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“Where is he?”

The queen’s low voice had never failed to make Alicent’s nerves stand on edge, in all the ways possible and imaginable. Her wrists had stopped burning with the pain of the shackles a long time ago, the weight of the iron chains linking them to the cold ground of the cell had become just another part of her body.

“I do not know.”

Alicent had said those words over and over again ever since she had been put into this cold and dark cell too many moons ago. She had promised Rhaenyra she would open the doors of King’s Landing for her, and she would give to the queen Aegon’s head. And when she had arrived in the capital city of the Seven Kingdoms after leaving it in order to visit the queen in secret and betray her family, after begging the queen to leave it all and run away with her, she stood in front of the doors with a numbness where her heart was supposed to be.

And when she entered the Red Keep, no one ever suspecting she had left the city because, after all, she had stopped being important to the men of the Council… she couldn’t find her son, the King she had promised to Rhaenyra, anywhere.

Helaena hadn’t known where her husband and brother was, Aemond had been riding to Harrenhal with Criston and Gwayne, and no one had seen the king, who had been abed and with one foot on death’s threshold, leave the Red Keep. The only thing Alicent knew for sure was that it had been Larys Strong’s doing, for the man had not been seen for as long as the king had been missing.

Rhaenyra had sat on Syrax’s back, accompanied by the army Prince Daemon had gathered for her. Rhaenyra’s eldest son and heir, Jacaerys Velaryon, was sitting atop of his very own dragon and escorted his mother’s right side. The queen’s daughter in law and niece, Baela Targaryen, sat on her own dragon an escorted Rhaenyra’s left side. Behind them three sat the Commander of the army, the Queen’s Consort, and his dragon. Daemon Targaryen, and Caraxes.

And Alicent stood in front of the three dragons and the army made up of thousands of men, and she wondered if dying by fire would be a fast death or if Rhaenyra would take her sweet time with her, burning her limb by limb, rejoicing on Alicent’s screams of pain.

Before Alicent had dared to come down, though, she had watched Rhaenyra from her bedchambers. The queen, sitting atop of Syrax, had looked at the double doors, the ones they had crossed so many times on horseback as little girls, and she had waited for Alicent to come out.

It had been dead silent, Rhaenyra had just sat there watching the doors, her son and daughter in law impersonating her like the future king and queen they would become. And behind, the army was also waiting in silence for Alicent to come out carrying her own son by the arm, or maybe carrying his head.

But there was no son nor head to carry, and Alicent was trying to gather her wits to tell Rhaenyra the truth.

The Queen had grown impatient when no one moved a muscle, when the doors remained shut and the Dowager Queen didn’t move a muscle. Alicent was still in her bedchambers, as Helaena had sat on a chair with little Jaehaera on her lap. Her daughter, who lived more in the land of dreams than she did in the real world, had never looked as serene as she did. The little princess had been playing with a wooden horse her grandfather, Otto, had carved once for her.

And the only one who was considering jumping down the high tower was Alicent herself. She didn’t know how Helaena would react, if her daughter would scream in agony or if she would just sat there watching it all unfold because she had already dreamed it.

“Deliver me, mother,” the Queen, Helaena, had said as she snapped Alicent from her daze, making her unglue her eyes from Rhaenyra and look into Helaena. Her blue eyes, which were Rhaenyra’s own blue eyes, were shining. The queen’s mouth was set and her shoulders squared, “I am the mother of the future of this realm. Deliver me.”

“No,” Alicent had said, horrified, her heart hammering hard inside her chest, “I will never do that.”

“But you’re willing to do it with Aegon?” Helaena had asked with no hatred nor vitriol but simple curiosity, and Alicent had stammered, one hand finding the flat of her stomach as the other covered her trembling lips. Helaena’s eyes fell into the fire, as if she could see something in the flames the rest of the world was unaware of, “I understand, mother. I forgave you, remember?”

Alicent remembered.

She had believed her daughter’s words had been directed at what she had seen the night Jaehaerys had been stabbed to death inside his little cradle. She remembered Helaena’s silence, her blue eyes filled with something Alicent had never seen in her daughter before: rage, something she had been used to see in both of her sons’ eyes, but never her little girl’s. They had always been filled with love and wisdom, even when she had been a little baby.

She still remembered Aegon’s screams echoing around the castle, her son becoming a dragon for the first time in his life, as Aemond had simply sat silently, a smug smile on his lips, as if he had felt proud of being important enough for his life to be in danger and, instead, his little nephew paid the consequences of Rhaenyra’s rage after losing her own son, Lucerys.

No one had to tell Alicent her son Aemond had been the target. A son for a son, Rhaenyra had said when Alicent had foolishly risked her life to visit the woman, like the queen had done when she had infiltrated King’s Landing, and had found Alicent praying in the Sept.

Aemond had killed Lucerys, Rhaenyra had wanted him and not little Jaehaerys. And Alicent, despite herself, knew Rhaenyra wasn’t cruel. She had been a grieving mother who had wanted to avenge her son, but she would’ve never asked for an infant to be killed so she could satiate that thirst. She had an idea of who must’ve asked for Lucerys to be avenged at any cost. If Aemond’s head couldn’t be brought to Rhaenyra, the closest thing to the future of the realm to being destabilized was Jaehaerys, her little and sweet Jaehaerys.

Alicent would’ve found it funny how Daemon Targaryen had flattered Aemond by trying to kill him, and instead had made her second son’s pathway to sitting the Iron Throne easier. She had known Aemond didn’t think Aegon was the right man to reign, she had known her second son wanted to sit on the chair, and she had known it had been him the one to almost end Aegon’s life when the king had fallen of his dragon, half burned.

A dragon doesn’t burn its own rider, and Rhaenys Targaryen had been taking her last breaths when Aegon had fallen. And there had been a third dragon rider up in the sky, that day. And it had been all Alicent had needed, to lose her grandson and almost lose her eldest son, to see Aemond willing to eliminate his own siblings in order to get what he most desired, to make her shed the last piece of dignity she owned to travel to Dragonstone by boat, all on her own with Ser Rickard Thorne, and kneel in front of Rhaenyra to beg for mercy.

Come with me, she had begged the queen.

She had never thought she would end up asking Rhaenyra to run away with her, she hadn’t even known it herself she had wanted to run away until she had been on that lake, willing to end her own life because she couldn’t bear the guilt any longer, until she saw that bird flying free and unafraid and she… she had wanted to be free, too. She had wanted, in that moment, to cross the sea, and start a new life in Essos, with her daughter and granddaughter.

Let Aemond fight his war against Daemon Targaryen once Aegon will succumb to the wounds, let them kill one another and destroy the continent, let me live my last days in liberty, with my daughter and granddaughter and… and Rhaenyra.

When she had seen that bird and she had thought of freedom, she had closed her eyes and she had seen Rhaenyra, her head resting on Alicent’s lap, as Alicent read their history lesson to her and Rhaenyra made stupid jokes about it. When she had thought of freedom, she had thought of Queen Nymeria and her ten thousand ships, the story written on a page she had ripped off the history book, and had asked her father to hand it to Rhaenyra.

“History,” her father had said as Alicent had summoned him in her chambers, “What will a page from a history book do, Alicent?”

“She will understand,” Alicent had said, never so sure of anything in her life, “Hand it to her, father. She will understand.”

And then there she had been, trusting Maester Orwyle and an old and tired knight to open the doors of the Mud Gate for her despite of Aemond’s curfew, so she could make one last journey in order to fix the mess she had started. And all because she had believed the Aegon her late husband had mentioned had been her own Aegon.

“Targaryens,” Alicent muttered, “And their need to name every single firstborn son after the Conqueror.”

Alicent had been willing to give herself up, to give her freedom up, and to hope Rhaenyra still held an ounce of affection for her, even if it was minuscule. And when she had seen the woman in her night gown, her long hair braided and her eyes puffy with sleep, all of Alicent’s strength crumbled and all she had wanted was Rhaenyra, the woman who had held her heart and her being prisoner long before she became the Queen in Chains.

What had broken her the most hadn’t been Rhaenyra’s deal offer to deliver to her the king if she wanted the war to end. What had broken Alicent the most had been the tears in Rhaenyra’s eyes, the ones she had matched, believing she was crying because she had agreed to give her own son to the enemy, not knowing for sure why Rhaenyra cried, but it had broken her.

Maybe she cried because she couldn’t escape her destiny. Maybe she cried because of how foolish I was asking for her to give it all up, and cross the sea with me.

And it had broken her heart when Rhaenyra had hugged herself, how she had tried not to come close to Alicent when she had taken a step towards the woman and had begged her to run away with her, wherever it was. Never in her life she had regretted not taking Rhaenyra’s offer of getting onto Syrax’s back and fly away as much as she had done in that moment, when Rhaenyra’s little go had sent her away, feeling like she was leaving her heart and soul behind.

It had been something primal inside of Alicent which had made her beg for the Queen to leave it all and go away, just the two of them, to be free from duty like they had wanted to be all those years ago.

Alicent had known Rhaenyra had wanted to go, Alicent knew the woman more than she knew herself, and she had seen the desire of leaving it all behind to start anew somewhere no one would know who they were. Maybe they could’ve lived in a little village, or maybe they could’ve sold all their jewels to buy a castle, or maybe they could’ve gotten on a boat and become pirates, explorers, and discover what was farther away than the East.

But it all had been a distant dream, as Rhaenyra had said. They had a duty bigger than their needs and dreams, one they couldn’t ignore. And Alicent, who had nothing else to give up but herself, had agreed to end the war in the most of cruel ways.

She had believed Aegon was done for, and that was why she had agreed to Rhaenyra’s offer. Her son was in pain, he was agonizing, so maybe getting his head cut off would end it all for him and would finally give him some sort of peace, and freedom, from a duty Alicent had thrown his way.

Maester Orwyle had heightened Aegon’s doses of milk of the poppy to calm his pain, Aegon had been asleep most of the day, and his wounds were slow to heal. Alicent had believed her eldest son would die regardless, and maybe it would’ve been best if Rhaenyra had taken matters upon her hands rather than watching him lay motionless on a bed, breathing raggedly, unable to move or speak.

Alicent had sat next to Aegon during never ending days, leaving all her duties to Aemond. She hadn’t been wanted in the Council for a long time, her power had been stripped from her slowly, cruelly, and swiftly. She had lost all authority, if she ever had some of it, so all she had been able to do was to sit next to her son and pray, even if she had lost all hope in the Seven, and watch her daughter knit as her granddaughter played, completely unaware of the world burning down around her.

“My queen,” Ser Rickard had said, entering the bedchamber. He shook his head when Alicent looked at him.

The sell swords she had bought by selling the last of her jewels hadn’t found Aegon anywhere in the Seven Kingdoms, but she should’ve known that. She should’ve known they would take the jewels, and never do the job. She should’ve known Larys wouldn’t hide Aegon in plain sight, and that it had been a futile try at winning time. And she, once again, had failed.

“Mother,” Helaena had said, looking at her, and Alicent shook her head. She already knew what her daughter would say, and Alicent refused. She would never give up her girl, never, and she would rather die by Rhaenyra’s own hand before handing Helaena and Jaehaera to them.

Alicent took a long and deep breath, closing her eyes.

She was wearing the blue dress she had worn when she had visited Rhaenyra. She had started to hate green, she didn’t know when but she had started to feel her skin crawling whenever she saw the colour her family had worn proudly for so many centuries. She had stopped wearing jewels at all, she had thrown away her wedding ring first and foremost, and she had started to only wear a plain blue dress which had belonged to her mother a long time ago.

The colour reminded Alicent of her mother’s house, Florent, and it reminded her of the sky and of Rhaenyra’s blue eyes, as well as Helaena’s and Gwayne’s eyes. It reminded her of the life before Viserys, the naivety and big dreams. It reminded her of freedom. It reminded her of Helaena’s dragon, Dreamfyre, and of Jaehaera’s favourite rag doll, the one the little girl had started to call Sicent, making Alicent wonder if it was an attempt at saying her own name.

“No,” Alicent said, walking towards her daughter and granddaughter. She kissed the top of their silver-blonde heads, and then she looked at Ser Rickard, “Stay with them, Ser Rickard.”

“My queen,” the man repeated once again, and Alicent offered him a little smile. It was funny, how the old knight and the old Maester had become her only friends at court.

Alicent walked the corridors of the Red Keep, slowly, the only sound filling the old stone walls being the swish of her skirts and her shaky breathing. Everyone had fled when Aegon had disappeared, and they all started to fear Rhaenyra The Cruel, a nickname Alicent found almost laughable, would come and rain fire down on them all. They hadn’t cared if Alicent, Helaena and Jaehaera had been there. Aemond wasn’t there to protect them all, Aegon was most likely dead already. What could two women, a little girl and two old men like Ser Rickard and Maester Orwyle do?

The castle was silent as Alicent made her way to the throne room, and then the entrance of the gigantic building. Her curls were falling free of braids and golden accents. They were unbound and free, like she had hoped to be once upon a time.

“Open the doors,” she asked to one of the men Aegon had named his guard. He looked at her, gulping, as his eyes widened comically.

“My Queen-”

“Do it. Now,” she put on the voice of steel she had learned to use over the last twenty years, and she saw the young man breathing shakily, opening the doors.

The sun was shining brightly, and Alicent felt her skin warming up as she crossed the double doors of the castle’s entrance. The streets were deserted as she walked through them, slowly, closing her eyes and letting the sun warm her skin, and she remembered the many times she walked them hand in hand with Rhaenyra, buying jewels and fruits, talking with the people and daydreaming about having their own farm somewhere in the Reach, or maybe Dorne, how they would grow their own vegetables and fruit trees and they would sell hen eggs.

If she told Rhaenyra she didn’t have her son, maybe the queen would take her own head instead.

Would that be so horrible? Alicent wondered. Would it be so horrible to finally end with the guilt, the pain, the hatred she felt towards her own self?

“My queen!” another one of the guards squealed as she approached the city’s gate. His eyes were wide in fear; his skin was shining with sweat Alicent knew wasn’t due to the warm sun, and the heavy armour he was wearing, “My queen, Rhaenyra the Cruel-”

“Open the doors,” Alicent said, standing in front of the tall wooden doors. Her back was firm, her jaw was set, “Now.”

The two knights opened the doors, the wood creaking horribly it felt as if the world was ending. And then, Alicent saw her.

Rhaenyra had left Syrax’s back and was now standing on the ground. Daemon was still sitting on Caraxes, his scales as red as the castle’s walls, as Jace was on top of the green Vermax, his brown eyes looking at her coldly and his jaw set with determination. He already looked and acted like a king, more than Aegon ever did.

Alicent remembered the boy as a sweet prince, with an easy smile and a quick wit and so much kindness in his eyes and heart, a kindness he had inherited from Rhaenyra and his late grandmother, Queen Aemma, whom Alicent had loved like a mother once upon a time, the woman taking her in when Otto moved into the castle after becoming the Hand of the King, a few months after losing his won wife.

Alicent thought Jace would make a fine king, sitting next to the beautiful and wise Baela Targaryen. The girl looked so much like her late mother, Laena, who Alicent once had called friend. It had always been the three of them, Laena, Alicent and Rhaenyra walking around the castle and making mischief. And then Laena had to go back to Driftmark after her father and mother fell off with the king. Alicent remembered the woman with kindness, and she remembered how saddened she was when she learned about her death. Choosing to die like a dragon rider, with her unborn child stuck in her belly.

The bravery Alicent remembered in Laena was present in her daughter, Baela. It was present in the way she was sitting straight upon Moondancer, eyes never leaving the Dowager Queen. She would make such a fine queen one day, Baela the Brave, and she would be very much loved by the continent. She, and Jace.

Alicent wondered if she would ever see that day coming.

“Alicent,” Rhaenyra said. She was wearing golden armour, matching the colour of her crown, her cape crimson red and in the shape of dragon scales.

Alicent remembered Rhaenyra had loved the figure of Visenya Targaryen, one of the Conqueror’s sister-wives. She had wanted to be like her, carrying a sword around and wearing an armour, fighting her father’s battles and becoming known for her fierceness like her uncle Daemon had been. Rhaenyra had never wanted the throne, it had never supposed to be hers. She had wanted to be her father’s Commander, she had wanted to ride Syrax into battle and win war after war for her Lord King, just like Visenya Targaryen had.

Instead, Viserys had never wanted to teach his daughter sword fighting lessons, and preferred for her to wear beautiful dresses and jewels Rhaenyra had disliked, while his brother, Daemon, would fight his battles. And he had hoped the sons Aemma never gave him, the sons Alicent had given him but he never had loved, would be the ones wearing armour, fighting battles. Alicent remembered how frustrated Rhaenyra had been about it all, how many times Alicent had to placate her even when her belly had been swollen with Rhaenyra’s half-brothers, the ones who would steal the Princess’s dreams away.

And now, here she was, Visenya returned.

Rhaenyra’s silver-blonde braid was falling down her left shoulder, reaching her waist. Her tall and muscular frame had always been imposing, but with the armour… she looked like the Warrior Queen she had wished to become for so long. Alicent had heard the stories over the last few months, how Rhaenyra finally disposed of an army and she had lead it into battle herself, fighting amongst the men to prove them she was no coward and she wouldn’t let them all die in her name while she hid behind a castle’s door.

She was wearing no helmet, she was wearing the Crown of Jaehaerys, and a sword Alicent didn’t know the name of was resting on her left side. Rhaenyra’s hand was holding the pommel, and Alicent imagined her hand knuckles being white under the red leather gloves covering them.

“Rhaenyra,” Alicent breathed out. The woman looked beautiful. She looked like a queen and a warrior. Tall an authoritative, ready to take King’s Landing away using her sword and her dragon if she had to, burying the tip of the weapon inside Alicent’s belly if it was necessary.

“Where is he?” Rhaenyra’s blue eyes were cold, but her voice felt like ice, “Where’s my half-brother?”

“He’s gone,” Alicent said, the words coming out stronger than she believed it would.

“Gone?” Daemon Targaryen was the one speaking now from above his dragon, “I told you not to believe this lying whore.”

“Quiet,” Rhaenyra commanded, her upper lip snarling at her husband.

Daemon’s eyes looked coldly at his wife, and Alicent wanted to burn the prince alive.

“Gone, you say?” Rhaenyra asked, taking a step closer to Alicent. She had to raise her head slightly in order to look into Rhaenyra’s beautiful face, at the strong and sharp features, the blue eyes which had used to dance with amusement and mischief, the aquiline nose and the beautiful lips.

She saw the faint line of a scar on Rhaenyra’s cheek, something that hadn’t been there before. For a moment, she wanted to kill whoever had hurt the queen.

“Yes.”

“Did he leave on his own foot, then?” Rhaenyra arched a sharp eyebrow, and Alicent almost gulped, “Was it all a lie, how my beloved brother had one foot on the other side?”

“It- it wasn’t a lie, Rhaenyra,” Alicent said, weakly, as Rhaenyra tilted her head slightly and she reminded Alicent of a dragon, “When I came back…”

“He was gone?” Rhaenyra let out a snort empty of any humour, “You lied to me.”

“I didn’t lie to you,” Alicent said, trying to gather any of her dignity as a queen, “We made a pact.”

“A pact you broke,” Rhaenyra said, not letting Alicent protest, “Tell me, was it your own entire machination or did someone else think of it?”

“W-what do you mean?”

“While you were at Dragonstone, talking about wanting to be free and asking me to abandon my rightful legacy,” Rhaenyra lowered her voice so only Alicent could hear the words, “Was your son being moved away, hidden? Was it all a distraction?”

“Not by my command,” Alicent said, not even trying to deny it because she had known it all had happened the moment she had been away. The only ones who had known were Rickard and Orwyle, and she had known no one else would’ve noticed her absence because she had spent every waking moment with Aegon, and then Helaena, while she let Aemond fight his battles after she had been dismissed from the Council.

Only a spider like Larys would’ve noticed Alicent’s absence, and only a man like Larys would’ve dared to move the king away as Aemond abandoned the city to fight at Harrenhal, hoping to find Daemon Targaryen there. While Alicent had made schemes of her own, if begging Rhaenyra for mercy could be called that, Larys made sure her betrayal didn’t become fruitful. Sometimes Alicent wondered if the man could read her mind.

“We had a deal,” Rhaenyra repeated, “And you broke it.”

“Rhaenyra, listen-”

“King’s Landing is ours,” Rhaenyra announced to the portion of her allies who had accompanied her all the way to the city. Bracken, Blackwood, Frey, Tully, Stark, Velaryon, Strong… too many, “I was promised the Usurper’s head, but the coward has left the city and has abandoned his people.”

She knows there are people listening behind the windows, she knows the guards under Aegon’s command are listening too.

“I will rule the city now, as it was promised,” Rhaenyra said, her eyes piercing through Alicent’s soul, “And I will wait for my brother here, if he is brave enough to come back.”

“Rhaenyra, I beg-”

“Chain her,” Rhaenyra commanded, and Alicent saw a man wearing Bracken colours coming to her, small iron shackles in his hands, “She will be taken to a cell and remain there, guarded, until I ask to see her again.”

“Rhaenyra, please.”

“Enough,” Rhaenyra snarled, as she took the shackles from the Bracken soldier and put them around Alicent’s wrists. It was almost funny how, even in her rage, Rhaenyra Targaryen shackled Alicent Hightower so gently, “You’re a prisoner now, Alicent. And you shall be until you tell me where my brother is.”

*

Alicent had remained in the cell for longer than she had believed at first. Her blue dress was filthy, her auburn hair was greasy and unkempt. Her bones were cold, and tired, and all she wished for was a warm bath before meeting her end.

The day the Queen had come to take the city, Alicent didn’t see Rhaenyra until later that very same night. The woman had taken out her armour, and her hair had been freed from the braid, Jaehaerys’ Crown surely stored away, safely guarded by her loyal army.

The queen hadn’t worn the blue sleeping gown Alicent remembered or any other of the fine dresses the queen had owned, but instead she was wearing black breeches and high leather boots and a white linen shift with its sleeves rolled up to Rhaenyra’s elbows.

In the dimness of the torches, Alicent could see the queen’s upper body being almost visible underneath the thin shirt, and she had to cast her eyes down in order not to look, the bright image of submission.

“Where is he?” were the first words Rhaenyra had said that night after taking King’s Landing back.

“I don’t know,” Alicent had said, looking up again, her brown eyes never leaving Rhaenyra’s face even though they strained to look into Rhaenyra’s chest, the perfectly shaped breasts almost visible underneath the white cloth of the shift.

The queen looked down at her, hard, and Alicent swallowed.

“Liar,” the queen mumbled, and Alicent remembered when they were no older than seven years old, when she had eaten the last lemon cake the cook had prepared, and Rhaenyra had wanted it. Alicent had told the princess she didn’t know where it had gone to, and the princess had mumbled the same word. That time, though, the princess’s eyes had been narrowed as well, dancing with amusement, and Alicent’s mouth had been full of lemon cake.

Now, Alicent’s mouth was dry and Rhaenyra’s jaw was twitching.

“Helaena,” Alicent said then, “Jaehaera.”

“They’re unharmed,” Rhaenyra’s voice became gentle, “I would never harm them.”

“Let them go, Rhaenyra,” Alicent fell on her knees, the chains rattling with the movement, her knees hitting the cold and hard ground painfully. She clutched Rhaenyra’s breeches, feeling the woman’s muscles stiffening underneath the leather, “They’re innocent in all of this, my- my girls… please, Rhaenyra.”

“No harm will come to them,” Rhaenyra’s voice was cold, but there was a promise in it. The queen let Alicent clutch into her legs, not moving, “But the first words Helaena addressed to me when I entered her chambers were she wouldn’t leave.”

“Ser Rickard Thorne,” Alicent said, desperately. She knew Rhaenyra wouldn’t harm Helaena or Jaehaera, she knew Prince Jacaerys or Princess Baela wouldn’t hurt them either, but she didn’t trust the other men.

She didn’t trust Daemon Targaryen.

“What about him?” Rhaenyra frowned, not moving away as Alicent was still clinging onto her.

“Let him sail away with my girls, to Essos,” Alicent said, as Rhaenyra looked down onto her, her cold look replaced by one of confusion, “Let them be somewhere safe, please…”

Rhaenyra’s eyes burned into Alicent. The queen pursed her lips, a muscle twitched on her jaw some more, and then she took a step away, making Alicent fall onto her hands, a sob escaping her lips as Rhaenyra walked away, and closed the cell’s door.

Night after night, the conversation was repeated. Where is he, I don’t know, liar. My girls, let them go. Goodbye, Alicent.

Alicent had lost count of the days and nights she had spent in the cell. She slept when her body gave up, her dreams were plagued by horrors. Her legs were numb, her arms ached, and she was surprised she had survived this long given the coldness of the cell, and her lack of appetite even if Rhaenyra asked her men to bring her food twice a day, and the last few times she had come to see Alicent she had brought her supper, had sat in front of her and watched Alicent take small bites of whatever was on the plate as Rhaenyra ate her own supper.

“Eat,” Rhaenyra had commanded to her, and Alicent had eaten. But the food had tasted of nothing, and she had felt her stomach closing, “You will die if you don’t eat.”

“Wouldn’t that be a relief?” Alicent had mocked, her old self coming out to show its canine teeth. Rhaenyra had frowned, though Alicent had seen some trace of delight, recognition and surprise in the icy cold eyes.

“It wouldn’t,” the queen had said coldly before getting up from the small wooden stool she had found in the cell and had left, coming back the next night and repeating it all over again, Rhaenyra questioning her as they ate supper together in the cells’ coldness.

