too much for this stage of our relationship –“

Some kind of supernatural creature must have heard her ramble, because the words faded, leaving her with a blank page. She turned it around. Another, different ritual was described there. 

“Partake in the flesh – a sip of the blood – inside an ancient ring of fire – I don’t know.” She stared at the paper. This one was a lot harder. She wished the book had come with pictures. “Some sort of… mind parasite? Gods.” 

Before she could try again, there was a knock on the door. It opened before she could say a word, which could only mean it was Alicent. Sure enough, Alicent poked her head through the gap and called to her. “Are you ready yet? It’s almost time for dinner.”

“Would you perform a blood ritual with me, even though it has poorly understood effects and you’re extremely adherent to the faith of the Seven?”

“What?” Alicent stepped inside, closing the door behind her back. “A what?”

“Blood ritual.”

“Why in the world would we do that?”

Rhaenyra shrugged. “A ghost told me to do it.”

“What the fuck, Rhaenyra.”

Rhaenyra laid down on the bed and stared at the ceiling. It wasn’t even past nine in the evening.

It was going to be a long damn night. 

Chapter Text

It started raining halfway through the dinner.

It wasn’t the mild kind of rain either; it was the thunderstorm type, where water fell in a continuous stream and Rhaenyra could not make apart the raindrops. The kind of thunderstorm that made it impossible to fly.

She tried and failed to convince herself that it was a coincidence, that it had nothing to do with her plans to leave. Nonetheless it unsettled her far more than roaming on haunted corridors had.

She had hovered around Alicent all night, growing jumpier with each passing minute. They had not performed the blood ritual. Rhaenyra never did expect Alicent to accept it so plainly; she just wanted Alicent to know that it existed, and that they might need it, for some reason.

And as they sat at the dinner table, waiting for the main course, surrounded by lords who were already drunk and ladies who were discreetly scheming, Rhaenyra wished she could just grab Alicent and run. She’d been getting signs all evening, little glimpses of distorted things that made chills crawl up her spine and reminded her that something wrong was going on.

Case in question.

The table had no forks. There were spoons and glasses and napkins, but around the plates, where the cutlery should be, there were no forks. Just knives. One to the left of the plate, where it should be, and one to the right, which should have been a fork. Maybe it was a slip up of a servant. Maybe it was a practical joke by one of the lords’ children.

It isn’t, though, Rhaenyra thought, eyeing the knives without touching them. The longer she stared, the blurrier they grew. Something like this at a place like Harrenhal was never meaningless, though Rhaenyra was stumped by what it could possibly be about.

If Alicent noticed it at all, she was undisturbed by it.

The food that was served to them looked wonderful. The fruits were ripe, the leaves were fresh, and the meat looked perfectly tender. It was the kind which was roasted while on a metal spoke, and as she watched, a servant approached to cut her a slice.

A servant approached to cut everyone a slice, at the same time, one for each guest, and as she watched, their knives cut through the meat in perfect synchrony, as if she was inside a house of mirrors, staring at reflections. She could not see their faces. The meat slid to her plate with a wet squelch that echoed as everyone else received the exact same slice.

Rhaenyra blinked.

Her vision grew sharper. Now the servants hurried around her, nothing unusual about their movement or their appearances. The meat on her plate was raw, lying on top of a pool of bright crimson blood.

Rhaenyra felt nauseous. She turned to Alicent, who had just taken notice of Rhaenyra’s odd behavior. The concern in her face was poorly masked, but Rhaenyra figured the people were too drunk to notice.

“Princess. You seem unwell.”

“Don’t you think it’s odd?” Rhaenyra said, still looking fixedly at her plate and at the knives around it. “There’s no forks, only knives.”

Alicent frowned. “Did someone get you the wrong cutlery? We get a different set for each plate. I can spare you a fork.”

Rhaenyra didn’t hear the rest of the sentence, too stunned when Alicent took a fork which had just been a knife and extended it to her. It had too many tines. Rhaenyra had never bothered to count how many tines a fork was supposed to have, but that one had too many, thin and grouped like needles.

She grabbed Alicent’s wrist and slowly lowered it back to the table, squeezing until Alicent let go of the thing.

Alicent met her eyes, bewildered.

“We’re not hungry.” Rhaenyra said, slowly. “We’ve both had big meals for lunch, remember? We’re still full.”

She was hungry, though. This she realized as she said otherwise, when her stomach twisted with that deep, hollow pang, and the smell of food assaulted her nostrils, all the more tantalizing. Now that she was aware of it, she couldn’t ignore it – she was downright weak from starvation.

The feeling seemed to be shared by the people around her, who filled their plates greedily, shoving foods into their mouths and reaching for more. The smells struck Rhaenyra again. The beer smelled like wine, the pork smelled like apples, the apples smelled like charcoal, and things didn’t have to smell rotten for her to know that they were revolting, they were wrong, illusions created by something who didn’t know what things were supposed to be like.

