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Chapter Text

"First, I must find a new Hand."

"Pardon My Queen, you already have a Hand" a man’s voice was heard from somewhere in the council chambers. Rhaenyra did not look to see who spoke, her eyes fixated on Otto Hightower. The man who had conspired against her since she was four and ten, likely even before then. He who had worked persistently to replace her since she was promised her position. Executing his plans with no thought that it would tear the only friendship Rhaenyra had ever known to shreds.

"As a matter of fact I do not. Otto Hightower I hereby strip you of your title, your position, your wealth and your place in the Red Keep and in my council." Rhaenyra stepped forwards, unpinned the golden hand from Otto's coat. She turned the pin in her hand, felt the cool metal against her fingers as she met Otto’s disbelieving eyes with a hard look. “You are to leave Kings Landing, never to return.” The words fell out harshly, Raenyra’s lips curled in the smallest hint of a smile. Like she had been waiting years to finally utter them.

Crestfallen, Alicent watched from her seat. Is this what’s to become of her? Shunned. Thrown out like a commoner who found themselves too far in. She should have seen it coming, once she was Queen of course Rhaenyra would not want them in her castle.

“Alicent, my dear, gather the children, we are-“ Otto had turned towards Alicent. Addressing her with the indecent confidence only a man could assume. He was briskly shut down.

“Alicent Hightower is a Targaryen by marriage, mother of my brothers and sister, wife to my late father, the King. She, and her children will stay in the Red Keep where they belong. You, Otto, have by far outlived your usefulness. Conspiring against me, plotting to overthrow me, and usurp the throne for your own blood. You are a fool not to realize secrets do not stay secret for long within these thin walls of the castle. You do not belong anymore, Otto. In my opinion, you never have.” It could have gone unsaid, but The Queen had never been too shy to speak her mind.

"Where am I to go, My Queen?" A hint of pitiful desperation seeped into Otto’s voice.

"It is no concern of mine where you go, but I advise you to find solace somewhere far enough so we do not meet again, as this mercy will only be shown once."

“This is mercy, Queen?”

“If only you were not the grandsire to my siblings I would have you burned, so yes, Otto this is mercy. Take it while you can.” The thinly veiled threat was not lost on Otto, who tried his hardest to keep the air of dignity about him. The attempt failed. Miserably at that. Momentarily Rhaenyra wondered if she had pushed him too far, perhaps even hoped. One impulsive move from Otto would grant her the pleasure of burning him like she had promised. Otto granted her no such pleasure. Careful not to meet anyone’s gaze, he strode quickly out of the chambers. Leaving his daughter without a goodbye. Leaving his grandchildren. His position. His everything.

Alicent watched him leave, unsure of what to do with herself. Inside her was a raging storm. She wanted to scream, cry, sob with relief, run after him or throw something at him. She was filled with everything, all at once. Bursting at the seams. A long buried habit broke the surface, as blood broke around her cuticles.

Completely lost in herself she didn’t notice Rhaenyra take note of her. Nor Rhaenyra walking over, perching herself on the seat closest to her. It wasn’t until she felt a warm, gently placed palm over her own bloodied hands, the fog lifted. A sense of calm, reminiscent of her girlhood days flowed into her. Shoulders sinking, spine relaxing, a breath she didn’t know she had held, released. For years Rhaenyra’s presence would only cause tension, but Alicent’s body never forgot the serenity she once induced.

“We will convene on the morrow, you may leave.” Rhaenyra addressed the room, efficiently bringing an end to the meeting, dismissing her councilmembers. Lord Caswell gave her an approving nod, before leaving the chamber with the rest of the men.

"My Queen” Alicent began when the room had been cleared, apprehensive. All the things she wanted to express jumbled together in her mind like necklaces no one could ever hope to untangle again.

“Alicent, I wish for no more animosity between us. I won’t order you to stay, if you wish to leave The Red Keep, you may do so. It would be cruel to order you to stay away from your own father, so I will do no such thing, but it is my wish that you stay here. Away from him. If not forever, at least a while, to be free of his influence.” Rhaenyra’s vibrant blue eyes bore into Alicent’s with an intensity it was hard to shy away from. Alicent had been on the cusp of madness, ever since Viserys had drawn his last, pained breath. Her world had fallen apart in a matter of days. Viserys last words, declaring his steadfast intentions of leaving Rhaenyra as heir. Otto’s rage when he realized his plan had fallen apart; several councilmembers heard The King’s last wish, Rhaenyra did not fly for Dragonstone as planned. Rhaenyra quickly crowned, Alicent growing more and more anxious. Their roles now reversed, Alicent had been sure there would be retribution for the jabs and insults, for what her father had planned. Even if Alicent herself had no part of it, how was Rhaenyra to know that?

Alicent muttered a mere “thank you”, fearing saying more would throw her into a fit of sobs. Rhaenyra, ever bold and full of fire, had not planned to toss her to the streets. Alicent felt a deep urge of suspicious thinking, for all she knew it could be a ploy. Keeping her close to rebuild trust, only to deal some twisted punishment in the end. Over the years her father had profoundly wrecked her mind, twisting her thoughts and the words of others. Turning caution to paranoia. But Otto was gone now, and only the Gods knew to where he was headed.

“Go and rest, Alicent. Enjoy your freedom. Walk the grounds, eat cake, spend time with your children. Sleep. You look tired.” Rhaenyra gently squeezed her hand, and stood from her seat. Alicent waited until Rhaenyra left the room, before allowing tears to run down her exhausted face.

Three days had gone since the meeting. No one but her maids had yet to see the Lady Alicent, held up in her chambers, refusing to get out of her bed, or to accept any meal. The first day Rhaenyra had received this information from Alicent’s maid with a gentle smile. On day two a small furrow was to be seen on Rhaenyra’s brow.

“Has she not eaten?”

“She refuses, My Queen”

On day three, Rhaenyra went to see her herself.

Alicent burrowed herself deeper into her covers when a gentle knock sounded at her door. As a child might, believing the covers to keep them safe from any beasts lurking in the shadows. But Alicent was no child, and the monsters had already taken her head to home, covers or none. Obstructing light and air, the covers kept her from seeing who entered her chambers.

