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Six moons had passed since Helaena was born.
Alicent hadn’t completely understood why the Targaryen custom was to hand your babe to the wet nurses and maids whenever they made a fuss. She thought it odd, would you not wish to care for your own child? She almost felt as if she would fail as a mother before she even truly started; her father took Aegon from her arms and gave him to her maid Aiana after her labors. Becoming pregnant with Helaena only a year after Aegon, Alicent had begun to understand that maybe the house she married into had a point.
Both children had been fussing the entire day, the maids who usually attended to them had little luck in soothing their outbursts. As the crying got louder and the day longer, Aiana and a new girl, Sava, had come to her chambers frazzled and asking for the Queen’s help.
Some time later after the fits quieted down into peaceful sleep, Alicent had left her children’s rooms to roam the castle’s halls.
The relentless screaming of her children triggered a dull pain at the back of her skull, which grew into something bordering on unbearable by the time Alicent left their rooms. The blessedly cool air washed over her, alleviating some of the tension.
Walking the corridor felt akin to wading through quicksand. It was as though her muscles still ached from her labors with Helaena despite half a year passing.
The hour was late, and the lack of people reflected that. It wasn’t very often she would walk alone. Being the queen, there must always be a knight trailing behind to ensure her safety. While Alicent appreciated the kingsguard and their steadfast commitment to the crown, she sometimes wished for the quiet that finds her now. Torches lined the walls casting a faint, warm glow. The inklings of winter still cling to the burgeoning spring air. Wind whistled through the leaves of the weirwood tree below. She couldn’t help but feel a faint bittersweet smile start to form as she took in the tranquility of kings landing at night, unobserved by the courts, by her husband - by her father.
A voice coughs from behind her. “Your grace?”
Alicent startled at her relative quiet being disrupted, quickly tightening her white silken robes and trying to fix her tumbling hair that was surely a mess after trying to tame two small children for the past two hours. She couldn’t be seen in this state.
She spins around to see Rhaenyra in her pale nightclothes with a shawl loosely wrapped around her shoulders. Her face illuminated by the glow of a nearby torch; the flames caused her hair to look as though it was spun from gold.
“Princess,” Alicent attempts to school her features into something, anything that didn’t reflect the panic that was blossoming in her chest. “Apologies, I’m afraid I didn’t know anyone else was awake at this hour.” She replies with a polite smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.
Rhaenyra shifted, causing her shawl to fall slightly out of place. Even in the low lighting, Alicent could see the princess’ furrowed brow as she looks at Alicent for far longer than she had in ages. She suddenly felt very exposed. “Are you alright, your grace? Why do you find yourself roaming the empty halls so late?”
And since when do you care? Alicent bites her tongue. Something in Rhaenyra’s voice seemed…genuine. She didn’t know what to think about that, nor did she wish to dwell on it. Alicent explained that both Aegon and Helaena had trouble finding sleep, that they were restless and couldn’t be calmed. As soon as their names were mentioned, Rhaenyra’s posture went rigid. “Sleep is evading me as well it seems,” Alicent continued, desperate to look anywhere else, her gaze lowered to her raw nail beds. “I thought a walk could help to remedy that. And you, princess? Why do you find yourself awake?”
Rhaenyra nodded slowly, humming as she walked toward the overhang that overlooked the Godswood.
“It was the strangest thing,” she started, “I was in my chambers admiring my fire when I heard someone pacing about outside my door.” Rheanyra turns to Alicent with a small grin on her face.
Alicent tore her gaze away from Rhaenyra, and to her horror, realized she was in fact outside Rhaenyra’s rooms. She flushed, quick to apologize for disturbing the princess’ peace. The other girl chuckles, mostly to herself. The tips of Alicent’s ears burned at the sound.
“I don’t mind.”
Alicent looks up with wide eyes to find Rhaenyra’s soft gaze already on her own. Every fiber of Alicent wanted to reach out and grab Rhaenyra’s hands as they once did so many times before. Hearing that laugh after the years of silence or pointed comments made her chest ache. There was a part of Alicent that desperately wanted to turn on her heel and banish this from her mind. It felt cruel, almost, to have even a moment of intimacy just for them to revert back to their false indifference. Alicent looked at Rhaenyra’s face for any hint of malice, any indication of anger that may be lurking beneath this suddenly kind demeanor. What reflected back instead was a cautious curiosity.
