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Viserys Targaryen, First of His Name, passed from illness. He complained off an upset stomach one day, and was dead three days later. Grand Maester Mellos, on investigating, declared it the result of a burst belly.
Rhaenyra had been named heir to throne only three months earlier. With no brothers, by both Viserys’ decree and Andal law, she was the rightful ruler of the Seven Kingdoms. The only other possible claimant lurked across the Blackwater and failed to emerge from Dragonstone when the ravens were sent out with news of Viserys’ death or of Rhaenyra’s coronation.
Rhaenys Targaryen, the Queen Who Never Was, crowned Rhaenyra the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms in the Great Hall of the Red Keep. She sat the Iron Throne with her father’s crown perched on her head, looking at her new subjects. Her eyes caught on a face in the second row.
After a moment, she said, “Rise.”
Otto stood, Alicent rising beside him. The Old King’s crown rested with Rhaenyra, the Conqueror’s sword hung at her hip. Daemon had yet to stir to pursue his claim. For now, the succession was assured.
He excused himself at the feast. House Hightower had attended the coronation and were seated close to the high table, but the Small Council had opted to dine with Rhaenyra to show unity with the young Queen. Otto had had too few chances to speak with his brother of late, though, and none at all since Viserys’ passing. There was only so much one could communicate through ravens.
“It has been too long, Otto,” said Hobert as Otto took a seat beside him. “How are you? How is young Alicent?”
“We are grieving the king, of course,” said Otto. Alicent had been visiting with the king for months. Whenever Viserys had mentioned her, it had been with fondness. Otto had not yet convinced Viserys to remarry, but the seeds had been planted. It was frustrating to lose all that progress for a young girl who may not even last the year on the throne.
“Viserys was a great loss for the realm,” said Hobert, head bowed. He raised his head, looking up at the high table and the empty seat. “Will the Small Council see more losses soon?”
Otto pursed his lips, then said, “I have advised her that it would be best for the realm to see continuity in these hard times.”
“And what of Rhaenyra’s prospects?” asked Hobert. “The realm needs an heir for continuity, and the Queen is unmarried. She may be four and ten, but a betrothal -”
“She will be able to make her own betrothal now,” said Otto. He had pushed against a regency to keep the throne out of Daemon’s hands, and he had known that would leave Rhaenyra – a wild, wilful girl at the best of times – entirely to her own devices when it came to marriage. It was a high cost, to leave something as important as a royal match to the whims of a young girl, but it was one Otto would pay again.
So long as they could prevent her from marrying Daemon and the throne falling into his grasp anyway, at least.
“You must know her well,” said Hobert. “Your children have grown up alongside her. Is there any chance that one of them may yet catch her eye?”
Otto sighed. When they were small, Gwayne and Alicent had gotten into some kind of spat – the sort of small, simple thing that children got over easily enough. Alicent had forgiven her brother quickly enough, but Rhaenyra was not one to take slights to her new favourite lightly, and the two had never seen eye to eye since. “No.”
Hobert grimaced, but there was a resignation to it. “You may yet still get a good match for Alicent, with her closeness to the Queen.”
Otto’s eyes drifted back to the high table, where Rhaenyra reached across the table to talk to the one person not a member of the Small Council or House Targaryen who had been permitted to join the Queen for the feast. Alicent laughed at whatever Rhaenyra had said, and Rhaenyra gave her a bright, shining smile, leaning closer.
“Alright,” said Otto, through gritted teeth. “New plan.”
-
Otto had planned on winning the Seven Kingdoms over to the idea of a ruling Queen by appealing to Andal law. Sons before daughters, daughters before uncles – the law was well-accepted across all of the Seven Kingdoms, even in the frozen North. It also provided a good bulwark against any potential coup from Daemon, but Daemon had yet to surface from Dragonstone, and Otto had yet to receive any reports of any forces amassing under Daemon’s banner.
Instead, Otto went all in for the Doctrine of Exceptionalism.