Alicent wondered if Rhaenyra had said her death wouldn’t be a relief because, then, she wouldn’t be able to find Aegon or if the queen had said it because she still held some sort of affection for Alicent, and losing her childhood friend would pain her.

Alicent had her eyes closed, her back resting on the cold wall and her legs stretched out, almost reaching the other wall, when she heard the cell door opening during one of the many nights she had spent in the dungeons. The scent filling it was so unfamiliar to Rhaenyra, who smelled of pines and snow. Alicent remembered her time at the Kingswood, when she made the decision to flee and beg for mercy. She remembered how closing her eyes in that lake, inhaling the scent of the forest, had reminded her of the queen as well.

“Who?” Alicent blinked, her eyesight adjusting to the darkness, and she saw a girl wearing red, a curly mane of silver hair falling down her shoulders and reaching her waist, “Laena?”

“Baela,” the girl said, her voice hoarse, as if she had been crying and screaming. Alicent recognized the pain in the voice because she, too, had been familiar with the rawness it came after screaming your anger out into the world, your pain.

Alicent blinked, and then she saw the girl clearly. She looked so much like her mother, Laena Velaryon, with the same hair and fractions and the fierceness and wisdom in her young eyes.

“Where’s Rhaenyra?” Alicent asked, stupidly, as she watched the girl crouch in front of her, putting a small wooden bowl with soup and bread in it. And then, Baela’s hand stretched out and she parted Alicent’s auburn curls from her face.

“Eat,” Baela said, gently, even though her beautiful face was full of grief and pain.

“The queen,” Alicent said, “Why is she not here tonight?”

It was as if Rhaenyra came down here to chat and pass time, and not question Alicent.

“She will not come today,” Baela Targaryen got up, but Alicent shot a hand and she grabbed the girl’s sleeve. The future queen didn’t move, but Alicent didn’t miss the pair of tears falling down her smooth cheeks.

“What happened?” Alicent asked, panic filling her voice, wondering if something had happened to Rhaenyra. She wondered if the queen had ridden into battle again, thinking about the faint scar on the woman’s cheek, and Alicent’s chest constricted at the thought of Rhaenyra falling in battle, of getting injured.

“Prince Jacaerys is dead,” Baela announced, and Alicent felt the air leaving her lungs, as if someone had hit her in the stomach with a heavy mace and had broken every single one of her ribs, and yet she hated the way in which she felt relieved because it hadn’t been Rhaenyra.

“H-How…”

“Eat,” the young girl commanded.

Baela Targaryen, then, squared her shoulders, wiped her tears, and left the cell.

*

Rhaenyra didn’t come the night after that, but Baela did. The girl didn’t ask anything, she didn’t talk at all. She just gave Alicent her supper, watched the woman eat with empty and haunted eyes, and then gathered the empty bowl before leaving Alicent all on her own.

Some days, Alicent didn’t eat and the two women sat in silence as she thought about Jace, surely Baela doing the same and not having enough strength to command the prisoner to eat. He had been so young and ready to burn the world to protect his mother’s birthright, he had been so kind to Helaena when they were children, and he had been so loved and admired by his brothers, Luke and Joff.

Bitterly, Alicent thought how her own two older sons would throw her into the fire before burning whoever threatened her, how it had always been a competition between the two of them.

And then she thought about Daeron, the last boy she gave birth to, and how he was taken away from her when he wasn’t even two years old because Viserys, who had already two healthy sons, said the little boy was to become a Septon and, therefore, be educated in Oldtown.

Alicent remembered how Gwayne had said Daeron was kind, and gentle, just like Helaena. Just how Alicent used to be, once upon a time, before she became angry and bitter and unloved by her own children, the children she had never learned how to properly love because she, too, had been a girl when they had come into this world.

“I deserve it,” she muttered, talking to no one at all, “I haven’t loved them right. I cannot expect them to love me. I deserve to burn under their accusing eyes.”

On the fifth night after Alicent learned about Jace’s death, a man came to visit her instead of the young Princess Baela. She recognized him instantly.

“Ser Rickard,” she said, her throat dry and raw and her lips so parched it hurt to move them, “It’s good to see you.”

“My queen,” Ser Rickard said, gently, as he knelt. Alicent almost asked him to rise, she was no queen, but then she saw him take out a small key from his breeches, and the shackles fell from her wrists, and ankles. The sensation was strange.

“W-what is the meaning of this?”

“She wants to see you,” Ser Rickard grabbed Alicent by her arms, gently, and raised her up.

She winced as every single bone in her body cracked, as she moved once again and her surroundings swam. She had been sitting for so long, not moving for so many nights and days, she was scared she would lose her consciousness and would have to be carried away by this old knight. Her younger self would laugh at her, if she saw the state she was in.

The more she moved, the more her muscles reacted and remembered the function they were supposed to execute. Still, moving was painful and hard to do and Ser Rickard didn’t let go of her, one arm around her waist, the other holding her hand gently.

Stupidly, the man reminded her of Otto and Alicent, in that moment, missed her father and how he had helped her walk around the solar after she gave birth to Helaena. It had been brutal, Alicent had felt as if her insides were being ripped open. It had been so short after giving birth to Aegon, almost a year, but Viserys had thirsted for a second healthy son, saying how Aemma had never given that to him, and before Alicent could even recover he was already back into her chambers, on top of her, groaning and grunting as Alicent felt tears of pain falling down her cheeks but she never uttered a word, she never complained.

And as he left, his seed cold on Alicent’s thighs, she covered her mouth and wept until exhaustion took the best of her.

“She gave you a daughter,” Alicent had said the words angrily the next morning as she watched the king cradle Aegon in his arms, almost dancing around the chamber in delight, “She gave you Rhaenyra.”

When the king had learned Alicent had birthed a girl nine months after her outburst, he hadn’t bothered to come and visit her. But Rhaenyra had, walking shyly behind Otto. It had been funny, and strange, how Otto had put a gentle hand on Rhaenyra’s back and had walked her to Alicent’s bed. The two of them had never been on the best of terms, Rhaenyra had always stood up against Otto and the man had always berated the girl. But, in that moment, they had set their differences aside.

“Rhaenyra,” Alicent had breathed from the bed, the little princess sleeping in her arms. With Aegon, she hadn’t wanted to hold him much, she had wanted to just sleep and let the nurses do whatever needed to be done. With Helaena, she had been unable to leave the girl’s side even if her coming into this world almost had torn Alicent apart.

“I heard it’s a girl,” Rhaenyra said, not daring to come closer. Otto had offered a little smile to Alicent, leaving the two girls alone, “I also heard my father didn’t bother to come around.”

“Did he do the same when you…” Alicent cut her own words off, looking at her friend apologetically, but Rhaenyra smiled.

“He didn’t leave my mother’s side because he believed I would be a boy,” Rhaenyra explained, “I wouldn’t stop moving inside my mother’s womb, I gave her hell. My father said I would be a strong and healthy boy, my mother said I would be a stubborn and reckless girl.”

“Well,” Alicent had admired Queen Aemma, and the memories she had of the woman were fond. Sometimes, she couldn’t help but feel she had betrayed her memory by becoming Viserys’s second wife, and giving him the sons Aemma couldn’t provide and died trying so, “She was right, wasn’t she?”

“May I…” Rhaenyra bit her lower lip, nodding towards the empty space next to Alicent.

“Please,” Alicent said, her voice coming out in a rush, “She’s your sister, Rhaenyra.”

Alicent hadn’t given the girl any name yet. Usually, it had been the king naming his children, boys and girls equally, and Alicent had waited for her husband to show up in her chambers, cradle the girl in his arms, and give her a name. But Otto had said he had been too busy parading Aegon around, he hadn’t thought of a name yet. If Alicent could choose, she would’ve named the girl Alerie, like her mother. But she knew the name had to be a Targaryen one, and Viserys wouldn’t approve.

“Oh,” Rhaenyra’s eyes widened as she saw the girl’s face, her lips parting in a smile, “She’s beautiful, Alicent.”

“She gave me hell,” Alicent smiled at Rhaenyra, “I’m afraid she will also be stubborn, and reckless.”

“I’ll make sure of that,” Rhaenyra’s eyes filled with mischief, and then Alicent nudged her friend’s shoulder.

“You can hold her, if you wish so,” Alicent said, smiling gently at Rhaenyra, her chest hurting because she had missed the princess so much. The girl gulped.

“I almost dropped Aegon when I came to visit you,” Rhaenyra shook her head, “I wouldn’t want to-”

“Rhaenyra, please,” Alicent let out a little laugh, “You’re dying to do it, I can see it in your eyes.”

Rhaenyra rolled her eyes, but then she angled her body so Alicent could pass her the girl. Rhaenyra took her still unnamed baby sister into her arms, gently, and her blue eyes softened in the way they had done when Aegon had been born, despite of what it meant to her future to have a brother, now, even if she was Viserys’ heir regardless.

“Hey, you little sweetling,” Rhaenyra cooed, a finger caressing the baby’s cheek gently, “Aren’t you the most beautiful princess in the realm?”

Alicent supported her head on her pillow, watching Rhaenyra sitting next to her, the baby in her arms, and her blue eyes full with an amount of love Alicent had never seen before. Rhaenyra started to hum a lullaby in High Valyrian, her eyes never leaving the baby, who looked up to her sister with matching wide and blue eyes. Alicent was glad her little princess had inherited Rhaenyra’s eyes and not Alicent’s brown ones or Viserys’s hazel-green ones.

Alicent fell asleep listening to Rhaenyra’s voice, and when she woke up a couple hours later, the future queen was still there, the baby in her arms, sleeping soundly, while Rhaenyra looked half asleep and half awake herself. Alicent wondered if the Princess had fallen asleep too, sitting next to Alicent, holding her little sister in her arms.

“Welcome back,” Rhaenyra laughed, her voice a whisper, and Alicent groaned grumpily as her head found Rhaenyra’s shoulder, and she used the tip of her finger to caress her daughter’s cheek, “I hope I’ll have a daughter, one day.”

“Two Rhaenyras instead of one,” Alicent said, the soft scent of pine and snow coming from Rhaenyra making her want to fall asleep again, “That should be interesting.”

“I would call her Visenya,” Rhaenyra said, smiling, “And I would teach her swordplay.”

“You don’t know how to use a sword,” Alicent snorted, her heart feeling at peace because she had her best friend by her side and her daughter being held by the girl, and everything felt as it used to be a couple of years ago.

“I’ll learn,” Rhaenyra deadpanned, making Alicent laugh, “Quiet, you’ll wake Helaena up.”

“Helaena?” Alicent said, looking at her best friend, who looked back at her and Alicent felt her heart speeding up at the proximity of their lips.

“Since my father hasn’t bothered to drop by,” Rhaenyra shrugged her shoulders, “I thought I would choose a name for my sister, like I chose it for the brother I lost.”

“Baelon,” Alicent remembered the name. Rhaenyra had always wished to meet her grandfather, Baelon the Brave, who had been beloved by the kingdom. Sometimes she wondered how such a brave man, like Otto had praised the prince and King Jaehaerys’ heir, had become the father of two men like Viserys and Daemon Targaryen.

“If you don’t like the name-”

“I love it,” Alicent cut Rhaenyra off, and then her eyes landed on her daughter, “Helaena.”

Ser Rickard stopped in front of the bed chamber Alicent had occupied, the one which had belonged to Rhaenyra, and he asked the two guards to open the double doors. Once they did, Ser Rickard offered his arm to Alicent.

“No,” she said, “I’ll walk on my own.”

“My queen-”

“I’m not a queen,” Alicent reminded the man, “Not anymore.”

Ser Rickard bowed, and Alicent took a step forward, her legs trembling and wanting to ask Ser Rickard if he could actually help her. But she refused to, so she took another step forward, and another, and another, until she entered the bedroom.

She saw her daughter, Helaena, sitting on the armchair she usually sat on as Princess Baela was next to her, her eyes puffy and surrounded by dark circles, Helaena’s hand holding the girl’s gently, as they watched Jaehaera play with her blue ragged doll. And then, Alicent’s eyes moved to the other armchair, and Rhaenyra Targaryen was sitting there.

Her blue eyes were full of grief, dark circles surrounding them as well, but there was a little smile as she watched the girl play silently.

“Mother,” Helaena said, getting up and running to hug Alicent. Rhaenyra’s blue eyes found her, as Alicent closed her own and hugged her daughter tightly.

Helaena let go of Alicent, a small smile of relief on her lips, and Alicent reached out to take hold of her daughter’s arm but her body swayed slightly. Rhaenyra, then, was betrayed by her instincts and she got up quickly before Helaena could react, and she immediately was on her side.

Rhaenyra grabbed her by the arm gently, just like she had done twenty-one years ago as Alicent had to wash herself up, Helaena sleeping, her body still too weak to move after the hard labour she had gone through. She had remembered Rhaenyra asking all the maids to leave them, and then she undressed Alicent carefully, her blue eyes looking everywhere except Alicent’s body, both of their cheeks as red as the deserts of Dorne. And then Rhaenyra had washed Alicent, silently, and gently, as Alicent felt her skin prickling with an unknown sensation.

“Helaena,” Alicent said as Rhaenyra took a step back, realizing what she had done, eyes cast down and a muscle twitching on her jaw, as Helaena put a hand around Alicent’s waist and helped her stand straight. Alicent, unable to help herself as she saw Helaena scrunch up her nose, let out a little laugh, “I’m all smelly, aren’t I?”

“I don’t care,” Helaena said, “I have missed you.”

“Are you-”

“Unharmed,” Rhaenyra said, her voice sounding tired and hoarse, “Just like you asked.”

“Rhaenyra,” Alicent breathed out, and then Rhaenyra’s eyes found Baela.

“Helaena,” Baela said, offering a hand to Jaehaera, the little girl taking it eagerly and smiling up at the princess, “I would love to see your bug collection.”

“Oh,” Helaena smiled, and Alicent felt her brown eyes filling up with tears because Helaena hadn’t smiled in such a long time, “Yes, follow me.”

The two girls left, each holding one of Jaehaera’s little hands, leaving the two queens alone.

“Princess Baela told me,” Alicent turned around, wincing slightly. Rhaenyra’s chin trembled, as she looked away and blinked, “You don’t have to hide your tears, Rhaenyra.”

“You don’t understand,” Rhaenyra’s voice came out harshly, “Your children are all alive.”

Alicent frowned, but she decided not to discuss it. Rhaenyra was right, and Alicent had almost lost her eldest son, the one she had been willing to sell out to put an end to the war. But she hadn’t lost him, not in the sense Rhaenyra had lost two of her sons in less than a year, and her so desired daughter, Visenya, lost her life before she could have a taste of this world. In a short period of time, not even a year, Rhaenyra had lost three of her six children. And that was a pain Alicent hadn’t experienced yet, a pain she wished to never experience.

“Forgive me,” Alicent lowered her head as Rhaenyra’s back faced her, the queen’s hands flat upon a desk full of parchments, “You’re right.”

“I have talked with Mysaria,” Alicent had to think for a few seconds until she remembered who Mysaria was, how she had become Rhaenyra’s own Master of Whispers, and gossipers said the woman was something more for the queen. Alicent had ignored that, but the way her stomach had twisted in jealousy had been hard to ignore. Even now, in her state, she felt jealousy.

“What about?” she asked, the words coming out hard. Rhaenyra turned around, her backside supported on the desk, her arms crossed upon her chest. She was wearing men’s clothes again, black breeches and a black linen shirt loosely falling around her frame.

She’s in mourning.

“Aegon,” Alicent felt her lungs stopping to work, her heart stalling, her legs almost giving out as she expected the worst news any mother could receive, “I believe you.”

“What?” Alicent asked it a few seconds later, not sure she had heard the words correctly, “Y-you believe me?”

“No one saw him leave except one of Orwyle’s physicians,” Rhaenyra said, a frown between her eyebrows, “They said you had been gone for a day and a half when they saw Larys Strong enter the chambers, asking said physician to leave them alone.”

“And then?” Alicent asked, taking one step forward. Rhaenyra shook her head.

“And then your son disappeared,” the queen said, “But the baker’s boy said a man walking with a cane asked for his and his father’s clothes, paying them good money.”

“And why do you believe me?” Alicent wondered, shaking her head, “For all you know, it could’ve been a desperate attempt to put Aegon to safety, allying myself with Larys as I tried to convince you I would give you his head.”

“The anguish I saw in you at Dragonstone cannot be faked, it wasn’t some sort of… manipulation, or scheme. You didn’t risk your own life to come see me if you had known Aegon was being put into safety,” Rhaenyra took a shaky breath, “You would’ve ridden the carriage which took Aegon away yourself, but most importantly…” Rhaenyra’s eyes found Alicent’s again, “You wouldn’t have left his side if it hadn’t been necessary.”

“I agreed to give you his head.”

“And you would’ve found a way to not do it when the time would come,” Rhaenyra said, squaring her shoulders, “You were so desperate for peace, you would’ve agreed to anything in order to keep your children safe. But the moment I would’ve arrived here, asking for his head, you would’ve given all of yourself if you could have in order to keep him alive.”

“I believed he would die,” Alicent let out a small sob, “I believed ending his pain with a sword would be better than having to watch him whine in pain, stuck on a bed, unable to move, or talk or… or live.”

“A sword,” Rhaenyra let out a small scoff, “A small mercy.”

“Rhaenyra,” Alicent walked closer to the woman, who stood her ground, her blue eyes roaming over Alicent’s body and, in a different circumstance, Alicent would’ve felt her stomach twisting. But the queen’s eyes were full of concern, “Jacaerys, how did he-”

“You need to bathe,” Rhaenyra cut her off, not harshly, but her voice came out in a rush. Alicent bit her lower lip, and then nodded her head, “Come with me.”

Rhaenyra walked Alicent to the familiar bath chamber. Alicent had moved into Rhaenyra’s quarters after Viserys had died, and she told herself it was because she wanted to be as far away from the king’s chamber as she could, remembering how she had to nurse him and breath in the smell of rotted skin day after day, her duties relegated to being her husband’s care taker, and she had told herself she had wanted to be as far away from the queen’s chambers as possible, for every time she was in the bed she remembered the king coming to seek her in the middle of the night, his rotten skin brushing against her sleeping gown, his putrid breathe making her stomach twist and turn in disgust as he groaned, and groaned, and groaned above her. And the only chamber which had given her some sort of familiarity had been Rhaenyra’s, where she had spent so many hours talking to her best friend, reading, and gossiping.

But Alicent knew the truth was different. She had missed Rhaenyra, since the last time she saw the woman the night of Viserys’s death. After their children had fought, Rhaenyra told Alicent she would leave to Dragonstone, knowing their children, who were old enough to understand what was at stake, couldn’t stay around one another without causing trouble. Alicent had asked Rhaenyra to stay, but the woman said she would go on dragon’s back, and then come back once more to spend some time with her father. And, Alicent had hoped, with her as well.

But it hadn’t happened like that, and Alicent hadn’t seen Rhaenyra until that day at the Sept. How she should have been terrified for her life, but instead all she could focus on were the way in which Rhaenyra’s eyes shone in the light of the Sept, how beautiful she had looked, despite the silent anger oozing off her, the grief after losing Lucerys.

Alicent had spent months writing letters to Rhaenyra, which went unanswered. She had spent months sleeping where Rhaenyra had slept, the pillows still smelling of pine and snow, some of the queen’s dresses still in the wardrobe. Alicent had never dared to move them, and more than once she had looked at them, wondering if their paths would ever cross again, or if the both of them would die during the war without being able to say goodbye.

Rhaenyra walked into the bath chamber. The bathing tube was full of scalding water, and Alicent thanked the heavens for I, wondering if Rhaenyra’s intention had always been to summon Alicent and let her have a bath, preparing it herself.

Rhaenyra stood next to the tube, looking at the water, remembering, surely, when she had helped Alicent to clean herself up when she had given birth to Helaena. It had been the first time Rhaenyra had seen Alicent naked, her cheeks bright red, and Alicent wondered how Rhaenyra looked like without the pretty dresses, and the jewels. She had a few glimpses during the nights she had spent in the dungeon, when Rhaenyra wore the thin shafts and the body underneath was almost visible. How it had ashamed her, thinking about Rhaenyra’s naked body when she should’ve been thinking about her children’s safety.

“Alicent?” Rhaenyra had asked on a stormy night. Alicent hadn’t been able to sleep, her fourth child was ready to come out into the world any day now, and they seemed eager to see what was outside. It was her fourth pregnancy, she was only twenty years old.

Rhaenyra’s own belly was close to bursting, the princess going through her first pregnancy after her marriage to Laenor Velaryon. Alicent had wanted to ask her best friend if she needed any help, but their relationship had fallen apart after Rhaenyra’s marriage to Laenor, after Viserys’s health started to become worse, and Daemon had left King’s Landing and had married Laena soon after Rhaenyra wed her brother.

“Rhaenyra,” Alicent frowned, closing the book she had been reading next to the fire, “You should be resting.”

“I know,” Rhaenyra winced, and Alicent remembered when the princess, forgetting they were at odds, had grabbed her hand and, with shining eyes, had confessed she was with child. Alicent, unable to hold herself back, had hugged the girl and then had confessed she, too, was waiting a child of her own. Rhaenyra had wondered if the babes would be best friends, Alicent had hoped they would. And Rhaenyra had joked about how, if one of them was a girl and the other a boy, they could marry them and be sisters forever.

“So, what are you doing here?” Alicent got up, groaning, a hand going to her lower back and then Rhaenyra, who also was struggling to move, laughed, “Careful, don’t laugh too hard.”

“I couldn’t sleep,” Rhaenyra said, walking closer to Alicent.

Alicent wanted to ask the woman, because Rhaenyra was a woman now and so was she, if she hadn’t found Harwin Strong lurking around the castle, or if Laenor was too busy entertaining his squire, a man called Qarl, to lull Rhaenyra to sleep.

She had grown bitter since Rhaenyra became betrothed to Laenor, and her bitterness deepened when she saw the woman being happy in her marriage. There were rumours about Laenor, and rumours about Rhaenyra, but despite it all they had been happy, and good friends, and Alicent knew Laenor would take care and love the babe as if it was his own. And that angered her, without reason, because she wished she could’ve found a friend in her husband, a man who would be around her same age, someone who would make her laugh like Rhaenyra had, someone who would make her blush like Rhaenyra had.

But Alicent was tired, and her legs were aching, and the last thing she wanted to do was to argue with an equally tired and aching Rhaenyra.

“Is there something bothering you?” Alicent asked, as she offered Rhaenyra to sit down, and she sat next to the woman too, both of their hands resting flat on their bellies. Rhaenyra looked into the fire, and Alicent saw a tear fall down the woman’s cheek, “Rhaenyra?”

“I’m scared,” Rhaenyra said, shaking her head as if it was foolish to be scared during your first pregnancy, “I’m- I’m scared I won’t know what to do.”

“Oh, Rhaenyra…” Alicent shot a hand out and, despite their strained relationship, she put it upon Rhaenyra’s own hand, and squeezed it gently.

“I always thought my mother would be here, with me, when I would become a mother myself,” Rhaenyra confessed, and Alicent smiled at her, sadly and knowingly, because she had hoped for the very same, “I always thought she would calm my heart down, and she would walk me through the steps of pregnancy and motherhood, but…”

“I understand,” Alicent nodded her head, her own voice a whisper, “I felt the same.”

“You…” Rhaenyra bit her lower lip, frowning, “This is your fourth, and I’m on my first…”

“Ah, I see,” Alicent felt her lips turning up into the familiar teasing smile she had reserved only for Rhaenyra, especially when the girl had always told Alicent she didn’t need any help when they had to knit, or when she was about to get tested by the Septa, “You need my advice?”

“Yes,” Rhaenyra said, relieved, letting out a little laugh, “I know our friendship is broken, but-”

“Our friendship will never be broken,” Alicent said, fiercely, wondering where those words had come from.

She had been the first one to step away when Rhaenyra had become a married woman, and when the rumours about Harwin had begun, and Alicent had told herself she was simply horrified at the thought of Rhaenyra not being loyal to her husband, something she wouldn’t dare to do, but deep down Alicent had known her anger was jealousy at the fact Rhaenyra’s husband was Rhaenyra’s friend, at the fact Rhaenyra found pleasure in someone else’s arms.            At the fact Rhaenyra was in love with someone who wasn’t…

“Alicent…”

“I’m here for whatever you need,” Alicent said, nodding her head, “Share your fears with me, Rhaenyra, and I will try to ease your heart.”

Alicent remembered Daeron had been born a week and a half before Jacaerys, and she had remembered Rhaenyra had left her bed to go see and meet her little baby brother. This one finally looks like you, Rhaenyra had pointed out at the auburn haired baby, who had the Targaryen eyes but Alicent could finally see something of herself in her fourth son. He had her hair, and years later she learned he had the kindness she once had been able to feel.

And then, when Talya informed Alicent the princess had gone into labour, she asked her lady in waiting to take care of putting Daeron to sleep, as she walked to Rhaenyra’s bed chamber and had sat next to her, holding her best friend’s hand, and guiding her through childbirth as Rhaenyra screamed and sobbed and begged for it all to be over.

“A little more, Rhaenyra,” Alicent had said as her hand felt numb under Rhaenyra’s tight grip, as she kissed the woman’s sweaty forehead, “Just one more push, and it will be over.”

It had been a boy, with the dark curls of the Strong family, but Alicent hadn’t said anything at all as she watched Laenor walk into the room, a wide smile upon his lips, and had sat on the other side of Rhaenyra as he had cried happily. Something Viserys had never done, and once again she hated Laenor Velaryon for loving his wife. Maybe he didn’t love Rhaenyra in the romantic sense, he loved her as a best friend, and she hated it. Because, once, she had been Rhaenyra’s best friend.

