A/n: So totally devastated after the finale and the only thing that will cure me is to write angst :) Again would love to hear what you think so far Xo
The chamber had grown still.
Rhaella stood by the window long after the maester's footsteps had faded down the corridor, watching the sky bruise from black to grey.
Behind her, Alicent moved through the room with quiet efficiency, folding gowns she would never wear again into a plain sack. Her hands did not shake anymore.
"You needn't do that yourself," Rhaella said softly. "Let the maids-"
"There is no time to trust maids." Alicent did not look up. "And I would rather my hands be busy."
Rhaella crossed to her, catching one of those busy hands mid-fold. She did not try to still it. She only held it a moment, thumb brushing over old callouses left by a needle and thread, by years of being useful in a world that had never asked what she wanted.
"When we are across the water," Rhaella murmured, "your hands may rest."
Alicent huffed something that might have been a laugh, might have been closer to tears. "I would not know what to do with idle hands."
"I have a few ideas."
That earned her a proper look- startled, then narrowed, color rising faintly along Alicent's throat. "Rhaella."
"What? I meant embroidery." Rhaella's mouth curved despite everything. "Whatever were you thinking, my lady?"
"You are insufferable."
"You love it."
Alicent's expression cracked, just slightly, into something soft and unguarded before duty folded it away again. She turned back to the sack. Rhaella let her hand fall, watching the line of her shoulders, memorizing the shape of her the way she had memorized her sleeping face only hours before.
A knock came, softer this time.
Helaena.
Rhaella opened the door to find the young queen already dressed for travel, plain wool in place of silk, Jaehaera's small hand wrapped in hers. The girl's eyes were wide and solemn in the way of children who understood more than the adults around them wished they did.
"Is it time?" Helaena asked. Her voice had the same faraway quality it always carried now, since Jaehaerys, but her eyes were clear. Present. Rhaella had learned not to mistake her quiet for absence.
"Soon," Rhaella said. "Come in. Sit, if you'd like."
Helaena guided Jaehaera to the small table near the hearth, murmuring something about butterflies that made no sense to anyone but the child, who nodded solemnly as though it were the most important information in the world. Alicent watched them from across the room, the folded gown forgotten in her hands.
The next hour passed in the strange, suspended quiet of people preparing to leave everything they had ever known. Cloaks were laid out, plain and unremarkable, the kind worn by merchants' wives rather than queens and princesses. Ser Roland stood watch outside the door, his jaw set, his hand never far from his sword.
It was Jaehaera who broke the silence. "Are we going somewhere nice?"
The question landed soft and devastating in the quiet room. Helaena opened her mouth, then closed it, uncertain. Alicent's hands stilled entirely.
Rhaella knelt before the girl, the way she once knelt before Alicent in that same room only a night before, and took her small hands in her own.
"Of course sweetling, somewhere with a garden," she said. "And chickens, if your mother has her way."
Jaehaera considered this with the utmost seriousness a five-year-old could muster. "Will there be dragons?"
Something in Rhaella's chest twisted, sharp and sudden. She thought of Aemond with Vhagar. Then of Aegon, broken and burned. She thought about all the pain and suffering they brought with them.
"No," she said gently. "No dragons where we are going. Only us."
It seemed to satisfy the girl, who returned to her butterflies and her mother's quiet murmuring, and Rhaella rose on unsteady legs, feeling Alicent's eyes on her the entire time.
"She takes after you." Alicent said quietly, once Rhaella had returned to her side.
Rhaella's throat tightened. She said nothing, only pressed her lips briefly to the crown of Alicent's head, breathing her in as though it might be the last quiet moment either of them was owed.
It was.
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Ser Roland's voice cut low through the room. "Princess. It is time."
Alicent knelt and drew Jaehaera into her cloak, tucking the girl's face into the hood, while Helaena gathered the small bundle of belongings the maester had left them. Rhaella took up the last cloak herself, crossing to Alicent, and drew the rough wool over her hair, tucking it close around her face the way one might shield a candle flame from wind.
As they made their way out of the door, Ser Roland did not move to follow.