Targaryens, he argued, were closer to gods than men. Had Visenya and Rhaenys not often held court on behalf of Aegon the Conquerer? Had they not ridden into battle alongside Aegon? Rhaenyra was the youngest dragonrider in Targaryen history and was taking to her duties as Queen with all the grace and competence he would expect of an heir to Jaehaerys the Wise. Westeros had its traditions and laws of inheritance, but the Iron Throne belonged to House Targaryen, and their traditions rested in Old Valyria.
“I didn’t realise that you were so dedicated to the preservation of Valyria, Lord Hand,” snorted Corlys.
“I am dedicated to our Queen,” said Otto, evenly. “As Hand, it is my duty to ensure her reign is as smooth as possible. The transition will be rougher for her than most monarchs.”
“It is interesting that you chose the Doctrine of Exceptionalism as precedent for her ascension,” noted Corlys. “It was not the defence I expected you to take. After all, when it comes to the laws of the land, Exceptionalism has traditionally applied to matters of marriage.”
Otto kept his face neutral. “Has it?”
“It has,” said Corlys.
Otto looked at Corlys. Corlys looked at Otto.
“Andal law has long had the precedent of daughters inheriting over uncles, but it still is often ignored,” said Otto at last. “Exceptionalism allows for Rhaenyra and any heirs after her to stand alone as Valyrian queens. The lords of Westeros are more likely to accept her if they see her as an exception, not a law of the land.”
Corlys sat back in his chair. “I hope your strategy works out, Lord Hand.”
A week later, Otto received a raven from Hobert. Lord Corlys has offered the High Septon thousands of gold dragons to construct a sept in King’s Landing. Why has House Velaryon taken such an interest in the Faith?
Otto stood and went to the window, looking out over the Red Keep to where he knew the Godswood was. Alicent would be there at this moment, snatching a few moments with Rhaenyra before Rhaenyra went back to her duties.
Matters of marriage. Otto wasn’t the only one looking to increase his odds.
-
In truth, the particulars of Otto’s days had changed little since Rhaenyra had ascended the throne. By the time he rose in the morning, Alicent had already left the Tower, accompanying Rhaenyra to the Dragonpit for her morning ride. Otto would spend his mornings working his way through the correspondence he amassed as Hand, and in the afternoons went to either a Small Council meeting or to assist Rhaenyra sitting the throne. Otto saw his daughter only in the evenings, or in snatches through the day as she shadowed Rhaenyra through the halls.
It wasn’t so different from when Viserys had lived. There was a new face in the Small Council, young and still learning her work. The work was harder now, with many lords testing anew the limits of the Iron Throne’s authority, looking for any hint of weakness in the new Queen. But it was hardly the first time Otto had seen a new monarch, and while it was certainly the boldest the lords had ever been, pushing boundaries when a new monarch came to the throne was a tradition that preceded even the Conquest. It meant little, so long as Rhaenyra could face them – and since the only alternative was Daemon, Otto meant to ensure that she could.
Six moons after the coronation, the Red Keep welcomed House Velaryon back within its walls once more. Rhaenyra hosted a feast for the arrival of her cousins, the largest since she was crowned. Corlys and Rhaenys sat at one end of the high table, Otto at the other. Between them, Rhaenyra was seated with Laena and Laenor on her left and Alicent on her right.
As the second course was cleared away, Alicent turned and moved her seat closer to Rhaenyra, leaning forwards to hear the conversation better. Laena was in the middle of a story that had Laenor rolling his eyes and Rhaenyra erupting in laughter. Across the table, Rhaenys watched the conversation with pleased, calculating eyes.
“ – Mother had half the guard out looking for me, worried I was going to climb into the Dragonmont itself,” said Laena.
“Were you?” asked Rhaenyra, resting her head on her hands.
Laena scoffed. “Of course not.”
Alicent nudged Rhaenyra and said, “Not everyone is quite as foolhardy as you, Rhaenyra.”
“Oh, treachery! And from my closest lady!” said Rhaenyra, clutching a hand against her chest like she had been wounded. Laenor snorted at her antics.