“Don’t leave,” Rhaenyra had begged to Alicent when she felt the queen move as Laenor cradled the baby boy in his arms. Alicent, looking at Laenor and then at Rhaenyra, had decided to sit down.

“Would you like to hold him, Your Grace?” Laenor had asked, and Alicent had stammered, but then she remembered Rhaenyra holding all of her children, looking at them with a sweet smile, greeting them saying she was their older sister and would protect them from harm. Little did the two of them know, Rhaenyra would never fulfil that promise and they would be doomed to fight one another.

Alicent swallowed as she tried to drown those memories away, and she brought her fingers to the back of her blue and filthy dress, undoing it weakly and with shaking hands as Rhaenyra stood there, watching her with narrowed eyes. Alicent winced, the simple motion of unbuttoning her dress paining her, and the queen moved as fast as lightning, pushing her hands away gently, and finishing the work.

Rhaenyra pushed the clothes away from Alicent, gently, and then her breathing hitched when she saw Alicent’s weight loss.

“Let me help you,” Rhaenyra said, her voice rough. Twenty years ago, Rhaenyra didn’t look away from Alicent’s naked body and neither had she done it now, and Alicent felt her hollowed cheeks burning as she could see admiration, and something else, in the woman’s blue eyes.

“You don’t have to-” Alicent winced as she put a feet inside the scalding water, but she felt her bones and muscles relaxing, almost letting out a moan.

Rhaenyra smiled a little, helping her get into the water slowly. Alicent could feel it burning, but she didn’t jump away. Instead, she lowered her body and drowned underneath the water and Rhaenyra became a blur as she watched her from above, the woman supporting her arms on the tube’s rim and waiting for Alicent to come back up from the bottom.

“Better?” the queen asked, as Alicent resurfaced and let out a long sigh as an answer.

“I can do it,” Alicent said when Rhaenyra took the soap.

“You will have to scratch a lot,” Rhaenyra handed her the soap, “You’re filthy.”

“And whose fault is that?” Alicent felt an eyebrow arching, and Rhaenyra looked down, a little bashful smile on her lips but her eyes filled with shame before she looked back up to Alicent.

“I had to.”

“I know,” Alicent nodded, firmly, before she started to clean her skin, watching the filth disappear, red marks around her wrists and ankles, the pain soothing as Alicent washed herself, the smell of lavender familiar to her.

She wondered if Rhaenyra had prepared the bath for Alicent after all, if she had memorized Alicent’s lavender scent like she had memorized the queen’s pine and snow scent, and had selected the soap having it in mind.

“He was struck by Myrish crossbow quarrels in the Gullet,” Rhaenyra said, breaking the silence which had settled between them. The queen was sitting on a stool, next to the bath tub, and her eyes were distant, “He was fighting the Triarchy’s warships from up above, trying to defend Driftmark. Vermax was struck first, and the two of them fell onto the sea, but Jace hadn’t been wounded badly even if Vermax couldn’t be saved. His dragon drowned underneath the water as Jace managed to hold onto a part of a ship’s wreckage. But it was to no avail, the piece of the ship was unstable and Jace was wounded. A bowman shot at him, several times, and Jace drowned with his dragon.”

“Rhaenyra…” Alicent said, feeling her cheeks wetting anew, knowing it wasn’t the bath’s water anymore. Rhaenyra didn’t cry, the woman had buried three of her children and it felt as if… as if it was the natural order of things, now, for Rhaenyra. To bury her children before they could turn the age of twenty, before they could fall in love and start families of their own.

“Three out of my six children have died, Alicent,” Rhaenyra looked at her as if she had been reading her mind, “I fear the Gods have cursed me, for wanting to occupy a place which has never belonged to someone like me… a woman.”

Alicent took Rhaenyra’s hand, and she squeezed it with strength she didn’t know she possessed. But Rhaenyra still didn’t cry, as Alicent couldn’t stop herself.

“Helaena and Jaehaera will leave with Baela,” Rhaenyra said, not pushing Alicent’s hand away, “The girl grew up in Pentos, with her sister Rhaena. She’s there with my youngest sons, Viserys and Aegon.”

“And Joffrey?” Alicent asked, and Rhaenyra looked at her with a small frown, “Right, forgive me.”

“In the Vale,” Rhaenyra said a few moments later, “Jeyne Arryn offered her protection, in exchange of a dragon. But I fear she’s not happy, for I only could offer her dragon eggs, and I believe any day she will send Joff here.”

“Why won’t he join his brothers?” Alicent asked, and Rhaenyra arched an eyebrow at her.

“He’s my heir,” Rhaenyra deadpanned, “His two older brothers are dead.”

“I know, Rhaenyra,” Alicent held the urge of rolling her eyes, “But wouldn’t he be safer in Pentos, rather than here?”

“Daemon…” Rhaenyra scowled, and Alicent almost did the same, “A future king doesn’t hide, he said.”

A king is hiding, Alicent thought, though she did not know where said king was exactly hiding at. She knew Tyrosh was helping them, but sending Aegon there was too obvious for a man like Larys. Her son could be in the least expected of places, for all she knew.

“My queen,” both women turned around at the voice breaking the silence, and Alicent blushed because she was no queen anymore.

The woman wasn’t tall, her dark hair was falling down and she was wearing a pale robe. Her dark eyes looked at Alicent, and she offered a little bow, as she then looked at Rhaenyra.

“Mysaria,” the queen said, “What news?”

“The ship is ready,” Mysaria looked at Alicent now, “For the girls.”

Alicent, all of a sudden, was gripped with fear. Aemond had killed Rhaenyra’s son, Lucerys, and the Myroshi had killed Jacaerys. She had totally ruled out Rhaenyra going mad with grief, wanting to find any reason to soothe her pain by eliminating Alicent’s children. And Rhaenyra knew what Helaena meant for Alicent, what Jaehaera meant for her as well, and how much pain that would cause her.

She got up, forgetting she was naked and bathing. Water splashed all over the room, and she panted, her words lost, standing naked on the tub as her eyes travelled from Mysaria to Rhaenyra, as her body filled with goose bumps at the coldness but also at the realization, or hypothesis, her brain had just formulated.

“Alicent?” Rhaenyra asked, frowning, her blue eyes focused on her face and trying hard not to travel down Alicent’s exposed body.

“This is not a trap, is it?” Alicent asked, her eyes moving from Mysaria to Rhaenyra. The two women looked at one another, and then at her, “T-to get me to tell you where Aegon is? I don’t know where he is, Rhaenyra! I left him in his bed, sleeping, and when I came back- when I came back he was nowhere, the streets were full of screams about the king disappearing, some even said he had died in my absence. But, he- he just-”

“It is not a trap,” Mysaria cut the silence, walking towards her and offering Alicent a bath robe. It was green, and she refused to take it.

Her auburn hair was splattered all over her face, covering her chest. Her skin was full of goose bumps, not even realizing she was shaking at the change of temperature from the scalding water to the cold chamber. All of her was visible, if someone entered the room now it would be embarrassing, but Alicent would run naked all around the Red Keep if she had to in order to prevent Helaena and Jaehaera from being stuck in a trap.

“I told you I believe you, Alicent,” Rhaenyra said, taking a linen chemise which had been readied for Alicent, and giving it to the auburn haired woman. Alicent put it on, her wet skin clinging into it, the clothing doing nothing to hide her body as a blush crept over Rhaenyra’s cheeks the moment her blue eyes involuntarily landed on Alicent’s chest.

Rhaenyra breathed deeply, her eyes landing on Mysaria forcefully, nodding slightly and Alicent frowned.

“This afternoon we received news from Dragonstone,” Mysaria said, and Alicent frowned, “Your son had fled there, accompanied by Larys Strong and some of his guards, all of them disguised as smallfolk. Some of our own allies, the ones who weren’t convinced about our cause, offered him help.”

“Dragonstone is his,” Rhaenyra said, and Alicent let out a small sob, “Baela had been there, guarding it, but after the news of Jace’s passing she rode Moondancer to King’s Landing.”

“Are you punishing her by sending her to Pentos?” Alicent asked the queen, who shook her head, “Because she lost Dragonstone, leaving it unguarded when being driven by grief?”

“I’m sending her to Pentos because I almost lost her as well. She and Rhaena, Laena’s girls… they are like my own daughters for me,” Rhaenyra lowered her eyes, “They took advantage of Baela’s absence, some men do not like to be ruled by women.”

“Some men? Not all men?” Alicent scoffed, and she saw Mysaria offering a little smile of amusement.

“Baela is safe from what could’ve become a rebellion, and I need her to keep our futures protected with Rhaena, and Helaena,” Rhaenyra explained, as Alicent felt her legs shaking, her ears becoming muffled. Aegon had been in Dragonstone all this time, as Alicent had left it her son was on his way to infiltrate himself amongst the smallfolk. For all she knew, she could’ve crossed paths with him.

“I didn’t know he was there,” Alicent said, “It almost makes it look as if- as if I had brought him with me.”

“He arrived days after you left,” Mysaria said, “They had to travel slowly, otherwise his injuries would’ve taken the best of him and there would be no king now.”

“But there would be Aemond, and Daeron,” Alicent’s eyes landed on Rhaenyra, “And Jaehaera, our future.”

“My two younger sons and your granddaughter will stay in Pentos, safely, while Joff remains close to me,” Rhaenyra said, and then she squared her shoulders, “There is another reason why I wanted to see you, Alicent.”

“What reason?” Alicent got out of the bath and took the stool Rhaenyra had been occupying. She needed to sit down, her eyesight was becoming blurred, her legs shaky, she could barely hear a sound.

“A marriage pact,” Mysaria said, and Rhaenyra nodded as Alicent stalled her movements, not reaching the stool, “Your granddaughter Jaehaera and Rhaenyra’s son, Aegon. They’re of the same age, and they will grow up together in safety. He is the safest choice as your granddaughter’s future husband, in case Joff’s… Joff’s claim to the crown gets challenged due to,” Mysaria looked at Rhaenyra, “Due to the rumours of his birth.”

“It will be my blood and your Aegon’s blood united in case we,” Rhaenyra swallowed, “In case we must face one another in battle, and don’t survive to tell it.”

Alicent’s knees buckled, and Rhaenyra ran to her side, but Alicent’s consciousness slipped away from her and her body fell on the queen’s arms.

*

Alicent watched the merchant ship sail away from her new quarters. Rhaenyra hadn’t taken her back to the cell, but instead let Alicent move into Helaena’s own chambers, now that she was sailing away to Pentos, with Baela and Jaehaera.

Her daughter and granddaughter had hugged her goodbye, and Alicent had looked at both of their faces, memorizing them, in case she would never see them ever again. Alicent just hoped the reason would be because she would meet her end, and not them.

Now, she was feeling her heart crumble inside her chest, a hand flat on her stomach as she felt the first droplets of saltwater fall from her eyes, and for the first time in a long while she started to pray for her daughter’s safety, for Jaehaera’s and Baela’s as well. Ser Rickard had accompanied them, and Alicent wondered if she would ever see the man again.

“Your Grace,” Alicent turned around, and she saw Mysaria standing at the door, “The queen sends me to ask if you would like to join her to break her fast.”

Alicent knew she had nothing much to do in the Keep. She was a prisoner, without shackles and her skin finally clean, away from the dungeons, but a prisoner nonetheless.

“Of course,” Alicent said, and she followed Mysaria quietly through the hallways the woman had already memorized by heart.

They reached the Hand’s solar, where Alicent had dined so many times with Otto. A large table was prepared, and Rhaenyra was sitting on its head. The plates of fruit were scarce, instead of richly prepared meats and fish the plates had cheese and bread on them. Alicent remembered the small folk rebelling, how they had rightfully complained about the royal family having enough food to not starve while they could scarcely eat, and then small boats had arrived at the Blackwater’s shores, baskets full of food signed by Rhaenyra. Alicent had to admit, it had been a good play.

Mysaria bowed her head, and then she walked away after looking at Rhaenyra for a brief moment, the queen offering her Master of Whispers a small smile of acknowledgement. Alicent frowned, watching Mysaria’s petite form retreat, before she walked to the table, but didn’t sit down.

“Please, take a seat,” Rhaenyra said waving a hand to the chair on the other end of the table. Alicent had missed the plate of fruit readied for her.

She sat, and looked at Rhaenyra with a frown. There were no servants, Alicent had seen none at all around the castle. It had just been Rhaenyra, Mysaria and Baela after Jacaerys had left, and she imagined Daemon had left too, to fight at Harrenhal, taking Rhaenyra’s army with him.

“Eat, please,” Rhaenyra said, gently, as she watched Alicent look at her instead of eating, “Those fruits are freshly picked from the orchards.”

Alicent took a slice of pear, and bit down on it, holding herself back from moaning. She hadn’t eaten something like this in so long, spending too many moons in the dungeons only feeding herself through cheese, and bread and sometimes soup. Alicent guessed Rhaenyra hadn’t underfed her on purpose, they scarcely had any food, and she saw Rhaenyra’s plate as half empty as her own.

The queen munched on a slice of pear as well, her blue eyes distant and still full of grief. They ate silently, as Alicent wondered what was going through Rhaenyra’s mind. She was still wearing a black linen shift, brown leather breeches and black boots.

“Did you forget to bring your dresses?” Alicent asked, her mouth moving before she could even realize she was speaking. Rhaenyra arched an eyebrow at her.

“Just a small change of style,” Rhaenyra said, chuckling slightly, chewing on a strawberry.

“I believe Queen Visenya would’ve worn something like this,” Alicent said, and Rhaenyra looked satisfied with that information, “But I’m not here to talk about your dressing choices, am I?”

“We didn’t finish our conversation the previous night,” the queen said, and Alicent breathed deeply.

She remembered fainting, she remembered never hitting the ground because a pair of strong arms had prevented that from happening. And then, this morning, she woke up in Helaena’s bed, her daughter and granddaughter snoring softly next to her as it was still dark outside. She hadn’t woken them up, and she instead had looked at the two girls, her heart breaking and wanting to join them. Maybe if she had asked Rhaenyra, she would’ve let her go as well. But Rhaenyra needed her here.

“You need me,” Alicent said, not even questioning it. Rhaenyra nodded, firmly, “To speak with my sons?”

“I consider Aemond a lost cause,” Rhaenyra said, pursing her lips, “He wants blood, and so he will have it. Daemon will give it to him.”

Alicent, for whatever reason, realized Rhaenyra wasn’t wearing a wedding ring. She still had it around her finger back in Dragonstone, but Daemon had been away, in Harrenhal, back then. But Rhaenyra hadn’t been alone, Mysaria had kept her company. Alicent decided to bring a strawberry into her mouth and chew on it as she tried to calm down the fire which had started to burn inside her chest.

“But I will need you to speak with Aegon,” Rhaenyra continued, crossing her arms upon her chest.

“Are you sending me to him?” Alicent asked, her eyebrow arching, and Rhaenyra looked at her in a way which made Alicent’s stomach twist. It was as if a dragon was ready to bath you in fire, and for whatever reason, Alicent felt thrilled at the thought.

“No,” Rhaenyra blinked and looked away for a second, “You must stay here.”

“Scared I will betray you?” Alicent chuckled humourlessly, “Don’t worry, I’m a loyal prisoner.”

“He will come and retake the city soon,” Rhaenyra said, but Alicent didn’t miss the slight tremble on the woman’s voice. She kept looking at the woman, peeling a tangerine slowly as Rhaenyra’s eyes watched her fingers move, “He will surely want me dead, but I need you to make a proposition to him.”

“What proposition?”

“Once upon a time, I suggested to marry my son Jacaerys to your daughter, Helaena,” Rhaenyra’s voice hitched as she named her eldest son, Alicent’s stomach dropped at the mention of her daughter, wondering if she would be too late to take a boat, and follow her to Pentos, “But you refused.”

“Rhaenyra-” the queen arched an eyebrow, “Fine, I did.”

“My two youngest sons are in Pentos,” Rhaenyra looked down at her shortened nails, “And your granddaughter will join them soon.”

“What do you suggest?”

“My son, Aegon, and your granddaughter, Jaehaera,” Rhaenyra said, and Alicent dropped the tangerine onto the plate, gasping slightly, “Both of our houses would be united, end with this war, and ensure a peaceful future. As we discussed.”

“They are only infants,” Alicent frowned, shaking her head. She hadn’t been able to say her piece the previous night, but she could do it now, “It will be a long time until they wed, and they will not even rule for your Aegon is your spare. Jaehaera is a girl, my son Aegon has no living male sons, and Aemond-”

“Aemond will not rule,” Rhaenyra said, the words hard and cold. Alicent gulped, “I will remain the ruler, with the condition Aegon agrees to uniting our houses through our children.”

“What about Joffrey?” Alicent narrowed her eyes, and Rhaenyra breathed deeply. She had known Mysaria had mentioned the issue the previous night, but Alicent wanted to hear Rhaenyra’s thoughts. The woman had been so persistent in her children’s bloodline, claiming they weren’t bastards.

“His claim to the throne will be challenged, as we discussed” Rhaenyra hissed, knowing what Alicent was intending to do, “Jace’s was, Luke’s would’ve been, and so will be Joffrey’s. My son Aegon, on the other side, is a Targaryen.”

“So is Joffrey,” Alicent bit part of the tangerine, “Or so you swore it upon the Gods, Rhaenyra, that he was.”

“Let’s not do this, Alicent. We’re past that discussion, and there is no time for it,” Rhaenyra’s eyes looked at her harshly, and Alicent breathed, “Aegon and Jaehaera can end once and for all this bloodshed, ensure both sides… win. Joffrey will become Lord of Driftmark, for he is Laenor’s only living son and heir, and Aegon will rule the Seven Kingdoms as Aegon the Third once my rule is over.”

Alicent frowned, and she wondered if Rhaenyra had discussed this matter with Mysaria after Alicent fainted. The previous night, the Master of Whispers had talked about Joffrey’s claim being challenged. Now, it seemed as if Rhaenyra had completely changed her mind as to who her heir would be, for she had called Joffrey that in the bath chamber. And now, she was calling her own son Aegon heir.

“You called Joffrey your heir,” Alicent frowned, “Only last night.”

“Aegon and Jaehaera are Targaryens,” Rhaenyra swallowed, “Full Targaryens, that is, in blood and name. Putting them on the throne wouldn’t create any challenges, while putting Joffrey…” the queen laughed dryly, “It would begin another war for the throne.”

“And will your son Joffrey agree to this?” Alicent felt her lips smirking, knowing Rhaenyra had the tendency of making decisions in a rush, sometimes not stopping to think about the consequences, “Don’t you think he will feel overlooked, usurped, if his younger brother inherits the throne before him?”

“Joffrey is only twelve,” Rhaenyra squared her shoulders and a muscle twitched on her jaw, “But he is wise beyond his years, and he knows what he… what he is, what his brothers were,” Rhaenyra looked away for a moment, “He has lost the two of them, Alicent, he knows what’s at stake. I have the hope he will not engage in a civil war, and he won’t… he won’t have to pay for the mistakes I made as a young and reckless girl.”

Alicent’s smirk disappeared, as Rhaenyra’s voice became rough.

“Rhaenyra,” Alicent drank from her wine, “I didn’t mean to-”

“Joffrey is a bastard, like Jacaerys and Lucerys. You know it, I know it, and they knew it,” the queen continued, “You know what putting him on the throne would cause.”

“Another war, as you said,” Alicent nodded, and Rhaenyra shrugged her shoulders.

“Maybe a war amongst him and your surviving sons, maybe a war between him and my younger two sons,” The queen took out a dagger from her belt and put the tip on the wooden surface of the table, carving something, “By rights and age, he should be my heir, but he won’t receive that privilege for there is too much at risk, and both sides have already lost so much,” Rhaenyra smiled a little, “He will fight me, and he will argue this decision, but in the end I hope he will see the bigger picture. Driftmark will become his, my Aegon will get the throne, and there’ll be peace at last.”

“Was this solely your idea?” Alicent asked, her eyes drifting to the solar’s entrance, wondering if Mysaria was sulking in the shadows, listening, “Or did you receive advice from someone else as I was regaining my conscience?”

“Yes, Mysaria talked about this the night I received the news about Jace,” Rhaenyra said, making Alicent’s eyes snap back to her, “And I believed it foolish, for by rights of age Joff should be my heir,” Rhaenyra closed her eyes, tiredly sighing, “And it was the reason why I summoned you, aside from… well, your son’s conquest of Dragonstone, as they call it. I wanted to know your opinion on the matter, what you thought was wiser.”

“And now you don’t need my advice,” Alicent smiled sarcastically, “For you have already made up your mind.”

“Mysaria convinced me, after you…” Rhaenyra waved a hand, weakly.

“What is the relationship between you and that woman?” Alicent’s eyebrows went high, tilting her head slightly. Rhaenyra scowled, “Is she your friend, or is she… your bed warmer when your husband’s away?”

“Silence,” Rhaenyra snarled, getting up harshly. Alicent gasped in delight, a familiar sensation setting at the pit of her stomach, “We are not here to talk about… that. We are here to finish discussing what we started last night.”

“So I’m right,” Alicent let out a cold laugh, “She warmed your bed while your husband was away, fighting your war? While men died in your name, was she kissing the space between your legs?”

“Alicent.”

“Does she still warm your bed?” Alicent got up too, and started to walk closer to the queen, having to look up. She tilted her head slightly, as Rhaenyra’s blue eyes burned with dragon fire, “Our bed, for I slept on it during the years you were gone.”

“What-”

“I conquered your chambers, my queen,” Alicent shrugged her shoulders, and Rhaenyra breathed raggedly.

“And I took them, back,” she said, weakly, “They were mine.”

“Hmm,” Alicent didn’t argue back, and Rhaenyra looked at her, gaping a little.

“Do we have an agreement, then?” Rhaenyra asked, her voice shaking slightly, “When Aegon comes to the city, will you talk with him? Let him know of my decision, and convince him to agree?”

“And where will you be when he comes back here? Why won’t you be the one talking to him?” Alicent wondered, and now Rhaenyra smirked at her.

“I won’t be here, my dearest Alicent,” Rhaenyra raised her dagger, and she caressed Alicent’s cheek with the cold tip. Alicent inhaled sharply, “For I will be conquering Dragonstone.”

*

Alicent was allowed to move around the Red Keep, not being confined to her bedchambers anymore as Rhaenyra very well knew Alicent wouldn’t escape because she had nowhere to go. She had betrayed her son, she had betrayed her house, she had gone to visit the enemy when no one else was looking, using the invisibility they had given to her throughout the years for good, and now she was her enemy’s prisoner. She had no friends anymore, just enemies, and she felt like a ghost roaming around the castle with no purpose, waiting to learn about her sons’ fate, her daughter and granddaughter’s fate, and her own as well.

Mysaria came and went, Alicent realized, never asking where she went but she noticed the woman being absent most of the time, always coming back to the Red Keep at night, sometimes never leaving the castle but disappearing amongst the walls. Alicent wondered if, at night, she became Rhaenyra’s lover and not her spy, while Alicent was lying wide awake upon the mattress her daughter had occupied with her granddaughter, still smelling of the sweet scent Helaena had carried with herself ever since she was born. A scent of flowers, reminding Alicent of spring.

Rhaenyra and Alicent supped together every night, each sitting at the end of the large table in the Hand’s solar. Sometimes they ate their food quietly, both women thinking about their children, the ones Rhaenyra had lost and the ones Alicent could end up losing. Rhaenyra, other times, updated her on the war to fill the silence, none of them wanting to be alone with their thoughts.

Otto was nowhere to be seen, he had disappeared months ago and no one knew about where he had gone to, if he was imprisoned or if he had decided to leave the scheming of court and war behind. Gwayne was still alive, according to the reports, and so was Criston the queen would add with an air of bitterness and something else Alicent couldn’t quite define.

Aemond and Daemon, hadn’t faced one another yet, the two of them close to each other but fighting the guerrilla formations they sent to one another. Daeron had made it to Aemond’s ranks, and was commanding a guerrilla of his own with his uncle, Gwayne, while Aemond commanded his men accompanied by Criston.

Joffrey Velaryon was still in the Vale, safe, but Rhaenyra had received news from Jeyne Arryn. The boy wanted to come to King’s Landing now that Jace was gone, he wanted to fight next to his mother and occupy his rightful place as her sworn protector and, in any case, regent if Rhaenyra should fall in battle.

Jeyne said Joffrey had accepted his mother’s decision, Rhaenyra had written to the Lady of the Vale explaining it all, but the woman also said Joffrey would become the protector of the realm should something befall his mother and, therefore, he would protect little Aegon and little Viserys from harm so their mother’s wishes could be accomplished and they could reign in her name, while Joffrey would make a home of his own in Driftmark.

Alicent believed the child to be naïve, full of hope, thinking they all would survive this mess. He was better off in the Vale, protected by Jeyne Arryn even if she and Rhaenyra had been at odds. But the two women were cousins, Queen Aemma had been Jeyne Arryn’s aunt, and therefore the Vale was loyal to the late queen’s daughter. And if Joffrey Velaryon had to go somewhere, Alicent believed, it wasn’t next to his mother’s side to become the hero his brothers wanted, and failed, to be. If he had to travel somewhere, it was across the sea and to Pentos, with his little brothers.

“He’s just a child, Rhaenyra. War is no place for a child, no matter how much he wants to become your protector,” Alicent said, when Rhaenyra told her she would agree to Joff’s request, that she would let them come to King’s Landing and take his place as the realm’s protector if she fell.

