Chapter Text
Alicent’s Choice
Chapter 1
One week after the death of Queen Aemma.
“You might wear one of your mother's dresses.” Her father's softly spoken words slammed into her, like an unforeseen force, causing her to halt momentarily.
It was not until she stood at the end of the hall, leading to the king's rooms, that some of what her father is expecting of these dresses, of these encounters, of her, starts to settle in. To be alone, in his rooms, in this gods forsaken dress.
The sting from her fingers caught her off guard. Alicent had not even realized she was picking at them this time. Now what was she to do?
Continuing down that hall towards the king's guard, standing at attention, was simply not something the Maiden would approve of. How much prayer would it take to cleans such a sin from her soul? If she was right, her father meant her to wear a crown, but at what cost? Suddenly her mother's dress felt unbearable on her skin.
The king was not an ugly man. His Targaryen blood shining in him, even as grief and years of feasting weighed upon his body.
To be his wife would not be a terrible thing, this she knew, but he would never be the knight she dreamed of. Never be her love or love her in return. This was not set in stone, of course, but Alicent could not see a world in which the king looked at her, the way he had once looked at his dear lady wife.
Queen Aemma had always been good to her, and now her father expected her to go to Aemma’s husband.
Her best friend’s own father.
As if struck by lightning, Alicent spun on her heels and marched towards the princess' rooms, towards the heir's rooms, and towards Rhaenyra.
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The room was dark and almost silent, but for the muffled noises coming from the bed.
Rhaenyra was crying quietly into her pillow. This is how she found sleep most nights since her mother's cruel passing (murder). Curled around her bedding and trying not to be overheard in her grief.
Rhaenyra would simply remember her mother's face, hear her mother's favorite song, or smell her mother's favorite dish, and she would have to hold back her tears, but at night, they came regardless. Unbidden and unchecked. Silent but emotional heaves wracked her body this night.
Her mother, Queen Aemma, was alive and hail not two weeks past. Now Aemma and her babe were rendered to ash, and Rhaenyra, was crying.
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As Alicent raised her hand to knock on the door to Rhaenyra's apartments, she heard the faintest of sounds coming from within. Her eyes cut back to the guard at the door. 'He must not hear.' She thinks to herself.
Worried for her friend, Alicent momentarily forgets what has brought her here this night.
As she inches her way into the dark rooms the definite sound of Rhaenyra's crying breaks her heart. She has felt what it's like to cry over a lost mother. It will always hurt, this she knows.
As Alicent makes her way towards her good friend, Rhaenyra stiffens and sits up abruptly. It takes no time at all for the upset Rhaenyra to take in the silhouette of her closest companion.
“Alicent? What are you doing here at this hour?”
Alicent is taken aback, Rhaenyra's voice gives away nothing that would let you know how truly upset she was.
“Rhaenyra, I..” Rhaenyra's suspicion only grows as her friend steps closer, and a clearly upset Alicent is hovering in front of her. “Rhaenyra, I didn't know where else to turn,’ she breaths out quickly “but you mustn't get upset before we think of a plan.”
“A plan? A Plan for what? Why would I get mad? Alicent, what is going on?” Rhaenyra was soft but firm with her demand for answers. Deep purple eyes imploring.
Alicent knew she would have to word this so as to not paint her father in a bad light. She just had not thought how to say the words quite right. “My father, well he, my father has requested that I,.. go to the king. That I offer him comfort, in his grief.” She paused, scared, and unable to read her friends face in the darkness “I might not be so worried about being unchaperoned as I was when offing his grace king Jaehaerys comfort, if it not for my father's amendment, that I wear my mother's dresses.”
“What?!”
“Rhaenyra, please! We must think over our next moves clearly. I cannot disobey my father, no more than you can yours. What could I do? What could we do?”
Rhaenyra was silent as she eyed her best friend, her face, the dress. The consequences of the hand's decision to whore his daughter, to her father of all people, were disturbing.
“What do you believe your father's true motives are?” Rhaenyra, of course, knows why her beautiful friend would be wearing beautiful dresses, at her grieving father's bedside, but she wanted to see if Alicent saw what she did.
Alicent bit her lip and furiously tugged on a bit of stubborn nail skin that really wanted to remain part of her hand, but like with all the other bits, Alicent would win, and blood would be her reward this time.