“I don’t need to go into the Dragonmont,” said Laena, interrupting. Her eyes shone. “I don’t want the Bronze Fury or Silverwing. I want Vhagar.”
Alicent and Rhaenyra both fell silent, the laughter ceasing on their lips. Otto looked at Rhaenys and Corlys. Neither seemed surprised by their daughter’s words. Otto sat back in his chair, relieved that his daughter would be claiming no dragons.
“I take it back,” said Alicent, at long last. “Laena is more foolhardy than you, Rhaenyra.” Laena grinned, taking the words as a compliment. Rhaenyra laughed and leaned across the table to grasp Laena’s hand.
“We’ll go flying together soon,” promised Rhaenyra. She put one hand over Alicent’s and said, “Maybe we’ll even be able to convince this one to come by then.”
Alicent shook her head. “I’m quite fine on the ground, thank you.”
“Lady Alicent!” protested Laena. “There’s nothing like it, truly, and we see each other so rarely.”
“Ah, but that’s about to change, isn’t it?” said Alicent. Otto scowled at the reminder. Laena Velaryon was to remain with her father for the foreseeable future while Corlys looked for a suitable match for his daughter. Laena would step in as one of Rhaenyra’s ladies in waiting, second only to Alicent.
At least she was still second to Alicent, Otto comforted himself. He just had to make sure it stayed that way.
-
Evenings in the Tower of the Hand were often a quiet affair. Otto had his work, and Alicent had her studies. Until they ate supper together, their paths often didn’t cross. It was unusual for Alicent to bring her books to his office and sit by him as she worked her way through the histories and he worked his way through reports on the Stepstones. He didn’t protest the arrangement. After an hour, Alicent broke the silence.
“If you don’t mind, Father, Rhaenyra invited me to dine with her tonight,” said Alicent from across the table. She closed her book – a heavy tome about the history of the Reach – and looked up at him hopefully.
“Of course,” said Otto, injecting as much warmth as possible into his voice. He hadn’t refused Alicent any time with Rhaenyra since the coronation. If he wanted Rhaenyra to think of Alicent first once he and Hobert finally got the High Septon under control, then he needed Alicent to be in her presence as much as possible – certainly more than Laena Velaryon. Out of sight, out of mind, after all.
Speaking of sight -
“You might wear one of your mother’s dresses,” said Otto. Alicent paused and looked up at him, puzzled.
“If you insist, Father,” she said at last.
When the time came for Alicent to go to Rhaenyra’s chambers, Otto put his papers aside and stood. He waved away the household guards, saying, “Let me walk you, Alicent. We haven’t spent enough time together of late.”
Alicent smiled, shy and sweet. She slid her arm through his as they began to descend the stairs. “Of course, Father.”
As they crossed the courtyard, Otto said, “I am glad that you are still so close to Rhaenyra. I know that ruling can be a lonely thing, and I worried that she would struggle to find time for both her duties and her friendships. I know you have taken a great weight off her shoulders.”
“She is my friend,” said Alicent, simply. “I will not abandon her to face the Seven Kingdoms alone.”
“She could ask for no one better,” said Otto. They came to the serpentine steps, and Otto fell quiet as they began their way up into the inner walls of Maegor’s Holdfast. There were many ears pressing close in these walls. When they came to Rhaenyra’s chambers, Ser Harrold stood watch. He nodded at Otto and Alicent and turned to announce their presence. Rhaenyra opened the door, smiling broadly.
“Alicent, finally – and Ser Otto,” she added, startled.
“I was just taking a short break from my work to walk with my daughter,” said Otto. “You needn’t worry, your grace. I won’t tarry.”
“Thank you for accompanying me, Father,” said Alicent, politely.
“Yes, thank you for accompanying her, Lord Hand,” said Rhaenyra, with only the barest of perfunctory glances. She was already grabbing Alicent by the hand and pulling her deeper into her chambers. With Otto sufficiently dismissed, she turned back to Alicent and demanded laughingly, “Alicent, what are you wearing?”
“It was my mother’s,” explained Alicent, flushing.
Rhaenyra softened. “Oh. Well, you look lovely.”