“Alicent?” Rhaenyra’s voice carried through her room, and Alicent wanted to bury herself so deep she would not be found again. Rhaenyra was the last person she wanted to see her this way. Wretched and broken, but she supposed Rhaenyra hadn’t seen her any other way for a long time, it just hadn’t been as obvious.

Alicent felt the mattress shift slightly as Rhaenyra sat down on her bed. “Alicent” Rhaenyra spoke once more, “I brought you some food, you need to eat, and you need to get out of bed”

A muffled “why?” was heard under the covers. Rhaenyra couldn’t help but smile slightly, with Alicent acting much like Joffrey when he did not wish to rise in the morning. “Because we are not bears, Alicent, we are not meant to hibernate.” Rhaenyra simply said, an easy quip that usually helped with Joffrey.

Alicent pulled down the covers to fix Rhaenyra with a deadpan expression. “I am not hibernating.”

Three days in bed and Alicent still looked stunning. Even as her auburn hair lay flat, and her skin had paled, Rhaenyra found few could compete with her beauty. Sadly there would be no more Alicent to admire if the dowager Queen starved to death in her bed.

“Well, you have certainly put in an admirable effort to do so. Your children are asking for you.” Rhaenyra said gently, all mirth gone from her eyes. Brown eyes looked away. “Are you unwell?”

“No.” Alicent answered, although she did not feel far from it. “My head is full, I needed time to make sense of it.” She was still looking away, refusing to meet Rhaenyra’s questioning eyes.

“And have you yet to make sense of it?”

“No”

“Well, I am sure a few more days in bed will help” Alicent met Rhaenyra’s eyes once more, again filled with mirth. “I’ve always found a mind mulled with sleep and a starved belly to entice my best thinking.”

"You jest.” It was almost a question. Alicent felt bewildered. It had been years since she had been privy to this Rhaenyra. Her Rhaenyra. Jesting like when they were children, but Alicent had laughed then, and now laughter seemed so far from her.

“Yes” Rhaenyra found Alicent’s hands with her own and held them carefully, like Alicent might break at any moment. “I jest Alicent. I meant it when I said I want for no more animosity between us. No more ill feelings, just as Father wished. I did not let you remain here just to watch you wilt away in your bed. Now, may I be of any help in making sense of your mind?”

“Why did you?”

“Why did I what, Alicent?”

“Why did you let me remain? If not to see me wilt. If not to punish, or harm.” Alicent had tried so hard to make sense of it all, to no avail. Now, the only person who had any answers sat on her bed, careful and gentle. If Rhaenyra wished her harm, surely she would have acted upon in by now. It would have been all too easy; Alicent had spent the last three days in her chambers, weakening as the hours passed.

Rhaenyra drew a long steadying breath, weighted her words carefully. “We were once friends. You were my only and dearest companion, and I had nothing but love for you. Then I lost you, and I wound up alone, and angry, and I began to hate you. But I have come to understand there was someone else making your decisions. I cannot go on blaming you, Alicent, and I have grown tired of hating you. When hatred requires this much effort, it cannot be true.” There was only truth in Rhaenyra’s intense gaze, willing Alicent to believe her. Believe she wished her no harm, that she harbored no more forced hatred. “I wish to leave it in past, let it lie there and for us to forget it.”

Tears welled in Alicent’s eyes. Then they began to fall freely. “You speak the truth?” Alicent managed as a sob wrecked her body. Rhaenya’s heart broke at Alicent’s reaction, had she really thought her so cruel? Had Otto managed to twist her so, or had she behaved such a way? Rhaenyra hurried closer to Alicent, to envelop her in her arms and hold her close. “Of course I do, Alicent”. Leaning her chin atop of Alicent’s auburn hair, Rhaenyra held her closer still, swaying her gently.

The calm way Rhaenyra shushed her, bordering maternal, let Alicent give way to the child she once was. The child who lost her own mother entirely too soon, the child who craved so dearly to be held again.

After a while, Alicent’s sobs subsided. As Rhaenyra’s grip on her loosened slightly, Alicent had to refuse a strange need to nestle closer, demand her childhood friend hold her tighter. “I pray you take no offence, but I asked the maids to prepare you a bath, I suspect they will be here soon.” Rhaenyra said, chin still propped atop Alicent’s head.

“I suppose a bath would not hurt.”

Rhaenyra lifted her head, playfully sniffed the air. “I suppose you are right”

Chapter Text

With Otto gone, Alicent came back to life. Laughter rang more frequently, and each time Rhaenyra remembered how dearly she had missed it. Carefully they mended the severed bond. Breaking fast together, walking the grounds, gossiping, even discussing politics. Rhaenyra found Alicent to have a sharp mind for politics, unsurprisingly, as she had all but ruled the Seven Kingdoms for quite some time. It was surprisingly easy, falling back into the way it had been once. Arms linked together as they paced around, laughing over some silly gossip. Hearts fluttering in sync over the unspoken things that still lingered between them.

Alicent seemed somewhat grounded, and her children thrived around her. So clearly yearning for this figure they did not have as babes. Over the plates of their finished meal, drained and refilled glasses of wine in hand, Rhaenyra surprised her with a question. “Did you ever grow to like it? Motherhood, I mean.”

It gave Alicent pause, not expecting the query. No one had ever asked, no one would dare word any suspicion that The Queen did not find it wonderful, raising the children. The way Alicent had held her babes, passing them willingly into any hands that offered, not doting on them as she should have, made it clear, to be sure, but no one ever said it. Perhaps the wine gave her courage to answer, perhaps it was the way Rhaenyra looked at her, curious, never judging. “I found little joy in it, in the beginning. I love my children dearly, but it was a heavy burden, one I think I was too young to understand then. It hurt with how much I loved them, it scared me more than anything else. Aegon got the worst of it, I suppose it got easier as the years passed. I have not granted them the love they deserve, and it hurts them as much as it does me.” 

Rhaenyra studied her as she spoke, leaning back in her chair, clutching her cup. Letting her eyes wander over Alicent’s face, seeking clarity. Seeing the irony in it. Alicent, who would talk of husbands, duty and children, had not found the joy in it Rhaenyra had. Rhaenyra, who never wanted it, who had avoided it for as long as she could, then had found all else obsolete as she looked upon Jacaerys’s red and wrinkled face for the first time, and every time since then. 

“The love you have for them is clear to see, Alicent. You were far too young, no one can blame you for that, yet you still loved them. In the end, that is all we can truly do. So, love them now, as you wished you had then, I think you’ll see it is not too late.”