Rhaenyra briefly wondered what it must feel like to rip at one’s self, but put the thought away quickly.
“I fear my father means to sell me to the highest bidder, so to speak.”
“Yes, I fear you are right.”
“Do we have a plan? I have not much time.”
“I will simply come with you. Let my father fall for this trap right in front of me. I shall see how he honors my mother's memory.”
“He is grieving too Rhaenyra, we mustn't assume he would fall for such an attempt.”
“We shall see. In any case, I believe the effect of your attire will be muted by mine own presence. In fact, I too wish to feel close to my mother on this night. I shall quickly fetch one of mother's more simple Arryn dresses and we shall, what, read to the king this night?”
“Yes. That was what we are doing for now, but what will we do once my father hears of your company? What if..”
“I am the heir.” Rhaenyra cut off Alicent’s worrying. “Let the hand try and tell me, I can not grieve with my father. He would have no leg to stand on. Come, lets go.”
As the girls tore through the Queen’s previously packed chests, finally pulling out the perfect blue Arryn dress, they talked quietly of what tactic was best to use.
Rheanyra’s usual rash bravado was wilting under Alicent’s reminder, that king’s reaction anytime other members of their house spoke out against the Hand, was to ignore it, and pass off whatever the problem was. While Alicent wanted to drop clues and let the king realize what Otto was up to on his own. Though Rhaenyra had little faith in her father coming to the right conclusion, they decided that without proof against the man, hints were their best option.
And honestly, it was hard for the both of them to not laugh over how absurd men showed themselves to be when confronted with unwelcome truths. The King’s reactions were not promising for them. Not in this case.
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As King Viserys Targaryen, first of his name, sat alone in his receiving rooms, attending to his model, he heard the faintest sounds of giggles coming from the hall outside his doors. He could not stomach smiles and laughter right now. Not with Aemma gone. Little Baelon too.
Only when his king's guard announced the presents of his daughter and the lady Alicent as the intruders on his melancholy did his inquisitive nature ignite. Rhaenyra hadn’t spoken in his presence since the funeral, and here she was now, giggling.?
He allowed them to enter, but before they could get too far in, the shock and heartache threatened to overwhelm him at the site of them. His Rhaenyra, the very image of her mother at that age. He had barely known the previous Lady Hightower, it was true, but he knew Aemma anywhere, as if she were a part of his very being. “And you killed her” his thoughts haunted him, and now his eyes. ‘Why would they be wearing their mothers’ dresses?’
Rhaenyra was the first to speak. Her tentative voice, a contrast to her very self. “Father?” She still was not sure of the look that clouded his face in those few seconds. “You look as though you’ve seen a ghost. Is this too much? Alicent was told to dawn her mother’s dress, and I felt the need to be close to mine. Even just in a small way. It has been so hard without her here.”
The honesty towards the end surprised even Rhaenyra herself, but it seemed to work as her father’s face relaxed into an expression that was more pleasant, but still quite beyond her understanding, before he gifted them with a small tight smile. “Of course, my dears. I only wish to know how I might be of assistance to two such lovely ladies? I am afraid I might not be the best of company right now.”
“Well Father, Alicent has been there for me throughout these awful days, and you should not be alone either. We have come with a few books and the hope that we might find some comfort in each other. The Lord Hand has approved Alicent to attend to you, a s she had Jaehaerys,. In fact, Alicent’s own dress was prompted to her, by the Hand.”
“My child, how thoughtful you are.” How could Viserys send them away, send her away? He could not. Not in her time of need. And she must still need him, just like she needed Aemma. She was the child, and he the parent. ‘But why would Otto wish for Alicent to dress so?’ “Come my sweet girl, Lady Alicent, let us see what tomes you have brought.”
As the girls spread out the few large books for the king’s inspection, they shared a quick glance.
This should be easy, but with a scheming Hand in the works, nothing was certain.
Her father chose a tome on the magisterium of the Valerian empire, and the girls cuddled up together, across from Viserys, and started to read.
Vizzy T soon found his troubled mind lost in the glory of what once was. The might of his homeland. The girls' sweet tones soothing the ache for just a little while.
Afterwards the girls retired for the night, but Rhaenyra ended up in her mother’s cleared out rooms. She spent the night curled within her mother’s dresses. She would have them moved to her rooms tomorrow.