“We did have big lunches.” Alicent agreed, bringing her hand to her abdomen, clutching the silk of her dress. “I felt stuffed just a little while ago. How odd. The food seems to have opened my appetite.”

Rhaenyra stared at the people around her, watched red juice run down the corners of a Lord’s mouth, beer spill on the dress of a noblewoman, a servant eating a slice of meat when he thought no one was looking.

She was so hungry.

She stood, abruptly, startling herself with the sound of her dragging chair. “Forgive me.” She said, loudly. “I feel unwell. I’ll excuse myself to my quarters. My queen, I loathe to ask this of you, but would you mind escorting me back to my quarters? You know the place better than I.”

Alicent gave the food one long look before standing. “Of course.”

It was a bizarre thing, asking the queen for a menial task when they were amongst nobility and around so many servants.  No one noticed. People were far too focused on eating, each caught in a personal trance. Their faces grew blurry. She could hear them chew loudly, loudly, crunching and squelching.

Alicent’s fingers were still touching the table, and Rhaenyra saw them slowly move towards the fork with too many tines, subconsciously. She grabbed Alicent’s wrist and all but dragged her out of the hall, disregarding her protests, picking up speed as soon as they stepped out until she was nearly running.

And then Rhaenyra stopped.

She leaned her back against the wall and took a long, deep breath. Something burned near her skin, and she reached inside her clothes to pull it out. It was the ripped page she’d been handed by a ghost, blank, then forming words, letter by letter. As it happened, bit by bit, an understanding formed within her, and she felt dizzy from dread.

Alicent took the paper from her hands, turned it so she could look at both sides. Rhaenyra knew she would see them both as blank.

“You’ve always been eccentric, but this is unusual behavior, even from you.”

Rhaenyra grabbed the page, folded it and slid it back into her pocket. “I’m sorry. I wish I could give you a proper explanation, but there really isn’t any.”

“Ghosts again?”

“Something like that.” Rhaenyra rubbed her arms up and down, trying to dispel the goosebumps. She stared at the mosaic grape on the window in front of her. The glow of distant lightning shone trough it. Rhaenyra waited for the sound of thunder, but it never came. “You haven’t felt anything unusual?” She rubbed her face with her hands. “Maybe I am going mad for good.”

Alicent placed a hand on Rhaenyra’s shoulder. “Not much. The nobles seemed more drunk than usual, but not enough to be remarkable. I can’t help but wonder, though – “

She stopped. Rhaenyra saw a hint of fear cross her features. “What?”

“I haven’t seen father for the last hour. He disappeared before the main course.”

Rhaenyra tensed. “He didn’t tell you where he was off to?”

“No. Not at all.”

There was an unspoken implication on Alicent’s short reply, and Rhaenyra could feel the weight of it – the fact that Otto was keeping secrets from Alicent, and her own erratic behavior made things worse. She meant to apologize for it, she did, but the castle seemed to mock her attempts at normalcy, because she smelled something.

Something delicious. That gnawing hunger was gone, and without it, she could catch the barest hint of something revolting intertwined with the smell. She stiffened and started walking.

“Rhaenyra?”

“I’m sorry, it’s just – “ She took her hand to her forehead and squeezed her eyes shut. It hurt. “Gods, can’t you smell that?”

“The… kitchens?”

“No, I – it’s like meat that just started burning.” It was impossible, maddening to stay there. She realized she’d stopped in front of her room, right over the kitchens. Rhaenyra didn’t dare touch the doorknob, let alone open it. “May I spend the night with you?”

Alicent cupped Rhaenyra’s cheeks. Her concern was evident. If she felt any sort of frustration at Rhaenyra’s behavior, she didn’t show it. “If it makes you feel safer.”

Rhaenyra was blindsided by the choice of words. “I think so. I think… my mind gets to me, sometimes. I’m hardly ever afraid. I’m not, even now. But I’m… rattled. I don’t know. There’s something – I don’t know. It’s just… I wasn’t hungry.” Rhaenyra leaned her head on Alicent’s shoulder. It was an entirely new experience for her, being comforted like that. “You weren’t, either. Not until we suddenly were.”

“That was a little odd. Though maybe the food was that good?”

Rhaenyra’s stomach lurched. She flinched. “I don’t know if it was food at all.”

“What else could it be?” Alicent ran her fingers through Rhaenyra’s hair. When Rhaenyra didn’t answer, she asked the one question Rhaenyra wished she didn’t. “What did it say? The blank page, what did you see in it?”

I wasn’t hungry, Rhaenyra thought, and then, It wasn’t I who was hungry. It was something else.

She closed her eyes. She thought about the words, scrawled with blood on a paper, by creatures so dark she couldn’t see their faces, by nameless ghosts with molten skin, by hauntings which should but somehow didn’t scare her. A warning from unnatural creatures, about something even darker.

IT DOESN’T CARE WHAT IT EATS AS LONG AS IT EATS

Rhaenyra chose to keep the words to herself.