Alicent’s eyes lingered on the way Rhaenyra’s fingers traced patterns into her cup, drunken mind finding it strangely comforting. “You think so?” She whispered, leaving the insecurities she harbored bare for Rhaenyra to see. 

“I believe all things can be mended.” 

 
Alicent convinced her to try needlework, an activity Rhaenyra had never bother to give her time to. She found it as boring as she expected, longing for the sky, spending most of her time idly sitting, watching Alicent’s hands work the fabrics. In return, after some convincing and promises that it would be simply wonderful, Alicent let Rhaenyra drag her along for her evening swims. 

It was an activity Rhaenyra had become rather fond off, now that her duties meant less hours on the back of Syrax, feeling the rushing wind on her skin. Submerging into cold water proved to be it’s own kind of rush, dulling the edges of whatever stress she felt. Forcing her to stay in the moment.

Alicent’s breath hitched as Rhaenyra undid the laces of her dress, a smirk playing on her lips as she slid Alicent’s dress off her shoulders, then taking her hand and jumping, plunging the both of them into cold water. Alicent shrieked as she surfaced, breathing harshly. She looked around, only to find Rhaenyra already floating, eyes closed. Water had seeped through her shifts, leaving little to the imagination, and breath did not come easier. 

“Is it not delightful, Alicent?” Rhaenyra spoke to the clouds, with the air of calm only someone who had welcomed this cold times and times again could. 

“If I am to speak plainly, My Queen, it is not. It.. is.. too.. fucking.. cold..” Alicent answered, trying desperately to control her own breathing, but it was impossible. Rhaenyra held back a chuckle trying to escape the back of her throat, but she heard how ragged Alicent’s breathing came in, how her teeth clattered. “Come here, then” Rhaenyra found a familiar stone with her feet, bracing herself on it, knees bent, making for a far more comfortable seat than the Throne could ever be, and reached out for Alicent to swim into her arms. 

Alicent felt weightless as she was guided gently into Rhaenyra’s strong arms, and she clung to her, seeking her heat. Of course Rhaenyra would be warm, almost scorching in contrast to Alicent’s icy skin. If Rhaenyra thought her too cold, she spoke nothing of it. Only hummed as Alicent thighs gripped her hips, arms locking behind her neck, burrowing her head into Rhaenyra’s clavicle. 

“Better?” Rhaenyra mumbled against Alicent’s temple. Inside her something soared with joy of having Alicent in her arms again. Holding her close, giving her comfort and warmth, like she had once wished to do for eternity.

“Much, my Queen” she nodded, burrowing herself deeper. “How are you so warm?” Alicent posed the question like a complaint, as if it was some personal insult that Rhaenyra had been granted the gift of warmth, and Alicent had not. 

“Blood of the dragon, we tend to run a bit hot.” Alicent only chuckled her response. Her children were of the same blood, she knew very well of the fire in them. “May I ask a favor of you, Alicent?”

Alicent looked up then, met Rhaenyas’s eyes. She was impossibly close, their noses almost touching. Even Rhaenyra’s breathing had become unsteady, and as Alicent shifted to look at her, she found something akin to a warning in her blue eyes. “Yes, anything.”

And she meant it. She would give anything to stay in the limbo of freezing, yet a blazing heat within. Tethered firmly in Rhaenyra’s grip, yet so free. Both held close and floating, knowing she was safe, and still something like terror beating in her heart. Goosebumps raised from it all.

“When we are alone, you will call me Rhaenyra. No more Queen and curtsying, just Rhaenyra.” 

“If you wish it so, Rhaenyra.” The familiar blue in Rhaenyra’s eyes had all but disappeared into darkness, pupils dilated far out of their bounds. Contact broken briefly as Rhaenyra dipped her eyes downwards. Alicent knew the warmth spreading in her was not just Rhaenyra’s, but it was all owed to her. Perhaps Targaryen madness could spread from close proximity, nevertheless Alicent knew it was also her own, as she decided to take another plunge. Not into cold water, something far madder. “May I ask a favor of you?”

“Anything.” Rhaenyra’s breathing came in shallow, lungs compressed. 

“Kiss me”

By the grace of the Gods, Rhaenyra did not push her away, telling her it was madness, instead eager lips met her own. Soon Alicent’s hands tangled into Rhaenyra’s hair, keeping her close, and Rhaenyra kissed her as if Alicent was some essence of life she was starved for. Strong hands slid up Alicent’s thighs, thumbs drawing gentle circles into her flesh, and her hips buckled on their own accord. “Fuck”, something primal awoke in Rhaenyra, finally having Alicent willing, warm and pliant in her arms, allowing her to lay wet kisses down her throat. Alicent kept her hands in Rhaenyra’s hair, trying to pull her ever closer, as if there was any room left between them.

Fitted together so perfectly, one would believe they were made for each other, and Alicent wondered briefly why she had denied her self for so long. For the sake of the Gods? Surely the Gods would grant her this, when it felt so perfect it might be inhuman. But it was nothing but human, the way she let her hips grind torturously slow against Rhaenyra’s stomach. Even more human how Rhaenyra held her and guided her movements, to give her more purchase, as she chased her high.
 
An unfamiliar tightness grew, and Alicent knew what it must be. Yet the descriptions from a few pieces of literature she had eagerly devoured grew tame, no words could do the feeling justice.

“Rhaenyra, I.. I’m.” Trying, and failing to word the intensity, her words stuttered and her body shuddered. 

Rhaenyra only pulled back, grasped her chin, searched for her eyes. “Look at me. Alicent, open your eyes and look at me, I want to see you.” Alicent’s eyes snapped open at the demand, meeting Rhaenyra’s darkened ones and a whimper escaped her lips. “There you go, sȳz riña.” Rhaenyra whispered, pulled her in for another kiss Alicent could barely participate in. “Let go, let me see you let go.” And Alicent did, holding Rhaenyra’s gaze firmly as her whole body stood alight. 

Her bones felt loosened. As if they had slid apart, and come together again somehow. A lightness tickled at the inside of her skin. Perhaps this was it. Perhaps the Gods had created her for this, not the pain and bleeding and birthing and anger. Perhaps there was more.

