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Chapter Text

Alicent opened her eyes and gazed at the grey skies above her. The lake water pooled and rippled around her ears. Its coolness was beginning to feel uncomfortable. The Queen Mother chose to suppress a shiver. She didn’t want to get out of the water. She didn’t want to go back to the Red Keep. The thought of facing her sons again made her stomach twist with dread and guilt. How did they ever grow so cruel? So wrong?

Deep in her heart she still loved them. Her heart turned wretched with pain when she remembered their injuries, their tears. Their hurts. They would always be just her little boys.

Over time, the coolness abated to a tingling numbness. Alicent felt drowsy as she let her mind drift to happier things. Memories of the weirwood, of innocence. Of Rhaenyra.

Against every morsel of her being, Alicent missed her. She could not help a tear falling down her cheek. In her mind’s eye, she saw Rhaenyra lean forward to tenderly kiss her tears away. How nice that would be, if it were real. Alicent closed her eyes again. She was growing so, so tired.

A darkness swirled around her, calm and velvety. Then a sudden sharpness, before Alicent jolted to her side. She could only be aware of herself choking violently, coughing up spurts of water from her burning throat. Her palms strained against the ground and felt grass. When did I climb out of that lake?

She tried to get up, but convulsed again and dropped back to her knees. “Easy, Alicent.”

It was said simply, with a hint of pity. She would know that pining voice anywhere. If she weren’t feeling so ill, she would’ve rolled her eyes and jerked away.

Ser Criston Cole was rubbing gentle circles into her back as she vomited. He took the white cloak of his back and wrapped her trembling body in it. After a time, she calmed.

“What happened? Where is Ser Rickard?”

“You fainted in the water. And your absence… worried the Prince Regent. He sent our party to find and return you safely to the Red Keep.”

“I see.” Alicent scoffed. “I guess we must do nothing else but our duty.”

She picked herself up. Unsteadily, slowly. Cole ached to hold her but knew she would not take it. So he watched with resignation as she stumbled to the prepared carriage a slight distance away. It stood tall, ready to sequester her back to her cage. The knight took one last look at the lake and wondered. Had she really wanted to take her own life?

The bumpy ride back to the Red Keep was like hell. Alicent leaned her head and shivered against the white cloak, watching intently as the Kingswood faded from view. Dread and pain crept against her ribcage, which she was much too tired to suppress. Her wet shift clung unbearably against her clammy skin and a dull throbbing rang in her head. She’d been a mother long enough to know a bad fever was on the way.

It all weighed on her. A growing sickness, and she welcomed it. If only I could disappear . She repeated the mantra again and again, until it was the only lulling, clear thought in her foggy mind.

Cole guided her back to her chambers and Alicent followed in a blur. But as they passed Aegon’s door, she halted.

“I would like to sit by his bed for a moment,” she whispered, barely audible.

Cole acceded. “I will request for a change of clothes to the King’s chambers for you.”

In that moment Alicent could only think of her injured, bedridden boy. His cries of pain, his searching look of need every time he opened his eyes. He was no monster. He was her child to love. The naive thought filled her. Her pain meant nothing. She just had to love and protect, and all would be fine.

Cole pushed open the heavy door to let Alicent in. As she entered, her face gradually fell. Terror pierced through her like a lance. Something in her snapped apart. She screamed.

Criston Cole yanked her roughly away from the sight, but the damage was done. King Aegon, Ruler of the Seven Kingdoms, was hanging by his neck from the bedpost. His head drooped, his legs swung lightly. There could be no doubt that he had taken his own life, and that he was dead.

⋆˙⟡♡

Gusts of wind flitted through the ship’s deck. The jagged hills of Dragonstone were gradually coming into view.

A sudden jolt of the ship sent Daemon stumbling against the hull, and Rhaenyra could barely suppress a chuckle. He jabbed her back on the elbow playfully.

“Laughing at me, are you?” He snaked an arm around her waist, allowing her to lean in. They stood together in a comfortable silence, enjoying the sea breeze.

Rhaenyra felt a lightness she had not known for many years. Sure, there was still a long way to go. She would fly with her newfound dragonriders, take King’s Landing and sit the Iron Throne. But for now, with Daemon and Harrenhall at her beckoning, she earned some respite.

They ate and drank well that night. Daemon met the new riders and raised the first of many toasts to their Queen. By the time they retired to bed, Rhaenyra was severely tipsy. Months of work and worry had left her quite unable to hold her liquor. Daemon was tugging a blanket over her shoulders that she kept throwing off.

“I don’t want the blanket,” she whined petulantly as he walked her back to their shared chambers, holding her close to him lest she fell. He hoped this at least meant she would finally get a good night’s rest. When he bent the knee before Harenhall’s men, she looked radiant, but also exhausted. He regretted not having been by her side all this time, and had been making up for it by making her laugh as much as he could.

“I’ll have your head if you vomit on our linens. And so will Elinda,” he joked, smiling as Rhaenyra giggled drunkenly.

As soon as they made it out of the hallway, he settled her before the fire like a sick child, pressed a goblet of water into her hand and went about getting them ready for bed. Rhaenyra fell silent, listening to the fire crackling. The high of being inebriated was fast wearing off as she sipped and rehydrated, and with it the residual excitements of all that had happened that day. It left her curiously empty, steeped with a familiar melancholy. Indeed, very familiar.

“You’re always like this when you’re worried,” Rhaenyra heard in her memory.

“Like what?”

“Disagreeable.”

Why am I thinking about her? Why now, of all times? It was a tender, vulnerable thing to remember. They were so different then. So young and full of hope. Against her better judgement, perhaps, Rhaenyra let herself bask in the memory. Lying in Alicent’s lap under the old weir tree, gazing at her auburn hair.

A gentle hand on her arm drew her out of her reverie. “Get some rest, darling.” Daemon held her nightgown ready and quickly helped her change into it. He undid her braids and ran his fingers through her silver hair. It was so soothing, so calming that Rhaenyra cast aside all her worries again. He led her to the bed and held her till she fell asleep.

⋆˙⟡♡

Sunlight drifted into Alicent’s chambers in waning slivers. Maester Orwyle would not allow them to open the blinds any further. When she had awoken for the first time since seeing Aegon, the bright light sent her into a maddened frenzy. Her head felt like it was splitting open, she yelled incoherent protests. Helpless, Orwyle had his attendants hold her down as he fed her milk of the poppy. Gradually, however, she became more adjusted to the light. Now she yearned for it.