Alicent let out a nervous giggle and said, “I look five and thirty, Rhaenyra, don’t lie.”
“Well, I didn’t want to say once you said it was your mother’s - !” protested Rhaenyra. A handmaiden closed the door behind them, cutting off the rest of their conversation.
“Hm,” said Otto, deciding to put to the rest of Alerie’s gowns back into storage.
-
“I have decided that I will be making a progress to Dragonstone,” said Rhaenyra at the start of a Small Council meeting, almost a year into her reign.
Otto started in his seat. “Your grace, I cannot advise that you travel to Dragonstone while Daemon still has not bent the knee.”
Rhaenyra snorted. “Are you suggesting that we give up Dragonstone – my ancestral seat – because my uncle is too stubborn to leave his post? No, it is time to reclaim it. I will make a progress to Dragonstone. If she is happy to, Princess Rhaenys can accompany me, as will the Kingsguard and my ladies in waiting. I will be surrounded, Lord Hand. Even if Daemon wanted to hurt me – which he doesn’t – he would not be able to touch me.”
“I am sure my lady wife will be happy to accompany you,” put in Corlys. Otto shot him a quick, dirty look, which Corlys happily returned.
“Thank you, Lord Corlys,” said Rhaenyra. “It is settled. I will be going on a progress to Dragonstone.”
A progress to Dragonstone did not take as long to organise as a progress to most parts of the realm, but it still took a month for details to be settled. They set out for Dragonstone on a warm spring day, the wind buffeting Otto’s hair. He watched Alicent and Rhaenyra lean against the railings side by side, Rhaenyra pointing as Syrax swooped and glided above the water with one great claw dangling into the Blackwater.
As they approached Dragonstone, a screech rang out from the Dragonmont. Syrax cried out in response and shot upwards, Meleys following behind. They met Caraxes above the castle, circling each other. Otto watched, heart in his throat, for any signs of aggression, but the three dragons simply seemed to greet each other. They wheeled against the blue sky, trumpeting out their presence. Rhaenyra looped one arm through Alicent’s and laughed.
Rhaenyra was the second off the gangplank, following only behind Ser Harrold. Alicent followed closely behind Rhaenyra, seeming never more than a few steps behind her childhood companion. Behind them marched the rest of the Kingsguard, their white cloaks streaming out behind them in the wind. The path led them up towards the castle, nestled in the foot of the Dragonmont.
Daemon waited for them on the causeway. A handful of guards surrounded him, and one hand rested loosely on the hilt of his sword, but he did not look prepared for an attempt to claim the throne for Rhaenyra. Otto made his way past the Kingsguard to stand next to Rhaenyra at their head. Daemon looked at Otto, raised his eyebrows, and looked back at Rhaenyra.
“You stand in the presence of Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen, First of Her Name,” called Otto, voice booming across the causeway. “Queen of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lady of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm.”
Rhaenyra lifted her chin. For a long moment, Daemon did nothing but watch Rhaenyra. Behind Otto, the Kingsguard began to tense.
Daemon said something in Valyrian, his voice low. Otto watched carefully for Rhaenyra’s reaction, but she only smirked and said something in return. Daemon grinned. He looked at Alicent, then at Otto, then to the Kingsguard and the rest of the assembled knights and nobles who had joined the progress.
At long last, Daemon bent the knee. In the common tongue, he acknowledged, “My Queen.”
A small piece of tension melted away in Otto’s chest. The only major threat to Rhaenyra’s rule had bent the knee.
Rhaenyra didn’t let the moment linger. She stepped forward after only a moment, offering her hand to help her uncle to his feet. “Uncle,” she said, tutting. “Were you never going to come visit me in King’s Landing?”
“Eventually,” said Daemon, with the same tone as a child trying to get out of lessons with the Septa.
Rhaenyra gestured for Alicent to join her, and Daemon led the two girls up the causeway to the Rhaenyra’s ancestral seat together.