Untangling her hands from Rhaenyra’s hair Alicent noted how hard she had been holding on, surely there would be bruises on the scalp come morning. Dragging her fingers gently on the tender skin, trying to soothe the hurt. “Sorry.” Rhaenyra leaned in, forehead to forehead, bathing in the bliss. “Never be, small price to pay for your delight, my Lady.” Even now, even after.. that, Rhaenyra made the effort to coax laughter from her, and damned be her, it always worked. Fingers toyed into Alicent’s hair, brushing it back from her face, and Alicent melted into the touch, melted into Rhaenyra, and wished she could stay there forever. 

When Alicent burst through the doors of her son's chambers, Aemond’s restless pacing quickly came to a halt, frozen in fear at the door opening. “Aemond, what-“

“Mother, it was an accident! I swear on my life, I did not mean to harm Lucerys! You must believe me, I beg you! It all went wrong, I did not think Vhagar would-“

“Aemond!” Alicent cut through her sons insistent explanations. “Sit down and draw breath.” Aemond, clearly shaken to the core sat at once, without his usual air of defiance and the everlasting challenge in his eye. Alicent softened at the sight of her disheveled son. Rigid, face pale with panic, sweat beading at his brow. 

Choosing to stand in place, Alicent looked down upon her son, drew a deep breath. “Explain, please.” 

“We went riding, Lucerys wanted to race, thought it be a fine idea to finally see if Arrax could outfly Vhagar.” Aemond started, but Alicent took note, and put up a hand to stop him from going on. “What do you mean by finally?” 

“Luke thinks Arrax should be able to, as he is younger and lither. I have been telling him for ages it is foolish, that Arrax is smaller than one of Vhagar’s wings, it would be stupid to try.” Aemond clarified. 

“Rightfully so, Vhagar is a war dragon, Aemond, not some plaything as you seem to think” Alicent admonished. Aemond looked at his mother then, he bristled at the accusation. “I do not fancy them playthings, Mother.” A familiar defiance had crept back in his voice. 

Her children’s fondness for the dragons had always worried Alicent. They had discussed the subject dry, until one day Aegon, far into his cups had suggested if she was so worried she ought not to had birthed Targaryens then. Alicent shouting “Are you really so foolish to think I ever had a choice, Aegon?” had ended the conversation, and it had not been talked of since. But now, again it was up for debate, and Aemond remembered the burning feeling  of not being wished to life. How even Aegon had paled and left the room swiftly. 

“I do not care, Aemond, nor does it matter. Do you realize what you have done? You have hurt one of the Queen’s sons, do you think she will forgive this? Forgive me for letting you near them? He once took your eye, she could think this an act of revenge!” Alicent tried get her point across. Yes, Rhaenyra had let them stay, mercifully let them keep the Red Keep as their home, but mercy could be withdrawn. How far could they wish to bend her forgiving soul?

“It was years ago, Mother, I have forgiven him, even if you have not” It had been no easy feat, finding the forgiveness needed to unite them once again, acting like brothers once more. Lucerys giving a proper and well thought apology had helped plenty, and within the short month they had spent together the children seemed well bonded, and much happier for it. 

“I-“

Too immersed in their talk, they missed the sound of determined footsteps approaching Aemond’s chambers. It wasn’t until Rhaenyra said Aemond’s name with a steely calm, they saw she had entered through the open doors. Even now, almost green with how pale she was, dress, face and hair spattered with blood, Alicent found her a thing of beauty. A striking, scary thing of beauty.

“My Queen.” Alicent said slowly, moving even more so to be between them, a standing defense.

“There is no need to shield him Alicent, I only wish to question your son, as I have just come back from all but scraping mine off the streets.” Rhaenyra’s voice was that of valyrian steel, hard and sharp. There was hurt in her eyes, no doubt from seeing her own son the way she had. Alicent remembered it well, how deep it could sting, seeing her child in pain. How it had driven her mad, the need for justice, how she had drawn a knife to… gods.

Standing her place, Alicent refused to back down. If they were to be cast out, Alicent would prefer to have all her children in once piece at least. Rhaenyra took a step closer, Alicent still not moving, fearful Rhaenyra would tear him apart. 

“Alicent, please, I only want to know the truth of what happened.” Rhaenyra pleaded with her, even when she could have demanded or called for her knights, and there was mercy in it. Alicent looked her over once more then, Rhaenyra’s entire body tense, pleading eyes wild with worry. A mother concerned for her son, just as Alicent. Different swords, forged of the same steel.  She stepped aside. 

After some questioning Rhaenyra seemed satisfied with Aemond’s answers. That it was an instance of childlike folly, and eagerness. It was fun and thrill running through them both, not malice and revenge. 

“I know as well as you the fire that runs in our veins, Aemond, flying is thrill few get to cherish. But we do have to keep our restraints, we cannot fool ourselves into thinking we control the dragons. They are bonded to us yes, but they are beasts, with their own wills.” Rhaenyra looked upon Aemond as her father had once looked upon her, relying the blessing and the curse that uniquely belonged to their blood. “I wish my- our father had taken the time to share this with you, as he once did with me. It would spare us the pain we are in. I believed Lucerys already knew, it is my shame the both of you  had to learn this way.”

Aemond’s head snapped up. “Learn? You mean he is alive?”

Rhaenyra’s brow furrowed as it dawned on her that Aemond didn’t know how Lucerys had fared. “Yes, barely, how I cannot fathom. Maester Gerardys deemed him incredibly fortunate, gashes and broken bones heal.” The relief on Aemond’s face shone bright, remnants of the sweet boy he once had been. “He will live, Aemond, but even so I must impress upon you the folly of what you did. I do not want you to ever forget it, if you so desire to roughhouse you may do so, on solid ground. Chasing each other on dragon back, a dragon of war at that, is no way to treat a brother.”

“Broth- oh… You mean, are the two of you-“ Aemond looked between them, his mother and her childhood companion. “You are of the same blood, Aemond” Alicent said as she pinched the bridge of her nose, exasperated with her son who always spoke his mind, even when out of turn. There was no way he knew, for as long as he had lived they had hated each other. Even if he had seen them growing closer, it was a strange assumption to make. 

“Oh.. Right.” He sounded almost disappointed, and Alicent fixed him with a hard stare. 

Some color hinted in Rhaenyra’s cheeks, be it from emotional turmoil or Aemond’s words, perhaps a bit of both. “I need to get back to my son.” She did not grant them more of a good bye, nor sparing a look in Alicent’s way, turning on her heels, stalking off. 