“He’s a brave child,” Rhaenyra said, smiling sadly, “Just like his father, and just like Laenor.”

Alicent decided to end the conversation there, knowing both of them were too tired and restless to start an argument. And Alicent knew she would say something wrong, something that would anger Rhaenyra, and she liked this sort of peaceful quietness they had surrounded themselves with. She didn’t want the queen to take away her slight freedom inside this prison, she liked to sit on her chamber’s window and look out into the shimmering sea, wondering if she would see Helaena coming back home one day.

*

They didn’t receive news from Baela for a long time, and Alicent was starting to lose her nerve and composure wondering how long it could take to sail from King’s Landing to Pentos.

In her desperation, she had found Mysaria talking quietly with one of the Velaryon men who had been guarding the shores of King’s Landing, and Alicent had begged the woman to ask around the city about possible shipwrecks, fearing her daughter and granddaughter had encountered a storm and had never reached the Pentosi shores.

“No need, Your Grace,” Mysaria showed her a small roll of parchment, and Alicent recognized the Targaryen seal, “We just received news.”

It had been two weeks since Alicent had watched her girls leave with Baela Targaryen, two weeks since she had learned about Aegon’s whereabouts and two weeks since Rhaenyra proposed a marriage between her son, named Aegon as well, and Alicent’s granddaughter, Jaehaera. She hadn’t accepted it, it wasn’t her place to accept it, and she had her doubts her own Aegon would even bother to listen to her. For all she knew, her son could’ve known about Alicent’s betrayal and he could ask for her head.

Alicent took the small paper from Mysaria’s hand, and she opened it. Baela’s message was short, but it filled Alicent with so much relief she almost fell on her knees and started to cry when the young princess announced they had arrived in Pentos, Rhaena and Rhaenyra’s children were all safe and healthy, and Helaena and Jaehaera were unharmed, and liked the palace where Baela and Rhaena had grown up at.

“Jaehaera likes the orangery,” Alicent said over supper, unable to hold back a smile. Rhaenyra, relieved as well, smiled back, “And Helaena enjoys the warmth of the sun, and the quiet.”

“She and Baela became good friends over the days you…” Rhaenyra looked down into her plate, guiltily, “Were away.”

“Away,” Alicent scoffed, and Rhaenyra looked at her, apologetically.

“Rhaena and Baela will be great company for Helaena,” Rhaenyra continued saying, her voice gentle, “Aegon, Viserys and Jaehaera will become good friends, I know it in my heart. They will put an end to this madness.”

“A madness I started,” Alicent said after a few moments of silence, as Rhaenyra watched her silently with a frown, “When Viserys said the name Aegon, I thought he meant…”

“I know,” Rhaenyra said, not harshly, the two of them remembering that clandestine meeting in the Sept. Alicent had asked Rhaenyra to go, fearing more for the woman’s life than her own in case anyone saw her, and recognized her. And then, only a few moons later, Rhaenyra was the one asking Alicent to go after betraying her son, and king, in order to end the war.

Come with me, she had said. And Rhaenyra had almost gone with her.

“It wasn’t your fault, Alicent,” Rhaenyra said, bringing Alicent back to reality, “I would’ve been usurped regardless, misunderstanding or not. My own husband was planning on usurping me once I would get my throne back.”

“What?” Alicent frowned, and Rhaenyra chuckled, humourlessly.

“I was a puppet to them all, I still am,” Rhaenyra got up and walked towards the terrace of her bedchamber, the one the two women had been supping at tonight. The sky above was clear, stars shining fiercely, the city below was quiet, “If they joined me was because of Daemon, and he was the one giving orders while I was just… sitting there, listening, unable to argue back and give my own opinions because I was a woman. Their queen, they said, but a woman regardless.”

“He killed Vaemond Velaryon without my consent,” Rhaenyra continued as Alicent joined her in the balcony, the soft saline breeze caressing their skins, “When I was no more than a child, he took me to…” Rhaenyra closed her eyes, “To a brothel, and abandoned me there, not caring about my own reputation getting stained. It was all a game for him, a game to taunt my father and mock him, no matter the consequences that had on my own name, my own reputation.”

“When my father died and my Visenya came to this world earlier than she should’ve,” Rhaenyra said as Alicent felt her chest filling up with anger, more and more by each of Rhaenyra’s words, “He never came to my side as my screams of pain echoed around Dragonstone. I called my three eldest sons to my side, Aegon and Viserys still too young to understand, and I told them I might not survive the birth. I commanded Jace to take charge of the council and only trust Rhaenys and Corlys and their advice. I asked Luke and Joff to stand next to their brother, and protect and support him. And when Jace offered sound advice to the Council as I was birthing Visenya, my… husband mocked him, and tossed him aside, and never came to my side. Instead, he schemed and schemed and schemed… and acted as if he was the king. Jace was only a young boy, without experience in battle, and while he was their Prince… Daemon was a warrior, a Consort King, as he called himself without my own knowledge nor consent. But my consent has never mattered to him, never.”

Alicent remained silent, her eyes looking at the queen as Rhaenyra’s blue eyes filled with that familiar dragon fire Alicent had grown accustomed to, never fearing it but filling her with some sort of unknown thrill she had never felt in the past.

“He put his hands on me more than once,” a pale hand shot to Rhaenyra’s neck, and Alicent understood it immediately, and she wanted to go to Harrenhal herself, and toss Daemon Targaryen into the fire, watch him burn alive and rejoice on his screams of pain, “He hurt me in more ways than one, Alicent. And when I confronted him about it, when I asked him if I had his loyalty because he believed in me or if I had it because he wanted the crown he had desired for so long, he became silent. And his silence was louder than any words he could say, louder than any lie he could tell to make me believe he was fighting for me, and not for himself. And if I become victorious, Alicent,” Rhaenyra gulped, “If I become victorious, I don’t know what he will do.”

“I’m sure,” Alicent breathed shakily, “I’m sure he holds love for you in his heart, Rhaenyra, in his own and twisted way,” Rhaenyra let out a humourless snort of laughter, “Are you sure he would betray you, even if you became victorious? Wouldn’t that put him in a dangerous position?”

“Don’t be naïve, Alicent,” Rhaenyra snarled, “I might be a queen, daughter and granddaughter of kings and queens, but so is he. Daemon is a man, a warrior, and the army he gathered would turn against me and Joffrey with only the flicked of his finger.”

“Rhaenyra-”

“He has never loved me,” Rhaenyra chuckled, dryly, “But I believe I have never loved him, either. Marrying him was all a political game, to gain influence and to… to rebel against my father, I suppose, for this time I was the one choosing who I married, I was the one choosing my destiny, and gaining power in return” Rhaenyra shrugged her shoulders, “And now I can finally see that even if Daemon managed to reunite an army to fight in my name, even if he swore he was loyal to me and no one else and I would be the one ruling, I cannot trust him. I cannot… I cannot love him.”

Alicent gulped at the coldness in Rhaenyra’s voice, at the determination and the heartbreak as the princess realized the world, no matter what, would turn against her and even if she was victorious, even if she survived and ruled the Seven Kingdoms, Daemon Targaryen’s shadow would loom over her and the queen’s men would do his deed, and not her own. Rhaenyra’s voice would be drowned, no matter how loud she screamed.

Unless Daemon Targaryen…

“And Mysaria,” Rhaenyra looked at Alicent now, snapping the Dowager Queen back into reality, and she stupidly felt her cheeks blushing, though she told herself it was because of the rage she felt towards Daemon Targaryen, the disgust, “It is true we found company in one another, the both of us wronged by the same men, and it is true… it is true we helped one another to heal our wounds, but it was no more than that. Lust, and the need to… to find some sort of freedom, of healing.”

“So I was right,” Alicent arched her eyebrows, “You are lovers.”

“Were,” Rhaenyra corrected her, “Though I do not think you can even call it that. We haven’t… we haven’t been together since you came to Dragonstone, and as I said… there was never love, not really.”

Alicent felt her breathing hitch at the back of her throat, her eyes glued on a small boat floating in the docks, hoping Rhaenyra wouldn’t see the blush creeping all over her neck, her cheeks. The queen was watching her, curiously, as Alicent tried to understand what it meant Rhaenyra hadn’t been on Mysaria’s bed, or otherwise, ever since she visited the queen in Dragonstone. All this time, she had believed Mysaria was warming Rhaenyra’s bed as she was freezing in a cell. But it hadn’t been like that, Alicent had been, once again, wrong.

“I always knew Daemon wasn’t right for you,” Alicent said, instead, and she could feel Rhaenyra smiling in amusement at her, knowing Alicent’s mind was working overtime to try to find the meaning behind Rhaenyra’s confession.

Alicent was reminded of a younger version of the queen, one that would shamelessly flirt with boys and girls equally, one that would shamelessly flirt with Alicent and make her blush as she said the most scandalous things. And then, Rhaenyra would smile crookedly and with satisfaction in her blue eyes as Alicent stumbled over her words, not knowing what to say. Just like now, twenty years later.

“And who was right for me, Alicent?” Rhaenyra asked then, as Alicent was unable to say anything else, clutching the stone railing with her hands as she tried to calm her heart and her thoughts down.

Alicent stammered, looking at the queen and shaking her head. Rhaenyra arched an eyebrow, waiting for her to say something, but Alicent had the feeling the woman already knew her answer.

Who had been right for Rhaenyra Targaryen, but Alicent Hightower herself? Alicent remembered all the times in the past, as young girls and the night of Viserys’s death. She hadn’t forgotten, the times they had been lost in one another, tenderly looking at each other with endless amounts of love and endless amounts of things left unsaid between both of their hearts and souls.

Alicent remembered, how many times she had ached to reach out to Rhaenyra when the girl had been lost, and confused, regarding her destiny. Their hands had always been seeking one another’s company, they had always found comfort into being clutched and intertwined as the world around them was starting to crumble down. Alicent remembered the time they had been separated after Viserys’s death, how much she had ached for Rhaenyra’s tender hands, for the looks full of amusement and adoration.

The two of them had always craved what they couldn’t have, Alicent knew it as much as Rhaenyra did. They had yearned, and yearned, and yearned for one another even when they had to be enemies.

What other choice had been more right for Rhaenyra than Alicent herself, the woman who had loved the queen through time and space, through peace and war, even when she wasn’t supposed to do it?

It was an impossible choice, but it was the purest of truths she had kept hidden inside her heart for so many years, until she saw Rhaenyra in Dragonstone, looking beautiful in her nightgown, and had wanted nothing more but to run away with the woman, to finally accomplish that dream the two of them had shared, distant as Rhaenyra had said and yet burning like the brightest and warmest of fires.

All this time, Alicent realized in that very same moment, she had been stupidly devoted to Rhaenyra. She had fought the Council every time murdering Rhaenyra had been mentioned after Viserys’s death and the beginning of the war, she had written letters to Rhaenyra begging to give up her right in favour of Aegon as a way to protect the woman and keep her alive.

And she had risked her life, sailing to Dragonstone during the death hours of night to beg Rhaenyra to run away with her because maybe that was the only way she could make sure Rhaenyra would survive this war, this stupid war she had helped start, and had wanted to end.

Because in losing Rhaenyra, she would lose herself.

All Alicent had done, it had been because of the devotion she had felt to Rhaenyra for as long as she could remember. Rhaenyra had become Alicent’s religion, she had shed her faith, her house and her colours, and she had faced her saviour, her freedom, her queen and only God, Rhaenyra.

Because Alicent had never felt as free as she did when she was with Rhaenyra, she had never felt as free as she had felt when she had sailed the waters that drove her to Dragonstone, she had never felt as free as she felt when Rhaenyra had stood in front of her, when she had watched the sun come out even if Rhaenyra had rejected her. Because she had been free, at last, of the burdens of guilt. And with three simple words, come with me, she had said all she had been keeping a secret and locked away inside her soul.

Alicent had left everything behind, she had realized everything had been nonsense, and the only thing that had made sense for Alicent was to love Rhaenyra, to devote her body and soul to her. Rhaenyra, who never jested about cake and sent the Septas to hell, Rhaenyra who had always found ways to be gentle with Helaena, despite the hatred she must’ve felt for Alicent. Rhaenyra, who had been kind to Alicent even when they had been enemies.

Rhaenyra’s smile disappeared slowly as she realized what Alicent’s silence meant. And Alicent turned around, slowly, looking up to Rhaenyra. Her blue eyes shone like the stars up above, her silver hair seemed to be kissed by the moon’s light itself. Her skin was pale, perfect, and almost unreal.

Alicent had wondered during the last weeks, if all of this had been a hallucination. She wondered if she was dying, and Rhaenyra was just a product of her imagination. She had spent so many nights dreaming of the woman, wishing to see her again, even if it was only once before getting bathed in dragon fire for all the treason she had committed.

Now, Alicent had Rhaenyra only a breath away, just like in Dragonstone. But she didn’t have the need to run away anymore, because whatever happened to them, they would be together. For a long time, maybe just for a few days, but Rhaenyra was back home and Alicent was able to touch her again.

“Alicent?” Rhaenyra breathed, her eyes shining like they had done in Dragonstone.

 She was so beautiful, Alicent had been unable to breathe when she had seen Rhaenyra descend the stairs that night. And now here she was, mouth agape, her breathing ragged, as Rhaenyra tilted her head to one side like a curious cat would do, or like a dragon would do as it got ready to trap his prey, a deer perhaps, a human being.

Alicent still looked at Rhaenyra, at the way she had decided to leave her moonlight coloured hair loose tonight, at the way her eyes, still now, shone with mischief and amusement, as if they were permanently laughing even if they were surrounded by dark circles due to the exhaustion and grief the woman had been suffering for months. Alicent looked at the queen’s pale hands, still soft and slender, at the aquiline nose and the perfectly shaped lips.

The woman who was standing in front of her, the queen who was looking down at her with as much love and adoration as Alicent had felt all these years regardless of what she told herself, was still the girl she had fallen in love with under the Weirwood tree. She didn’t know how, when or why it had happened, but the only thing Alicent had been sure of her whole life was that she had loved Rhaenyra. Fiercely, and painfully, and sometimes she had hated how much she had loved the woman. But she did, and that was her truth, her liberation.

And now, with nothing left to lose, she decided it was time to unlock what she had kept hidden inside her chest for so many years.

“Me,” Alicent said, making Rhaenyra frown, “I was the right choice for you, Rhaenyra.”

Alicent believed the woman would laugh, that she would call for Mysaria so they could laugh together at Alicent’s stupidity. Or maybe Rhaenyra would grab her by the neck, and would throw her down the balcony after all Alicent had provoked.

“It has taken you a while to realize that, hasn’t it?” Rhaenyra said instead, gently as her lips turned up into that smile Alicent had grown to love. Alicent gaped, feeling as if her lungs had been depleted of all the air they stored, as the queen tilted her head and kept on smiling down at the Dowager Queen.

“W-what?”

“Every day I spent with you during our youth, I tried to court you in any way I could think of, taking notes from those knightly tales we both loved so much,” Rhaenyra said, letting out a small laugh, as Alicent felt her eyes widening slightly, “I asked you to run away with me on dragon’s back, I promised I would throw away my princess titles in order to become your knight in shining armour, and I always saved the last pieces of cake for you…”

“Liar, you always ate those,” Alicent pointed out, and Rhaenyra laughed, genuinely laughed, throwing her head back and filling the night’s silence with the richness of her laughter.

Such a regal laugh, so full of life.

“You have always been the one for me, haven’t you?” Rhaenyra’s hand found Alicent’s cheek, and Alicent leaned into the touch, feeling the calluses which had never been there in the past, “I wish you could’ve seen it sooner, how I was the one for you as well.”

“We’re fools, aren’t we?” Alicent laughed, and Rhaenyra nodded her head, silently, “Will you ever forgive me for all I have done to you?”

“I forgave you a long time ago, Alicent,” Rhaenyra confessed, biting down her lower lip as she closed her eyes, and glued her forehead against Alicent’s, the rich scent of lavender mixing with the scent of pine and snow. Alicent found Rhaenyra’s shift’s collar, and clutched her hands around it as if she was trying to make sure this wasn’t a dream, that Rhaenyra was truly there and wouldn’t evaporate into the night’s air.

“How long do we have?” Alicent wondered, making Rhaenyra’s eyes open in confusion, “Until Aegon arrives? Or Daemon comes back to give you the news of his victories?”

“Days,” Rhaenyra said, “Maybe weeks, or months.”

“Then,” Alicent gulped, her breathing shaky, “Let’s make the best of it.”

Rhaenyra smiled at her, separating herself for a moment.

“Are you sure of what you’re suggesting, my lady?”

“I have never been surer of anything else, Rhaenyra,” Alicent confessed, and Rhaenyra breathed deeply, her hands trembling.

“Oh, how I have missed you, my love… my one true love, always and forever.”

After one last flicker of her eyes, and a small nod from Alicent, Rhaenyra brought her lips upon Alicent’s, and she kissed her gently, slowly, as if they had all the time in the world. Alicent had imagined this so many times in the past, immediately going to the Sept the next morning to pray all those thoughts away. But now, if she was lucky, she wouldn’t have to. If she was lucky, she would pray and worship Rhaenyra’s body as she had always wished to do.

Alicent decided to deepen the kiss, not missing the small gasp of surprise coming from Rhaenyra’s lips. Her hold on the queen’s shirt strengthened, as Rhaenyra’s hands descended down Alicent’s spine, and they found her hips, clutching them fiercely and bringing her body closer to hers.

“Eager, are we?” Alicent teased, her voice a pant as her lungs were close to exploding. Rhaenyra smiled, her lips landing on Alicent’s neck, kissing the warm skin and making her moan slightly. She felt Rhaenyra open her mouth to say something, to tease her about her own eagerness, but Alicent beat her to it, “Be quiet, my queen.”

“Yes, my queen,” Rhaenyra said, as she kept on kissing Alicent’s neck, her tongue caressing the spots her lips touched, as Alicent held onto Rhaenyra’s shoulders and felt the world exploding around her.

She remembered Viserys’s roughness, the pain and the desperation to create son after son. She remembered Criston’s disgust with himself, how he had never known what to do with her, how Alicent had always taken charge and had closed her eyes through it all, imagining it was someone else underneath her.

And now, here she was, feeling Rhaenyra’s lips upon her own, on her neck and sternum, being held by the woman’s hands as if she didn’t want Alicent to slip away. It was the first time it felt right to her, it was the first time it made sense to be kissed and touched like this.

And even in Rhaenyra’s desperation and eagerness, there was love, and gentleness, and care.

*

Alicent felt her back colliding with the wall, letting out a small gasp, trapped between Rhaenyra’s hands. She grabbed the woman’s silver hair and tugged at it, bringing Rhaenyra’s lips back onto her own, their tongues clashing like their soldiers clashed on the battlefields. And Alicent thought it was ironic, how their houses were fighting one another, and their queens were here, fighting a battle of their own.

“Maybe,” Rhaenyra panted, “We should go inside?”

“Only the moon and stars to witness,” Alicent challenged her, and Rhaenyra smiled.

“I want you all for myself tonight, Alicent Hightower,” the queen confessed, and Alicent raised her chin slightly.

“Just tonight?” she wondered, and Rhaenyra shook her head.

“Tonight, and all the nights the Gods will grant to us,” Rhaenyra, who had never been a believer of the Gods, kissed her, and Alicent’s hands buried on the woman’s hair, as their hips collided together and a shiver went down her spine.

They were divine tonight, each other’s Goddesses, and they would worship one another as such.

“If tonight is our last night in this world,” Alicent gulped as Rhaenyra watched her closely, her eyes burning with desire, “Then make love to me as if we were about to die tomorrow, Rhaenyra.”

Rhaenyra grabbed Alicent’s hand and walked her inside, turning around and kissing her once again, and once again and once again. Alicent decided, in that moment, that if Daemon Targaryen descended upon her and decided to burn her alive, she would die a happy death.

Her hands found the hem of Rhaenyra’s shift, and they shook as she pulled at it, the woman looking into her eyes and caressing her cheeks.

“Slowly, my love,” Rhaenyra said, softly, “We have all night ahead, remember?”

Alicent took Rhaenyra’s black linen shirt off, and she felt her surroundings starting to spin as she saw the woman was completely naked underneath. Her knees almost buckled as she looked at the flat yet muscled belly, at the small but perfectly shaped breasts crowned by a pair of pink and hard nipples, at the freckles painting the porcelain skin of Rhaenyra’s shoulders.

Alicent wanted to devour Rhaenyra, inch by inch, and for a moment she felt like the dragon while the queen felt like the deer.

Alicent had seen Rhaenyra naked before, she had seen her full naked body, but never like this. Now she was looking at the body of a queen, at the body she was dying to taste, as if she had been a starving beast and Rhaenyra’s body was hers and only hers.

Rhaenyra, with a knowing smile, took Alicent’s hand and put it flat upon her stomach. Alicent felt the muscles tensing underneath, the skin full of goose bumps and the perked, pink nipples reacting to her touch. Rhaenyra, then, moved Alicent’s hand up, and up, and up until it cupped one of her breasts. Rhaenyra, in all of her glory, closed her eyes and let out a small breathing sound as Alicent’s hand, now, moved on its own.

She cupped Rhaenyra’s breasts, gently, and touched it as if she was holding in her hands the most valuable of treasures. And then, her lips found the other one, and Rhaenyra tilted her head backwards, letting out a moan as Alicent’s lips encircled her nipple, the other hand caressing her breast, and kissed it, gently, her tongue soothing it. And then, she moved onto the other breast, and did the same, and Rhaenyra grabbed a handful of her auburn curls and pulled with need, making Alicent separate her mouth from Rhaenyra’s chest, finding one another’s lips again.

Alicent’s hands now moved expertly, all shyness and doubts disappearing as they roamed on Rhaenyra’s freckled shoulders and her chest, down the queen’s muscled arms and her stomach, clutching at her back as Rhaenyra’s hands gripped Alicent’s waist, hungrily and firmly and as if Rhaenyra, too, believed Alicent would disappear at any moment.

Alicent found Rhaenyra’s breeches, and started to undo them as Rhaenyra took off her boots, and tossed them away, lost somewhere in the spacious chamber. The two of them laughed at the clumsiness, feeling like two teenagers again, as Alicent pulled the brown leather garment down Rhaenyra’s legs the moment she managed to undo the strings, and threw it away, the queen standing fully naked in front of her.

“Kneel,” Rhaenyra whispered, and Alicent obeyed for the woman was her queen, her Goddess.

Alicent knelt on the floor and her hands caressed Rhaenyra’s calves and knees, her thighs and hips, her stomach… as Alicent’s brown eyes followed her hands movements, admiring Rhaenyra’s naked body, worshipping it like she had worshipped the Mother so many times in the past, praying to her. Now, she prayed to Rhaenyra’s body.

The queen looked down at her; still dressed with a soft blue tunic she wanted to get rid of for it was burning her alive. Rhaenyra touched her cheek, and Alicent closed her eyes, mouth slightly agape, feeling Rhaenyra’s thumb enter her mouth. She sucked on it, opening her eyes and never parting them away from Rhaenyra’s blue ones, the queen’s mouth slightly agape and her chest going up and down quickly as Alicent still knelt in front of her, and sucked on the woman’s thumb as her hands rested on Rhaenyra’s hips, her own thumbs drawing circles on the porcelain skin.

Alicent caressed Rhaenyra’s leg, her thigh, and kissed every inch of skin she could find when Rhaenyra took her thumb away from Alicent’s mouth and, instead, her hand grabbed on the auburn curls using her other hand to herself into one of the bed posts, carved with dragons, as Alicent raised the queen’s right foot and settled it on her shoulder while her lips never stopped to kiss the woman’s legs and stomach.

Looking up at Rhaenyra and receiving a nod, Alicent’s tongue found the space between Rhaenyra’s legs, caressing the folds slowly, her hand grabbing Rhaenyra’s thigh as the other found Rhaenyra’s backside, pushing the woman closer to her so she could taste her better. Rhaenyra’s hips buckled as her free hand grabbed Alicent’s auburn hair tighter, bringing her face closer and letting out short pants as she tilted her head backwards.

Alicent could feel Rhaenyra dripping, the fluid which tasted like the most of delicious foods Alicent had ever tasted descending slowly down Rhaenyra’s legs, and Alicent’s chin, but her mouth didn’t stop to move. It was as if she had always known how to do this, as if the information had always been stored in her brain, as if she had been created to make love to Rhaenyra, who was moaning softly, repeating Alicent’s name like a prayer as Alicent’s tongue kept moving, exploring.

She felt Rhaenyra tighten her grip, her legs shaking, an indicator she was ready to come undone. And Alicent replaced her tongue with a finger, Rhaenyra’s eyes opening as she gaped down at the woman who, once upon a time, had blushed at the simple mention of knights courting them when they were young.

And now here she was, kneeling in front of Rhaenyra’s body as her own lips glistened with the queen’s most primal essence, as her finger moved in and out from the space between Rhaenyra’s legs, as the queen’s porcelain face flushed slowly with need, and desire, and the incoming climax Alicent would provoke.

Alicent moved her finger, in and out of Rhaenyra, as she had done with herself so many times in the past while she thought about Rhaenyra doing all those things to her and, then, had asked her ladies in waiting to fill up a bath tub for her, and she had cleaned all the sins and filth away, the remainder of her actions sticking between her legs, cold and yet burning her as she washed herself, brushing and brushing, only to repeat it all over again the next night, and the next after that.

