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Alicent was on her way to pray.
Guilt for seeping through her soul for the calamities caused by the destruction in this senseless war.
Except it wasn’t exactly senseless.
Her son deserved to be King, Alicent thought. He was King Viserys’ firstborn son and by precedent from all the past Rulers and the nobles of the Realm’s own laws, Aegon had the right to the Throne.
Rhaenyra was the one who was senseless, arrogantly ignoring the truth of the Realm, that the people would never accept a woman as heir, especially when a son was born, for they didn’t even accept Rhaenys when by Andal Law, she should’ve been Queen.
But still, Alicent couldn’t help but feel saddened, for the lives of Lucerys Waters and her grandson Jaehaerys were gone.
Lucerys had carved out her sons’ eye and never been punished, indulged by his despicable grandsire, who believed no wrongs could ever fall from the line of Aemma Arryn. She felt sympathy for the boy still. Yet hatred for Viserys’ lingered with her mind. The man lax in retribution, except for when it came to Alicent’s children, having been ready to scream at both Aegon and Aemond, before knowing the full truth of the situation at Driftmark.
At least Viserys finally saw the truth, improving the fault of his feckless folly and finally realised that Aegon should rightfully be king.
But Alicent could never forget about how Viserys treated her, breeding her for children, only to neglect and demean the latter.
And for that, Aemond festered in resentment, becoming angry, rightfully so, yet his temperament rose to a disastrous level, ultimately leading to the murder of Alicent’s sweet grandchild Jaehaerys, the little precocious boy, all at the hands of the Blacks, in their own force of retribution.
A son for a son.
Yet Alicent stood there praying. For all the lost souls in this venture, fuelled by Viserys’ mistakes regarding the succession of Westeros, feeling deep sympathy for every life taken.
Hands clasped intensely, the Dowager Queen shut her eyes for a moment, in silent prayer, before opening them up to light the candles beside her, finally closing her eyes for a solemn moment of silence.
She could sense a figure beside her, a Septa most likely, joining their pious Queen in prayer.
Thus she opened her eyes to greet one of the honourable Septa’s of Kingslanding.
“Oh- ah,” Alicent gasped, shock seeping in her tone.
There was no Septa there.
It was Rhaenyra.
The one whose hands had butchered her grandson, albeit indirectly. But nonetheless, there lay the false Queen, desecrating the robes of a Septa as she disguised herself to sneak into the Grand Sept under false intentions. Bringing a knife of all things into a Sept, how shameful.
“No, no, shh,” Rhaenyra restrained the Hightower Queen, quickly subduing her rival in this private religious space.
“What- how…”
“I must speak with you.”
“With a knife. If this is speaking then your allies Blood and Cheese were masterful conversationalists to my grandson Jaehaerys!” Alicent remarked, snarky and snide in tone in remembrance of the atrocities caused in the name of Rhaenyra Targaryen.
She sighed before responding, trying to placate Alicent with peaceful words, “I have begun badly,”
The Hightower woman scoffed, knowing that badly was a great understatement as to describe what had occurred.
“We watched the tourney together, you and I-” Rhaenyra spoke, wanting to reminisce about their past, attempting to blind Alicent from the present with her entrail of nostalgic memories.
“You mean the tourney where your uncle, sorry I mean your husband, had forced my hand into giving him my favour while he brutalised my brother just five and ten years of age, all because he dislikes my father?” The Hightower woman remembered that day sharply, for the screams of her brother lingered within her mind for long, and the smug look on Daemon’s eyes had never drifted from her mind.
“Alicent, we know that men are eager to fight, to seek blood and glory,” Rhaenyra was steadfast in her belief, ignoring that as Queen in her own right, not matter how dubious Alicent believed it to be, she was ultimately in charge of the men in her retinue.
“But you are…”
The Targaryen Queen gazed at Alicent, lingering remnants of their past companionship were deep within her thoughts, “I know you do not have that desire within you.”
“Yet you did indeed have that desire that dreaded night at Driftmark when your bastard son brutalised my child!” Alicent swiftly ignored the nostalgia meant to blind her, reminded of the atrocities Rhaenyra wanted enacted on her own blood.
“Rhaenys has counselled me, I see that it could be said the war began that day,” The Black Queen was clear in her regret, but it felt like false platitudes, just wanting to give sympathies to her old companion, while not truthfully regretful of what she wanted for her sibling.
“In truth, you and I both know the war began the day your father decided he’d lust for his daughter’s companion and breed her with sons. Only to never give my son his rightful position!” Alicent knew they were both doomed as soon as Viserys let his innate desire get the better of him, harming both his daughter and the girl he wanted to marry in the process.
“How dare you assume your son was meant to take my place! I am my father’s heir, and your drunken son is just a usurper!” Rhaenyra quietly protested, whispering in response to Alicent’s angered comments. “I had hope that you would strive toward peace but now, I see…”
Rhaenyra continued her thoughts, turning back to the attempt at reconciliation she was wishing for, before Alicent’s words got the better of her, “But still, perhaps you and I can come to terms.”
“There are no terms now. I am giving my son his rightful place while you undermine your already faulty claim having married the man you were meant to remove from succession and allowed him to butcher babes.” Daemon could never leave Alicent’s mind, her contempt for him much too strong.
“I am my father’s heir!”
“No, you are nothing more than a object for Viserys to project his guilt upon, feeling that indulging you in your treasonous transgressions would alleviate the pain he caused your mother!” Alicent bellowed the words she had wanted to spew for as long as she had been married to Viserys and ignored by Rhaenyra.
“What,” The Princess cried, haughty, yet shocked at the harsh truths Alicent was spilling from her tongue, “How dare you-!”
“Viserys’ hands were bloodied, stained with your mother’s life, just as yours are with my grandson’s blood-”
“The trespass was not mine.” The Black Queen repudiated Alicent’s claim, believing Daemon’s actions were not of her fault.
“It was your duty to prevent it, that’s the main reason you were named heir, yet you married the fool instead!”
“I-” Rhaenyra faltered, unable to take this line of thought, knowing inwardly that this was correct, yet in denial. “I am a mother too, and you have yet to answer for the murder of my son!”
The False Queen quickly changed the subject, bringing forth matters that Alicent had great guilt for, yet ultimately understood.
“I repudiate that act with all my heart-“
“Of course you do,” The Targaryen interrupted.
“-But this was a long time coming, ever since your bastard never was reprimanded for maiming my son. You called for the sharp questioning of my son that night, he did not forget, nor did I. Your brother, flesh and blood.” She responded, moving over slightly as if to blow out the candles on the side of her figure not blocked by her old companion.
“I- I’m truly sorry for that.”
“I do not care for your emotions anymore,” Alicent sternly spoke, turning around and beckoning the guards that had slowly creeped over as they heard her shouts. “Guards! Capture this woman! Rhaenyra The Cruel has a knife!”
The guards quickly ran over, quick and competent in the moment, for the safety of the Royal Family had been bolstered up greatly after the incident just days prior.
“Keep the Dowager Queen safe!” A young blond man remarked, having ripped Rhaenyra’s hood harshly off and grabbed her hands.
A man with a dark look strided over towards Alicent, with her remarking that he seemed to be one of the men Aegon had been seen around. It looked as if the war had begun to change the boys of Westeros into protective men, strong and firm.
Alicent was smug inside.
Having captured the woman that had been the figurehead of her son’s rivalling group, a claimant to the throne against Alicent’s own blood.
She had saved her children from further disaster. Now Alicent could only wait to see what fate Aegon had in store for Rhaenyra.