“Why did you ever ask that, Aemond?” Alicent hissed at her son, shame burning somewhere deep in her. It was a thing no one were to know of, much less her children, and they had been careful. Stolen glances. A hand that might have lingered for too long. 

“I may only have one eye, Mother, but I am not blind.” 

Oh.

Chapter Text

Icy, wet wind whipped at her face. Syrax roared, weary, they had been flying for hours. Finding the screaming mess inside her too loud after visiting Lucerys again, seeing there was nothing she could do but watch as the Maesters fussed over him. Syrax already in a state of unrest, having sensed Rhaenyra’s trouble. Both of them agitated as they took to the sky, against the keepers advice to stay on ground. The rain already soaked Rhaenyra to her shifts within the first ten minutes. 

Syrax roared again as an unshakable image ran in her mind. Lucerys crushed against the pavement, people circling closer to get a look. A look upon the mangled princeling on the ground. How the commoners scattered when Rhaenyra rushed to her boy. “Muña.” Whispered weakly as she gathered him into her arms. How Alicent broke her heart all over when she thought Rhaenyra would hurt Aemond. All that time spent together, never a harsh word. They had grown close again, yet Alicent still held distrust. 

She closed her eyes tight, took a deep breath and screamed her frustration into the wild night.
 
Syrax’s flames did little to warm her, as they flew through them. Cold had seeped into her spine in a way it had never done before. Every drop against her skin felt like a knife, piercing and sharp. The pain in her fingers excruciating, she wished them to be numb again. But numbness had passed on, into something painful taking her whole body. Her throat felt raw and bleeding, like she had swallowed a blade. She barely had the strength to hold on when Syrax made a sudden turn, having made the decision to return her rider to earth. 

It felt like they crashed to the ground, and Rhaenyra wanted to smack Syrax for not being more gentle. The smack never came, as keeping her eyes open proved too much of an effort, and she all but slid off Syrax into a heap on the ground. 

Wind howled outside her window, and rain poured onto the pane. A wretched night, a perfect ending for such a wretched day. The Hour of the Owl drifted into The Hour of The Wolf as Maester Gerardys knocked on Alicent’s door. “Your Grace, please excuse my late visit, I hope I do not disturb you.” 

“It is of no concern, Maester, sleep could not find me this evening. To what do I owe the pleasure?” Worry crept into Alicent. Rarely did a visit from a Maester bring with it good tidings. 

“The Queen has fallen ill with a fever.” Alicent almost fell out of her skin. A creeping, horrible feeling gripped her. Maester Gerardys raised his hands slightly to calm the panic working over her features.  “No need to worry, my Lady, it is only a fever. She is asking for you, well you and the Prince Lucerys, but seeing as I cannot bring him to her, you seemed a better fit.” Alicent took no time to consider. “Take me to her.”

The smell of dragon and wet leather hung heavy in the air when Alicent entered the Queen’s chambers. Two maids were busy with removing Rhaenyra’s riding boots from her feet. Pity flooded into Alicent as she took her in, Rhaenyra’s face covered in mist, her hair loose and damp curls clung to her face. She didn’t seem present, only making constricted noises, her flushed face clenched in discomfort, trying to worm her way from the maids’ hands. 

“Leave, all of you.” Alicent found her most regal voice easily, commanding and strict. “Your Grace, I ought to-“ Maester Gerardys started, but Alicent shut him down. “I know my way around illness, Maester, I can surely handle a fever.” He nodded, caught the attention of the two maids, and tipped his head towards the door. Before they shut the doors behind them, Alicent threw them a “Thank you” as not to forget her manners.

Finally left alone, Rhaenyra sank into her mattress. Her face still twisted in the same discomfort, breathing rapid and shallow. Alicent walked to her, gently laid her palm on the burning forehead. Gods. Rhaenyra had always carried heat in her, Targaryen blood warming her skin constantly, but this was something else entirely. Alicent was almost sure if she was to crack an egg on her, it would cook. 

Ever methodical, Alicent wrung a cloth with cold water, gently placed it on Rhaenyra’s forehead, then went ahead to unlace her boots. It had been ages since she helped Rhaenyra in her undressing, but her fingers remembered the intricate patterns and found little trouble in undoing them. When they finally lay discarded on the floor, Rhaenyra shifted, and Alicent found her staring down at her. Her eyes glassy, wet with fever, but the look would have burned without it. 

“Why are you here?” Her voice was coarse, like it had run out at some point.

“Maester Gerardys told me you were ill with fever.” Alicent had stopped her ministrations, and she found great trouble in it. Knew it was urgent to get Rhaenyra’s sopping wet clothes off her, get her dry and bundled up in woolen covers. 

“And so I might be, but why are you here?” There was equal amounts of anger and petulance in her voice. Alicent was sure it would have stung more, if her weakened state hadn’t left her sounding like a child. Perhaps she was too proud to admit to ever needing help, but even Queens could fall ill, so Alicent smiled gently at her. “Maester Gerardys also told me you were asking for me, so I came.”

“I have not asked for you to be here.” Stubborn, ever so stubborn, Rhaenyra refused to give in, like admitting it would be a mark of something shameful, of weakness. 

“Well, I am. Rhaenyra, please, allow me to care for you. Perhaps you feel you do not need me, but I need… I just want to… You have been most generous and kind and I-“

“Yet you do not deem me kind enough, Alicent! You were under the impression I would hurt your son, I have not given you a reason for this suspicion, yet I saw the fear in your eyes, and I will not have you deny it!” Rhaenyra’s voice cut like a blade, so hoarse it sounded as if it would break at any word. And the pieces fell into place. The hurt and the anger, of course it would be so. The mess of it so apparent Alicent kicked herself for ever leaning into the distrust her father had planted. And it had taken root so deeply, it had become a part of her. But it needed to go, venture far and disappear, like her father had. It could never be allowed to hurt Rhaenyra again. 