After Cole, the pest he was, wrenched her away from Aegon, Alicent had fallen completely inert. Shellshocked, she sat limp in a pile of her skirts and cloak and could no longer respond to anyone or anything. This is what the pest told her. She remembered none of it. When she came back to herself, it was in her dark chambers. Maester Orwyle and Helaena visited, offering empty, soothing words. They advised her to leave all in their hands, to rest until the Silent Sisters could complete their work on his body.

His body. Her first son was truly no more. She thought of him bitterly. She thought of lying in the cool, beautiful lake. She thought of Rhaenyra. After a while, she could no longer cry.

Alicent estimated that she had been abed for nearly two days, but could not be sure. Sometimes she sensed Helaena fiddling with her embroidery by her bedside. Most of the time, her mind drifted. Into sleep, into memory, into dreams. It seemed to be midday when Alicent opened her eyes again.

Her vision cleared gradually, uncomfortably. She was soaked in cold sweat, her skin hot to the touch with a biting fever. Hot and cold flashes pulsed against her body, sending an attack of nausea up her system. It felt impossible to speak or move her head, but she jolted and turned anyway, dry heaving over the edge of the bed. Every cell in her body lit up with anguish. The sweat poured, stinging her eyes so she had to continue squeezing them shut.

She became aware of Helaena arriving by her side, who gently patted her back and wiped her face. “It’s alright, Mother. You’re alright.” When the worst was over, Helaena turned her exhausted mother back to lie down. She turned to fetch water, but Alicent gripped her wrist.

“What is happening now? What of Aemond? You must tell me.”

Helaena peered at her Mother, with her usual, curious look. Even while taken ill, looking ghastly pale and gaunt, Alicent possessed an iron will.

“They speak of nothing to me. But the small council has been in session for many long hours. Aemond left at first light today with Vhagar to secure his army.”

“Has Aegon’s… death been announced?”

“No. We are not to speak of it.”

Alicent was beset with worry. It destabilised her again, and she leaned back, trembling against a pillow. The men would plot. And thousands will die.

Thousands would die? Why? Alicent thought. Aegon is dead. There would be no more war for succession. Rhaenyra has won. Not unless…

Fear gripped her, as did resolve. Without warning, she sat up and swung her legs over the bed. The motion sent her head swimming violently, but she paced herself and got up. Helaena rushed to her side disapprovingly.

“Helaena, darling. Help me to the small council room. I must speak to them.”

The young girl knew not to refuse her now. She called Ser Rickard, who carried the Queen Mother. They dramatically barged into the council room. All heads turned to see Alicent laying weak, but stern and resolute. She fought to keep her confidence even as her father, Otto Hightower met her eye. Maester Orwyle stood up immediately, his face taut with genuine worry.

“You should be resting, your grace,” Otto said thinly.

“I would prefer if we discussed this situation and put all to rest promptly.”

Ser Rickard set Alicent down into a chair. She watched the rest from the corner of her eye. To her relief, they remained silent for the moment

“My son Aegon is dead,” she stated as plainly and uprightly as she could, ignoring the nagging anguish, “The fate of the Seven Kingdoms has been decided. A raven should be sent to Dragonstone, if not already. Rhaenyra will return to sit the Iron Throne. There can be no other outcome.”

The council prickled at her words, especially when Alicent mentioned sending a raven. It was clear in their faces that they had every intention to keep this news from the Blacks.

“You cannot believe that, your grace. Surely, the Prince Regent should ascend the throne. Not the pretender , Rhaenyra. Your grace, you have had quite the shock. You must put your mind and body to rest-”

“I am fully in control of my faculties. Thank you for your sympathies, Father , but I do not require it. Aemond will not ascend the throne.”

Otto looked her squarely in the eye. He had a disgusting look of surprise and admiration for his daughter’s defiance. It always evoked in Alicent all sorts of violent fantasies. In times like these, she wondered if Aemond had perhaps earned his violent streak from her. But there was something far darker in Aemond. Alicent saw it in brief, and then devastating moments. She did not know what her son would be capable of. If they put a crown on his head, the world will burn.

“It is no longer your decision, Alicent. Guards!” Otto called. “Bring the Queen and the Queen Mother back to their chambers. Stand vigil and let no one in or out.”

Alicent’s and Helaena’s eyes widened. None of them could move fast enough before they were subdued. Ser Rickard was wrestled to the ground, clamped under the weight of his fellow Kingsguard. Alicent struggled, growing dizzy at the effort, until she caught Helaena’s eye. Her daughter nodded at her, looking silently determined. Alicent acceded, her body losing the fight against her fever and exhaustion, and let herself be led back into the dark.

⋆˙⟡♡

She dreamed of Rhaenyra for what seemed like the hundredth time now. This time, Rhaenyra was dressed as a septa, bent over and dabbing a cool cloth on Alicent’s feverish head. It was the same laughable disguise she donned when she had ambushed Alicent in the Temple of the Seven for her self-stylized negotiation. They had a heated argument that left Alicent torn, hurt. But now she could only find herself amused at how Rhaenyra fidgeted about in the frumpy grey frock. How prone she always was to dramatics, and how ironic of her to be passing off as a pious septa, of all things.

“You look quite funny in that,” Alicent said to the phantom that was soothing her fever.

“You like looking at me, don’t you?” Rhaenyra countered in her easy, playful way.

Alicent smiled, and it was a smile laced with sadness.

⋆˙⟡♡

“Mother, wake up!” Helaena’s harried whispers jolted Alicent from her dream. She hardly had time to gather herself when Helaena pulled the blanket off and guided Alicent to her feet. The young girl was prattling in quick whispers. “-the dragonpit. The hallway will be to your left, and-”

Ser Rickard emerged from a corner and made to carry Alicent. She held up a hand.

“Helaena.” She said sternly enough, “What do you mean? How did you get in here?”

Helaena took a breath, mildly annoyed, then spoke calmly. “You are not safe here, Mother. If you are to get the news to Rhaenyra, we must get you to Dragonstone. Now. Ser Rickard will bring us to the pit and Dreamfyre will fly us there… It may not be discreet, but it will be faster than stowing away by sea.”