Rhaella gave him a final look, catching his hand and gripping it once, hard, the way she might have as when she was a girl.
"Thank you. I could never have asked for a more loyal protector." she said with a faint smile.
"Go, Princess." A ghost of a smile crossed his weathered face. "Watch over them."
She did not let herself look back at him as they slipped through the Keep, moving quietly through the corridors that had housed her entire life. Disguised among the chaos, they managed to slip past the gates and into the heart of King's Landing.
The city beyond had already changed.
Dragons flew above the rooftops, four of them, wide wings cutting dark shapes against the pale morning sky. The sound of them reached the ground in waves a deep, rolling beat that she felt in her chest before it registered in her ears.
Rhaenyra was here, circling the very towers they had just fled.
Around them, the city was unraveling. What had been a typical morning only minutes before had become something closer to a riot, merchants abandoning stalls, mothers snatching children up off the cobbles. A cart had overturned somewhere ahead, spilling apples across the street, and the crowd surged and broke around it like water around a stone.
Helaena held Jaehaera tight against her chest, murmuring low and constant into the girl's hair, though whether it was comfort for the child or for herself, Rhaella could no longer tell. Alicent's hand found hers, gripping hard enough to bruise. They carved a path through bodies that no longer seemed to notice or care who they were.
They turned down a narrower street to escape the worst of the crowd, one Rhaella did not recognize, walled in on both sides by leaning tenements that blotted out what little light remained. It was quieter here. Too quiet.
That was her only warning before the men stepped out to block the way.
There were four of them, City Watch by the looks of it, though the cloaks themselves were mud-stained and ill-kept, worn more like habit than honor. The one in front had a scar bisecting one eyebrow, and his eyes moved over the group with a slowness that made Rhaella's stomach drop before he had said a word.
His gaze snagged on the streak of silver visible beneath Rhaella's hood, then slid to Alicent, to the particular way she held herself even now, even in disguise.
"Well, well." His grin spread slow and ugly. "What are noble ladies like yourselves doing wandering so far from the Keep?"
"You're mistaken," Rhaella said, keeping her voice flat, willing steel into it. "Step aside."
"Mistaken." He laughed, low and delighted, glancing back at his companions. "Princess Rhaella Targaryen, dressed up like a fishwife. And the Dowager Queen herself hiding under that hood, unless my eyes deceive me." He took a slow step closer, close enough that Rhaella could smell the sour wine on him. "You ladies certainly picked an interesting morning to take a stroll."
He tilted his head toward Alicent, then Helaena. "King consort'll think well of the man who delivered him a matched set."
Something inside Rhaella went very still.
The man's eyes had lingered on Alicent for too long, his expression carrying a familiarity that made Rhaella's stomach twist. Then his gaze shifted toward Helaena, and whatever restraint she had managed to hold onto vanished.
"Watch yourself," Rhaella said.
The Gold Cloak gave a low laugh. "Or what?"
Rhaella stepped forward.
Alicent caught her wrist. "Rhaella."
She barely heard her.
"Let us through."
The man only smiled. That was enough for Rhaella to shove him.
It was reckless. Pointless, perhaps. But she had spent too many years watching men decide what could be taken from them. She would not stand quietly while another decided he could do the same.
The guard stumbled backward, more surprised than hurt. His companion immediately reached for Rhaella, but she twisted away and struck him across the jaw.
Then a fist caught her across the cheekbone.Pain burst through her face.
The street lurched sideways as she crashed against the stone wall, one hand flying instinctively to her eye. Her vision blurred, distantly she heard Jaehaera crying, Helaena's voice cracking as she begged them to stop, Alicent screaming her name in a way that tore something loose in her chest far worse than any blow had.
Rough hands hauled her upright by the collar of her cloak.
"Feisty," the scarred man said, almost admiringly, wiping blood from his split knuckles onto his own filthy sleeve. "Come on, then. Back the way you came."
They were marched back through the ruined streets the way they had come, past the overturned cart, in through the same gates they had slipped free of not an hour before. Rhaella’s eye was pounding, her mouth tasting slightly off blood.