The air felt thick, Rhaenyra’s words sticking to it. The intensity of them dripping down the walls, staining them with hurt. Wading through them was difficult, but kneeling beside the bed, and reaching her hands towards Rhaenyra proved easy, and Alicent made a vow to kneel for her as long as she lived. “I am truly sorry, Rhaenyra. You have not given me reason to distrust you, and yet I did. I have much to apologize for.” Alicent reached out, gently let her fingers trace at Rhaenyra’s arm, where she knew there to be a scar underneath the soaked, cold fabric. “I never meant it as a slight to you, I… I have been foolish enough to believe my father, for many years. There is much to undo, and that is not your burden to bear. I know you will not put my children to the blade-“

“He told you I would put your children to the blade?” Rhaenyra’s brows knitted together in confusion. The thought of murdering innocent children, a grotesque idea that had never been in her mind. Of course Alicent would be scared .

“He did”

Rhaenyra scoffed then. “And they say Targaryens are mad.” Fucking Otto Hightower and his scheming. 

Moments passed in silence, their eyes locked onto each other, before Alicent reached out the hand not grasping at Rhaenyra’s arm to feel her forehead. And it was hard to stay angry, when the action gave Rhaenyra a generous view down the front of Alicent’s nightgown. “Do not let your gaze linger for too long Rhaenyra, you are already overheated.” Alicent noted in jest. The answering smirk gave Alicent hope, that this too they could work through. 

Changed from her wet riding clothes to a light nightgown, dry and bundled in woolen covers, nestled in Alicent’s arms, back to her, resting her head on Alicent’s shoulder, Rhaenyra seemed content. Finally. The fever had lessened somewhat, with Alicent taking great care to frequently wring a new, cold cloth to put upon her forehead, and lifting the covers from her, when the heat grew too much. Alicent was never to move, even if it meant Rhaenyra was still enveloped in her warmth, that much was made clear once Alicent made the attempt, only to be held back with a groan. “Your Queen commands you not to move.” 

“Look at you, a bout of fever and you would abuse your power so.” Alicent replied teasingly.

“Some even call me Maegor with tits.” Rhaenyra mumbled, exhaustion beginning to seep in at the comfort of no longer burning up. And laying there, warm and tired as she was, Alicent forgot herself. 

“And what tits they are.”

Rhaenyra perked up at that, nearly preening. “What?”

Alicent felt her face flush as it dawned on her that the words had not lingered inside her head like they usually did, but in a moment of weakness, she had spoken them aloud. “Nothing.”

“You said something of my tits?”

“No.”

“There is no need to be shy.”

“I am not shy.”

“Then what of my tits?”

“Forget it.”

“Never.” Rhaenyra grinned, leaning herself further back into Alicent. “What of my tits, Alicent?”

Rhaenyra’s prodding did nothing to help ease the warmth burning in Alicent, tinting her face a nice shade of pink. Rhaenyra alone managed to have that impact, reverting her back to the flustered teenager she once had been, stealing glances at her best friend, hoping it would go unnoticed. Sighing, Alicent conceded. “They are…nice.”

“Nice?” Rhaenyra sounded bordering offended. “Just nice?” 

“Fine, Rhaenyra, they are lovely. Full and shapely, with a magnificent bounce when the neckline allows it, you child.” 

“Disturbing, how you find the tits of a child so alluring.” Rhaenyra smirked again, turning her head to look upon Alicent’s flushed face. Ever so comely, she was, and the pink high on her cheeks did nothing to deter it. 

“Now, I never said alluring.” Alicent said, turning her head to meet Rhaenyra’s gaze, leaning in so their foreheads met. “Do you not find them to be alluring then?” Rhaenyra teased at her again, so close her words blew warm air on Alicent’s already heated face. 

“I find all of you alluring, Rhaenyra. There is no part of you I don’t.” Alicent whispered, leaning in further to catch Rhaenyra’s lips. She was surprised to feel Rhaenyra lean back.

“You will catch my fever.”

“And, unlike you, I will manage just fine.” Alicent replied, then leaned forward once more, kissed the mock offence from Rhaenyra’s face.

Chapter Text

“How do you say thank you?”

“Kirimvose.”

“Kirimvose.” Alicent repeated, the word feeling rough and foreign on her tongue. “And I am happy, how would you say that?” 

“Kirine iksan.” Rhaenyra smiled lazily, splayed on her bed, drawing random patterns on Alicent’s naked back.

“Kirine, that’s beautiful, I like that one.” Alicent stretched in Rhaenyra’s embrace, nuzzling into her neck, threading her fingers into blonde hair. It drew a contented sigh from Rhaenyra, who flipped them with practiced ease.

“It’s a rather good one.” Rhaenyra agreed. Cradling Alicent’s face in her hands, taking in every detail. Happy. No matter the language, the word would ring true, bursting at every room of her heart, in every nook of her veins. 

Where it came from, this sudden interest to learn High Valyrian, Rhaenyra didn’t know, but she was more than happy to indulge. Especially since it seemed to ignite something in Alicent, and their sessions rarely ended somewhere else than in bed. Sometimes on a nearby dresser. Bodies tangled in heated rush. Never close enough, it seemed Alicent wanted to crawl into the very core of her heart, make her home there and stay. And Rhaenyra was more than happy to indulge her in that as well.

“Ñuha gevie riña.” Spoken like worship, the devotion clear in Rhaenyra’s voice as she held Alicent’s face in her hands, tracing at her cheeks with her thumbs. So easy to get lost in, and yet- “What does it mean?” Alicent couldn’t help herself. Wanted, no needed, to know what it meant. If the things Rhaenyra said ever meant what she desperately hoped it to mean. 

“My beautiful girl.” Clearly done with teaching the ancient language, Rhaenyra leaned down and captured Alicent’s lips in a slow, deep kiss. Alicent already squirmed underneath her, so painfully ready for yet another round. 

“Girl?” Alicent breathed as Rhaenyra moved her mouth down, suckling on the sweet crest between her neck and shoulder. “Ñuha gevie ābra, then. Now, no more of that.” Rhaenyra kissed her once more, moving her right hand down to palm gently at Alicent’s breast. “More of this.” 

“Such a way with words.” Spoken in a breathless jest, for Rhaenyra rolled her hips into her. From there it turned hazy. Rhaenyra beginning her travels downwards, only to dragged back. “No, I want you here, I want to look at you.” A craving addict, she had become. Rhaenyra had woken something she long ago thought dead, like stoking cold ash just to find it suddenly ablaze. 