Rhaenyra came fast, like wave colliding against a rock and making the world tremble and shake. The sound Rhaenyra made was music to Alicent’s ears, so regal, so strong and fierce, a result of what Alicent had done to her body, how she had moved automatically, as if she had always known what to do.

“Fuck,” Rhaenyra breathed as Alicent put the queen’s foot back on the floor, and passed a hand upon her chin as Rhaenyra’s inner thighs glistened and the fluid ran down her thighs.

The queen was still clutching the bed post with one hand, and the other was loosening around Alicent’s scalp, not trusting her balance to keep her standing straight. Alicent, for a bried moment, felt proud of herself.

Alicent got up slowly and she kissed Rhaenyra, making the queen gasp once again as she tasted herself on Alicent’s tongue, on her lips, the queen’s tongue licking her own fluid from Alicent’s lips and tongue and chin. And, finally, Rhaenyra bit down on Alicent’s lip, not so gently, and Alicent gasped in surprise, groaned as the sweetest of pains filled every single one of her nerves.

“We,” Rhaenyra breathed deeply, her whole body glistening with sweat, “Are at a disadvantage.”

“Are we, my queen?” Alicent wondered, tilting her head to the side innocently.

“Heathen,” Rhaenyra mumbled and then, regaining her strength surprisingly fast, she turned Alicent’s body around and the auburn haired woman grabbed onto the bed posts for support, gasping at the sudden motion.

Rhaenyra’s naked and glimmering body stood behind her, and Alicent felt her heart racing and her stomach twisting in anticipation as Rhaenyra pushed her hair aside, and her canine teeth found the side of her neck, biting down on it and making Alicent gasp loudly, closing her eyes.

Rhaenyras lips kissed and bit her neck as her hands found the laces of her blue gown, and undid them one by one, fast and clumsily, forcefully pushing the garment down her arms, and hips, and legs. Rhaenyra, then, grabbed Alicent by the hips and turned her around, her blue eyes looking almost violet in the chamber’s light.

Their chests touched one another, Alicent’s darker nipples tingling with anticipation as Rhaenyra’s hands burned on her sides and Alicent grabbed the woman’s arms for support, eyes wide and hungry.

“You’re beautiful,” Rhaenyra breathed out, in admiration, exploring Alicent’s body. She had regained her weight in the last few weeks, her ribs weren’t visible anymore and her chest had become to its regular shape, her breasts slightly lager and fuller than the queen’s.

And, smugly, she realized Rhaenyra was delighted by what she was seeing, something she had seen before but now, whatever she wanted to do, Alicent would let her do it. All of it, no questions asked, until her own body would give out.

“Lie on the mattress,” Rhaenyra commanded, her voice full of authority, making every single hair on Alicent’s body stand.

Alicent, for once in her life, obeyed and sat at the edge of the bed, slowly moving backwards and purposefully opening her legs wider as she moved and watched Rhaenyra bit down on her lip, hungrily, her face full of annoyance because she knew what type of game Alicent was playing at. And while Rhaenyra would be in charge now, conquering every inch of Alicent’s body and fucking her until Alicent would see white spots, Alicent wouldn’t go down so easily.

Rhaenyra joined her onto the mattress now, crawling up towards the Dowager Queen, and her hands grabbed Alicent’s hips. Alicent had expected something rough, she had expected Rhaenyra’s dragon to come out and push her down onto the mattress roughly and hungrily. But, instead, the queen lowered Alicent’s body into the mattress gently, her auburn curls spreading over the pillow as as Rhaenyra’s own moonlight coloured strands of hair fell around them like a curtain, hiding what they were about to do from the moon and the stars.

Rhaenyra set her body between Alicent’s legs, wide open for her queen, waiting for Rhaenyra to claim every single inch of her skin. Alicent didn’t know if Rhaenyra would be queen once this would be over, but what she knew is that she would let the woman rule over her body for as many nights as Rhaenyra wished.

Rhaenyra, instead of touching and fucking her eagerly like Alicent had done, lowered her face and kissed her on the lips softly, gently. Rhaenyra’s tongue still tasted like herself, and Alicent moaned slightly, wanting to lick the space between Rhaenyra’s legs all over again until her tongue would go numb. But no it was Rhaenyra’s turn to make love to her, and Alicent would wait.

The queen’s lips found her cheek, and her neck, and the column of her throat as one of her hands held Alicent’s leg up, going up and down her thigh, and her stomach, but never reaching the space Alicent needed Rhaenyra to touch. She was growing impatient, and Rhaenyra knew it for her blue eyes glistened with amusement.

Rhaenyra kissed her shoulders, and her collarbones, and then her body descended down her chest, and her blue eyes looked at Alicent intensely as she opened her mouth, and one of Alicent’s dark nipples was hugged by Rhaenyra’s expert lips.

Alicent felt her back arching, mumbling something which sounded like Rhaenyra’s name but she wasn’t sure of it, as the queen’s tongue licked and caressed her hardened nipple a few times after moving to her other breast and repeated the process. Lips on one breast, hand in the other, as Alicent was scared she wouldn’t last for much longer for Rhaenyra’s touch had been enough to make her see Heaven.

Rhaenyra left Alicent’s chest alone, and then she came back up and kissed her on the lips as Alicent’s hands found Rhaenyra’s shoulders, and set there gently. And then Rhaenyra smiled at her, kissing the tip of her nose and making Alicent giggle like a stupid little girl, before she kissed Alicent’s neck and Alicent had never felt as loved as she felt in that moment.

Rhaenyra’s lips descended as Alicent’s feet set on the queen’s lower back and descended all the way down to the queen’s calves, and she looked up onto the ceiling as she felt Rhaenyra’s expert mouth make its way down her stomach, kissing every single inch of her skin, and they finally reached where Alicent had wanted the woman’s lips the most.

Rhaenyra’s hands set on each side of Alicent’s hips, her thumbs caressing her skin soothingly as she could feel Alicent’s building nerves, not because of fear but because of the thrill and excitement she felt. The blue eyes looked up at Alicent for a moment, and Alicent nodded at Rhaenyra, before the woman kissed her gently right on her core. Alicent closed her eyes and she arched her neck, breathing Rhaenyra’s name out in the silence of the room.

She felt her feet curling with the pleasure Rhaenyra’s lips produced to her, as Rhaenyra’s strong and slender hands held her hips gently but firmly, her lips kissing the space between Alicent’s legs, over and over again with an expertise Alicent couldn’t have ever dreamed about. And then Alicent felt it, Rhaenyra’s tongue, making the woman underneath her see shooting stars as she gasped in pleasure with every single one of Rhaenyra’s gentle strokes.

The way Rhaenyra was making love to her was the way a queen made love, Alicent guessed. Slowly, gently, but holding her firmly and without neglecting any part of Alicent’s body, knowing what she needed with one single look. It was as if it had been meant to be like this, just them and the moon and stars to witness the epitome of their love.

Alicent felt a familiar pressure set on the bottom of her stomach as Rhaenyra’s tongue still moved lazily, gently, making Alicent desperate for more, wanting the roughness. But Rhaenyra was as competitive as they come, and while Alicent had fucked her as if the world was about to end in less than a minute, knowing the queen had enjoyed every single second of it, Rhaenyra was a tease and would take ages to make Alicent come.

“Rhaenyra,” Alicent panted, knowing it wouldn’t take her much longer to finish. The queen looked at her, and she didn’t need Alicent to say anything else. She raised her body, and Alicent let out a pathetic whining sound as the queen’s tongue abandoned the space between her legs, bathed in a cold sensation now. The sound amused Rhaenyra.

Kissing her on the lips, Alicent’s protest died down as she felt Rhaenyra’s slender finger entering her, moving as slowly as she had kissed her down there. Alicent tried to kiss Rhaenyra back unevenly, uncontrolled and clumsily as she felt Rhaenyra’s finger move expertly, and then the both of them gasped when Alicent’s nails dug onto Rhaenyra’s back the moment the queen entered another finger, and moved them a little bit faster, but still too slow.

“Hurry,” Alicent panted, “The fuck up.”

“You should be more patient,” Rhaenyra rasped, “You made me finish too fast, Alicent.”

“Fuck you,” Alicent moaned, and Rhaenyra smiled at her, teasingly, her fingers never losing their rhythm.

“Later, love, you can try again later,” Rhaenyra found her neck, and with a final and firm push of her fingers, Alicent’s eyesight became blurred as she moaned Rhaenyra’s name, accompanied by a curse, and soaked the queen’s hand.

*

It was almost dawn, Alicent could tell because of the soft glow coming through the windows. She had been unable to sleep, even if Rhaenyra had exhausted her throughout the night. Once they had recovered, Alicent tried what Rhaenyra had done to her and she had succeeded, and when Rhaenyra had been done, she had touched Alicent eagerly, desperately, not as gently as she had done it the first time. And Alicent had loved Rhaenyra’s two sides, the gentleness and the roughness, and she only hoped Rhaenyra had loved it too.

The queen had fallen asleep, her body unable to move anymore, succumbing into the arms of exhaustion as the two women kissed lazily hiding their bodies underneath the sheets, laughing as if they were teenagers again, doing something they weren’t supposed to do, not feeling scared but thrilled.

Alicent had held Rhaenyra in her arms as the woman’s body relaxed, her head resting on Alicent’s chest as Alicent’s hand stroked the long mane of straight silver hair, and she wondered how long had it been since Rhaenyra had slept peacefully, since she had slept at all. And she watched from her bed as the sun came up to the sky and bathed the sea in beautiful oranges and greys, not sleeping at all because she wanted to enjoy every single moment of having Rhaenyra sleeping in her arms, peacefully, the woman’s soft snores making Alicent’s heart sing a happy song.

When Rhaenyra woke up, they made love lazily and Alicent felt the sun shone brighter and the waves crashed harder against the shore with every stroke of Rhaenyra’s fingers, as if they felt as ecstatic as she felt. No one had come to find them, there were no servants and Rhaenyra’s army, part of it, was camped outside the city gates for it provided more space.

The two women, regretfully, ended up leaving the bed and filled the bath tub with warm water. They tried cleaning themselves up, but they simply ended up making love again and, finally, they decided to go down to the Hand’s solar and break their fast. This time, instead of sitting on the other end of the table, Alicent sat next to Rhaenyra. They used one hand to feed themselves, as the other two were tightly clasped together.

The two women walked around the gardens in the afternoon after eating lunch, hand in hand, finding hidden spots to kiss one another and give a taste to each other of what was awaiting them after dinner.

After consuming supper, they sat on the carpeted floor in front of the fireplace, Alicent’s head resting on Rhaenyra’s shoulder, and talked about their past, not mentioning their present, laughing over the good old days. And then, they undressed one another and made love until their bodies were exhausted, until the moon was replaced by the sun.

Mysaria had looked at Alicent in amusement as she had wished the woman a good morning on a day where Rhaenyra had to leave the bed early to attend war matters and would have to be in the council room until late, not without making love to Alicent so she wouldn’t miss her too much, as the queen had said.

“Now I will miss you even more,” Alicent said, her naked body sprawled over the mattress as she watched Rhaenyra get dressed, “Come to me soon, my love.”

“I can fake a stomach ache,” Rhaenyra pursed her lips, watching Alicent’s naked body get up from bed and walk towards her, “Tell them the royal intestines are collapsing?”

“Rhaenyra,” Alicent gasped, gently slapping her lover’s arm as the queen smiled in amusement, “Just… think of me?”

“I think of you from the moment I wake up to the moment I fall asleep, Alicent,” Rhaenyra put her fingers underneath Alicent’s chin, “But if I think too much of you, and your body…”

“I will be here, waiting,” Alicent whispered, as she put one of Rhaenyra’s hands upon one of her breasts, and then walked it slowly to the space between her legs.

“Demon,” Rhaenyra said, kissing her hungrily, and ungluing herself from Alicent with regret and pain and need on her blue eyes.

Alicent got dressed and then strutted out of her and Rhaenyra’s bedchamber, the two of them sharing it, as an amused Mysaria welcomed her in the Hand’s solar.

“Good morning, Mysaria,” Alicent had smiled to the woman, who arched her eyebrows, “Oh, lemon cakes. I love lemon cakes.”

“I’m sure you do, my queen,” Mysaria had smiled with amusement, and Alicent frowned.

“Whath?” she asked, mouth full of lemon cake.

“Nothing,” Mysaria said, shaking her head, “You look… different.”

“I feel different,” Alicent shrugged, “Come, join me.”

Alicent had grown quite fond of Mysaria after knowing there was nothing else between the woman and the queen, and oftentimes the three of them had eaten together as they discussed matters of war, news they received. Then, Mysaria would disappear to gather more information and Rhaenyra and Alicent… well, would fight a different war of their own.

“I’m afraid I cannot join you today, my queen,” Mysaria’s amusement was gone, but her eyes glimmered strangely.

“Why??” Alicent asked, munching some blackberries, “Is something wrong? Are my sons…?”

“They’re fine, Your Grace,” Mysaria said, sensing the sudden panic on Alicent’s voice, “But we have a visitor, asking to see you.”

“Me?” Alicent frowned, as the woman bowed her head, and someone entered the solar.

Alicent stood up abruptly, supporting herself on the table as her legs shook and she almost lost her balance. He looked haggard, his copper hair dishevelled and his cheeks hollow underneath an unkempt beard. He wasn’t wearing his usual fine clothes, but instead he wore a ragged and stained shirt, looking thinner than he had already been but still, his tall and broad frame emanated power and authority even though his skin was sickly pale, his once bright hazel brown eyes now looking dull and tired.

“Father,” Alicent breathed, and her legs moved automatically as she clashed against the man, hugging his waist.

Otto Hightower had never been one to show affection to his children, he had always been strict and harsh and cold, but Alicent felt his arms holding her tightly, a small sob escaping his lips. She felt like a child once again, when she had lost her mother and she had held onto her father for dear life.

“Alicent,” Otto’s voice was raspy with disuse, his bony hands holding her body with strength.

“Where did you go?” Alicent asked him, separating herself from his body and holding his hands, looking up at the pale face, the purple circles surrounding his eyes, “What happened to you?”

Aegon had dismissed Otto after Jaehaerys’ death, and he had decided to name Criston his Hand instead. Criston didn’t know how politics worked, all he cared about was his own hatred for Rhaenyra and to pay the way she must’ve wronged him. All he had seen was red, the red of Rhaenyra’s blood, and he hadn’t been a good counsellor to Aegon. Alicent still remembered how her eldest son had disregarded Otto, who could’ve had managed to end the war all on his own, and how Criston had completely disregarded her after he became more important inside the council than she did. Alicent had found it a relief, if she was being honest, but her mind had wondered where her father went after Aegon asked him to leave court at once.

The first time Viserys had disregarded Otto’s services, he had gone back to Oldtown and had been his brother’s counsellor. Alicent, unaware of Larys’s ambition, had quickened her father’s return at court, as Hand of the King, and the death of Lord Strong and Harwin, despite her dislike for the man, had weighed down on her with guilt. Her father had praised her for her wit and cunning, when she… she hadn’t even asked for that to happen.

The second time Otto had been kicked out of court, though, Alicent had not known where the man had gone to. She had written to her uncle without Aegon or anyone else knowing, and Hobert Hightower had written back to her saying Otto hadn’t come to Oldtown, that he hadn’t known anything about his younger brother in a long time and it was the first news he had received about his demise, believing he had remained in King’s Landing despite of getting his position taken away from him.

Alicent, then, thought Otto wanted to take revenge on his grandson and Criston and went onto join Rhaenyra’s side to offer his wisdom, and put the girl into the throne. Alicent remembered her father suggesting Rhaenyra to become Viserys’s heir after Queen Aemma’s death, for she was the only child Viserys had, and his other option was to name Daemon Targaryen his heir and he had been too much of a problem. That was before he sold Alicent to the king, and instead schemed to put his own kin on the throne. And then, when Aegon acted reckless and didn’t listen to his grandfather’s advice, Alicent remembered how the man had mumbled how maybe he should’ve put Rhaenyra on the throne instead, for she was more suited and listened to her advisors.

Alicent, before Otto’s disappearance, had a feeling her father had regretted ever changing his mind, and pushing for Aegon to become king and usurp Rhaenyra’s throne. He had seen his uselessness, he had known Aemond would be a good soldier but he would be a cruel king, and he had known putting Helaena on the throne as the sole ruler would be cruel, for Helaena had never wanted the crown, not even as consort. And Daeron, he had been too soft hearted and too young for a position like that.

Alicent had believed, then, that Otto had realized he had made a mistake and the right choice had been Rhaenyra all along. Alicent had realized the same thing as her son became drunk with power, as the realm he was supposed to rule crumbled underneath his feet because he preferred drinking and whoring rather than ruling, and many times he had admitted he wasn’t made to be king. But he wouldn’t give up his throne, because he had been the prince who was promised. Alicent had believed the only promise Aegon held upon his hands was the realm’s downfall, and after her clandestine meeting with Rhaenyra at the Sept, she had realized it was too late to change things.

One of the many letters Alicent had written to Rhaenyra was wondering if Otto was there, if her father had switched sides and now was counselling Rhaenyra instead. But, again, the letter went unanswered and Alicent had never known where her father had been hiding at, or if he had been hiding at all, for she hadn’t heard news about Otto Hightower joining the enemy, something Alicent was sure would be known.

The lack of silence had made her believe Otto had been dead for a long while, even though she had always held some sort of hope, knowing her father was a wise man and he would’ve managed to find a way to survive in order to come and fix things like he had always done.

“I was taken,” Otto told her, as Alicent helped him down on a chair, and offered him food. He ate, eagerly.

“By whom?” Alicent asked Mysaria, letting her father eat in peace. The woman had a serious expression on her face.

“We believe Criston Cole might’ve feared his position as Hand,” Mysaria informed Alicent, who scowled, “Lord Otto was taken as he was on his way to Oldtown, once again. We believe Prince Aegon was unaware of the Hand’s scheming, and therefore was told his grandfather had perished, surprised by thieves on the King’s Road.”

“My captors weren’t from here,” Otto said, putting a hand upon Alicent’s arm, “You must know that before you swear to destroy any of the houses who aided your son or the Hand to provide my downfall.”

“I- I wouldn’t…” Alicent saw both Mysaria and Otto arch their eyebrows, knowing very well she would do it, and she rolled her eyes, “Aegon’s at Dragonstone.”

“I know,” Otto frowned, shaking his head, “Rhaenyra is preparing some of the Velaryon fleet to take it back.”

“While he is there?” Alicent frowned, she hadn’t had the time to discuss that with the queen for their tongues had been occupied with other matters. She looked at the queen’s spy, and Mysaria nodded her head.

“He is unable to fight, he is still wounded and the castle was taken when it was left unguarded by Baela Targaryen. The king bribed the princess’s men with promises of grandeur she couldn’t provide,” the spy master said, her voice low.

“It is better to act now while he is still weak and recovering, rather than wait until when he is fully healed,” Otto told Alicent, as she saw the visible concern in her eyes, “I know he is your son, but-”

“It’s not that,” Alicent thought about the proposal Rhaenyra had suggested to her, negotiating with Aegon to end this war once and for all and unite their houses through Rhaenyra’s son and his namesake, and Aegon’s daughter and apparent heir, “Will she fight him alone?”

Rhaenyra’s best fighters were spread. Daemon was at Harrenhal with some of the queen’s best men, Corlys Velaryon had joined the fight against the Triarchy to protect Rhaenyra’s shores. Alicent didn’t know if Rhaenyra could do it on her own. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust the queen, but she had so little men at her disposal in King’s Landing and so little battle experience.

“I won’t engage in battle,” Alicent startled as the queen emerged, looking down at several parchments in her hands, mumbling something to Mysaria as she gave them to the spy master, who nodded and left, “Otto, is good to see you. I believe Mysaria has informed you about my plans?”

“Rhaenyra, this is madness,” Alicent protested, her throat tight as she shook her head at the thought of Rhaenyra sailing to Dragonstone on her own, trying to take it back.

“Let her speak, Alicent,” Otto begged, coughing. Alicent put a hand on his head, and she gulped.

“You’re burning, father,” she said, and Rhaenyra looked at her for a second before she left the solar.

“I believe my days are almost over, love,” Otto said, and Alicent knelt in front of the man.

“Don’t say that.”

“I’m not young anymore, I spent too many days without food or sleep, and my travels here were challenging,” Otto didn’t dwell into any details, “I only needed to see you, and Rhaenyra, and apologize for all the wrongs I made.”

“Father-” Alicent’s words disappeared when Rhaenyra entered the solar once again, accompanied by Maester Orwyle.

“Let me rest,” Otto asked her, “And trust Rhaenyra, I beg of you. She is a queen, and she knows what she is doing. I know I always said the opposite in past days, but… I was wrong.”

Orwyle helped Otto up, and the two men walked away as Alicent stood, watching her father retreat. Rhaenyra joined her side, and she intertwined her fingers with Alicent’s.

“I cannot lose you both at the same time,” Alicent’s voice came out rushed, turning around and holding Rhaenyra’s face between her hands, “Stay.”

“You haven’t even listened to my plan, Alicent,” Rhaenyra frowned, and Alicent rolled her eyes, “Please, listen to me.”

“Fine.”

It was simple, Alicent thought later on, and yet foolish and dangerous if the odds weren’t in Rhaenyra’s favour. She had claimed the men who had guarded the castle under Baela’s supervision had been weary of Rhaenyra for a while, how she had travelled down to King’s Landing and had instead taken refuge between the walls of the Red Keep as others fought her battles. They had only needed Baela gone, and Aegon and Larys promising them unachievable things, to change sides.

What they wanted was to see Rhaenyra fight, wearing armour and joining her men on the battlefield with Syrax. And so Rhaenyra would give them all of that, she would give them a warrior queen, like Nymeria of the Ten Thousand Ships had been, or Visenya Targaryen, whom Rhaenyra had admired so much her whole life, and had hoped to become as fierce as she was.

It would be an illusion, Rhaenyra said, like the one Larys Strong had created in those men’s minds. While she would be talking with the turn cloaks, Cregan Stark and some of his north men, who had been close to Dragonstone after Jace’s death and Baela leaving the land, would infiltrate the castle and find Larys. Rhaenyra had known the castle had so little guards, all of them being the turn cloaks, and if she could manage to get Larys killed and Aegon taken, unharmed, the men would realize they had made a mistake by crossing their queen.

“Will you execute them?” Alicent asked Rhaenyra, who breathed deeply.

“The wise thing would be to do so, to burn them alive,” the queen frowned, “But if they see me as benevolent, if I spare their lives, they might be loyal to me.”

“Execute the first man who turned his back on you,” Alicent suggested, as Rhaenyra’s eyes grew slightly cold, thinking about her words, “And the rest might fall in line if they see what consequences their actions have.”

“They might,” Rhaenyra nodded her head, slowly, “I will think about it.”

Later at night, Alicent found Rhaenyra in the chamber they now shared. She had been with Otto the rest of the day, sitting next to her father as he drifted on and off from consciousness. Orwyle had said he was too weak, but he might still survive if he rested enough, and ate enough. Her heart calmed slightly at the notion.

When Alicent entered the chamber, she found Rhaenyra standing in front of a mirror, her long silver hair falling down her spine, as she touched the tips with a pensive look on her face. She walked silently, and hugged the queen from behind, supporting her chin on Rhaenyra’s shoulder.

“What are you thinking about?” Alicent wondered, and she saw Rhaenyra was holding a small dagger on her other hand.

“Could you…” Rhaenyra bit her lower lip, “Cut my hair?”

“Rhaenyra,” Alicent’s eyes widened slightly, “You’ve always loved your hair.”

“That’s why I’m asking you,” Rhaenyra smiled at her through the mirror glass, “If I’m about to fight, it will be a bother. Plus, no Targaryen queen has worn her hair short, has she?”

“And you want to be the first on everything,” Alicent breathed deeply, mourning Rhaenyra’s long hair already, but wondering how the woman would look like with shorter strands, “Fine, sit down.”

“Yes, my queen,” Rhaenyra teased, giving the dagger to Alicent.

“Oh, shut up,” she smirked at the queen, “Or I might leave you bald as an egg.”

Rhaenyra laughed, as she sat on one of the chairs in front of the fireplace. Alicent looked at the mane, and then started to work as she remembered how many times she had cut her brother’s hair in the past, how she had done the same with Otto before his strands became thinner, or how she had cut Viserys own hair once in a while, even when the strands were falling off because of his sickness.

Alicent didn’t stop working, and every once in a while Rhaenyra touched the hair and told her to keep going, making the woman frown because she had loved to caress the long hair after making love to her queen, finding it relaxing enough to make her sleep peacefully.

“That’s enough,” Rhaenyra said, gently. The silver strands of hair barely reached her shoulders, and it reminded Alicent of Aegon’s own hair as he was growing up, dishevelled, taking so long to grow.

Rhaenyra got up, and walked towards the mirror. She observed the few strands falling upon her eyes, which Alicent had trimmed as well, the short hair which barely touched her shoulders. Alicent looked at the woman, and smiled. She looked like some sort of Prince Charming, with that short hair Alicent was already falling in love with.

“I look like a boy,” Rhaenyra said, and then she let out a laugh, “Have I ever told you how someone confused me for a boy, one time?”

Hours later, Alicent fell asleep as her naked and sweaty body laid next to Rhaenyra, her hand buried in the short strands, massaging the queen’s scalp as she hummed peacefully, and fell asleep on top of Alicent’s chest.

Alicent, though, couldn’t sleep well that night.