The Red Keep swallowed them whole.
They were dragged through corridors they had gone through only moments before with hope still burning in her chest, now stripped of every trace of it. Servants pressed themselves flat against the walls, refusing to meet anyone's eyes. The air itself had changed thick with something Rhaella couldn't name until the great doors of the throne room rose ahead of them, the guards pushing them open.
It smelled of blood.
The men shoved them forward into the hall, and Rhaella stumbled, catching herself as the doors boomed shut behind them, sealing out whatever remained of the daylight. The room was crowded with soldiers and lords, all gathered beneath the looming Iron Throne. And seated upon it was Rhaenyra.
For a moment, Rhaella could only stare. Her sister wore their father's crown. The sight should have felt impossible. Instead, it felt like the final piece of something terrible falling into place.
Then Alicent stopped beside her. Rhaella followed her gaze and saw the blood upon the stone.
Otto Hightower lay dead at the foot of the throne.
A few feet away, another body lay limp adorning a white cape. Only the familiar hilt of a sword at his side was visible.
Ser Roland.
Alicent stared at her father's body, her lips parting slightly.
Rhaella was still as the guards tightened their grip around her arms. Slowly, she lifted her gaze to her sister seated upon the Iron Throne.
Rhaenyra's expression was difficult to read. There was no celebration in her face, no satisfaction at what she had won. She simply looked tired. After everything she had sacrificed, everything she had lost, this was the moment she had fought toward, and yet there was no triumph in her eyes.
Rhaella held her sister's gaze for only a moment before the weight of it became too much. Lowering her gaze to the floor.
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A/n: I’m so so excited for what comes next stay tuned 🤞
Paring- Alicent Hightower! X Fem! Rhaenryas twin reader!
Warnings - fluff, kissing, discusses intimacy between Alicent and Viserys I, and bit of angst, comfort, bit of OOC. Mentions Daemyra. Sorta internalised homophobia. Readers dragon is silverwing, character death, grief, Cunnilingus, fingering, humping, nipple play! Pregnancy, all characters are aged up to 18-19 or more in this.
WORD COUNT: 14.5k
A/c: also I forgot to mention.. they do mention reader having similar features to her sister after all, she is a Targaryen. Forgot to mention that in the warning. Also, this is not proofread so be aware if there’s any spelling errors. Also, I’m not as good as describing intercourse with two ladies that well, but I tried my best for this one and I hope you really do enjoy it. also my first fanfic ever and I’m so nervous.😭
AROUND 113-114AC- Rhaenrya Targaryen.. soared through the winds on the back of her golden scaled dragon, Syrax. Wings stretched wide, they cut through the air high above the clouds, the waters around the Red Keep glittering far below. Just a few wingbeats behind her flew her twin sister.
You sat settled in the saddle of your own dragon, leaning forward just enough to feel the power beneath you. Your hands gripped the leather straps tightly as Silverwing glided forward. The wind tore at your hair, whipping the silver-gold strands behind you and against your back. Loose pieces of it clung to the side of your face, but you paid them no mind. You loved these flights, especially when your sister flew beside you. Up here, above the world, the weight of duty felt distant for a little while.
You savored the rush of air along your shoulders and through your hair… in times like these, were the ones you wanted to keep sorched into your memory. You had never treated Silverwing as a mere mount to be used only when convenient. The bond between you had been real since you were one and ten, and you adored it.
But more than the flight itself, you cherished the moment s with your sister. Gods, how you loved her fiery personality. Even as the Realm’s Delight, a lady of the elevated nobility, Rhaenyra remained headstrong and independent. You respected that about her better than anything. She did not bow easily to expectation.. though she still held up her duty, precisely as you did.
The two of you continued through the atmosphere until the clouds parted and the Red Keep came into perspective, the sprawling city of King’s Landing spread beneath it. You orbited the castle together, birds wheeling alongside you, before bending toward the Dragonpit. You shifted your weight back in the saddle, hands still firm on the straps, as both dragons slowed and descended. Their strong legs extended downward, and then they grazed the harsh earth of the pit.