And Rhaenyra always gave her what she desired. Hand gently cupping her, finding her wet and willing, fingers sliding like she was of silk. Not inside, never inside. Maybe some day Alicent would find joy in it, but Rhaenyra was content with having her any way she could. Knew it would take time. So she used her time here, instead, drawing precise and delicate circles.

Her jaw slacked, unfocused eyes finding Rhaenyra’s. The way her breath hitched let Rhaenyra know she was close, so she stopped, and found great delight in the groan that escaped Alicent. 

“Rhaen-“ The rest of her name drowned in a kiss. Alicent felt her own wetness smeared on her thigh, as Rhaenyra palmed at it, holding her still, stopping her from grinding upwards and chasing her own pleasure. And the game begun. 

Alicent lost track of how many times Rhaenyra brought her to the edge, only to withdraw. Unrelenting even when Alicent, reduced to a desperate, wanting creature, begged her. Oh, how Rhaenyra loved her like this, flushed and wild and inhibited. Begging for a release she had long ago found shameful. Then, finally, when Alicent almost sobbed, Rhaenyra leaned down. “Avy jorrāelan.” 

And Alicent fell. 

Scratching at Rhaenyra’s back, holding her impossibly close. Shaking in her arms. And before she could ever come down from her high, Rhaenyra, unrelenting still, led her to combust yet again. Her body taunt like the arch of a bow, strangled noises that slightly resembled Rhaenyra’s name coming her mouth like prayer. Coming down, with Rhaenyra sucking a mark into the skin of her throat, her fingers still on her, slowly guiding her back to reality. 

She could hardly breathe, yet the query gnawed at her mind. “What did you say?” It is not the first time she’s heard those words. Spoken softly in her ear at her peak. Mumbled as she was falling asleep. 

Rhaenyra only lowered herself, laying atop her, the weight and warmth of her body comforting. Pressing a gentle kiss on her temple, brushing away a few curls from her face. “Not yet.” 

In short time Rhaenyra learnt much about Alicent. Taking great pride in remembering every little detail. How she would lay out her jewelry for the next day, carefully arranging them in the order she would put them on come morning. How closely she wanted to hold Helaena, yet setting aside her own needs in an act of love. Putting her daughter’s comfort before her own. How her brown eyes lit up beautifully around her children. 

How her hair looked in the morning light and in the dimness of evening. How it looked after a bath, how it looked nearby a fire. How it felt tickling against her face at night. How the skin by her eyes, before smooth and untouched, now bore marks of laughter and smiles. And oh how Rhaenyra loved those lines, a testament to their time together. A testament to jesting and teasing and bliss. 

How her touches grew from a tentative and careful nature, to more daring, possessive, and so absolutely perfect. How her breath would hitch. 

How Alicent could make her heart bleed with a single look, and her day, no matter how sullen and foul, would light up with a single smile. How she liked her tea with a spoon of honey in the morning. How she fiercely tended to all things and people she cared for. How she gave, and gave, and gave. So much so Rhaenyra was certain she would surely be spent soon, yet her love seemed never ending. Sourced from a heart so big and full and selfless. 

And it was that heart, that care, she had fallen for so long ago. And, fuck, had she fallen hard. The love staining every part of her soul. Severing her to bits and pieces, only to be weaved together with fine gold thread. The wreckage as beautiful as it was frightening. 

She looked regal. Sitting on her throne like she was born to it. The faint light of a dying day peeking through the windows, bathing her in ethereal glow. Polished parts of her crown catching meager gleams from a few candles, reflecting little streams of light forming a halo around her head. 

Alicent made her way towards her, slowly. Measured. Toying with her impatience. “My Queen.” Dipping in curtsy. 

“My Lady.” Rhaenyra replied. Their voices echoed in the empty Throne Room. No one to witness their little game. “I am honored you answered my calling.” 

“Of course, Your Grace, I will always answer when you call.” Alicent said, still bent in a mock curtsy, looking at the object of her desire through heavy lashes.

“Yes, you will.” A whisper. And how a whisper could ever sound as commanding as it did, Alicent did not know. “Come here.” 

Alicent never knew there could be so much thrill to it. Obeying. Like she had done her whole life, and yet. This was different, indulging in the commands, knowing there to be a reward. Someone commanding her, with her best interest at heart. Someone who cared. 

So Alicent obeyed, like she always did. Because she wanted to, now. Knew she could withdraw, deny it, and Rhaenyra would grant her. She would never force her, therefore Alicent yearned for it. The power Rhaenyra willingly gave to her. 

Getting on her knees, kneeling in front of her, Alicent gently traced at Rhaenyra’s covered calf.

“Let me show you, My Queen, the depths of my devotion.” Laying her head on Rhaenyra’s knee, Alicent glanced at her face, looking for approval. 

The look she found, one of earth shattering lust, hinted at nothing but approval. Yet, she needed to hear it. Hear how much Rhaenyra needed her. How the person she loved, and had loved for an eternity, needed her. Loved her back. 

In a move of desperation, Rhaenyra tried to pull her skirts up, trying to bare herself to Alicent. 

“No.” Alicent said firmly, holding on to her dress, keeping her covered. Keeping her from feeling Alicent’s soft skin on her own. “I want you to say it.” 

“I need you. I need your mouth.” Rhaenyra begged her. The Queen debasing herself so, begging for her, and still it did not sate Alicent.

“No, not that.” Alicent said, still firmly holding on to the dress Rhaenyra was pulling at. 

“Alicent.” Rhaenyra keened. Clutching at the sharp edges of the Throne, clenching her thighs together, impatient. Patience was a virtue, a virtue Rhaenyra had never been particularly gifted with. Taking what she wanted, whenever she wanted. Alicent was the only one, the only one to make her wait. Alicent being the only one Rhaenyra was willing wait for. “I want you.”

Alicent sighed. Defeated in her desire to hear the words she needed. Closed her eyes, breathing in the scent of Rhaenyra. Deep and sweet. So distinctly Rhaenyra it drove her mad. Pushed her skirts up, planting open mouthed kisses on her calves, before Rhaenyra took her by the back of the neck, drawing her up. 

“Come here.” She spoke it so gently, Alicent melted. Melted down into her lap, breathless. “What it is that you wish from me, Alicent? Speak it.” 

“What I wish for is of no importance.”

“But it is, to me it is.” Rhaenyra searched her face, trying to decipher what Alicent meant. Their game suddenly dissolved into something so dire. Alicent’s hands at her shoulders, bracing herself.