For a royal progress, Rhaenyra spent much of the week out of sight. She attended the welcoming feast, and spent a few scant hours sitting the throne each morning. For the rest of the day, she disappeared into the bowels of the castle. Alicent was almost as hard to find, and had little idea of where to find the Queen. Otto’s only consolation was that Corlys and Laena seemed just as frustrated.
On the morning of their departure, Rhaenyra hugged her uncle tightly before mounting Syrax. Daemon leaned back, watching the proceedings with a smug grin. Instead of setting flight immediately, Rhaenyra turned in the saddle, and held out her hand.
Otto stilled as Alicent stepped out from beside him without hesitation. She took Rhaenyra’s hand and allowed herself to be hoisted up and on to dragonback. She circled her arms around Rhaenyra, pressing her cheek into Rhaenyra’s neck.
“Sōvēs, Syrax,” said Rhaenyra, one hand holding the reigns and the other holding Alicent’s. Syrax beat her wings, lifting up off the ground and carrying the two out of sight.
When the Queen and her lady in waiting had departed, whispers broke out among the courtiers. Daemon shot one final smirk in Otto’s direction before he turned and made his way back up to the castle.
As he began to make his way back to the ship, Otto could not resist stopping by Corlys. “Remind me, Lord Velaryon,” he said. “You know so much more about Valyria than I do. When was the last time someone not of Valyrian blood rode a dragon?”
“Enjoy it while you can,” said Corlys. “When Laena claims her dragon, she and Rhaenyra will take to the skies together regularly.”
Otto nodded. “Of course, Lord Velaryon. And I’m sure Alicent will be joining them, as both girls have requested before.”
Corlys barely suppressed a glower, and Otto continued towards the ship, a spring in his step.
-
A dark shadow whirled in the skies above the Red Keep. As it glided through the sky, it swept vast parts of the city into darkness. It swooped against, ambling towards the outskirts of the city. Gods, thought Otto, imagining all at once what it would have been like to see Visenya in the skies above, ready to claim your kingdom for House Targaryen.
Rhaenyra pulled herself back in from where she had been half-hanging out the window, watching the dragon’s progress. “Arrange a carriage,” she ordered. “We will finish this meeting later.”
Rhaenyra had attended each Small Council meeting reliably, listening to her councillors and making judgments only after receiving advice on each matter. Otto didn’t protest her leaving now; he knew that they would finish the meeting later, and also that Rhaenyra would likely only be distracted and useless until she could investigate this new dragon.
Corlys followed close on Rhaenyra’s heels as she left the room. Otto gritted his teeth and followed. Every part of him screamed against getting close to such a large beast, but by no means was he giving House Velaryon an opportunity to get their teeth into Rhaenyra if he could help it.
“Lord Hand,” said Corlys, eyeing him as they waited for a carriage in the outer courtyard. “I didn’t know you would be so eager to meet Vhagar.”
Vhagar? Queen Visenya’s mount. Not quite the Black Dread, but the largest and fiercest dragon yet living. Otto had been fortunate to never meet Vhagar when the dragon had been Prince Baelon’s mount, and he wasn’t looking forward to changing that, but need’s must. Otto very carefully kept his voice even and his face calm as he said, “As Hand, I should assist in investigating when an unknown dragonrider claims Vhagar.”
Rhaenyra snorted. “Hardly unknown.” The carriage pulled up before Otto could question her, and she clambered in. Otto took a deep breath and followed Corlys into the carriage.
“My daughter has been seeking out Vhagar for some time,” said Corlys, smugness emanating from him.
Otto did not grit his teeth while the Queen was watching him. Instead, his voice still (still! He was quite the mummer) even, he said, “That is quite the mount Lady Laena has claimed.”
“She had never been one to settle for anything but the best,” said Corlys, looking to Rhaenyra.
Well, seethed Otto, she’s going to have to learn to.
Rhaenyra threw herself out of the carriage when they came to a stop in a field at the outside of the city. Vhagar lifted her head to inspect the newcomers, but when Laena skittered down from the saddle and threw herself into Rhaenyra’s arms, Vhagar let out only a huff and lowered her head again to rest against the ground. Laena had always been small, only twelve years old, but next to the mountainous beast, she was unfathomably tiny. Rhaenyra showed no concern, only sweeping her cousin into her arms with a gleeful shout.