Dragonkeepers approached carefully, keeping a respectful distance. Dragons were never truly secure.
The younger keeper started ahead, but the elder stopped him with the staff in his hand, eyes fixed on Syrax. “Dohaerās, Syrax,” the older man commanded.
The younger one licked his lips nervously before putting in, “Umbās. Rybās.” Syrax settled. Rhaenyra dismounted, riding boots hitting the dusty ground. She shifted to her dragon at once, running her hands along the golden scales until she caught up with Syrax’s head. The dragon veered around to glance at her. Rhaenyra smiled, content, and caressed her fondly.
The keepers repeated the process with Silverwing. You dismounted down from the saddle, boots encountering the earth. Silverwing was already eyeing you. You raised a gloved hand to her nape and glided your palm along the warm scales of her neck.
“Sȳz aerēbagon, Silverwing,” you muttered. You gave her a peaceful nod, then strolled away unhurriedly, pulling off your gloves as you went. You pushed toward your sister just as Ser Harrold Westerling rode up on his pale horse, helmet held in one hand.
“Welcome back, princesses. I trust your ride was pleasant.”Rhaenyra’s mouth curved. “Try not to look too relieved, Ser.” She peeked toward the waiting carriage. The two of you commenced toward it together, smiles widening. Ser Harrold called after you both.
“I am relieved. Every time those golden and silver beasts bring you back unspoiled, it saves my head from a spike.”
You barely had heard him. Your vision had already establish the woman stepping out of the carriage. Lady Alicent Hightower.
A smile rose to your face before you could prevent it. You traveled the distance quickly, halting at the foot of the steps. Rhaenyra stood on the first step. Alicent remained at the top. Alicent smiled down at your sister, then looked past her toward the dragons. “Syrax and Silverwing have been growing quickly.” You observed her gaze. “She’ll soon be as large as Caraxes. Almost large enough to carry two,” you said intentionally, letting your eyes resolve on Alicent. She figured out the implication at once. Her gaze shifted to you instead of the dragons. “I believe I’m quite content as a spectator. Thank you.” She delivered a brief smile, then twisted and paced back into the carriage.
You and Rhaenyra both breathed out. You glanced up at your sister.
“Well? Are you going to get in, or are you just going to stand there?” you had said playfully.
Rhaenyra looked back at you with a slight smile. “Don’t rush us to the castle so quickly, dear sister. We still have time.”
Behind you, the dragonkeepers guided Syrax and Silverwing deeper into the pit. The dragons gave low, resonant calls as they went. The two of you climbed into the carriage and shut the door.
The wheels began to turn toward the Red Keep. Inside, Alicent drifted her gaze to you and spoke softly. “So… how was your journey beyond the skies?” You hadn’t recognized she was scanning you until her voice tugged your attention. You met her gaze for a moment before looking away again. “It was calm, honestly. The winds are usually harsher up there. Today felt different. I appreciated it.” Your fingers fidgeted in your lap. You turned your complexion toward the window, not wishing for to look at her for too long. Something had been shifting in you lately, and you did not fully comprehend it.
Possibly, you had just grown too used to her existence. Or perhaps the friendship between you had become so steady, so constant, that you no longer knew where the boundaries of it were. But the reality sat serious than that. You had started catching her movement during court. In idle moments your thoughts drifted to her without consent. Even at night, when you tried to read in the comfort of your own bed, your vision would find the small gifts she had provided you over the years. Your heart would loosen up every time. Of course it did. She was a dear friend.. the dearest, perhaps. Yet lately you had begun to question the sensation was no longer merely friendship. You did not wish for it to be anything more. You understood how unbelievable it was. You were told to look toward aristocratic lords, not toward the lovely daughter of House Hightower.
You kept your watch remedied on the passing stone of the city and tried not to think about the way your pulse had scurried the moment she stepped out of the carriage. The carriage soon reached the Red Keep.
Soft laughter followed the three of you as you stepped down and walked together through the castle, arms loosely linked, moving through archways and up staircases beneath the familiar red stone.