Ser Rickard moved ahead, wrapping a dull shift over the two women. “A temporary disguise.”

The trio filed through Maegor’s tunnels, a winding labyrinth that Helaena knew like the back of her own hand. She had spent much of her childhood stealing away from septas to wander the halls and search for critters. Presently, they found themselves moving down, further and further, until they rounded an unseen corner and came face to face with the skull of Balerion.

Dreamfyre nested not far along. Helaena led Rickard, who followed briskly with Alicent in his arms. The dragon was already awake and alert when they arrived, poised to be saddled.

“Halt! This is the Royal Dragonpit, show your faces!”

The guard’s commanding voice stopped them in their tracks. He stalked towards them quickly. Panicked, Helaena looked back to Ser Rickard and the knight decided. He set Alicent on her feet and in a gallant motion, unsheathed his steel sword. As he sprinted to meet his foe, Helaena pulled her mother away and they too sprinted for Dreamfyre.

They had no time, but Alicent had never mounted a dragon before. She did what her instincts told her, the adrenaline discarding all fatigue or fear from her veins. With her arms wrapped around Helaena’s waist, she readied herself for the most harrowing flight of her life. As soon as they settled, Dreamfyre lifted herself onto her hind legs and leapt forward, catapulting out of the Dragonpit and into the night air. Alicent looked back and saw Ser Rickard standing over the incapacitated guard. Behind him, a noise of commotion grew. He nodded to the women and turned to do his duty.

Dreamfyre coursed towards the clouds, her mighty wings pushing the air behind them. Alicent bit back her nausea, embracing relief when the torrent of arrows began to come. They whistled, flitting past and narrowly missing them. The reality of their assault sunk in for Alicent for the first time. Her own father would set the archers on her to keep this throne. He meant to silence her.

To avoid the arrows, Dreamfyre twisted and pivoted abruptly, dragging her riders along in a whirlwind of chaos. “Hold on tight! We will be free of them once we are in the clouds!” Alicent nodded and held on. Then in a flash, she was slammed with a sharp piercing pain. She cried out, gasped, before another blow came. Helaena looked back in horror. There were two arrows embedded in Alicent’s side.

The pain was unimaginable. Alicent’s eyes glazed over, and she could hardly hold onto Helaena. Fearing she would fall, Helaena called Dreamfyre to land in a nearby clearing. From the sound of it, she knew more guards would be closing in on them soon. She would have to act fast. As they dismounted, Alicent’s head lolled to the side. She felt heavy and sleepy all of a sudden. The adrenaline had worn off now, and the full force of her illness and injuries bit back at her. How will we ride there now? Helaena thought helplessly. As if sensing her despair, Dreamfyre unfurled one limb and gathered Alicent into its protective fold. She trilled, meaning to communicate to Helaena to trust her. Nudged by the warm dragon, Alicent drifted into an uncomfortable slumber.

Helaena moved a few paces to check how far the guards were from them. They were closer than she thought. A guard emerged from the darkness, armed and wary of the dragon. Then more came into view around him, and the wheeled metal lance. 

“Queen Helaena. The Prince Regent orders you to stop now and return to the Keep.”

Helaena knew she would not have enough time to leave on Dreamfyre now. She had stepped too far. In an instant, she unsheathed a dagger hidden under her clothes and held it to her neck. The guards halted in their tracks.

“One more step, and I slit my throat. You would be unwise to allow that. You must know that the Prince Regent means to take me as his Queen, and he would have your head.”

Indeed, they stopped. But they were still close enough to grab her. Tonight would not be her night.

Sōvegon , she commanded Dreamfyre. Helaena took a last look at her mother’s motionless form, as the dragon roared and lifted off.

⋆˙⟡♡

Rhaenyra awoke to commotion in the hallways. Before they could knock on her door, she was already throwing on her riding wear. Daemon pulled on a robe and moved to the window, peering out at the sea.

“We’ve sighted a dragon in the skies. It might be Dreamfyre, but it is too dark to see,” reported Ser Lorent.

“Helaena? That makes no sense. She has no taste for riding,” Rhaenyra remarked.

“Shall we ready our defences in case?”

“Yes, but do not engage unless I command it. It may be an attempt at negotiation.”

“An attempt to negotiate in the middle of the night?” Daemon asked, sceptical.

A vibrant dragon call resounded through the walls of their castle, then the familiar thud. Dreamfyre had landed. Rhaenyra and her party moved to peer at the bridge, where indeed, the Dragon sat, unusually calm. Its back was smooth over. No rider.

Daemon and Rhaenyra looked at each other and knew. There was something wrong with the dragon. But it was not hostile. Impulsively, Rhaenyra rushed out to meet the creature. When she reached the head of the bridge, she saw its crouching form and wondered. Dragons acted as such when they nested or cared for their young. Dreamfyre was protecting something. Under her paw, it seemed.

She approached slowly, firmly. Lykkiri , she cooed, as she drew near. The dragon trilled and fidgeted in warning, but eventually settled and unfurled its limb. Rhaenyra could discern a woman’s form, wrapped in a soiled, rough shift. She stepped closer, crouched down and peeled back the cover and saw her beautiful, auburn hair.

Rhaenyra moved her hair back and stopped, her breath hitching, hand hovering. Alicent was nestled within, curled on her side and pale like death. The two arrows stuck out from her side, stained with dark blood.

What is this? What has happened? A thousand questions ran over her mind, but none could fight the simmering worry arising from her gut. She could not stop looking upon Alicent’s face. Why am I feeling this now?

Nothing could prepare for the moment Alicent cracked open her eyes. She peered up, eyes hollow. They found Rhaenyra’s, pained and confused.

“Rhaenyra,” she barely breathed out, “Is it… really.. you?”

Rhaenyra felt like broken glass. Without knowing it, her hand had finally fallen to cup Alicent’s face. She ran a thumb over her cheek, and watched as Alicent’s eyes fell shut again.

Her breath shuddered, and she screamed for the Maester.

♡to be continued♡

Chapter Text

The world was a deep, phantasmagorical blur. Alicent sensed a torrent of movement and voices around her. They wound about, calling, moving. Gradually, she moved her fingers and felt soft bed sheets. It was not long before the torment returned.