*

“You have a lot of practice putting armour on,” Rhaenyra said as Alicent finished to tie the crimson red cape on the queen’s shoulders, the cloth styled as scales upon the golden and silver armour Rhaenyra had worn when she had taken King’s Landing several moons ago.

“I do,” Alicent said, looking at Rhaenyra with a pointed look. The woman arched an eyebrow, jealousy visible in her eyes, “I was fucking you minutes ago, Rhaenyra.”

“I know,” Rhaenyra’s cheeks became as crimson as her cape, “The thought of him touching you simply makes me rage.”

“I hated every single second of it,” Alicent stood in front of the queen, now, her mouth stupidly salivating at the sight of the short hair, and the armour hugging every single one of Rhaenyra’s curves perfectly, “If it makes you feel better.”

“It does,” Rhaenyra whispered, putting a finger underneath Alicent’s chin and raising her head slightly, “Kiss me goodbye, my queen.”

Alicent did, taking Rhaenyra’s face between her hands and joining her lips with the queen’s, who grabbed her hips covered by the thin chemise she had put on after she and Rhaenyra had finished with one another.

“Rhaenyra,” Alicent breathed, shakily, as Rhaenyra’s forehead rested upon her own, “Please, come back to me.”

“I will,” Rhaenyra said, and Alicent hated the doubt in the queen’s voice, “I promise.”

“Don’t make promises you’re not sure you can accomplish,” Alicent said, her eyes finding Rhaenyra’s blue ones, the eyes she had loved for more than half of her life.

“I love you, Alicent,” Rhaenyra said, the words hitting Alicent in the gut as if a horse had just kicked her there, unexpectedly, all air leaving her lungs, “I- I had to tell you, Alicent, in case-”

“I love you too,” Alicent said, never being as sure of something as she felt now, “My whole life, I have loved you.”

“And I will love you for many more years,” Rhaenyra smiled at her own words, “We will live here, you and I, and we will be the queens of the Seven Kingdoms. If I can take Aegon, the war will be over.”

“Might the Gods hear you,” Alicent said, and Rhaenyra nodded her head, her blue eyes a mixture of confidence and fear, of security and doubt. Alicent kissed her again.

The sail to Dragonstone wouldn’t be long, Alicent thought as she watched the few ships move upon the water, this time from the docks. But Rhaenyra wouldn’t be back home the next morning, for she would sail slowly, as Syrax guarded her from the sky above, and she would surprise Aegon this way. And then, she would take him back home.

“It will be fine, Your Grace,” Mysaria said as she saw Alicent biting down on her finger nail. A scarred hand wrapped around her wrist, bringing her own hand down, “You must trust her.”

“I do trust her,” Alicent’s voice shook, “It’s the others I do not trust.”

Otto’s health had worsened, and he was mostly asleep the whole time now while Orwyle came and left from the chamber. Alicent sat next to him, holding his bony hand and praying for Otto, for Rhaenyra’s safe return, even for Aegon, hoping her son would have some sense to see it was a lost cause, if Rhaenyra managed to convince the men guarding Dragonstone with her presence upon Syrax, wearing an armour which had been forged only for her, and the sword she had decided to call Delight, as some sort of mockery.

One day turned into two, and then into five. Alicent could tell Mysaria was growing restless too, as they shared a quiet supper and received no news from the queen’s shenanigans. The woman was unreadable, and Alicent feared her slightly. She feared she would betray Rhaenyra, and that perhaps she was scheming behind their backs. Or maybe Mysaria loved Rhaenyra, and couldn’t stand the fact Rhaenyra loved Alicent instead, and thus would find a way to play dirty games.

Or maybe, simply, Mysaria shared some sort of affection for Rhaenyra, maybe not the same type of burning love Alicent had for the queen, but still enough to make her grow quiet, and restless, and worried she might never see Rhaenyra again. The two women had shared a bed, Alicent reminded herself, and they surely had found some sort of affection for one another whether it was love or mere friendship and company.

“Do we know anything?” Alicent asked, breaking the silence, as Mysaria looked up to her and shook her head, “Nothing at all?”

“No ravens have arrived, and the little birds aren’t chirping,” Mysaria said, her lips pursed, “But, again, Rhaenyra kept this a secret from everyone except us, and the men she took with her.”

“Daemon doesn’t know?” Alicent frowned, and Mysaria shook her head.

“Rhaenyra feared if she told the prince, he would take matters into his own hands,” the spy master scoffed, and it was the most humane reaction Alicent had ever seen on the mysterious woman, “She wants to end the bloodshed, and get the throne back through dialogue if possible, offering a similar fate to your sons as she offered it to Helaena.”

“Daeron might accept it, he has always preferred books over swords, my brother told me,” Alicent sighed, “Aegon might resist, knowing his ego might be stained if he gives up the crown, but he is also aware he is in no fit form to keep on fighting and he might be able to find some sort of peace next to his wife and daughter,” Alicent gulped, taking a sip from her wine before letting out a long sigh, “My son Aemond, on the other side…”

Mysaria opened her mouth to speak, but Maester Orwyle entered the chamber. Alicent rose onto her feet, eyes wide, her heart hammering hard inside her chest as she feared the worst news about her father, whom she had left sleeping in order to eat before going back to him. She couldn’t sleep without Rhaenyra on her side, so she spent her nights sitting next to the man, reading to him, singing to him the songs her mother used to sing to Alicent and Gwayne they were little.

“He’s sleeping, my queen,” Orwyle said, his voice as calming as usual, understanding the fear in her eyes. His eyes, then, landed on Mysaria, “Prince Joffrey has arrived.”

Alicent felt her shoulders shag in relief, as now Mysaria stood next to her. Alicent nodded, and the two women followed the Maester down into the throne room, where Joffrey was standing, surrounded by several knights of the Vale.

He had grown since the last time Alicent had seen the boy, and despite him being only twelve he was almost as tall as she was. His hair was dark and curled, like his brother’s Jacaerys, but while both of his elder brothers had the Strong’s brown eyes, Joffrey’s eyes were as blue as Rhaenyra’s.

“Prince Joffrey,” Alicent said, bowing her head to him. Joffrey looked at her with a small frown, and then his eyes landed on Mysaria, asking a silent question.

“You can trust Her Grace, my prince,” the woman said, gently, and Alicent saw the boy’s shoulders shag in relief.

“Are these all the men coming with you, my prince?” Alicent wondered at the three tall knights wearing the Arryn blue, the colours of Queen Aemma.

“No, my lady,” Joffrey said, not using the word queen to address Alicent, “Some have camped outside the city, joining my mother’s men, while more are on their way and will arrive during the following days.”

His voice was full of authority, so much like the voice of a king, and he was so young…

“Where is my mother?” Joffrey wondered, “And why has she not received me?”

“Your mother, she…” Alicent looked at Mysaria, unsure. The woman explained to the prince where his mother had gone to, and a muscle twitched on Joffrey’s jaw. He looked so grown, acting like a man, even if he was only a child.

“She has gone all on her own?” the prince frowned, and the two women nodded, “What would have Jace done, in this case?”

“He would’ve told her the truth, that she was being reckless and endangering herself without need,” Mysaria said, and Alicent felt her stomach knotting as she realized how much she had missed out from Rhaenyra’s life. How little she had known about Jacaerys, how he had been Rhaenyra’s son and counsellor first, and then the queen’s heir. How much the boy had surely been admired by his younger brothers, how much he had been loved by his mother, and now Joffrey, who was occupying Jace’s place as his mother’s protector, tried to act like a man before he even was one. Tried to act like a future king, even if he would never be one, and like a future lord.

Just like his brother, Alicent thought, remembering the little she could from the way in which Jacaerys Velaryon had acted.

“But your mother would’ve told him it was needed,” Alicent smiled at the boy, who looked at her with weariness but curiosity, “A good ruler must put their life at risk in order to bring peace to their people. A good ruler fights next to their men, and doesn’t cower behind a castle’s walls.”

“Your son fought with his men,” Joffrey’s voice wasn’t mocking, it was the voice of a child who feared for his mother’s life, “And he almost died.”

“Then, if something befalls your mother, you will take her place as the realm’s protector,” Alicent said, as Mysaria remained silent next to her.

“But I will never rule, will I?” he asked, his blue eyes going from Alicent to Mysaria, “I’m… I’m a bastard, and bastards cannot rule. My mother didn’t say it like that in her letter, she said I would be the realm’s protector and prince regent until my brother Aegon was old enough, but all I can get… all I can get is Driftmark, which belonged to my brother Luke.”

“You’re right, Joffrey, but you must not feel ashamed of that. Your mother has trusted you enough with a very important task, the one to protect the realm’s future,” Mysaria knelt in front of the boy, and put her hands upon his shoulders, “If your mother never comes back to us, you will have to protect your little brothers who have a claim to the throne, for they’re…”

“Not bastards,” Joffrey said, rolling his eyes and reminding Alicent of Rhaenyra when she was a girl, and people tiptoed around her in order to not offend her royal self.

“Yes,” Mysaria offered him a little smile, “You will have to fight, Joff, so your brother Aegon can come back, and take the throne which belongs to him.”

“Too many Aegons,” Joffrey scoffed, “It’s no wonder Queen Alicent got confused.”

Alicent choked on her saliva, not knowing if she should feel amused at the natural way in which the child said it, without malice but simply… a child talking like a child, or if she should be offended. She could’ve sworn she heard Mysaria snort in amusement, and she didn’t blame the woman. It was kind of ridiculous, and it all could’ve been solved if Alicent had simply… asked Rhaenyra herself, or opened a book.

“Would you like to retake your old chambers, my prince?” Alicent asked instead, feeling her cheeks heat up. Joffrey smiled widely at her, and took Mysaria’s hand to guide her towards his old chambers, the one closely located to Rhaenyra’s own quarters.

Alicent stood there, and let out a shaky breath as she watched Joffrey’s form walk away, followed by Mysaria and his knights of the Vale. She only hoped the little boy wouldn’t have to take Rhaenyra’s place, and she hoped her queen would come back soon.

*

"Alicent,” it was the first time Mysaria had called Alicent by her name, so she knew something serious must’ve happened when she blinked the sleep away from her eyes.

Her neck was stiff, she was sitting on the chair next to her father’s bed. It was funny, she thought, how it was the third time in less than two years she was sitting next to a man to take care of him as he was on death’s threshold.

Viserys, Aegon, and now her father.

“What is it?” she rasped, her hand landing flat on Otto’s chest. His breathing was slow, but he was breathing regardless.

“She is back,” Mysaria said, “With Aegon.”

“Alive?” Alicent asked, getting up fast her head swam slightly. Mysaria held her by the arm, firmly.

“Both of them,” the woman said, and Alicent let out a sigh of relief, the knot in her stomach disappearing slightly.

“Bring me to him,” she asked, but Mysaria looked at the former queen with an unreadable expression, “What is it?”

“He is very weak,” Mysaria whispered, “Moving to Dragonstone costed him great effort. It was all Larys doing, Your Grace. He was the one bribing the men guarding Dragonstone, he was the one speaking for your son. They never saw the king, the men told the queen, but the rumours made it look as it had been Aegon himself doing the deed so Rhaenyra would come out of her hiding place. All the Spider wanted was to end with the queen, your son, and crown himself king.”

“And Larys, that little leech?” Alicent snarled, “Where is he?”

“Dead, Your Grace,” Mysaria said, and Alicent didn’t feel the relief she thought she would feel. Instead, she felt angrier. She wished she could’ve been the one taking his life, “Cregan Stark did what Rhaenyra asked of him, and executed the man.”

“Where is my son Aegon, then?” Alicent asked, and Mysaria nodded towards the door. With one last look towards her father, Alicent followed the spy master through the hallways, silently.

Aegon’s bandages had been taken off, Alicent assumed it had been Larys himself doing it. He was wearing beggar’s clothes, laying on the bed, his eyes closed and his breathing shallow.

Alicent walked towards him, at the still angry burning marks on his skin, at the way he looked so pale and his hair had lost all of its light. She brought a hand to her mouth, trying to muffle a sob, as her eyesight blurred.

“There was no Maester at Dragonstone,” Mysaria explained, her voice void of any emotion. Alicent caressed her son’s hair, his face. His skin was as cold as ice, “But I know for sure we left one in there, in case Baela and the men got attacked and harmed. The men Queen Rhaenyra let live assure the Maester had been there the whole time, confined in a chamber when he confronted them for rebelling, but they let him live in case they would need his service. Rhaenyra found him lying on the ground, pale, his lips purple as white liquid fell from his mouth. He had been dead for several hours, as if Larys had known Rhaenyra was on her way, even if it was a secret. He knew his plan of luring her out had worked.”

“Cregan Stark found him sitting on the throne,” Mysaria continued as Alicent said nothing, crying silently next to her son, who was closer to death now than he had been before Alicent had left his side, “He had been waiting for Rhaenyra. It’s as if… as if Larys had set Aegon up, Your Grace.”

Alicent looked at Mysaria who, for the first time, looked confused herself. Alicent let out a bitter laugh, not even surprised Larys would’ve promised Aegon safety and winning the war, moving the boy when he was still too weak, in hopes to weaken the king even more to the point he would be useless, and Larys would be the one moving the strings, becoming a king with no crown but makin the monarch dance to his own beat. His ambition knew no loyalty; he had killed his own father and brother in order to become Lord Strong. He would kill Aegon, Aemond, Daeron and Helaena if he could, he would kill every single Targaryen that would come to claim the throne if he could.

“Fucker,” Alicent snarled.

Even in death, Larys had won. Aegon was too weak to keep on fighting this war and he would die lying on his bed, unaware of his surorundigs. Daeron was too green and still a child and Gwayne couldn’t be protecting him on the battlefield, not if her brother got injured or worse. Aemond was too reckless, too thirsty for power he wouldn’t stop to think and plan the best strategy, and Daemon Targaryen was cunning enough to stop Alicent’s second son, take his life away, take advantage of Aemond’s boiling blood and recklessness.

Alicent wouldn’t be able to negotiate Rhaenyra’s proposal to Aegon, he could barely breathe for crying out loud, and peace would never be an option if the queen didn’t survive the war. And if Aemond survived his brother, he would crown himself king, he would never accept Jaehaera and his nephew’s marriage for he would have children of his own to secure the throne passed down to his bloodline, and he would exterminate Rhaenyra and her descendants. Maybe he would sail to Pentos once it would be done, kill Baela and Rhaena and Rhaenyra’s little boys, drag Helaena and Jaehaera back and… and force his sister to marry him, instead and waste no time in marriage proposals, not when Helaena would be a widow soon enough.

“Criston is too much of a fool to pay several men in order to find my father,” Alicent whispered, the pieces finally falling into place. She had been too relieved of seeing Otto to even think about that, and Otto had been too ill to realize Criston just didn’t have it in him to scheme all of that. But it would’ve made sense, him seeing Otto as competition, trying to prevent the man from coming back to King’s Landing.

Criston had been the clearest culprit, and Alicent had completely overlooked Larys, who had as many reasons of killing Otto as Criston did. For Otto matched the man in cunning and wisdom, and would’ve figured out the Spider’s plan if he had been in good health.

Larys had been moving the strings way long before the war had begun.

He had played them all, and even if he had lost his life, he still had become a victor. He had prevented Otto from reaching Oldtown and instead had put him in a cell, killing him slowly. He had taken Aegon away and had weakened him, he had let Aemond fight his war and Daeron follow his brother to the ends of the world to the point they would surely meet their ends at the edge of Daemon Targaryen’s sword, and Helaena, who never presented a threat, was away with Jaehaera and Rhaenyra’s little ones.

Larys had won, somehow, and they all had been too blind to realize that. But Larys, despite of being cunning enough to carefully thread that entire scheme, couldn’t have acted alone. Even if Larys had managed to end with them all, he still wouldn’t be king.

There had to be someone else, someone as ambitious as Larys and Aemond were, someone who needed the Greens either dead or away, and someone who wouldn’t hesitate to betray Rhaenyra and the Blacks in order to get a crown in return. It had ti be someone who would be able to reunite enough numbers to end with the Greens and their allies, to convince the Blacks to follow him because Rhaenyra was too weak, too cautious. Someone who, just like Aemond, had Targaryen blood running through his veins and was willing to sell his soul to the devil himself in order to get the throne and the crown he had desired and had believed rightfully his before Rhaenyra had been born.

Alicent’s eyes met Mysaria’s, who had seemed to reach the same conclusion, and they realized they had fallen into his trap, Rhaenyra had fallen into his trap. All his enemies were in King’s Landing, all his obstacles: Rhaenyra, Alicent, Mysaria, Otto, Aegon, and even Joffrey. And his sons, his and Rhaenyra’s own descendants and the continuation of his bloodline, were away, safe and secure. He could always blame the Greens for killing Rhaenyra, even if he had been the one executing the queen, and their sons would inherit what he would claim belonged to hers but, in truth, had always been his.

Helaena, who was still young and fertile, was alive in Pentos and if he needed a wife, he would take her. His daughters, Baela and Rhaena who had inherited every single part of Laena, were still young and unmarried and could still give him grandsons who would continue his bloodline and they wouldn’t be able to fight him because they were his daughters and therefore would be forced to obey him. And Aemond and Daeron, they were on the battlefield, they were close to him, to the danger he was.

They all had been the puppet on Larys’s strings, for the Gods knew how long. But not only Larys, he had not been the only player in the game every single one of them had overlooked and completely missed and, thus, they all had fallen right where he had wanted them to be.

“Daemon,” Alicent muttered, and the gulp coming out from Mysaria told her she was right.

Larys and Daemon Targaryen had trapped them, and all the odds were in the prince’s side in order to get what he wanted.

*

“He is loyal to me,” Rhaenyra argued as Alicent presented her with that option.

She had found the queen in Joffrey’s chambers, watching her son sleep peacefully. She had been unharmed, her armour still on, and she had told Alicent she knew she would’ve wanted to see Aegon first, so she had waited.

Alicent had exposed to Rhaenyra all she had realized, and Rhaenyra had listened silently as they had walked inside their bedchamber. It would’ve been better if Mysaria had been there, supporting Alicent’s realizations, but the woman had gone to talk with her little spies, hoping they were wrong and Rhaenyra had not fallen right into Daemon’s trap.

“Wasn’t Larys expecting you?” Alicent asked, and Rhaenyra frowned at her, trying to argue back, “One of your guards must’ve been spying on us, Rhaenyra. Maybe all of them. If Larys managed to make the guards at Dragonstone switch sides under Daemon’s command and allegiance, your husband must’ve also been able to infiltrate our home.”

“Mysaria?” Rhaenyra frowned, and Alicent shook her head.

“She would’ve been too obvious,” Alicent bit her lower lip, “It must’ve been one of the men, someone we wouldn’t even suspect. He expects for us to accuse Mysaria and make her pay with a traitor’s death, and thus be left in the dark, with no spies of our own. He had Larys, but he knew the Spider would become an inconvenience so him dying is one less problem for Daemon.”

“It’s not possible,” Rhaenyra paced around, fidgeting with her armour as she tried to take it off, “He gathered an army for me, Alicent. He’s fought my battles!”

“And he’s seen as a hero, the Blacks cheer his name when they win a battle,” Alicent said, “While you’re seen as a coward, who hides behind the Red Keep’s walls, and let her children and husband do the fighting.”

“Quiet,” Rhaenyra snarled, her eyes flaring, “You make it sound as if I had willingly sent my sons to their deaths!”

“Rhaenyra,” Alicent tried to be soothing as she walked towards the queen, “Jace was an obstacle for Daemon. He was well liked, he had all the qualities to become a good ruler despite of his true heritage. People loved him,” she breathed deeply as Rhaenyra pinched the bridge of her nose, “And Joffrey is on his way to become the exact same image of his older brother. And Daemon knows that, he knows your Velaryon boys would be loved even if they were bastards, that they would be good and kind to the people and would bring peace. And they are tired of war, the Council as well, so maybe… maybe they would’ve overlooked the truth, Rhaenyra, and would’ve crowned them all anyways for the sake of long lasting peace.”

“He loves my sons as his own,” Rhaenyra said, weakly, as Alicent proceeded to undo the woman’s armour, her fingers moving swiftly and confidently as Rhaenyra’s own shook, “He loves me, in his own twisted way, but he does. You said it yourself, Alicent.”

“He loves your crown, Rhaenyra!” Alicent said, desperately, putting her hands up as the queen’s armour was half undone. Rhaenyra finished taking it off, standing only on her breeches and a thin shirt, passing a hand through her short hair, “It has always been about the crown he believes belongs to him, you said it yourself. Your sons from Harwin, and my sons, are an obstacle for him. But his sons with you, Aegon and Viserys, they are not.”

Rhaenyra remained silent, frowning, her eyes shining with unshed tears.

“Jaehaerys was an obstacle too, and he made sure to eliminate him,” Alicent’s heart became small as she mentioned her grandson, “Aemond did his job for him into almost killing Aegon. He is as ambitious and cruel and wouldn’t bat an eye if it came to betraying Aegon, the brother who he considers useless. But Aemond presents a threat, as does Daeron, and he now has them in the palm of his hand.”

Alicent bit her lower lip as she watched Rhaenyra’s blue eyes connect the dots, shaking her head slightly.

“Luke’s death was an accident,” Alicent said, the queen’s blue eyes finding her, “But Jace’s… your husband had connections with the Triarchy, did he not? And they’re not known for being loyal servants, Rhaenyra, they simply serve the highest bidder and both Larys’s and Daemon had something to offer to them which was good enough to kill the future king, your son, and thus take Daemon one heartbeat closer to the throne.”

“He reunited an army for me,” Rhaenyra said once again, weakly, and Alicent turned around to look at the woman she had loved for so many years, and would love even from the grave.

“He reunited an army for himself,” Alicent said, taking Rhaenyra’s hands on her own, “He would’ve eliminated my children under the banner of loyalty, and then, when you would’ve become victorious, he would’ve… he would’ve betrayed you, Rhaenyra. You know I’m right.”

“Fuck,” Rhaenyra whispered, as she realized Alicent and Mysaria were right.

Daemon had only been loyal to Daemon, all his life. He hadn’t hesitated to kill a child with whom he had shared blood, he wouldn’t hesitate to scheme Jace’s death, or Joffrey’s and Rhaenyra’s, as long as he became victorious. And Larys, who had killed his own family and had sulked amongst the Red Keep for so long, had been the perfect ally for Daemon Targaryen. One had wanted the crown, the other had known how to go unnoticed to make it happen as Greens and Blacks fought one another.

“What are we going to do?” Alicent asked, and Rhaenyra breathed deeply, shaking her head.

“Prepare ourselves,” the queen said, “The end is near.”

*

Otto died as dawn broke in the horizon, as the castle was quiet and the city below was quieter. Alicent hadn’t been able to sleep, and neither had been Rhaenyra. They had laid in bed, holding one another, eyes wide as they thought about ways of avoiding what was coming for them. Both women knew it was useless, and they should’ve escaped a long time ago, when they had been two young girls, innocent and happy and naïve.

Alicent, then, had been filled with a sense of dread as the first birds started to chirp outside. She had run to Aegon’s chamber, but her son was still breathing. Shallowly, but breathing nonetheless. And then she understood, as she walked slowly to her father’s chamber, that he had left this world and Alicent hadn’t been by his side.

Rhaenyra found her a few moments later, as she was kneeling on Otto’s bedside, her head on his unmoving chest, her tears falling down silently because there was no use into screaming her rage. It wouldn’t bring him back.

The queen had knelt next to her, and then she had cradled Alicent into her arms, and they had sat on the floor for hours, as Alicent cried and cried, and Rhaenyra held her even if her own heart was breaking as she finally accepted Daemon had betrayed her, and she had let him.

Bringing Aegon to King’s Landing had been a mistake. Keeping him alive had been a mistake. It had only given Daemon an excuse to point out Rhaenyra’s weakness into forgiving and giving shelter to the brother who had usurped her crown when their father’s body was still warm. And that was all Daemon Targaryen had needed to turn everyone against Rhaenyra, as if her hiding behind the walls and sharing a bed with the enemy and treachorous Dowager Queen hadn’t been reason enough.

Mysaria had been the first one to find them, and confirmed all of their fears. Out of all the houses Daemon had gathered, only a few were loyal to Rhaenyra and Rhaenyra alone: the Starks of Winterfell, the Blackwoods of Raventree, the Freys of the Twins, the Brackens and the Velaryons which, compared to the houses loyal to Daemon, were so little few. The rest, Mysaria said, had started to call Daemon their King.

They said she was weak because she had spared Alicent’s life twice, and she now was living with her as lovers. How they knew was easy, confirming there had been a spy amongst them aside from Mysaria. Who the spy was didn’t matter, not anymore.

They also had called Rhaenyra weak because she had sent Jace to fight her battles, and she had summoned Joffrey to her side because she, now, would send her twelve years old son to fight for her crown, as she would stay in the Red Keep, being cradled by Alicent Hightower, they said.

She was also weak because she had taken Dragonstone back through dialogue, and sent Cregan Stark to do her dirty work in order to kill Larys, the Spider, and had spared Aegon’s life, who now was in King’s Landing, safely tucked next to his mother and his half sister.

They also talked about how Rhaenyra had sent Helaena and Jaehaera away, instead of keeping them as hostages, and had commanded Daemon to be the one to kill Aemond and Daeron, instead of being the one who rode into battle atop of Syrax, and burned her half-brothers into a crisp.

Rhaenyra and Alicent listened to every single word silently, but Mysaria wasn’t done bearing the bad news.

“Out with it,” Alicent said as the woman looked at her, her brown eyes anguished and sad, as Otto’s cold body was still on the bed.