________________
Moments later.. the three of you approached the chamber your mother had been lying in.
Aemma sat propped against a nest of pillows, a fan moving slowly in her hand. The curve of her pregnancy was unmistakable now, larger than it had been only weeks before. Her soft gaze lifted the moment she saw her daughters in the archway. You and Rhaenyra had already changed out of your riding leathers into the lighter, softer dresses your mother had preferred. Alicent had wavered a step behind you both.
“Oh, my daughters,” Aemma called, her voice warm despite its exhaustion. Servants shifted quietly around the chamber.. accommodating blankets, spewing water, attending to small tasks, yet the expanse nonetheless felt packed with wary eyes.
“You know I do not like you both flying while I am in this condition,” she let out as you both drew closer. You and Rhaenyra swapped a glance and rolled your eyes in the identical moment. Your sister spoke preferably first.
“You do not like us flying in any condition.” Aemma’s mouth curved faintly. A pillow had been carefully placed behind her head.. she relaxed against it as she scanned the two of you. Alicent remained a respectful distance away, hands tucked in front of her. “Your Grace,” she said softly. “Good morrow, Alicent.”
You stepped closer still, Rhaenyra’s arm correlated with yours. Concern pulled in your chest as you glimpsed at your mother.. at the exhaustion she attempted to conceal, at the recollection of every pregnancy that had ended in casualty. “Did you sleep?” you raised a question. “I slept.” “How long?” Rhaenyra pressed.
Aemma gave an undersized, weary smile. “I do not need mothering from either one of you.” The servants had positioned two soft chairs near her feet. You both seated. Rhaenyra glimpsed around the room at the cluster of attendants. “Well,” she spoke, “here you are surrounded by attendants, all of them focused on the babe.”
You followed her gaze. There were multiple of them, and nonetheless your mother looked isolated in the center of it all. You straightened in your seat. “Someone has to attend to you.” you said.
Aemma’s sight moved between the two of you, lingering.
“One day, both of you will lie in this bed soon enough.” You could not halt the faint grimace that crossed your face. You understood it was expected.. duty, lineage, the future of the realm. but the more frequently the subject arose, the more the thought unnerve you. Rhaenyra’s expression mirrored your own. “This discomfort is how we serve the realm,” Aemma said quietly.
You disliked the way the words settled in the air. Rhaenyra answered for both of you, her voice firm. “We would rather serve as knights and ride to battle with glory.”
You nodded once in calm agreement, then glimpsed back at your mother. Gods, she looked so exhausted. Pity and tenderness twisted jointly in your chest. Aemma let out a soft chuckle. “We all have royal wombs. The childbed is our battlefield. We must learn to face it with a stiff lip.”
Your expression shifted. You twisted your face toward the window, watching the pale light beyond the glass. You understood what was instructed of ladies of your position. You had always understood. But comprehending did not earn the idea any more welcome. particularly when no lord you had ever encountered had stirred anything in you beyond courteous indifference. Some had been good-looking enough. None had been sufficient.
Aemma’s voice gentled, breaking the moment. “Now go. Both of you. Take a bath. You still smell of dragon.”
You and Rhaenyra shared a small, relieved smile. both nodding, closing your eyes before moving your way.. The serious dialogue had expired for now. You both inclined your heads and rose, the weight in the chamber alleviating just slightly as you both shifted to leave.
____________________
The small council was already in session when you and Rhaenyra arrived to the chamber.
Lord Corlys’s voice carried across the table as he spoke, one hand resting near the large map spread before them. Otto Hightower stood at his side, eyes fixed on the same chart. You both entered quickly, already late, pinching your skirts as you hurried up the steps toward your father.
Viserys looked up at once. “My daughters. You’re late.” There was no real anger in his tone. only mild reproach softened by affection. He leaned ahead barely as the two of you moved toward him.
“The king’s cupbearers must not be late. It leaves people wanting for wine.” “We were visiting Mother,” you answered quietly.