Maester Gerardys’ voice faded in and out to Alicent’s ears. “The arrow wounds are not too deep. We must remove them to patch and dress the wound now.” She sensed someone else next to her, their warm hand curled around her arm.

“Do it now, Gerardys. Please.” It sounded like Rhaenyra’s voice, laced with impulse and worry. How Alicent missed her. Her eyes fluttered open, but could not muster the energy to focus.

Rhaenyra’s mind was racing as she stood helpless. They had carried Alicent into a spare chamber, hearing her pained murmurs along the way, whenever they turned a corner, or moved too fast. The brunette was shivering with fever, her lips turning as pale as her skin. Sounds of her ragged breathing tore through Rhaenyra’s heart. Her own hands were trembling, and it took everything to keep her composure for Gerardys. She held down Alicent’s torso.

Without warning, Gerardys ripped the first arrow from Alicent’s side. A deathly scream tore through the brunette. All she could see was white. It was a ravaging, blinding force of pain. Rhaenyra more than startled. She kept an arm on Alicent’s torso while leaning across to hold her face. Gerardys pressed a balled up linen to the wound. In no time, it was half soaked in blood.

“She’s awake- Alicent, I’m here. Everything is going to be fine.”

“Wha- Where am I? Everything hurts-” She winced, digging her fingernails into the sheets below as a rush of adrenaline rose from her gut. She suddenly remembered it all. Why she was here: to tell Rhaenyra of Aegon’s death. “Rhaenyra- Please.” She swallowed painfully, feeling beads of sweat form.

“Don’t speak now-” Alicent’s large, haunted eyes were boring into her. They darted away as Gerardys closed his hand on the second arrow. “No- Rhaenyra-”

The anguish coursed through her entire being, like a flash of lightning. Her mind seemed to fragment. She heard her own screams, muffled as if they were a mile away. Then hands and cloths ran across her skin, rough and intrusive. They wiped her face, her arms. She squirmed away from them but nothing would stop. An icy cup was pressed to her lips and she had no choice but to drink. It seemed like a never-ending dark sea of horrors.

“Alicent?” She followed Rhaenyra’s voice, gentle and cooing.

The sharp panic began to subside, then she saw her dream once again. Rhaenyra was dabbing a rag on her head, except she was dressed haphazardly in a nightgown. The rag on her face was so cool and wonderful, she melted into the touch. This time, Rhaenyra put the cloth aside and sat down, tenderly moving Alicent’s hair from her face and neck. “Can you hear me love?” Love . She had not heard that pet name in a while. Dazed, she stared back up at Rhaenyra. There was no pain in her side like before, only a pleasant numbness. She could not remember what she was so afraid of. Am I dead? she thought.

Rhaenyra brows furrowed worriedly at Alicent’s silence, wondering if it might be the calming physick she was given. Feeling Alicent shudder, she pulled a heavy blanket over her and tucked it cozily under her neck. Further down, Gerrardys tied up the last of the bandages. He placed a second dose of physick on the table and left.

“Are you… real?” Alicent asked loopily. Rhaenyra stopped and looked at her, surprised. “Yes, of course.” She ran a hand across her face and studied it.

“What happened, Alicent? Why were you alone with Dreamfyre? Who… hurt you?”

A small panic rose within Alicent as she recalled the events of the evening. She spoke in bits and pieces “Helaena and I… We were separated. The Kingsguard took her… She must still be at King’s Landing-”

Rhaenyra’s frown deepened. “You mean to say you were fleeing ?”

“Fleeing?” Alicent echoed, disoriented. In her mind’s eye she saw the scenes again. Mounting Dreamfyre, looking back to see Ser Rickard fight for them. The arrows. Her cursed father. His smug look in the small council room. Her son, Aegon-

“Shh” She felt Rhaenyra squeezing her shoulder lightly, trying to calm her.

“Rhaenyra, Aegon is dead. He took his own life. I’ve come to tell you, so you might march on King’s Landing, and take the crown.”

The very air in the room froze. “Is that true?”

“Yes. You must act soon. Aemond has flown to the Riverlands, and upon his return my father plots to crown him. When I opposed… Helaena and I… we had to leave.” A faraway look cast itself on Alicent’s face. The draught’s effects had really begun to take over now, and the edges of Alicent’s thoughts were fraying, falling through the cracks. Combined with Rhaenyra’s comforting warmth, her body felt pleasantly heavy, seeming to sink forever and ever into the soft bed.

“I’m sorry, Alicent. The pain of losing a son…”Alicent did not, could not speak. Rhaenyra glanced at Alicent’s torso and asked flatly, “Did your father do this?” Her voice taut, jaw tightening. She took Alicent’s silence to mean yes. Otto Hightower had finally gone over the line. Rhaenyra had always wanted to punch the man.

Anger simmered, but it was a confusing situation. Could Rhaenyra really trust her? Rhaenyra and Daemon had not planned to march on King’s Landing so soon, but things would inevitably shift now. She had a hundred more questions for Alicent, but she saw that the brunette was struggling to keep her eyes open.

“Rest for now, we have much to discuss when you are better.” Alicent nodded, her eyes already slipping shut. Rhaenyra stroked her hair tenderly, and Alicent was out like a light.

A breathy sigh escaped Rhaenyra’s lips as she tugged the blanket a little higher and looked upon her childhood friend, now peacefully asleep. Now that the chaos had finally died down, fatigue was seeping into her bones, but she knew she would not be able to sleep a wink tonight. A thousand emotions coursed through her. Hatred, pity, anguish. This was the woman who stole her birthright, took her second son. Why would she say all of this now? She chided herself again, for letting slip her pet name for Alicent. They had not so much as touched for nearly a year. And it had been far longer since she had held her face in her hands, and looked properly into her eyes. But she had been so overcome with worry and pity. Her body reacted before her mind could, it slipped back to their carefree young days. When they walked everywhere with arms linked together, stole pecks on the cheek between sentences.

Before she could stop herself, she leaned down and kissed Alicent lightly on the forehead. Oh, what is wrong with me?

The guards stood at attention when she stepped out to the hallway. She nodded to them, despite feeling thoroughly drained, and realised Daemon was bent over a book at a nearby bench waiting for her. Wordlessly, he stood and wrapped her in his arms, enveloping her in a comforting warmth.

“How is she?”

“She’s terribly ill, but she will heal. Daemon, she says she has come to tell us that Aegon is dead.”