“You did it!” said Rhaenyra, spinning Laena around. “I knew you could, you absolute mad thing.”
Corlys strode forwards, gripping Laena by the shoulder. “I’m so proud of you, daughter.”
Laena grinned up at her father. Rhaenyra still held her close, one arm around Laena’s waist, and for a moment Otto could see the future Corlys hoped for. Alicent had not ridden with Rhaenyra again since they had returned from Dragonstone. Otto would have to do something to place Alicent back in the lead, and quickly.
-
“Your grace, we should discuss the anniversary of your coronation,” said Otto, at close to a year’s turn since Rhaenyra’s ascension to the throne. “Typically, anniversaries are celebrated with tourneys -”
Rhaenyra brightened at the mention of tourneys. “Excellent. It’s been too long since we’ve had a tourney.”
“The only issue is that organising such events is usually in the domain of a consort,” said Otto. “The Small Council has taken over such duties while you are unmarried, but with the war in the Stepstones, it will be difficult to find the time to organise such a tourney.”
Rhaenyra frowned and chewed at her bottom lip. “Mayhaps I could appoint someone to fulfill those duties?” she suggested. “We could name them Lady of the Court.”
“A wonderful idea, your grace,” said Otto. “This Lady of the Court will need to be in close communication with you, the Master of Coin and me about the planning of the event. Mayhaps you could cho -”
“Alicent,” said Rhaenyra, cutting him off. “Alicent will be Lady of the Court.”
Otto didn’t look at Corlys. He feared if he did, the smugness would roll off him in such waves that Rhaenyra might just change her mind to spite him. “Of course, your grace,” he agreed. “I’m sure she’ll do nicely.”
Alicent took to her duties without pause. She had been raised to manage large keeps, and in the last year and a half, Otto had raised his expectations even further. The organising of tourneys and feasts had always been part of her education. By the time the first anniversary of Rhaenyra’s coronation arrived, knights were arriving in King’s Landing from across the Seven Kingdoms.
Rhaenyra oversaw the welcoming feast from the high table. Otto sat with the other Hightowers, but Alicent took her standard seat. Hobert nodded at Alicent seated next to Rhaenyra, dressed in a rich blue gown with black embroidery.
“Is all going well here?” he asked.
“Alicent is thriving at court,” Otto reassured him. “How goes Oldtown?”
“The Starry Sept will be seeing a new septry soon,” said Hobert, a wry smile tugging at his lips. “But the High Septon is proving quite amenable.”
Otto nodded, picking at his food. “How long until construction begins for the new septry?”
“It won’t be more than a few moons now,” said Hobert. “There are still some debates about how many septons the septry should house.”
“Ah,” said Otto. “I know I am no Septon, but if you ever need any assistance from the Hand -”
“I will let you know,” said Hobert. He looked to the high table again. Alicent was deep in conversation with Lord Beesbury, but her hand rested on the table, just brushing Rhaenyra’s. A ring rested on her finger, gleaming in the candlelight. Rhaenyra brushed her hand against Alicent’s, earning a quick flash of a smile, as she reached out for another piece of cake. “I am glad Alicent has thrived at court. She was such a cautious child, once, but between the Queen’s friendship and your guidance, I have no doubt she’ll continue to grow tall.”
-
The raven reached Otto as he prepared for a Small Council meeting, half a year after the tourney. Otto recognised the seal at once and cracked the scroll open with eager fingers. His eyes skimmed over the words before hurrying to the council chamber.
The rest of the Small Council filed in over the next several minutes. Otto sat with the scroll in his hands, waiting with barely concealed impatience. Rhaenyra eyed him curiously.
“That’s everyone,” said Rhaenyra as Mellos shuffled in and took his seat. “Go ahead, Lord Hand. I can tell you’re ready to burst.”