“Your son Aemond was killed yesterday,” Mysaria said, and Alicent felt her mouth falling open, as if she was screaming silently. Her heart stopped to beat, her gut was burning in the same way as it did when someone pierced it with a sword, “He fell in battle against Daemon, and they believed Daemon died as well. But he survived.”

“How,” Alicent rasped, as Rhaenyra squeezed her between her arms.

“Alicent-” the queen said.

“No,” Alicent got up, as Rhaenyra remained on the ground, “Tell me how.”

“The battle took place in the sky,” Mysaria said, swallowing audibly, “All the odds seemed to be in your son’s favour, given he rides the dragon Vhagar, but Daemon is a seasoned warrior. He found a way to jump on Vhagar’s back as his own Caraxes flew away, your son’s dragon was shot by a Scorpion, the blow was fatal and it started to descend onto the sea as blood rained. But your son…”

“Say it.”

“Daemon stabbed Aemond on his eye,” Mysaria said, and Alicent panted, bending over, as the world swam around her, “The two of them fell to the sea, but Daemon managed to reach the shore hours later when everyone had believed he had been crushed by the waves.”

Alicent was unable to speak. It had been months since she last saw Aemond, her little boy who had loved her so fiercely once upon a time, and she had wanted to burn the world in order to protect him. The little boy who had gotten corrupted by his rage, and thirst of vengeance, and Alicent hadn’t known how to heal him. The little boy who had once been sweet, but then ended up scaring Alicent so much. He had been willing to sacrifice Aegon, to sacrifice Helaena, and he surely would’ve sacrificed Daeron, the youngest brother he barely had known, in order to get what he had wanted the most, what he believed he deserved more than Aegon or Rhaenyra did.

And now, that little boy was lost underneath the depths of the sea, and Alicent would never see him again. She only wished she could’ve told him she loved him, she only wished she could’ve told him she was sorry for not knowing how to do it properly. But she did, she had loved every single one of her children in the best of her abilities. But she had been a child, too, when she had them. And she had tried, the Gods knew she did.

But it had never been enough.

*

They built a pyre out of the city walls, and Otto’s cold and yet imposing body was laid upon it. The tradition would be for each one of Otto’s close relatives to insert a torch to the pyre, let his body burn, and then bury his ashes underneath the Sept’s crypt. Alicent remembered her mother’s funeral, how Alerie’s brothers had lit up the pyre, how Otto had done it, how she and Gwayne, who had only been children, inserted the last two torches and then watched their mother burn.

She remembered how her father had skipped tradition, how he had gathered Alerie’s ashes once the pyre had burned to the ground, and he had buried them underneath a tree at the Birghtwater Keep. It had been the tree where the two of them had fallen in love as children, when Otto was Lord Florent’s squire, and it was where he had proposed to Alerie, and she had said yes.

Alicent was the only one of Otto’s descendants standing in the small funeral committee. Rhaenyra was standing next to her, holding her hand firmly like Alicent had done when the queen had buried her own mother. Joffrey Velaryon was standing next to his mother, and Mysaria was standing on Alicent’s right side, dark eyes dancing with the flames of the pyre.

As she lit the pyre, she took a deep breath.

“For Alerie,” she mumbled as she caressed the southern side of the pyre, “For Aemond,” she said, walking to the left side of the wooden altar, “For Jacaerys, and Lucerys,” Alicent continued, lighting the side where her father’s head rested, “For Rhaenys Targaryen, for little Visenya, and for my Jaehaerys,” she reached the last side of the pyre, and buried the torch underneath it, watching it light up in flames, “For Helaena, and Jaehaera, might the Mother protect you both in a way I couldn’t do,” Alicent felt the first tears fall down her cheeks, as she felt someone move next to her, the calluses wrapping her hand as familiar as her own body, “For Aegon, for Otto.”

“For us,” Rhaenyra whispered, finishing Alicent’s prayer.

*

She gathered her father’s ashes in a golden box, putting them inside carefully, as Rhaenyra stood next to her, silently. Joffrey and Mysaria had gone inside as it grew dark, and they let the two women mourn in peace. Once Alicent was finished, she stood and turned to look at the woman she loved.

Rhaenyra gave her a little dragon carved of the same material as Viserys had asked one of his servants to carve his replica of Old Valyria, the one he had kept in his solar and had spent so many hours admiring, finding refuge in his family’s old history, cursing them all so many times for deciding to cross the sea, instead of staying back home and burn with the rest of them.

“He carved it for Aemond when he was born,” Alicent said, looking at the dragon before putting it inside the box, and closing it with a small key she had decided to hang on a golden chain and carry close to her heart, “He carved one for all of them.”

“Me as well,” Rhaenyra said, looking at the golden box, “And I did the same for each one of my children.”

“Will you accompany me?” Alicent asked, and Rhaenyra nodded her head.

“The Sept will be deserted,” the queen said, taking Alicent’s hand, “We’ll be at peace, there.”

“Not the Sept, Rhaenyra,” Alicent said, stopping the woman on her tracks, who frowned at her, “Come with me.”

They made their way to the Red Keep, silently, as Alicent held the golden box with Otto’s ashes and Aemond’s dragon tightly with one hand, and in the other she held Rhaenyra’s hand. She walked the woman through the silent and familiar corridors, the ones they had walked through as young girls, arms looped together, laughing and greeting everyone.

Alicent, finally, reached the little garden the two of them had found as some sort of safe haven. They had hid there for so many hours in order to avoid the courtiers, Alicent sitting with her back touching the weirwood’s white trunk as Rhaenyra’s head rested on her lap, and she read their History lessons aloud as Rhaenyra, sometimes, closed her eyes and listened. And other times, the ones Alicent had silently thought about during the many years the two of them stayed separated and tried to hate one another, the princess had shamelessly flirted with her.

“Are you even listening to what I’m saying?” Alicent complained, looking down at Rhaenyra. She was wearing a soft blue dress, her auburn curls falling down across one shoulder, as Rhaenyra was wearing a soft yellow dress, playing with a flower. Her blue eyes looked into Alicent’s brown ones.

“I can’t focus,” Rhaenyra confessed, “Your eyes look so beautiful in this light, they look like molten gold. And your hair is the same colour as the leaves.”

“Just… pay attention, Rhaenyra,” Alicent had rolled her eyes, and continued reading, but the words struggled to come out because she was smiling too widely, and Rhaenyra’s blue eyes shone with smugness, and satisfaction.

Now, the two of them stood at the very same spot they had been sitting in so many times. Alicent had found Rhaenyra all on her own several times after she was married off to Viserys, Alicent having new duties which didn’t allow her to spend as much time with Rhaenyra as she had hoped, and Rhaenyra had been rightfully upset at her, and had decided to sulk underneath the tree.

The princess had bee reading the book Alicent had read aloud so many times, as a bard sang their favourite songs, the ones they had sung together so many times. And it had been the place where the two of them had argued the most as their friendship crumbled, how Alicent confronted Rhaenyra when the rumours about Harwin started, how Rhaenyra confronted Alicent for keeping her betrothal to Viserys a secret.

And now here they were, hand in hand, back to the place where they had fallen in love with each other.

Alicent knelt on the ground, and she started to dig a hole. Rhaenyra crouched beside her, and did the same, though she looked at her with a very confused expression. Still, the queen said nothing and let Alicent do whatever she needed to do.

Her hands were hurting and she could feel scratches upon her skin, but she didn’t stop until the hole was deep enough. And then, Alicent took the golden box, put it inside the hole, and covered it up until it was well disguised.

“Now they will be at peace,” she said, sniffling as she knelt back, and looked at the little mount of dark earth. Rhaenyra sat, next to her, and she looked up at the red leaves.

And then, the queen tilted her body to the side, and laid down, until her head rested on Alicent’s lap. Alicent stretched her legs to the side, and stroked Rhaenyra’s short hair gently, slowly, until the moon and the stars came to the sky up above.

*

“Alicent,” Rhaenyra’s voice was gentle in the darkness of Aegon’s bedchamber. Alicent had fallen asleep, listening to Aegon’s ragged breathing, and she didn’t know if it was morning or night.

“Hmm?” she said, wiping the sleep away from her eyes. She put a hand upon her son’s chest, like she had done with Otto so many times, and her heart sighed in relief as she felt his son’s chest moving. Too slowly, but still moving.

“Come with me,” Rhaenyra said, and Alicent frowned at the queen.

“Did something happen?” Alicent wondered, and Rhaenyra offered her a little smile as she shook her head.

It had been a week since she had buried her father, a week since she received the news of Aemond’s passing, and a week of complete silence from Harrenhal, where Daemon’s troops had retired. Corlys had retired to Dragonstone, dividing his forces between Rhaenyra’s seat, asking his bastard son Alyn to protect it, as him and his other son, Addam, moved to Driftmark and kept it protected from Daemon’s men. Now, Alicent had realized, they weren’t fighting Aegon anymore, they weren’t fighting Aemond either, Rhaenyra was fighting her husband and protecting her crown from being usurped by Daemon Targaryen.

The troops who had pleaded allegiance to her had joined him, except a little few, the Velaryons, some houses of the Riverlands and the Starks of Winterfell being the only ones loyal to Rhaenyra and Rhaenyra alone. Alicent didn’t know what had happened to the Greens, now lead by her youngest son, Daeron, and Gwayne, who was still alive, according to Mysaria. They had retreated after Aemond’s demise, but it was unknown where to. Oldtown was too obvious to hide at, and going back to King’s Landing would be too dangerous. Alicent had wondered if Daeron and her brother had allied themselves with the few houses loyal to Rhaenyra, and if that happened they could stand a chance against Daemon.

They had the strength of the Reach, some of the strongest houses of the Riverlands as well, and the strongest house at the North plus the Velaryon fleet of Driftmark. Maybe if they played their cards right, and managed to convince Dorne to join them, promising them to keep their independence once the war would be over and Rhaenyra would reign, maybe then, they could win. But as long as there would be silence from the remaining Greens, as long as Rhaenyra’s loyalists stayed hidden to defend their own lands from Daemon Targaryen, it was all a beautiful dream.

Deep in her soul, though, Alicent knew Rhaenyra had been silently preparing herself for the last week, knowing Daemon would come at any second, and there would be no saving. Corlys Velaryon would protect his legacy, Rhaenyra’s few loyalists would protect their own legacies as well, and Gwayne would protect Daeron as the future of House Hightower, for their uncle, Hobert, had died during the war with no descendants and Gwayne had no wife or children of his own, and Daeron was all that was left. Maybe if Alicent pleaded hard enough, Daemon would let her son live as well in exchange of refusing to his right to the throne, and instead becoming Lord of Oldtown.

Alicent knew it was a lost cause, that no one would come to rescue them. She didn’t know if they would survive, she didn’t know if they would die, but whatever it was that awaited them… Alicent was ready to welcome it.

“Where are we going?” Alicent asked, as Rhaenyra handed her one of her blue dresses. She realized Rhaenyra was wearing a beautiful red tunic, with silver threads depicting the silhouettes of dragons which seemed to be hugging the queen. Frowning, Alicent changed from her chemise to the beautifully made tunic.

“It’s a secret,” Rhaenyra put a finger upon her lips, and then offered Alicent a hand. Alicent arched an eyebrow.

“Where are we going?” she repeated, and Rhaenyra, despite the anguish and the lack of sleep they had for the last week knowing what was awaiting them all, smiled at her that smile which Alicent had loved so much, full of mischief and charm.

“Come on,” Rhaenyra tugged at her sleeve, “Don’t be so whiney!”

“I’m not-” Alicent closed her eyes, and sighed, “Fine.”

Rhaenyra grabbed her hand, and the two of them walked across the dark and silent corridors of the Red Keep, the castle cold because there was no one to keep it warm, the rooms silent because the men who had accompanied Rhaenyra and had stayed here had left the keep to prepare themselves to confront Daemon Targaryen, or maybe join him.

The two of them reached the familiar small garden with the weirwood tree, and Alicent’s complaints died at the back of her throat as she saw four braziers burning brightly, painting the garden in an orange gloom. Maester Orwyle was the only person on sight, and Alicent frowned as she saw a small table with utensils there: two goblets, a shard of dragon glass, two folded tunics and strange looking crowns.

“What-”

“Marry me,” Rhaenyra said, and Alicent felt her heart stopping all together, “When I thought about my life, my future, there were no thrones or crowns in it, no war and bloodshed. It was just you and I, on Syrax’s back, crossing the Narrow Sea and exploring all of Essos. And then, we settled into a little farm, we grew chickens and all sorts of fruits and vegetables, and we lived the rest of our lives happy, and free… together.”

“Rhaenyra…”

“And now,” Rhaenyra let out a small chuckle, “Now our ends are near, Alicent. And while we’ll spend our last days in a cold and empty castle, we’ll be together, side by side, as it was always meant to be.”

Alicent looked up at the woman she had loved so much, and she gulped as she felt tears falling down her cheeks, as she felt her heart bursting with joy, and happiness, which was ironic given the situation they were finding themselves in. They would die soon, and yet here they were. Rhaenyra was kneeling in front of her, holding both of her hands and looking up at her with tears in her eyes, the eyes of a queen who had reigned over Alicent’s heart for as long as she could remember.

“We were always meant to burn together, you and I,” Rhaenyra whispered, and Alicent let out a shaky breath, “Be my wife, Alicent Hightower, and be by my side until death do us part.”

Alicent took Rhaenyra’s face between her hands, and she kissed the woman on the lips. And, in that moment, they were two young girls again, bathing underneath the summer sun and reading histories of old, eating lemon cakes and simply fantasizing about riding on Syrax’s back, and discover the wonders across the Narrow Sea.

“Fine,” Alicent chuckled, the sound raspy and wet, “If you’re so insistent on it, my queen, your wish is my command.”

“Good,” Rhaenyra smiled, shaking her head in amusement, as she grabbed Alicent’s hand and walked her to the small altar made of an old wooden table.

“Good evening, my queens,” Orwyle nodded his head slightly, a smile on his lips, “Please, get dressed, and we shall begin.”

Rhaenyra took one of the tunics, and she put it upon Alicent’s shoulders, gently, the only sound being the crickets singing to the moon and their hearts beating following one same beat. Then, Rhaenyra put on the strange crown upon Alicent’s auburn curls, and smiled in adoration as she looked at the woman, at the befallen queen, before Alicent dressed Rhaenyra in the same way as the queen had done it with her, slowly and gently, because they had all the time in the world.

And then, they stood in front of one another, and Orwyle began the ceremony.

“And now,” Orwyle said, gently, “You might proceed with the wedding ritual.”

Alicent looked at Rhaenyra in confusion. She and Viserys were wed under the faith of the Seven, and not under the Targaryen tradition, for Alicent hadn’t been a Targaryen and it would’ve been seen as some sort of desecration of her won faith. Aegon and Helaena, under Viserys wishes, had also been married following the Faith of the Seven, despite the two of them had been Targaryens.

“Do as I do,” Rhaenyra said, and the woman took the dragonglass blade, and put it on Alicent’s palm, “Cut my lower lip.”

“B-but,” Alicent said, and Rhaenyra smiled at her.

“Don’t be afraid,” the woman quirked an eyebrow, “It is not the first time you cut me, is it?”

“Ugh, Rhaenyra,” Alicent rolled her eyes, but then the queen nodded her head, in encouragement, and Alicent brought the blade to Rhaenyra’s lower lip, and did a little incision.

“Wipe the blood, my queen,” Orwyle indicated to her, “With your thumb.”

Alicent caressed Rhaenyra’s lower lip with her thumb, the skin becoming red with the queen’s blood.

“And now do a mark on the queen’s forehead,” Orwyle said, and Alicent did so. Rhaenyra smiled at her, her lower lip slightly stained with blood, as she took the shard from Alicent’s hand.

“This might hurt a little,” Rhaenyra warned Alicent, but she raised her head slightly, fearless, and Rhaenyra smiled with pride as she caressed Alicent’s lower lip with the sharp tip of the dragonglass shard, and she immediately felt the warmth of the blood upon the flesh. Rhaenyra wiped it with a thumb, and then marked Alicent’s forehead.

“And now?” Alicent wondered, and Rhaenyra took her hand, and gently cut a straight line on her palm, making Alicent wince slightly as her blood bubbled out.

“Your turn,” Rhaenyra said, and Alicent held out her cut hand up as, with the other, did the same upon the palm Rhaenyra had offered to her.

Rhaenyra joined her cut hand with Alicent’s, their bloods mixing together, as Rhaenyra looked down onto her, and Alicent looked up at the queen, and she had never felt so much love in her life.

“Blood of two, joined as one,” Orwyle chanted in the Common Tongue as Rhaenyra repeated the words in High Valyrian, the sound coming melodically from the queen’s lips, and Alicent listened to it and her stomach fluttered like it had always done when Rhaenyra had spoken High Valyrian, and had tried to teach it to Alicent, but she had always been useless with it.

Orwyle took a recipient made of wood, and put it underneath the two women’s joined hands, as their mixed blood fell inside of it, filling it up.

“Ghostly flame, and song of shadows,” the Maester continued as he equally poured their blood into a goblet, and offered it to Rhaenyra, who took it first and brought it to her lips, sipping from it as she held it with her free and uncut hand while still holding Alicent’s hand tightly, “Two hearts as embers, forged in fourteen fires,” Orwyle said, as Alicent took the goblet from Rhaenyra’s hand, and sipped the remaining blood, never parting her eyes from Rhaenyra’s, who looked at her proudly, a small smile on her lips, “A future promised in glass, the stars stand witness. The vow spoken through time, of darkness and light.”

“One flesh, one heart,” Rhaenyra whispered as Orwyle’s words faded, and Alicent smiled because she knew what was coming next, the words being the same Rhaenyra and Laenor had exchanged years before, as Alicent felt her own heart and soul departing her body and never forgot the vows she had witnessed almost two decades ago.

“One soul,” she whispered back, her voice trembling, “Now and forever.”

And then, the two women joined their bloodied lips, as they became married.

*

They walked into their joined bedchamber and Rhaenyra undressed her gently, taking her own sweet time to get rid of Alicent’s clothes, one by one. The blood in their hands had dried up, the one on their lips was gone, and the one in their foreheads was an almost brown mark none of them decided to wipe off.

Soon after, the two women were standing naked in the cold room, the fire on the hearth burning weakly but the one in their souls compensating it. Rhaenyra held Alicent’s hips and her fingers buried on her flesh, as Alicent’s hands roamed over Rhaenyra’s back, their lips meeting and departing, their tongues dancing slowly. The world would end in the morning, or maybe it wouldn’t, but tonight was theirs and theirs alone. They were two newlyweds, and no one would take it away from them, no matter how long they remained married.

After the ceremony, Rhaenyra had put a golden wand with a red stone on Alicent’s finger, and she had recognized it as the one the woman had worn when they were younger. Alicent took off her own wand with a green stone on it, a ring she had never taken off, and had put it on Rhaenyra’s own finger, a symbol of their union and eternal love. Green, and red.

Rhaenyra lowered Alicent’s body into the mattress, and she gaped a little as she looked at the woman above her, who set herself between Alicent’s legs and their bodies fit together perfectly, as if they had been created to stay united.

“My wife,” Rhaenyra whispered, and Alicent smiled widely at her.

“My wife,” she said, a hand caressing Rhaenyra’s cheek, “Mine and mine alone.”

“No one else’s,” Rhaenyra said, before lowering her lips and finding Alicent’s own, kissing her slowly, exploring every inch of her skin, as Alicent closed her eyes, and moaned with every caress of Rhaenyra’s lips.

Soon after, the queen’s fingers buried themselves deep inside the space between Alicent’s legs, and they moved lazily, expertly, making Alicent wish the moment would last forever. Their pants of pleasure and the slight creaking of the bed were the only sounds audible in the room, their bodies glistening with sweat as Alicent’s hips moved matching the rhythm of Rhaenyra’s fingers, as her nails digged dip into Rhaenyra’s flesh, and she repeated her wife’s name like a prayer, time and time again, as she finally saw the world explode around her, and came undone.

And then, once she regained her strength, she pushed Rhaenyra down onto the mattress and straddled her, moving her hips back and forth, their cores meeting as Rhaenyra grabbed Alicent’s hips and met her movements, as Alicent’s hands were flat upon Rhaenyra’s shoulders, and her eyes never left Rhaenyra’s, and their mouths gaped at the same times, their pants created a beautiful melody, and Rhaenyra pushed Alicent’s body town as she came, as the two of them sealed their love which would last a hundred lifetimes.

They laid next to one another, then, Rhaenyra’s arms wrapped around Alicent’s body as she looked at the scar on Rhaenyra’s left hand, and then at the scar below, which was vertical and long, and Alicent had provoked it. And she let out a little snort as she looked at the scar on her own left hand, and the one below, which matched both of Rhaenyra’s scars.

“How did you get this one?” Rhaenyra asked, the tip of her finger caressing the long scar on Alicent’s arm, remembering how she had smiled while Orwyle sealed it up. Now we are united, you and I.

“The smallfolk were starving, Helaena and I were out in the streets,” Alicent sighed, shaking her head at the stupidity of that idea, “They surrounded us, and one of them gave me this scar as I pushed his hand away, holding a dagger which was directed to Helaena.”

“We have the same scars,” Rhaenyra observed, and she saw the same smile as she had displayed that day, full of insanity, Alicent let out a laugh.

“We do,” Alicent nodded, and then Rhaenyra got up, and walked towards a set of drawers, “What are you doing?”

Rhaenyra took out a wooden box, and rummaged through it, until she found what she was searching for, a folded piece of paper. Alicent sat up, her back resting on the wooden bed frame, as Rhaenyra’s naked body walked towards her, and unfolded the paper.

Alicent recognized it immediately.

It was the paper telling part of the story about Nymeria, the Warrior Queen, who Rhaenyra had admired so much and had wished to be like her, just like she had wished to be like Visenya Targaryen. And she was, in her heart. She had always been like them.

“You kept it?” Alicent asked, frowning slightly as Rhaenyra sat next to her, handing her the worn out piece of paper.

Rhaenyra had ripped it off the book many years ago, and Alicent had gasped at the audacity of the girl. She had always loved books and reading stories, while Rhaenyra hadn’t had the patience of sitting down, and pouring over the words telling the stories of her own ancestors.

Alicent had kept the page hidden after she had taken it from Rhaenyra, and had tried to fix the book. But then she had shaken her head, in amusement, and had folded the page and kept it in a box on her night stand. And, every night, she read it over and over again, especially after Rhaenyra had left to Dragonstone and remained there, after the war began before any of them were aware of it.

And, in a stupid attempt to keep Rhaenyra safe and stop her from fighting Aegon, in a desperate attempt to prevent Rhaenyra from being murdered by the ones who didn’t support her, Alicent had asked Otto to travel to Dragonstone, and give the page to the woman.

“I thought you would’ve burned it,” Alicent confessed as she finished reading the words, the story being cut as it continued in the book she had in one of the bookshelves.

“I couldn’t,” Rhaenyra confessed, “It was the only thing left I had of you, Alicent.”

“That’s not true,” Alicent said, turning to look at her wife, caressing the woman’s cheek, “You have all of me, Rhaenyra. You always have had me, and you always will.”

“Keep it,” Rhaenyra’s voice turned rough, trembling slightly, “So you’ll remember me when I-”

“Don’t,” Alicent put a finger upon Rhaenyra’s lips, “Don’t say it.”

Rhaenyra, listening to her for once in her life, decided to remain quiet and instead kissed the inside of Alicent’s wrist, leaning into her touch.

“What about the letters?” Alicent wondered, then, her voice small. Rhaenyra smiled.

“I read all of them,” the queen confessed, “And I answered every single one of them.”

“But-”

“You never received them,” Rhaenyra said, nodding, “Because I never found it in myself to send them to you. I don’t know why, Alicent, I don’t know why I didn’t want you to be aware I was as devoted to you as you were to me. It was stupid, for my devotion to you has been the only thing that’s ever made sense to me.”

A few hours later, Rhaenyra succumbed to sleep next to Alicent and, while Alicent held her wife close to her with one arm wrapped around Rhaenyra’s shoulders, she held the book’s page close to her heart with the other, looking up at the bed’s canopy, unable to fall asleep no matter how much her body wanted to rest.

She thought it was funny, and ironic, how despite everything she and Rhaenyra would never be together. Rhaenyra had walked away because of Alicent’s treason, Alicent had taken too long to realize she was foolishly in love with the woman, and yet even if they had been united in marriage, they wouldn’t last. They would never be together, that was their tragedy, even if they were next to one another. Their longstanding unrequited love had been defeated, but the victory would never last. The two of them would die soon, Alicent was sure of it, and they had wasted twenty years of their lives pretending to hate one another.

But we will always have the afterlife, Alicent thought.

They would never be together in life, but they would in death. Wherever Rhaenyra went, Alicent would follow. She refused to spend another lifetime with the woman she loved, she refused to let Rhaenyra go to never see her again.

If you die first, Alicent looked at the woman resting next to her, I will make sure I meet my end soon after, whether is by someone else’s hand or my own, so I can find and touch you once more, to rest with you for eternity and at peace.

Quietly, Alicent got up and slipped on a gown. She walked silently through the corridors, until she met Orwyle’s chambers, and she knocked on the door.

“My queen,” Orwyle frowned, and Alicent breathed deeply, “Is the king-”

“Alive,” Alicent knew it because she hadn’t felt her gut wrenching like it did before she had even known Aemond was dead. She had believed her gut had twisted painfully because her father had been dying, but it had been Aemond. Her heart had known it before she did, how it had lost a piece of itself when her sweet boy had died so far away from his mother’s side.