Alicent cleared her throat, suddenly feeling much drier than it had moments before. “Oh, still I,” She brushes her hands down her nightgown, smoothing out wrinkles that weren’t there. “Still, you have my apology.”
Rhaenyra continued to look at Alicent. The torch light slightly flickered, showing a sparkle in her eyes. Her voice dropped to barely above a whisper. “Would you…like to come in?”
Rhaenyra’s chambers were always so uncharacteristically warm for that of a castle. The looming stoned walls were excellent for withstanding even the harshest conditions - whether it be attacks from a foreign army or a violent storm that could ravage the towns below. But no matter how many layers of fur Alicent wrapped around herself nor how long she stood in front of a fire, the cold had gripped her very bones and refused to thaw no matter how hard she tried.
Her rooms were nothing short of ornate. Rhaenyra had always liked to surround herself with pretty things. The beautifully intricate tapestries which lined the walls were no exception.
Her eyes land on a familiar tapestry with brilliant reds and golds woven together to show a knight kneeling at the crest of a hill, looking up toward his queen draped in richly dark fabrics. The story had been about a glorious warrior returning from a battle that no one thought he would survive, but his victory had united the kingdom. It was one she had known well, it had been a favorite of Rhaenyra’s as long as Alicent had known her. When they were girls, Rhaenyra often mused that she wished she could be like the knight and Alicent the queen. How terribly ironic. But something akin to pride settled low in Alicent’s stomach, seeing that not everything about their past had burned away after her marriage.
There were, however, several paintings that were nothing like Alicent had seen before. Art that depicted garish, bloody battles to embroidered flowers on silk imported from Essos. These weren’t things that Rhaenyra had typically gravitated towards. Had she picked out these pieces or had someone given them to her? Alicent silently wracked her brain to remember anyone new in Rhaenyra’s life, but with a sinking feeling it struck her that she didn’t actually know.
There’s furs laid out in front of the fireplace, along with a cup of wine half drained. A tan fur that Alicent had favored whenever she and Rhaenyra were in her chambers was draped across the sofa. Alicent somewhat hovered near the door, still unsure if she was entirely welcome. Rhaenyra had plucked the fur from its spot on the sofa and placed it next to hers in front of the fire without a word.
The princess stands by her side table and extends a glass forward. “Wine?” Alicent hesitates and Rhaenyra tilts her head to the side, awaiting an answer.
Alicent knew she shouldn’t be doing this, having wine with rhaenyra. They’re not girls anymore - she has children now. She was The Queen. But when Rhaenyra raised her eyebrows with a hint of a playful smile…“One glass won’t hurt, I suppose.”
Alicent takes a sip and revels in the slight burn that travels down her throat. It always left her chest delightfully warm.
“I overheard from my maids that Lady Claere Carden took a particular interest in her husband's brother, Arvin, after Lord Carden was sent away to the stepstones.” Rhaenyra says as she plops down next to her.
Alicent’s eyes widened in surprise as she chokes on her wine. Both at the news itself, but also Rhaenyra’s shockingly casual nature. “No! Whenever I see the lord and lady at court they always seem so content with one another?”
Rhaenyra gave her a pointed look and merely hummed while looking towards the fire, a soft grin settling on her features. Alicent always adored the way she looked in the glow of firelight.
Alicent nods, aiming to look nonchalant. “Perhaps that is why I’ve heard rumors about a certain husbandless sister of Claere with a swollen belly who inexplicably moved to the coast of Dorne last summer's end.”
Both girls hold each other’s gazes for a moment before bursting out into laughter. Rhaenyra tells Alicent about a recent suitor from one of the lower houses passed out as he walked up to her and offered his hand. Alicent fills Rhaenyra in that during one of their council meetings, Lord Stuar and Lord Elrin were throwing jabs at one another the entire session when eventually Lord Staur accused Lord Elrin of lying with his wife.
The air is light and quiet yet tinged with an unfamiliar glee. Alicent realizes she hasn’t been this relaxed in ages.
Rhaenyra leans further into her space to appear conspiratorial. “Funny you should talk of the two petty lords,” Her arm brushed against Alicent’s. Her face burned, a blush spreading across her cheeks. Alicent wills her mind to stop it - to no avail. “One of my maids tells me Lord Staur’s wife had actually lain with a kitchen boy ten years her junior.” Alicent’s gasp caused Rhaenyra to snort, causing both girls to go into fits of giggling.