Otto cleared his throat and stood. “We have just received word from the High Septon,” he said, trying – and based off the narrowing of Corlys’ eyes, failing – to keep the triumph out of his voice. “The High Septon has decreed an expansion of the Doctrine of Exceptionalism.”
Beesbury’s eyebrows shot up. “What sort of expansion?”
“The High Septon has decreed that, like marrying kin to kin, a member of House Targaryen may take more than one bride,” said Otto. “Like Aegon, they may take two.”
That was the most they had been able to get the High Septon to agree to, but Hobert and Otto had not particularly cared for the number. They just needed to make sure Alicent was among them. Any more than two, the High Septon had argued and Otto had been forced to agree, would only bring reminders of Maegor. Marrying more than one person would likely summon the ghost of Maegor regardless, but between Hightower funds, the support of the Faith, and the threat of dragons, Otto was certain they would be able to quell any potential unrest.
“Two,” repeated Rhaenyra, underwhelmed.
“With this, your grace, if you so choose,” said Otto, and by the Seven he hoped she did so choose, “you could take two husbands, or a husband and a wife, if you wish.”
Rhaenyra looked around the Small Council, observing each of the Councillors in turn. Finally, she looked back at Otto and said, “Perhaps this is a good time to mention that I already wed the Lady Alicent in the way of Old Valyrian on Dragonstone.”
Otto choked on nothing. Corlys let out a little groan and sunk his head into his hands.
“Your grace!” gasped Beesbury. “May I be the first to offer my congratulations?”
“Thank you, Lord Beesbury,” said Rhaenyra, smiling. “But you would actually be the second. Prince Daemon assisted us in the ceremony.”
A chair. Otto needed a chair. Alicent had been married for months and she hadn’t told him? What if he had been trying to marry her off to someone other than her actual wife? Not to mention she had gotten married outside the Faith, in the heathen traditions of Old Valyria. By the Seven, Alerie had told him that making her a companion to Rhaenyra was a bad idea.
Rhaenyra turned back to Otto, her smile sharpening and her eyes growing hard. A challenge sounded in her voice. “Anything to say, goodfather?”
…He was goodfather to the Queen. He could deal with his daughter learning how to lie later. He smiled. “I could not be happier, your grace. I have never seen my daughter happier than when she is with you.”
The flintiness in Rhaenyra’s eyes froze, then softened. “And I will do everything I can to keep her that way.”
At the end of the Small Council meeting, Rhaenyra made her exit quickly. She wove her way through the halls, making her way – Otto realised quickly – towards the Godswood. In the inner courtyard, she stopped only when her name was called by a familiar voice.
“Rhaenyra!” said Alicent, hurrying from the opposite side of the courtyard. “I’m sorry I’m late. There were issues with some of the orders for -”
Rhaenyra shook her head, taking Alicent’s face in her hands. She leaned forwards and kissed Alicent softly. Otto looked away. Around them, the courtyard had gone still, as passing courtiers stopped to look at the – the – the perfectly legal union that was taking place in front of them.
“Rhaenyra?” squeaked Alicent, when Rhaenyra pulled away.
“The Faith has declared I can take a wife,” explained Rhaenyra.
Alicent gasped, her hand reaching up to grasp Rhaenyra’s. “Truly? You got them to agree?”
“In truth, I don’t think I had anything to do with it,” said Rhaenyra. “The High Septon never even sent a raven back to me. Your father, though -”
Alicent turned to look when Rhaenyra nodded in his direction. Otto saw Alicent’s shining eyes, her golden smile, and could not help but remember the dread in them when he had first asked her to attend Viserys. She is Queen Consort, he told himself firmly. There is no greater height for her to reach. The High Septon has decreed this as good and sinless. I have done the right thing.
Alicent stepped out of Rhaenyra’s arms and crossed the space between them. She threw her arms around Otto, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Thank you, Father,” she whispered in his ear.
“Anything for you, my daughter,” said Otto, kissing her forehead. “Go. Be with your lady wife. We must prepare celebrations for your marriage.”
Alicent shot him another smile, her eyes gleaming with tears, before moving back to Rhaenyra’s waiting arms.