Shrewd as ever, Daemon considered the shocking news with a raised brow. “Well… what reason would she have to lie? Perhaps to trick us into believing in an early victory?”

“It seems far too elaborate a trick. She was at death’s door when we found her.”

They each sighed. Long meetings would have to ensue on the morrow. For now, he tried his best to coax Rhaenyra back to their bed for some much needed rest. Daemon saw the way Rhaenyra’s eyes trembled when they carried Alicent through the halls. He smiled lightly, amused. They had always led an open relationship, keeping their own lovers, even sharing a few. Both had an understanding of each other that would always keep this marriage alive. Rhaenyra was hardly ever shy about her affairs once she wedded Daemon, but he knew this one was… complicated.

⋆˙⟡♡

The meetings were indeed long. Rhaenyra informed her council of Aegon’s death, but declared they should continue as per their plans, until she had a chance to properly interrogate Alicent. In the meantime, there was still much to do. By the time she cleared a batch of discussions, it was after midday, and Rhaenyra decided to look in on Alicent.

She found her in the same position she had left her the night before, peering wearily. She still seemed pale, but looked much more lucid. “Did I wake you? How are you feeling?” Alicent shook her head, moving her arms to start sitting up, but gasped when sharp stings shot through her side. Without thinking, Rhaenyra rushed forward to hold her shoulder, and another hand tenderly cupped the back of her neck.

But neither of them were prepared for the closeness, and Alicent startled first at the sudden contact. Her eyes shot up, catching Rhaenyra’s with a strange, but unmistakable glance of terror. So much like a maiden fearing for her virtue , Rhaenyra thought. It had always been this way with Alicent. Her hidden passions so terrified her. Abruptly then, she turned away, awkward.

Sensing her discomfort, Rhaenyra quickly guided her to sit up before pulling a chair to the side of the bed. She remembered that Alicent was not, at this moment, poppy-addled as she was the night before. They were still, she supposed, on opposing sides of a war. Meant to hate each other, not link arms, or kiss . Reluctantly, she turned serious and decided to cut to the chase.

“Last night, you said Aegon had died. I offer my condolences.”

Alicent remained silent. Her eyes downcast, and her hands tearing at the skin on her cuticles.

“Will you tell me what has happened, and why you are here now?”

“It is as I said. Aegon has died of his own volition,” her voice broke, “I suppose he could no longer hold on. He was broken… beyond recognition” Rhaenyra fiddled with her skirts, stopping herself from leaning to take Alicent’s hand. She could not afford to be run away with her feelings, not in such a dire moment. And not when she could hardly be sure of whether or not to trust Alicent.

“I was taken ill,” the Queen Mother continued, “when I next came upon the small council, they had already begun new plans. To crown Aemond and gather the Riverlands, and the Triarchy. They plan to keep the news of the King’s death away from Dragonstone as long as they can because for this moment, the Throne is empty, and ripe for the taking.”

A silence fell between them. It seemed all too easy. Skepticism prickled at Rhaenyra. Her growing uncertainty was not helped by a gnawing wariness at Alicent’s aloofness. When Alicent glanced up again, Rhaenyra spoke first, “And why have you come here?”

Her question was a straight lance, but Alicent found her tongue tied. Instead, she reported her proposal. “If you come now to King’s Landing, my father’s men will put up a fight. But they are few, and weary from restlessness and famine. With the council subdued, I will see to it that our guards throw down their arms, we will open the gates, we will shed no blood. You will enter as a conqueror.” She stated this as fast, as plainly as she could, unable to make eye contact.

A bitter, incredulous laugh sprung from Rhaenyra’s mouth. It was prideful, unbelieving. When they were children, this same laugh would make Alicent feel small. It embarrassed her now, that she would still feel hurt. But she had expected nothing. Or in the mess of it all, she had not thought of what to expect. After all, what right did she have to Rhaenyra’s kind affections? She was just a stupid girl, a failed mother. A tired, sickened woman.

“Once you take the throne… this senseless war must end. The crown will pursue war and victory at any cost. But as for me, I would leave it all behind.”

Rhaenyra could not believe her ears. Worse than that, she could not believe the dull indifference in Alicent’s voice. It irked her for all the worry she had felt since finding Alicent curled up under Dreamfyre’s paw. It irked her for the adamant way Alicent had insisted upon crowning Aegon months ago. She preached all that virtue, held it above Rhaenyra’s head. Now she discarded it all, simple as that.

“Blood has been shed, cities burned, armies march, and you wish to wash your hands of what you yourself set in motion. How am I to trust what you say now?”

The brunette flinched, she replied in a smaller voice. “I did only what I thought your father wanted… I only wish to live. To be free of all this endless plotting and striving. You may take me for a liar. I have neither weapon nor armour. My life itself is forfeit. I… cast myself on the mercy of a friend who once loved me.”

Who once loved. Rhaenyra bit back hot tears that threatened to well in her eyes. Bringing up their past angered her further, but there was convincing truth in the brunette’s words. What could Alicent gain from being here? It occurred to Rhaenyra fully for the first time that outside of the Red Keep, Alicent had nowhere to go. Even Oldtown seemed a distant memory now, no longer a home.

“History will paint you a villain. A cold queen grasping for power, and then defeated.”

“Let them think what they must. I am at last myself, with no ambition greater than to walk where I please and to breathe the open air. To die unremarked and unnoticed. And be free.”

These cathartic words surprised them both. Alicent had never spoken them aloud, only held them within as they swirled and grew over years and decades. Before this moment, she had never fully realised that this might be exactly what she wanted. To leave, to find happiness at the ends of the world. But the thought of it stung in a different way. Across from her, Rhaenyra fought the onslaught of emotions. If Alicent’s words were true then, it meant they would both finally get what they always wanted. Rhaenyra would sit the Iron Throne, and Alicent would banish herself, leaving forever. They would never see each other again. Why does that make me sad?

Their eyes met again, in a precise moment of complete vulnerability. “You are much changed,” Rhaenyra remarked sadly. How had they come to this? How did calling each other my love , become your grace ?

“You said I loved you,” the Targaryen whispered, “But did you ever love me?”