You strode in first and nudged a short kiss to his cheek, Rhaenyra did the similar gesture on the other side. Viserys inhaled, then glanced between the two of you with a knowing look.
“On dragonback?”
Neither of you denied it. He gave a small, surrendered shake of his cranium and waved you both toward the sideboard. Rhaenyra took up the flagon at once and poured his cup, then passed it to you so you could begin filling the goblets of the additional lords. You shifted along the table in practiced silence, the rich scent of the wine increasing as you poured.
Otto Hightower cleared his throat, neatly redirecting the conversation. Cutting off the Lord. “Shall we discuss the heir’s tourney, Your Grace?” Viserys’s expression illuminated.
“I would be delighted.”
The conversation twisted at once to the arriving celebration. the lists, the feasts, the spectacle scheduled in honor of the child still thriving in your mother’s womb. You proceeded with pouring, listening now with half an ear as the lords spoke of banners and invitations and the glory of the day. Your father spoke of his son with certainty, as though the matter were already determined. A boy. An heir. The words came to terms over the table with easy confidence. You maintained your eyes on the flagon and the cups, but for a moment your eyes drifted down to the stone floor.
Of course. Always the talk of a male heir.
You finished pouring, set the flagon back in its place, and returned to be located beside your sister. The two of you stuck around there in quiet attendance for the rest of the session, ready should any lord lift an empty cup, while the council began again to plan a destiny that had not yet been born.
______________
Rhaenyra had proceeded to communicate with your uncle inside the throne room of the grand hall. You remained outside the grand hall, feeling no particular need to join them. Few even learned Daemon was in the Keep. Your father least of all.. conserved for a handful of knights and currently the two of you. You left them to their conversation and swung around toward the gardens instead.
That was where you found her.
Lady Alicent Hightower sat in the shade of the weirwood tree.. She red , a book open in her lap. You halted for a moment without meaning to, merely peeking at her, before collecting your skirts and traveling the grass. You seated beside her carefully, not wishing to frighten her. She had already sensed your presence.
“Well, hello there, my princess.” “Greetings, my lady.” A comfortable stillness lived in between you. After a little while you shifted and laid your head in her lap, the way you had done since girlhood. You stretched out on your back, hands resting lightly on your abdomen, gaze turned toward the open sky.
“Did you read it?” she asked. “Of course I read it.” “When Princess Nymeria arrived in Dorne, who did she take for a husband?”
“A man,” you answered, eyes lowering to your own fidgeting fingers. Alicent looked down at you. “What was his name?”
“Lord something.”
“If you answer ‘Lord something’ in front of Septa Marlow, she will be furious.” “Perhaps I take pleasure in making her furious. It makes her complexion do that funny thing.” Alicent neared the book halfway and lifted a brow, studying you. Her eyes wavered on your features..
the violet of your eyes catching the sunshine, the silver-gold hair spilled across her lap, the subtle scrunch of your snout, the balanced line of your mouth. “You’re always like this when you’re nervous.” “Like what, my lady?”
“Disagreeable.”
You eventually, looked up at her, then away toward the distant side of the garden. “You’re worried your father is about to overshadow you and your sister with a son.” “I only worry about my mother,” you said calmly. You neared your eyes and let the breeze move across your face as birds called someplace beyond the hedges.
“I do hope he gets a son. For as long as I can remember, that is all he has ever wanted.”
Alicent’s voice carried a notice of surprise. “You wish for him to have a son?” You opened your eyes and looked up at her. “I want to fly with you on the back of Silverwing. See the great wonders across the Narrow Sea. And eat only cake.” “I’m being serious, Reader.” “I never jest about cake.” You glimpsed down at your fingers again. “You’re not worried about your position?” she raised a question.“I actually like this position. It’s quite comfortable.”
Alicent closed the book with a soft snap, gently shifted your cranium onto the cloak, and stood.
you let out a sigh before drifting your gaze upon her “Where are you going?” “Home. The hour has grown late.” She had already seized a few steps when you rose and followed, hands clutched loosely behind your back.
