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Alicent sat on a bench in the gardens, watching her children run and play with each other. The garden they were in was the royal, private garden, so they could act however they wished without having to worry about the court seeing.
She heard footsteps behind her, and she turned to see her husband walking towards her. He smiled at her and sat down next to her. Their children seemingly hadn’t noticed their father, still running and laughing and playing with each other. They sat in comfortable silence, both watching their children enjoy the beautiful day.
Alicent’s smile dimmed as she stared at her eldest daughter. Helaena was getting to the age where they would have to start seriously thinking about her marriage, and it terrified her. There was so much more to worry about with a Princess’s marriage, let alone a dragonrider’s marriage.
Daemon noticed her worried expression and leaned in to whisper, “What worries you?”
She sighed. “Helaena. Or, well, her future, I suppose.”
“What about it?”
“She is a dragonrider. She can only marry another Targaryen. And, well…the only option who is close to her in age is Aegon. And I know that isn’t a problem for Targaryens, but I don’t like it.”
He was silent. She knew he knew her thoughts and feelings about Targaryen incest, and how she would rather her children not partake in it. But she also knew that he didn’t have the same qualms about it as she did. How could he, when both his parents and grandparents were siblings?
“She and Aegon would love each other in some way,” he offered. “I don’t think she’d be miserable.”
“Probably not,” she agreed. “I’m sure she and Aegon could find something that works for them. I just…I just wish it didn’t have to be him she marries.”
“Alyssa and Alyrie can marry outside the family,” he said, gently nudging her. “You can be as picky as you like with their suitors.”
She smiled and shook her head. “You say that as though you won’t be.”
“Oh, I will,” he agreed, hugging her from the side. They sat in silence for a moment. “Our daughters will be happy, Alicent. I’ll do whatever I need to do to ensure it.”
She tucked herself further into his embrace. “I know you would,” she said softly. “But-“ She cut herself off before she finished the thought that had been plaguing her for…forever it seemed. Ever since Helaena had been placed in her arms, the feeling only growing after she had Alyssa, then Alyrie. She took a deep breath before finishing.
“Targaryen princesses do not often lead happy lives,” she said softly.
Queen Rhaena had lost her brother-husband at the hands of their uncle, who had then forced her to wed him, had faced betrayal from several of the people she should have been able to trust, had died alone in the burned remains of Harren the Black’s fortress at fifty. Princess Aerea, who had only been fourteen, had died such a horrific death that she was barely ever spoken of, and if she was, only ever in whispers. Princess Vaella had died in the cradle, never truly getting a chance to live. Princess Daenerys had died at only seven. Princess Daella had died in childbirth at eighteen, never getting to know her daughter. Princess Saera had been forced to watch as her father killed her lover. Princess Viserra had died at fifteen of a broken neck, trying to escape a marriage with a man much older than she. Princess Gael had died in childbirth at nineteen, never getting to hold her stillborn son.
Even those who had lived seemingly happy lives had had tragedies befall them. Queen Rhaenys had been shot down and died at thirty-five. Queen Visenya had lost both her sister and her brother-husband before she too died. Septa Rhaella had lost her father at less than one, never getting to remember him, had never gotten the chance to be raised by her mother, had lost her twin sister, had even lost her name if the rumors were to be believed. Queen Alysanne had lost all but three of her thirteen children by the time she died, two of them being lost to her in other ways. Princess Alyssa had died in childbirth at twenty-four, losing her son as well. Septa Maegelle had died of greyscale at thirty-four.
The same was true of the women who married into House Targaryen. Alyssa Velaryon had lost three children, two of them at the hands of her goodbrother, had had to scrape for allies to protect her remaining children, had died a horrific death in the childbed at forty-seven. Ceryse Hightower had faced humiliation and disrespect at the hands of her husband, was rumored to have been killed by him. Alys Harroway had been tortured and murdered at the command of the man who had once claimed to love her, all because she had given birth to a stillborn babe. Tyanna of the Tower may not have been innocent of wrongdoing, but she was still killed by her husband. Elinor Costayne’s husband had been killed, then she had been forced to marry the man who had ordered his death, barely having time to mourn him, her children held hostage and sent away to ensure her compliance, had given birth to a stillborn child that did not look like a child. Jeyne Westerling was forced to marry a man in the same ceremony as two other women, had died in childbirth giving birth to a stillborn dragon-child. Jocelyn Baratheon had been born from her mother’s dying body, had lost her husband suddenly, had seen her daughter be passed over for the crown everyone had thought she would inherit, had gone from the Princess of Dragonstone to the mother of the Lady of Driftmark. Aemma Arryn had been married at eleven, had had her first miscarriage at thirteen, had given birth to her only living child at fourteen, had suffered far too many miscarriages and stillbirths, had died a horrendous, grisly death while giving birth to a child who live for but a day, had died at only twenty eight because her husband desperately wanted a son.
Alicent worried as to what her daughters’ fates might be. Helaena had a dragon, yes, but a dragon had been of no use to her grandmother in the fight that would claim her life, the same fight that had killed so many other Targaryen women and girls. Alyssa and Alyrie had no dragons, which meant they could be used to further secure House Targaryen’s power, like Princess Daella and Princess Viserra.
It wasn’t just her daughters she worried over; she wondered what her niece’s fate would be, what her too-young goodsister’s and her little daughters’ and her mother’s fates would be.
What her own would be.
“No, they do not,” her husband said quietly, and she knew what he was thinking of: his mother, the aunts who had died when he was too young to truly remember them, the aunt that was more like a sister who had died too young, the cousin-goodsister who had also died too young.
They sat in silence again, but this time, the silence was worried and tense. Alicent would do anything to protect her children, especially her daughters, and she knew her husband would do the same.
But she didn’t know if it would be enough.