“What do you need, then?”

“Poison,” Alicent said, her words strong and serene and confident, “The strongest you own.”

*

Daemon Targaryen and his troops descended upon them like hell fire.

When Alicent had gone back to the bedchambers she shared with Rhaenyra, the small bottle of violet liquid safe into her hand, the woman had been still asleep. Alicent had hid it inside one of her boots, and then she had laid next to Rhaenyra, her wife, until the first few rays of sunshine entered the room.

And with them, the screams of horror.

There was only one dragon, Caraxes, but the way fire rained upon them all made it seem as if there had been more than one dragon attacking them from up above.

They had more dragons which had come with Rhaenyra the day she had taken King’s Landing. There was the queen’s own dragon, Syrax, and Joffrey’s dragon, Tyraxes. There also was Helaena’s Dreamfyre, and the two dragons which had belonged to Helaena’s children: Shrykos, which had belonged to Jaehaerys, and Morghul, which was Jaehaera’s dragon, too young to follow the princess all the way to Essos, while Shrykos had never been ridden before, for Jaehaerys had died before he could even learn how to ride a dragon. They had superiority in dragons, it was true, but out of the five only two could fly into battle, Syrax and Dreamfyre, the only adult dragons at the pit. And one of them was riderless, for Helaena was long gone, and the only Targaryens in the castle were Rhaenyra and Joffrey, who had their own dragons, and Aegon, who had been unconscious ever since he had been taken back from Dragonstone.

“Get dressed,” Rhaenyra commanded, putting on her own clothes, walking towards the armour, “Go with Joffrey and leave the city, now!”

“Like hell,” Alicent snarled as she took off her sleeping gown and put on a plain dress, choosing the boots she had used to hide the bottle of poison in.

“What?” Rhaenyra said, stopping her movements, “Alicent-”

“You’re my wife,” Alicent said, pointing a finger at the woman, “And we are meant to burn together.”

“But-”

“Mysaria and Joffrey can leave the city, unseen, and make it to Driftmark,” Alicent opened a closet, being met by an armour made of bright silver and incrusted with green jewels, “I’m staying to fight.”

“How-” Alicent pointed at the armour, “W-when?”

“When I thought you would come with your army, and would give me no mercy,” she took it from the wooden stand it had been hiding at, “I wouldn’t die without putting up a fight, Rhaenyra. I won’t die without fighting.”

Rhaenyra’s legs moved fast, and her lips crashed against Alicent’s.

“I love you.”

“I love you too,” Alicent said, holding Rhaenyra’s face between her hands, “Now, dress up, my queen. We have a city to defend.”

The two women put on the armours, Rhaenyra with her gold steel and the red scaled cape, Alicent with her bright silver armour shining with the green gems, and emerald cape accompanying it. She took a dagger, and strapped it into her belt. She knew it wouldn’t be much, she knew she had no idea how to fight, but it would be enough, at least enough to protect Mysaria and Joffrey, as they left the city.

The two women, green and red, walked through the halls which were empty, but they saw Rhaenyra’s men, the few remaining outside the city walls, stirring up and preparing themselves to fight as Daemon Targaryen bathed the city with Caraxes’s fire.

Rhaenyra and Alicent walked towards Joffrey’s chambers, Mysaria staying close to the prince, but the woman was already inside and her eyes were wide with horror.

“Where is he?” Rhaenyra breathed, as the bed was unmade and Joffrey’s nightgown had been thrown aside, his black and blue tunic gone, his little sword as well. Mysaria shook her head, at a loss of words for the first time in her life, “Where is my son, Mysaria?!”

“Gone,” the spy master said, “He was not here when I entered.”

“Shit,” Alicent muttered, her own heart beating hard at the thought of littlee Joffrey abandoning the castle to face his step-father all on his own. After all, he had been trusted with the task of protecting Rhaenyra.

“He can’t be too far away, Rhaenyra,” Mysaria said, her voice trembling but sounding determined, “Let me try and find him.”

“Mysaria-” Rhaenyra protested, but her blue eyes looked at Alicent, and then at Mysaria, and the queen knew it was a lost cause. She had to choose between finding Joffrey or letting Daemon destroy the city, but she couldn’t be on both sites at once, “Please, be careful, and come back to me alive. Both of you.”

“I always am careful, Your Grace,” Mysaria smirked, and Alicent put a hand on the woman’s shoulder as she walked away.

“Get into the armoury first, don’t go out unprotected,” Alicent said, but the woman shook her head.

“My sword has always been words and secrets,” Mysaria squeezed Alicent’s hand, and then she left. Alicent had the feeling she would never see the woman again.

“I must go,” Rhaenyra took Alicent’s hand, “Alicent, protect Aegon.”

“Rhaenyra-”

“This is my war,” Rhaenyra shook her head, “Put him into safety, and then join me.”

“If you die on me, Rhaenyra Targaryen, I swear to the Gods I will haunt you and I will find you in hell,” Alicent threatened her wife, who kissed her, and then said a few words in High Valyrian Alicent recognized.

Hen prānot hae mērȳ zālagon indīliks.

We have always been meant to burn together.

Alicent only wished it hadn’t been true, not so soon.

She walked through the corridors, how silent they were in comparison to the screams outside, the trembling of the buildings as Caraxes bathed it all with fire. Alicent rushed her steps, descended the stairs, and reached Aegon’s chamber.

“My queen!” Orwyle said, already next to the king, “My queen, we must move the king.”

Alicent stood there, and she looked at Aegon. His brow was furrowed, and his breathing was fast, as if he was scared. Alicent wondered if in his unconscious state, he could hear the hell unfolding outside, if he could hear the screams of the people, the roaring of the dragons, Caraxes and the ones at the dragonpit equally. Alicent swallowed, and squeezed the small bottle she had taken out of her boot.

“We won’t move him,” Alicent said, her voice determined, as her eyes landed on Orwyle, “Go, Maester. You still have a chance to find somewhere safe. Travel to Oldtown, with the rest of your kin, and tell them what happened here.”

“Alicent,” Orwyle said her name for the first time, his eyes wide with fear and desperation, “Come with me! Help me put the king into a cart, and come with me.”

“No, Orwyle,” Alicent shook her head, “My place is here, next to my son and my wife. I will not leave my city, I will not cower, I will not leave her. Go, I beg of you, and make sure my brother and my son, my Daeron, are well.”

“Alicent…”

“And please,” Alicent grabbed the Maester’s hands, “Tell them the truth of what I did.”

“They will never want to hear the truth, Alicent,” Orwyle swallowed, his skin glistening with sweat, “History will paint you as a villain for betraying your husband’s wishes, and it will paint Rhaenyra as a cruel queen for abandoning her own kin.”

“We will be long gone when that will happen, Maester,” Alicent smiled bitterly, remembering how Rhaenyra had said the very same words to her, “The future doesn’t worry me. Now, go. Thank you for your service, and your friendship.”

Orwyle spared one last look at Aegon, and then he bowed his head to Alicent, wishing her luck, and scurried away, looking back one last time and running down the corridor as Alicent ordered him to go.

She walked next to Aegon, and cradled his body into her arms as she had done when he was little, as she had done one time when he was sick with fever, scared he would die. Alicent had held him, sang to him, until he had fallen asleep and the next morning he had felt so much better.

You healed me, mummy, he had said, a wide smile on his lips, before he turned into the monster he had become. The monster Alicent had made him become.

She caressed Aegon’s unkempt hair, half of it had burned so badly and his skin had been so damaged, it didn’t grow again. The golden strands were slick with sweat, his skin was burning, and Alicent knew her son had a fever, and he was too weak to survive the hell rising outside. She knew Aegon would meet his end, today, whether it was because his body would finally give out to the badly healed injuries he had suffered, or because Daemon Targaryen would find the Usurper and would eliminate him in his unconscious state.

Alicent wouldn’t let that happen. Alicent wouldn’t let Daemon Targaryen torture Aegon, he wouldn’t let the false king hurt her son for his own enjoyment, and he wouldn’t let him proceed to do the same over Rhaenyra, if she survived the fire, and she wouldn’t let him make Alicent watch as he took away from her the last pieces of her heart.

At least he cannot hurt Helaena and Jaehaera, for they are protected in Essos, and he cannot hurt Daeron, for no one knows where he went. He cannot hurt Aemond, or Otto or Jaehaerys, because they are already dead. But Aegon is alive, and he is here, and he will die today whether I want it or not. I will make it swift, and Daemon Targaryen won’t be able to take him away from me.

Alicent opened the small purple bottle, as she cradled Agon in her arms, and she started to hum the lullaby she had sung to her children so many times in the past. The words came to her easily, as natural as breathing, or loving, or laughing. And she kept on singing as she poured the purple liquid into her son’s mouth, and then closed his lips, so he would swallow.

And she hummed the lullaby as Aegon’s body spasmed, and he made choking sounds Alicent hoped wouldn’t haunt her forever, hoping she would die today so she wouldn’t live with this guilt and this truth forever.

And the moment she reached the last line of the song, Aegon’s body stopped to move.

*

Joffrey and Mysaria had died at the dragonpit, when the woman had found the little prince there, trying to tell the dragons to fly away. They had been scared, the dragons, and nervous at the hell Caraxes had been unleashing, at the sight of people running everywhere, at the screams.

The dragons had run too, towards the dragonpit’s exit, and they had trapped Joffrey there, not letting him run, not letting him escape. Mysaria, who had followed him inside, hadn’t been able to leave, either. The two of them had died with the dragon keepers, and thousands of smallfolk were killed by Caraxes’ fire, or they were stomped by the dragons which had left the pit.

The smallfolk who had survived, and blamed the Targaryens for all of their troubles, managed to kill the five dragons as well. The youngest two had been easy to kill, they had been small for they had been born at the same time as their riders and they hadn’t grown fully yet. Dreamfyre and Syrax had been more complicated, for they were bigger, and furious, and many of their killers burned alive before the two dragons collapsed under a Scorpions rain fire.

Dreamfyre had been the last one to die, managing to escape the mob, but Caraxes had found it and they had fought until Dreamfyre’s neck was bitten, and she descended down onto the city, dead, while Caraxes, even if injured, continued on destroying everything it found.

Alicent and Rhaenyra had found one another amidst the chaos. Alicent told Rhaenyra what did she do to Aegon, and Rhaenyra understood her. She knew she had done it to protect her son, she knew she had done it because Aegon’s fate would’ve been as bad as Rhaenyra’s own fate. The queen, though, didn’t learn about Joffrey and Mysaria until later on.

The two women didn’t fight. Instead, Rhaenyra commanded her men to take the smallfolk to the northern gate, open it, and take the people somewhere safe, as many others were left behind, fighting Rhaenyra’s men, fighting Daemon’s men, and dying in the process. They were starved, and weak, and too angry. And half of them didn’t know how to fight, while the ones who knew how to either asked Rhaenyra what to do, or joined Daemon’s ranks.

The soldiers who had been under the commands of Rhaenyra were immediately reduced. She had sent ravens to the few allies she had remaining, but they would be too late. Daemon had been silently advancing, and Rhaenyra’s allies had been too busy protecting their own lands from the prince. Even if they responded her call, it would be too late.

Alicent and Rhaenyra managed to go back to the castle with some of Rhaenyra’s men. They fought Daemon’s men, commanding Rhaenyra and Alicent to go, to escape. Rhaenyra’s sword, Delight, slashed and the gold steel was soon bathed in crimson. Alicen’'s own dagger soon became bloody red, moving due to the adrenaline and not because she knew what she was doing. If she would have to name it, she would call it Dreamer.

Even if they fought their way through the hallways, the two women knew there was no escape possible. They knew Daemon would find them. They could’ve left with the smallfolk they tried to put into safety, but they had been no cowards. They were two queens, or had been two queens, and would remain as such until the very end.

Rhaenyra’s face was scratched, Alicent’s own as well, but their sword and dagger kept on slashing and taking lives in a desperate attempt to survive. Alicent remembered the first man she had killed, only a few moments ago. She had been on the street, and he had tried harm a little girl. She had stabbed him on the side of his neck as she was trying to find Rhaenyra amongst the chaos, and she had taken the girl’s hand and ran until she saw the amount of people Rhaenyra was starting to save.

The two of them, panting, had reached the weirwood tree after leaving several men behind. Ash was falling down, making it look like snow, and the sky was blackened with smoke. Rhaenyra’s breathing was ragged, her blue eyes panicked, as Alicent felt her hands shaking, her eyes going up to the windows on Aegon’s chamber, his cold body laying on the bed, not letting Daemon Targaryen savour his victory, not letting him take another one of her sons away.

“Alicent,” Rhaenyra said, as clashing sounds came from inside the corridors. Rhaenyra reached out a hand, and Alicent let out a sob, hugging her wife, “They will make you watch as he executes me, Alicent.”

“Then I will watch,” Alicent said, determined, “And I will welcome my own end.”

“No, Alicent,” Rhaenyra shook her head, anguished, “He will kill me, for all I have done, and he will keep you alive as punishment. Punishment for sending Helaena away, punishment for… for Aegon, and for… for loving me.”

“He won’t win, Rhaenyra,” Alicent said, fiercely, as hot tears fell down her cheeks, clearing a path amongst the dirt on her cheeks, the ash and blood, as Rhaenyra looked like a reflection of Alicent, “Poison is a woman’s weapon, they say. I will follow you to the ends of the world, my love.”

Rhaenyra sobbed, her head landing on top of Alicent’s, and moments later the crashing inside died down, and a tall figure emerged.

His silver blonde hair was matted with blood, his cruel face stained with red, and his blue eyes shone with anger, and delight. Rhaenyra held Alicent’s hand, as Daemon Targaryen approached them both.

“I believed it was a lie,” the man said, resting his hands on his sword’s pommel, “The two of you, becoming lovers, living happily as your people starved, as I fought your fucking useless battles.”

“You fought your own battles, Daemon,” Rhaenyra snarled at him, stepping in front of Alicent, “You never fought for me. Your plan was to eliminate the Greens, and then myself.”

“You have always been a smart one, have you not?” Daemon scoffed at Rhaenyra, an ironic smile on his lips, “How long did it take you to understand?”

Rhaenyra didn’t answer his questions, too ashamed because it had taken her too long to see. He let out a laugh, cold and cruel, and his eyes landed on Alicent. She clutched her dagger, rising it up stupidly.

“Oh, Alicent,” Daemon mocked her, shaking his head pitifully, “Drop that, dear, you don’t know how to use it.”

Alicent didn’t drop the dagger, Daemon’s men poured out from the hallways as the false king tilted his head.

“You know,” he smirked, “You warmed my brother’s bed, you warmed my wife’s. Maybe I will make you warm mine as well, dearest Alicent. I always wanted to know how that Hightower cunt must’ve tasted.”

“You will not speak to her like that,” Rhaenyra snarled, stepping in front of Alicent, “Not while I live.”

“It’s a good thing you won’t live for much longer, my love,” Daemon said, and Alicent pushed Rhaenyra gently to the side.

“You will never touch my body,” Alicent told the false king, who arched an eyebrow, “I will take my own life before you put your filthy and treacherous hands upon my body.”

“How brave of you,” Daemon clapped, slowly, his men laughing stupidly, “Willing to die for the queen you were so happy to betray when my brother’s body wasn’t cold yet.”

“Shut the fuck up, Daemon,” Rhaenyra commanded, her whole body trembling, “Just… shut up.”

“Does the truth hurt you?” Daemon taunted Rhaenyra, “Did you think of her betrayal as you fucked her, my dear?”

“Quiet!” Rhaenyra screamed, taking out her sword and standing in front of Alicent.

“Rhaenyra, don’t,” Alicent put a hand on her wife’s arm, lowering the sword, “Don’t do this, my love.”

“How sweet,” Daemon cackled, looking at his men, “My love.”

“Burn them!” one of them said, “Kill them, my king!” another one bellowed.

Alicent felt Rhaenyra gulp, lowering her sword, her eyes finding Alicent.

“I will, I will,” Daemon placated the bloodthirsty men, “Take them away. Put them in separate dungeons.”

“You shall not,” Rhaenyra said, “Wherever she goes, I go.”

“You will shut up, Rhaenyra,” Daemon snarled, “I am the king. You’re nothing.”

The man looked at one of his soldiers, and nodded his head. The two men walked towards Rhaenyra and grabbed her arms, kicking her stomach as she resisted moving away from Alicent.

“No!” she screamed, the voice coming out in a pant, “Alicent!”

“Rhaenyra!” Alicent ran towards her wife, but Daemon Targaryen grabbed her arm, painfully, twisting it and making her stop on her tracks.

“Let her go, you bastard!” Rhaenyra said, and one of the men slapped her with the steel of his glove, Rhaenyra’s lips bubbling with blood she spat out, “Don’t you fucking touch her!”

“Stop, Rhaenyra,” Alicent begged, not moving, “Please, my love.”

“Alicent.”

“Go,” she said, standing tall, her brown eyes meeting Daemon Targaryen’s cold ones, “And I will find you. In death, or life.”

*

Alicent was back in the dungeons, once again. Her hands and ankles were wearing shackles as bracelets, she had been stripped of her armour and she was left wearing a white linen gown Daemon Targaryen had sent her way. The men had watched her strip from her clothes, her skin prickling with disgust, and they had watched her as she put on the gown. And then, they chained her. But they didn’t touch her.

She didn’t know how long it had passed, it could’ve been hours or it could’ve been days. But, in her heart, she knew Rhaenyra was still alive and she wondered if she would ever get to see her wife again, if she would get to say goodbye.

“You,” Alicent called to a young boy who wasn’t younger than Joffrey Velaryon. He looked scared, as if he wanted to be anywhere but there, “Come.”

“W-what do you want?” he tried to ask, bravely, but his voice shook. She wondered how did Alicent look like, she surely had wide eyes which made her look like a lunatic.

“I need you to do something for me.”

Moments later, the boy had come back and his eyes looked frightened. Still, he took out the folded and wrinkled paper from underneath his tunic, and handed it to Alicent. She unfolded it, and sighed in relief as she saw the book page.

“Did you tell anyone?” she asked, and the boy shook his head, “Did anyone see you?” he shook his head again, “Good. This will remain a secret.”

Alicent didn’t sleep, she didn’t eat, and she spent the time reciting the words Rhaenyra had told her. We were always meant to burn together, over and over again, as if that was the only thing keeping her alive, and close to Rhaenyra.

Alicent wondered if the queen was a prisoner, or if Daemon forced her to be his own queen. She wondered if Rhaenyra would be forced to execute her, or if the queen would be the one being executed while Alicent would be forced to watch Rhaenyra die and, with her, a part of her soul as well.

She wondered if Daemon would kill her next, or if he would keep her alive as punishment. Maybe she deserved it, after everything she had done to her children, to Aegon, and what she had done to Rhaenyra.

But it didn’t take long for her questions to receive an answer.

The boy came back to her, keys on shaking as he opened the dungeon’s door. He walked towards her, and made her raise without a struggle for she was, once again, thin and fragile and had no strength left now that she had lost everything.

“Where are you taking me?” she wondered, and the boy swallowed.

“He will execute her today,” he said, and Alicent didn’t have to ask who were he or she, “And you are to watch it.”

“Will I be next?”

“I do not know,” the boy said, as they walked through the dark hallways of the dungeons, “Maybe.”

Alicent asked no more questions.

The brightness of the sun blinded her as they walked outside, and Alicent saw people standing on both sides of the street. Their eyes watched her, full of fear, as the boy made her walk down the street, shaming her publicly.

“Look at her!” the boy bellowed, without any enthusiasm in his voice, “The Green bitch traitor!”

He kept repeating the words, over and over. No one said anything, no one booed her nor threw rocks and rotten food at her. People simply watched as she walked, as she was carried into the city gates. They pitied her, they were so depleted of strength they didn’t care if she would die, or if Rhaenyra would die. They were too scared to rise up in arms, so they just stood silently and watched Alicent walk away.

Her feet hurt, she felt then bleeding as she had walked barefoot. The gates opened, and Alicent almost crumbled on her knees as she saw Rhaenyra standing there, wearing a white gown just like she did, looking as frail as she did.

One of the queen’s eyes was swollen and dark, but she was standing proudly and her blue eyes were shining coldly.

“Rhaenyra,” Alicent whispered, but the boy dragged her away, making her stand next to Caraxes as Daemon sat on top, the Conqueror’s crown on his head. There was no army watching Rhaenyra’s demise, just a few men, and the false king’s jaw was set and his eyes looked angry.

Alicent wondered why there were so little men, she wondered if Daemon had been abandoned as they had learned of his betrayal, of what he would do to Rhaenyra. Alicent felt hopeful for a moment, and Rhaenyra’s eyes found her.

The queen smiled at her, a gesture full of bravery, as her blue eyes shone as bright as the sun above.

“My love,” the queen muttered, “Do not be afraid.”

Alicent brought a hand to her chest, and she felt the crumbled paper she had hidden on her sleeve.

“Rhaenyra,” she sobbed, weakly, and Daemon Targaryen moved uncomfortably upon his dragon.

“We all are here to watch these traitors pay for what they did,” Daemon Targaryen announced, “Queen Rhaenyra turned her back on her people, poisoned by the words of the Hightower bitch.”

A muscle twitched on Rhaenyra’s jaw, but she said nothing as her eyes never left Alicent’s.

“Because of the treason she has committed,” Daemon Targaryen said, “I condemn Rhaenyra Targaryen to burn alive.”

The whole world went still as Alicent felt her heart stopping to beat, as ice started to run through her veins and she looked at Rhaenyra, standing in front of Caraxes with her chin raised and her eyes shining with challenge. The woma, the queen, opened her arms slightly.

Here I am, it felt as if Rhaenyra was saying, to die a Targaryen death.

Alicent watched Caraxes’s opening his mouth, she could feel the stink and warmth of the fire rising up his lungs. She watched Daemon Targaryen snarl at the queen’s last challenge, at the way she wasn’t scared of him or death anymore. And Alicent couldn’t love her more in that moment.

She felt her arm move before she could realize she was moving, her elbow colliding with the boy’s stomach. He bended over, and in the action he let go of Alicent’s arm. And then, in all of her weakness, she ran. She ran towards Rhaenyra, who’s eyes widened in horror.

“Alicent, no!” she said, but Alicent wouldn’t stop.

She ran, and ran, and ran, hoping she would reach Rhaenyra before the fire would. And she did, her body collided against her wife’s, and she hugged her tightly.

“We were always meant to burn together,” Alicent said in a very sloppy High Valyrian, as Rhaenyra offered her a little laugh and her blue eyes filled with tears, “I don’t want to spend the rest of my days without you, Rhaenyra.”

“Oh, Alicent,” Rhaenyra’s cheeks were dark with dirt, and so were Alicent’s, and the queen’s tears cleared a path amongst it, “My sweet Alicent.”

“If we cannot be together in life,” Alicent whispered, her eyes never leaving Rhaenyra’s, “Let us be together in death.”

“I love you, Alicent,” Rhaenyra said, her hands finding Alicent’s cheeks, kissing her slowly.

And then, the flames engulfed them and it was painful. But Alicent didn’t scream, and neither did Rhaenyra, for they hugged one another until they met their end.

The fun of them and the tragedy is that, even when they had grown up together and had walked through the same hallways, even when they had shared the same spaces and had loved one another in an all consuming way. They had never been able to be together, a delicious unrequited love, not while they were alive.

Like two celestial bodies, they had spent their lives chasing one another across an infinite sky, shining brighter the closer they got to one another, so close to burning but never getting to touch for there had always been distance. But their fate, just like the fate of all stars, had always been the same.

Their time had always been limited, limited by war and politics, but not anymore. Now, in death, they could finally be together at last and for all of eternity as two shining stars up above the sky. They would join their mothers and their fathers, Alicent would join Aegon and Aemond and little Jaehaerys, Rhaenyra would finally reunite with Visenya, and Jace, Luke and Joffrey. They would finally reunite with Laena, and Laenor, and be the four friends they had been as little children.

And Daemon would never find them, for he would spend the rest of eternity burning in hell.

*

Rhaenyra and Alicent burned so bright and were reduced to ages and dust. Their story was reduced to ashes and dust and only the two of them had been the witnesses of their love, the love that had been painted upon a book page Rhaenyra had once torn off from an old book, and Alicent had kept with her for twenty years in hopes she and Rhaenyra would find one another again.

And they did. They finally did.

But their story, their true story, was never told to the world. They believed to be enemies, two women full of ambition and envy for one another. But their story was different, they had been two women who had loved one another so fiercely even when they had been at war against one another, two women who had chosen to die before being separated any longer.

And their love would be a secret only they had shared, but maybe it was better that way. Let the world believe they had hated one another, let them think whatever they wanted to think, for Rhaenyra and Alicent had joined the stars up above and had lived a happy eternity together, side by side, shining brightly and protecting the people they had loved and left behind from up above.

And as they turned into ashes and the wind swept them away, Daeron’s dragon descended from up above and burned Daemon Targaryen alive, as he made justice and accomplished Rhaenyra and Alicent’s wish for the queen’s letter to Joffrey had remained intact and in the custody of Baela and Rhaena Targaryen, their story remained a secret.

Rhaenyra’s blood and Aegon the II’s blood sat the Iron Throne, just like Rhaenyra had wanted it so, and peace was finally established for long years.

And just like them, the book page which had been the glue that had kept the two queens connected even in the distance, it turned into ash as well, into a distant memory washed away by the wind.

And finally, Rhaenyra Targaryen and Alicent Hightower found peace.