So afraid of betraying herself, Alicent leaned down, burrowed into the crook of Rhaenyra’s neck. Her safety. The place she felt most at home, firmly enclosed in the warmth of Rhaenyra’s arms. Enveloped in trust and lust, in the passions of a moment shared together. But Alicent yearned for more, yearned for the love she needed. It seemed unfair, Alicent loving and craving every bit and piece of Rhaenyra. 

“Alicent. Tell me, please.” Afraid, afraid the amount of love she held would scare her away. She needed Alicent to say it first. The admission giving leeway to her own confession, one that Alicent could understand. One spoken clear as day, not hidden beneath her own language that Alicent did not fully comprehend yet. Not spoken in a haze of want, but spoken true in a moment of clarity.

Yet, if none of them would be the first to say it, it would never be said. “Avy jorrāelan” Throwing caution to the winds and weather, Rhaenyra spoke it, still hiding, wrapping those precious words in another language. Adding a layer of protection. 

“What does it mean?” Alicent whispered into her skin. 

“You know what it means, Alicent.” Willing her to just trust it, just let it go and let it be. To let Rhaenyra wrap herself in armor to keep her from possible rejection.

“Say it, I need you to say it.” Tears threatened to spill from her eyes. Foolish. Turning their rendezvous into something so needlessly emotional. Just a silly girl still, craving love and adoration. The desperation in her voice tore though Rhaenyra’s heart like an arrow, giving her clarity as to who truly needed to hear it first. 

“I love you. I love you so much it hurts at times.” Rhaenyra finally admitted. And the way Alicent leaned back, found her eyes, drowned in unshed tears and emotions, made her question why she had held off so long. Stupid, stupid pride holding her back from admitting all those years ago, when she first admitted to herself. 

Suddenly Alicent clashed into her, threading her hands in her hair, keeping her firmly from moving. Like she suffered the impression Rhaenyra would ever want to be away from her, even for a moment. Willing to sacrifice breathing and all else to stay close.

Moving to straddle her like she had their first time, proved difficult, her dress allowing no such maneuver. Quickly she gathered her skirts, bunching them up so she could sink down in her lap. Feeling eager hands at her bared thighs, moving up towards the heat that always burned for her. A eager tongue slipped past her lips, as fingers slipped through her, setting a demanding pace. 

It was rough, and quick. Alicent grinding down into her hand, canting her hips so perfectly. Rhaenyra moving with her, other hand at her hip, marking her skin with the crescent of her nails digging so wonderfully, possessively into her. Release came so sudden, so hotly, Alicent nearly shouted. Instead she broke their kiss, Rhaenyra chasing after her swollen lips. Dug her fingers further into Rhaenyra’s hair, almost knocking the crown off her head, holding her back.
“I love you."

“You know, with their coloring, one could almost mistake them as ours.” Rhaenyra whispered into her ear, having sat by her side mere seconds ago. Sliding on to the bench to disturb her as gently as  possible. Alicent had been close to slumber, basking in sunlight, sounds of birds and the children talking and laughing lulling her into a dreamy state. 

“Mhm.” Alicent hummed, slowly opened her eyes to look at the children spread about in the gardens. Helaena and Joffrey sitting together quietly in the grass, studying a spider or some butterfly, most like. It was hard to tell who was entertaining who. Aemond and Jace studying High Valyrian, sounding out the words, punching each other in the shoulder, barking with laughter when they got something wrong. Aegon and Lucerys playing Cyvasse at a table, occasionally taking break when Lucerys needed to stretch his mending legs, Aegon at his shoulder helping him hop along. Silver blondes and curly browns. Their children. “Would that be such a mistake to assume?” 

Rhaenyra drew a deep breath, letting her words and their meaning, wash over her. Taking in the view and the feeling it formed in her. Complete. Utterly complete. She smiled, a slow, wide, happy thing. Found Alicent hand by her side, intertwined their fingers. “No, it would not.” Sitting side by side, watching their children, their family, in a quiet sort of reverie. 

It was Jace who broke it, shouting for Rhaenyra’s aid, the structure of a sentence confusing the two boys, unable to make much sense of it. Taking them by surprise, it was Alicent who answered first, with near perfect pronunciation. With raised eyebrows Rhaenyra nodded in reply to Jace’s questioning look. 

“Whe-“ Jace started, before receiving a blow in the shoulder. “See, I told you.” Aemond quickly diverted his attention back to the book spread out before them, throwing a knowing glance in their direction. 

Alicent turned, expecting the same pride she felt swelling in her chest to be mirrored in Rhaenyra’s eyes. What she found in the flushed cheeks and parted lips did speak of some pride, yet it spoke overwhelmingly of desire. “What?” Alicent asked, innocently, feigning ignorance towards the effect it clearly had on her.

“Nothing.” Rhaenyra replied quickly, voice strained. “You were always studious. A quick learner, with a sharp mind.” Alicent held back a chuckle. She decided to push some more.

“Yeah? I think I could make use of more lessons. My pronunciation is not perfect, I do find some words quite difficult to work my mouth around, like they stick to my tongue somehow. Perhaps you could be of help with that?” A knowing smile grew on her face as she rubbed small circles into Rhaenyra’s palm. The wording had it’s intended effect. A sharp intake of breath. Rhaenyra briefly glancing down at her lips, then she stood abruptly, dragging Alicent up with her. 

“Yes, I can help you with that.” Then lowering her voice, to that harsh whisper Alicent knew all too well – “Let’s put that pretty mouth of yours to use, my love.”

Watching their mothers hastily scurry away, Aemond leaned closer to Jace. “See, I told you.” Grinning broadly as Jace grumbled and reluctantly passed him a gold coin. 

In The Red Keep, time flew past in a blur. The castle seemed to bathe in a peaceful bliss. The skies crowded with dragons. Only during dinner, the children would land their beasts, as they all knew their mothers would be most displeased with a no show. Gathered in a great hall, fit to accommodate the now rather large family. They beamed at their children, how they would squabble, laugh and dance.  How Aemond would support Lucerys, still unsteady on his feet after the fall, so he too could join the silly dancing. How Helaena lit up around Joffrey, who eagerly listened when she talked of the intricate patterns on butterflies, and how to tell them apart from another. Brothers and sister. A family. 

Such a strange lot. And oh, how perfect it was.