Alicent forced herself to hold eye contact. Tears welled up in her eyes now. Her lip quivered, but she could not speak. Yes, she thought, I would love you with all of my heart. I still can. But there they sat, in an unending silence. Rhaenyra was fully crying now, trying and failing to blink away the dredged up memories, bittersweet tuggings that turned her head foggy. How she loved this woman. And how she hated her too.

It was Alicent who reached out, wincing against her wounds to wipe a tear away from Rhaenyra’s cheek, and she could not help but lean into the touch. Just a moment, she thought. But it was too much. Rhaneyra jerked away from Alicent suddenly, roughly pushed the chair away and left.

The door slammed, and the residual silence in the room haunted Alicent. Trembling, she leaned back to the headboard and let herself cry. Alone, at last. Alone, always. If only I could disappear.

She turned her head to look out the window, and felt relieved to see Dreamfyre soaring about the clouds at play. To the end, she had at least done her own duty. Rhaenyra would ascend the throne to rule with Daemon, the fighting would cease. All would come to an end. And the world would no longer require Alicent Hightower.

With this thought, everything fell empty. The prospect of running away and starting a new life had initially brought her excitement and hope. But what was really the point? Who could say that it would bring her any happiness at all? What would she even do out there? She had never known anything other than the games and scheming of politicians and men. Her dream of a beautiful future suddenly seemed like a silly fantasy now. It felt like her life went in perpetual circles, forever bringing her back to a dull boredom and pain. Nothing will ever be different, you stupid girl .

She realised that her hand had curled into a tight fist around the blankets. Feeling their softness, she wondered how Aegon felt in his final moments. Those last few minutes that she had just missed, before he climbed atop the bed and dropped his neck into the sheet.

Slowly, then surely, she began to gather the fabric together. She would tie it on the bedpost above.

♡to be continued♡

Chapter Text

“Please have just a little,” Daemon nagged again, reaching over to nudge a piece of meat on Rhaenyra’s plate. She acquiesced, picking it up to nibble with distaste. When she set it back down, he moved a lemon cake to her, and she mechanically repeated the same actions.

She had sulked for most of their afternoon meetings, red-eyed and curt. As was usual between them, Daemon would say nothing of it, until she was ready. But when dinner was near over, Daemon decided to stop avoiding things.

Full with fatigue, a stocky evening meal and nursing a shared glass of wine, they huddled by the fire, lying in each other’s arms. Absent-mindedly, she kneaded her fingers into Daemon’s neck and shoulders. A much needed relief for him, after bending over maps and scrolls all day. She had always liked to play with her lovers’ hair, to gaze upon, touch and explore their bodies slowly. It was the hazy thrill of discovering all that was available to love. All that could be committed to physical, visceral memory. And she knew Daemon enjoyed the attention.

Alicent, not so much. Or so she thought.

“Perhaps you might apologise for leaving in such a huff,” her husband offered, after hearing her account of the conversation.

“Oh, but why should I? She is as much in the wrong as I am.” But it was a blatant deflection. Rhaenyra knew she would have to break the silence first. After all, she had chosen to quarrel with a bedridden , ill woman.

“Either way,” she remarked to change the topic, “She has definitely gifted us valuable information. It puts us at a great advantage over Otto and Aemond.”

“My good lady wife, always charging headlong into the battle room but fleeing like a mouse from matters of the heart. Mysaria and I suffer ever so much sometimes,” he teased, voice hoarse with a tired, flirtatious air. What insolence. On a better day she would slap him, and then she would kiss him passionately, and then... But they were both utterly spent, and they knew it. “The hour grows late, Rhaenyra. You had better go speak to your lady friend. Now that we have set our plans forth, you might be occupied for a time.”

She rolled her eyes. How charming her lord husband could be when things went well.

Following Alicent’s news, Rhaenyra and Daemon decided to seize the opportunity to march on the Red Keep. To make a convincing show of power and lay siege to the throne, ideally without prolonged violence. The Dragonriders, Queensguard, blacksmiths, Velaryon fleet were to spend the next day making last preparations. In two days, the fate of Westeros would shift drastically. If all went well, the conflict would come to a quick conclusion. Excitement and morale rang high in the Dragonstone castle now, the energy of it palpable and addictive, save in Alicent’s chamber.

A deep, exasperated sigh escaped Rhaenyra’s lips. “You are never jealous, are you, my husband?” She reluctantly moved from his arms to get up. Just then, a panicked knocking sounded on their door. “Yes?” The Maester’s attendant burst in. “My Queen you must come now! It’s her grace, Lady Alicent!”

⋆˙⟡♡

It had taken a whole dreadful evening, but the work was finally done. Alicent could smell the thin, mind-reeling scent of her own blood, oozing from where her stitches had popped open. When did that happen? Perhaps when she struggled, for the fourth time, to hurl her hastily made noose over the bedpost.

As if suicide wasn't already hard enough. She was panting as she leaned on the bed frame, lightly amused from the anguish of it all. In the middle of things, she had fallen sideways, sobbing in pain and complete disbelief at her pathetic state. Had Aegon himself performed this comedic scene too? The thought of mirroring his actions was surreal. It calmed her. It felt real. In the few days since her own son had left this world, where all seemed to shun or relish the fact, it felt true.

More than that, the irony of her isolation, as she orchestrated her own death, felt unexpectedly validating. She had lain on the bed for a time, mangled and curled up, letting herself feel the sharp pain of her opened wound. The sickening wetness of leaking blood staining her shift. Then when it got to be too much, she reached for Maester Gerardys’ calming draught and downed the entire glass. She hoped the sedative would render her moment of death a little less terrifying.

Stepping upon the bed frame, gripping the cloth before her neck, she readied herself for the final act. The last hurrah, before an ugly struggle to the death. Thoughts invaded her mind, but only one persistent enough to stay. Would Rhaenyra find me?

Blood rushed to her head. Tears came, convulsing sobs too fast to counter. The previous night had been a dreamlike mess, but she could recall Rhaenyra’s comforting voice, her soothing hands on her face. How loved she felt. She had not known such softness for a long time, and how she missed it. It was a longing bursting from deep within the well of her soul, a familiar ache she could not even remember creeping in. All of a sudden she was filled with that longing again, and she felt as a child, with dying so painful, faraway and terrible. If only she would hold me again, I could be brave. I could be safe. But the reality of this thought drove only an oppressive shame.