They talk about whatever they want, free of consequence - something she missed so dearly. Alicent had grown so accustomed to polite, empty smiles whenever Viserys wished to invite the lords and ladies of the realm for banquets. Her opinions on affairs taking place in the kingdom were encouraged to be kept to a minimum, never allowed to publicly disagree with the king lest she be branded insolent or improper. Everyone was happy to talk to the Queen, but never to Alicent.
But not with Rhaenyra.
Rhaenyra wanted to know what she thought of the ongoing war at the stepstones, how she would handle it if the responsibility was hers. And Alicent wanted to know how Rhaenyra would deal with Lord Beesbury’s insistence to raise taxes on the subjects despite their coffers not being as barren as he would like to impress. She had even been curious to see if Alicent read anything of interest as of late. Viserys never once sought out what she thought anymore. Anything of value she could provide him was washing his sickly body or someone warm to have in his bed.
“Father’s been pestering me about this gods awful marriage tour. If any of the potential husbands have the same wooing abilities as Lord Westerling I just assume to end the search here and now.” Rhaenyra says, voice laden with sarcasm. Alicent tries to offer her a placating smile, which resembled more of a grimace despite her best efforts.
“Oh it couldn’t have been that bad, surely?”
“Oh, no, it was.” Rhaenyra hops up from her spot next to Alicent and steps back a few paces before straightening up her back and jerking her chin high. Alicent struggles to hold back her grin. She walks closer to Alicent, stumbling with gusto and rattles on about titles and lands, voice cracking at every other word. As Rhaenyra grabs one of Alicent’s hands in hers, she shakily drops to one knee. But before she can finish her proposal, she dramatically falls to the floor with her other hand covering her face in faux shame.
Alicent concedes, “Alright,” she pauses to let herself smile fully, “perhaps it was that bad.” Rhaenyra didn’t say anything, but she didn’t have to. Her smile was so bright it left Alicent a little breathless.
As the night draws on, the wine makes them laugh harder and cheeks grow redder. Through half lidded eyes and an easy smile on her face, Alicent broke their light teasing. “I wish I could’ve just married you instead.”
The blood in Alicent’s veins ran cold as soon as the words left her lips, the previously vibrant color in her face draining completely. She jumps up from the floor and immediately misses the warmth. She all but runs to the door.
Her mind is screaming at her, voices that were once hers quickly turning into that of her father and eventually her mother. The soft lilt of her mother’s voice was usually a comfort, but there was no comfort to be found in the cruel words that find her now.
A gentle hand wraps around her wrist. It feels like a brand. “Please, don’t go.”
Alicent can’t turn around. Her hands itch to turn the handle, to get out of there as soon as possible. But Rhaeyra’s breathing is all that’s left to listen to, now that the blood roaring in her ears has quieted some. “Forgive me, Princess. I spoke out of turn.” Her head was turned down, still not looking at Rhaenyra.
“Alicent.”
Alicent shakes her head, hot tears prickling at her eyes. Rheanyra calls her name again but Alicent stays frozen like a startled deer.
It’s the third time the princess calls Alicent’s name, her voice sounding truly broken, when she turns around. Rhaenyra’s watery eyes meet hers and her lip trembles. “Please stay, Alicent. Please”
It feels as though for that moment, they were frozen in time. Rhaenyra’s hands tightening around Alicent’s and her panicked expression raked her face. There was so much to say, and so much more that couldn’t be said. Seeing Rhaenyra openly distraught at the idea of Alicent leaving, like she was a hurt animal showing Alicent her gaping wound in the hopes that she could fix it, made her want to weep. Alicent didn’t think she would ever see anything more than a frustrated glance or a practiced smile through gritted teeth ever again. She hadn’t felt this loved in so painfully long. It hurts her more knowing she’s probably going to lose it again.
Alicent’s other hand drifted towards the wrist that was already grasping her own. Her gaze never leaving Rhaenyra’s, she gives a sad, knowing smile. “Okay.”
All would not be fixed that night, far from it. There was no way to return to as they were. The memory of carefree girls laying in the godswood would be just that. But despite it all, the Queen and the Princess still carry a torch for one another, despite everyone in their paths repeatedly trying to snuff it out.
Even if it’s just an ember, an ember still glows.