“Your grace!” a trembling voice shouted, shaking Alicent back to reality. Her frightful eyes, glazed with tears floated down to see Maester Gerardys standing by the door. He looked horrified, poor man, seemingly about to fall upon his knees to beg. “Please come down, your grace,” he said, intentionally wanting to come across calmer. The sound of fading footsteps told Alicent that he had enlisted for more help.

It was all going wrong, of course. And quite suddenly, she could no longer think. But she would not move from here. No, she could not. Her trembling hands gripped the fabric noose a tighter, if only to hide the trembling of her knees. “Do not call me that,” she muttered quickly, in between pained breaths.

“Alright. Your wounds have opened, milady. It must be hurting,” he pleaded, “let me help you with it.” She flinched as he took a step, with a look so torn that he immediately stopped. “Please don’t,” she choked out, “Please, leave me.”

“I cannot do that, milady. I am sorry.”

She cried quietly with despair and mortification, sensing her vision wane and undulate. She could not quite tell if it was her fever, the intense situation, a certain weakness in her gut or the sedative she had so impulsively swallowed, but she knew she would not be staying upright for much longer.

Approaching footsteps sounded, gripping Alicent with a newfound anxiety. Then Rhaenyra filed into Alicent’s field of vision, wide-eyed and fear stricken. The sight of her standing atop the bed in a blood stained shift, in the act of taking her own life struck Rhaenyra like a bolt of lightning. She had never seen the woman so broken, and it broke her. Stepping forth gingerly, she called, desperate, “Alicent, please don’t do this.” Biting back her own tears, she reached her arms out as she drew closer.

To her relief, Alicent let her approach. The brunette watched her, motionless and petrified, still not releasing her white-knuckled grip on the noose. “Gerardys, keep a watch by the door,” she whispered. As he left, Rhaenyra reached the foot of the bed and climbed up. She moved until she was standing before Alicent, close enough to her muted, trembling gasps, to search her tear-filled eyes. Then as carefully as she could, she lifted her hands to cover and hold Alicent’s.

Her breath hitched with the touch. Alicent fought back a flinch as a tear rolled down her cheek, but gradually she let Rhaenyra move her trembling hands away from the noose. Losing the handhold left her unsteady and weak. Her vision suddenly dimmed to black, her knees gave away and she leaned heavily towards Rhaenyra. Sounds about her grew distorted, deep like the ocean, and she could only feel Rhaenyra’s resounding heartbeat, her arm safely gripping Alicent’s waist.

Alicent’s body was burning against Rhaenyra’s, her fever clearly at its worst before breaking. Trying her best not to cause more pain, Rhaenyra brought them to sit on the bed, cradling Alicent close to her chest, as if afraid she would melt into the sheets beneath them.

Through the fog, Alicent mumbled, “I’m sorry.”

“My darling, I’m sorry. Please do not ever leave me,” Rhaenyra sobbed into Alicent’s hair, “I could not take it.” She turned Alicent to look at her face, but the woman stared back with deathly sorrow.

“I’m only a coward who has let herself lose everyone she has ever loved. You mustn’t care for me. I am not worth it.”

At this, Rhaenyra bent down, leaving a long kiss on Alicent’s tear-stained cheek. “You never lost me, my love,” was all she could manage behind the choking sobs that wrecked her heart. What happened to her studious, adorable, cheerful Alicent? Her heart pained to know just how trapped she must have felt in King’s Landing. She gathered the woman in her arms, a fragile bundle of hurt and loss, and wanted nothing more than to protect and heal her.

But Alicent’s heart sang with those words. It gave her hope, renewed her strength a little to know that all along, she was loved. Even as they lived on opposite ends of this dreaded war, she had remained in Rhaenyra’s heart. Her shame and doubts could be momentarily cast aside, for long enough to fearfully utter, with eyes half opened, “I still love you, Rhaenyra. I think I always have.” The confession stopped them both in their tracks. Their eyes met, spelling uncertainty, yearning, desire. Alicent could hear Rhaenyra’s quickening breath. She pushed a free hand into the mattress, willing her weakened body to lean upwards. Without hesitation, Rhaenyra reciprocated, meeting her with a tender kiss. A kiss she had waited so many years to have, so dreamy it made her head swim. They fell into one another so perfectly, and for that moment, everything was beautiful and good.

⋆˙⟡♡

“I can eat on my own,” Alicent complained curtly to the spoonful of stew before her mouth.

Inwardly Rhaenyra laughed at the irony of her coaxing Alicent, just as Daemon had done only hours ago. “I’ve watched you brood and stir this muck around for long enough. Just a few more, then we can stop.” Rhaenyra pushed the spoon a little closer, until Alicent reluctantly took another bite. She watched as Rhaenyra quietly triumphed at her success, smiling and doting on her like a mother. How comfortable we are getting, and how fast. Too fast.

Rhaenyra had taken Gerardys’ tools and sent the Maester away for the night, patching Alicent up herself. She handled Alicent’s wounds with the utmost care, asking at every turn if all was fine, leaving sweet kisses and stroking her hair whenever the brunette whimpered in pain. It was as if nothing had ever changed, and they were just young, wilful girls who snuck into each other’s rooms. But they both also could not deny that it was different. They held each other with a newfound regard, a distance they both hungered to close. Alicent found herself studying Rhaenyra’s face again and again, wondering which lines were always there, and which were new.

A hint of anxiety bubbled up. Alicent was used to the feeling, a sickening guilt and dread that reminded her of being in trouble as a child. Why could she never shake this feeling around Rhaenyra?

“Is everything alright? Are you in pain?” She heard Rhaenyra ask quickly. In the back of her mind, she felt the itch to wring her hands together. To feel for the crevices between her nails and tear away at them until they stung.

“What are we,” Alicent asked uncomfortably, “to one another?”

“I love you, Alicent. And you love me. Does that not make us lovers?”

Lovers . She squeezed her eyes shut at the prospect. It scared her. But it also excited her. To walk through life with her own person, away from the prying oppressions of her father, the crown, the council. But-

“But what of Daemon?”

Rhaenyra blinked, confused. Alicent’s tense reaction had nearly sent her into a frenzied spiral there.

“Daemon and I… well. We have our own share of lovers. It is the way we are.” It was a sheepish explanation, not helped by Alicent’s deepening frown. “Does that make you… uncomfortable?”

To her surprise, Alicent cocked her head to one side, and seriously considered it. “You Targaryens sure have strange customs…” The airy remark brought a surprised laugh from Rhaenyra. Unable to bear herself, she reached and tucked a strand of auburn hair behind Alicent’s ear. How beautiful you always are , she thought, tracing her hand down Alicent’s jawline, to her chin.

Slowly, she leaned in, teasing by brushing her lips against Alicent’s. The brunette smiled and let her hands run across Rhaenyra’s hair, drawing her into a luscious kiss. Their mouths explored each other, breaking apart every so often for air, before coming back together.

But after a time, Alicent gently pulled back. She was getting much too giddy for her own good, and Rhaenyra knew it. They pressed their foreheads together, enjoying the moment. “You should get some rest,” Alicent said at last.

“We will.” The mischievous quip amused her. She shifted to lie down under the blankets, sighing as Rhaenyra scooted in next to her. They drifted off quickly into sleep, tangled up in each other’s arms.

⋆˙⟡♡

The wild grass felt coarse and prickly under her skin. Alicent took a breath and sat up. She was dreaming, and in her dream she was alone on the high mountains just outside Storm’s End, the Baratheon seat. The greyish air smelled of old smoke and ash, abandoned remnants of a fire long burnt out. Undoubtedly dragonfire.

She heard a twig snap and spun round to find herself face to face with a bleeding, raven-haired young boy: Lucerys Velaryon. With an expression devoid of sentiment, he gazed squarely into her face. The ruined landscape was still as night, but somehow, the boy seemed to fade more and more as she stared at him.

Then, from high above her suddenly came a thunderous roar. A violent gust of air pushed them into the ground. Both of their eyes darted up, all but missing the hint of Vhagar’s wings beating against the sky. The beast was circling, making its hunt. Through clouds of dust and dirt, Alicent caught sight of the boy again. He was nearly gone.

“Lucerys!” she cried out to him to no avail. His body melted into air itself, fragmenting into the atmosphere. Another gust of wind. The air grew hot.

“Forgive me, please.” The mountain rumbled from the sound of gurgling flames gathering in the dragon’s throat. Vhagar’s jaws snapped open- 

⋆˙⟡♡

The dragon roar shook Alicent awake. Except it was not Vhagar, but Dreamfyre. The brunette pulled aside the blanket and staggered to the window. Dreamfyre was indeed circling and roaring, seemingly aimlessly above the ocean. Her calls were mixed with trills of excitement, confusion.

It was nearly dawn. As the sky brightened, Alicent saw the dragon was darting about a single merchant boat, that was pitifully pivoting and swerving away from her antics. Something, someone of interest had to be on that ship for Dreamfyre to be reacting this way.

“It’s Helaena!” Alicent cried to herself. She spun around to alert Rhaenyra, but the sight of her fast asleep stopped Alicent in her tracks. Rhaenyra was curled up under the heap of blankets, her arms still outstretched to where Alicent was beside her. It was quite unlike her to sleep through such ruckus. Alicent’s heart grew heavy as she recalled the last few days of heightened activity. From their tumultuous reunification to the long council meetings, Rhaenyra must have been so exhausted. Tactfully, Alicent tiptoed to the hallways and alerted a guard, bidding him to inform Daemon instead. Then she returned to the bed and gazed at her sleeping lover for a moment.

My lover. Her heart soared. But in the back of her mind, she saw her dream again, felt the pang of all that had transpired. It had been a strange week, a strange month, a strange life. Alicent tried hard to shrug away the fact that she had just attempted to kill herself hours before, that she had confessed her deepest darkest desires of love too. She tucked Rhaenyra in, kissed her cheek lovingly, before dressing and stepping out to meet her daughter. Smoothing her locks down, she put on the mask of a woman at court.

But as she was escorted down to the docks, she saw Daemon already standing in wait and an uncertain awkwardness crept in. She recalled Rhaenyra’s words from last night: We have our own share of lovers. In theory, it worked. They had all known of Rhaenyra’s going ons with Ser Harwin Strong, Daemon’s trysts with the famed Lady Misery, even Alicent’s own boredom-induced ventures with Criston Cole. But they never treated it openly, did they? She twisted uncomfortably, unused to such complications of promiscuity. What would we say to each other? How awkward.

Daemon turned to her first, with a wide, mischievous grin. She curled her own lips upwards, a feeble attempt to smile back, and shuddered it away as she arrived beside him.

“How are your wounds, your grace?” Daemon asked plainly. It was sincere, without further meaning.

“My fever has broken and I am slightly better. I would prefer milady now, King Consort,” she remarked, making sure to address him as such, so he might understand that she supported Rhaenyra’s claim. He nodded a short assent and turned back to the sea. A move so easy and casual it stunned Alicent. As a child in court, she had only ever known him to be disagreeable and seething. Never relaxed, and at home, as he was now. It was a pleasant, but confounding surprise.

They stood in a silence that amused Daemon, but tormented Alicent. She broke it first. “Rhaenyra is- um,” her hand drifted pathetically to explain, “still asleep”.

“I know,” he quipped, beaming lightly.

Alicent swallowed, looking away. He definitely thinks we slept together last night. She thanked the Seven that the ship was finally being tied up, or she might’ve broken the silence again to say something even more embarrassing. But as Helaena emerged on the deck, these thoughts were abruptly cast aside.

“Mother!” the young woman called, beaming with relief. Alicent ignored the sharp pain in her side, crashing into a long hug. “Oh Helaena, my sweet girl. Are you harmed? How have you come here?”

“Maegor’s tunnels lead everywhere. Ser Lorent and I managed a second escape and he found me passage on this merchant ship,” she explained, straining to speak audibly over Dreamfyre’s playful roars, “The pretence was easier with my lone passage, and the seamen were fittingly compensated.” Behind her, the ship captain bowed respectfully to Alicent. She thanked them gratefully. She let Helaena fuss over her, assuring her daughter again and again that her wounds were healing fine, before sending her off to calm Dreamfyre. But as Helaena stepped away, she greeted Daemon and stepped away to discuss in low whispers. Alicent watched this exchange tersely.

When she rejoined Daemon, he was looking upon her with softer eyes. “We will have a morning meal, and final meetings will occur after. Helaena will join us. Would you like to be there as well?” She was certainly surprised, and nodded without hesitation.

♡to be continued♡