“Princess Nymeria led her Rhoynar across the Narrow Sea on ten thousand ships to flee their Valyrian pursuers,” you said as you closed the distance. “She took Lord Mors Martell of Dorne to husband… and burned her own ships at Sunspear to show her people they were finished running.” You reached out, tore the page purely from the book, and held it out to her.
Alicent stared at you, astonished. “What are you doing?” “So you’ll remember.”
You huddled the page into her hand and began to walk past her. She stepped into your path.“If the septa sees what you’ve done to this book—”
“Fuck the septa.”
Alicent gasped, equal parts scandalized and helpless against the smile already tugging at her mouth.
“Reader!” You only grinned, unremorseless. A moment later she giggled despite herself, and the two of you left the gardens together, the earlier weight between you lightened by the sound of it.
_______
The cheers and drumming from the murmmers filled the noise of the tournaments grounds. As you and Rhaenyra ascended the steps toward the noble booth. You held your skirts carefully, following three paces behind your sister. “I fear I’m going to faint before I even reach the top,” you called, a little breathless. Rhaenyra glanced back over her shoulder with a quiet laugh. “If you can survive court, you can certainly survive a few stairs.” She turned her attentione forward furthermore as the two of you proceeded with upward. Your father stood at the center of the booth, where his seat of the king sat. welcoming the gathered crowd in celebration of the coming heir’s nameday.
“Be welcome!” Viserys shouted among the audience. You and Rhaenyra passed through the curtains into the seating area. Your eyes moved quickly across the nobles already present, searching for one particular face.. the lady of House Hightower. You found her almost at once and descended the short steps toward the front row with practiced grace. Rhaenyra followed close behind .“I know many of you have traveled long leagues, to be at these games. But I promise you will not be disappointed!” your father continue to call out looking down at the audience. You settled into your seat, Rhaenyra on one side of, Alicent. While you braced yourself on the additional side of her. “As I look into the fine knights of this list. I see a group without equal in our histories. In this great day has made more auspicious by the news I am happy to share.. Queen Aemma has begun her labors!” the audience had clapped at the announcement of the Queen’s labor.
“may the luck of the seven shine upon all combatants!” the audience continued to clap their hands. As the tourney began, You and your sister were sitted between the Lady Hightower. Knights colliding ther lances into one another. knocking one of them off. you were drinking your goblet while paying awareness between the conversation of your sister and Alicent.
“a mystery knight?” your sister had asked confused. The Lady of Hightower spoke “No, a Cole, of the stormlands.” you raised your eyebrow, putting down your goblet beside you as you lift your leg over your other leg, crossing them. “I’ve never heard of house cole.” you stated, looking at the two of them as they returned their eyes on you.
Than, the knight came forward, lifting his lance up towards the Noble booth. “Princess Rhaenys Targaryen!” he called out. You had recognized the symbol of the house, especially with the colors. House Baratheon. “I would humbly ask for the favor! of “The Queen Who Never Was”” you couldn’t help the expression on your face failed to keep in touch with the calm composure you usually have. when he spoke those words out of his mouth. How bold of him to say those type of things.. if you were a king, you would have his tongue out for that. Rhaneys walked over to the front of the railing as she tossed the favor onto his lance.
“ good fortune to you, cousin” she announced. “ I would gladly take it if I thought I needed it.” she walked back to her husband, sitting beside him as they looked at each other knowingly,. The mummers continued the rhythm with the drums. Rhaenrya cut off the silence between the three of you
“Lord Stokeworth's daughter is promised to that young Tarly squire.” Alicent looked over lifting her eyebrows, you mirroring the same expression. “Lord Massey’s son?” she questioned. your sister nodding. “They're to be married as soon as he wins his knighthood.” your sister replied.
“Best get on with it.” You’re eyes drifted onto the tourneys fields before the lady of Hightower made reply once again.
“I heard that Lady Elinor is hiding a swollen belly beneath her dress.” you and your sister mirrored the same expression as you looked at Alicent. Instead of looking at your sister, she’s looking at you. You believe that’s the first time she’s laid her stares on you during the tournament. she nodded before turning her head back to the tournament. you doing the same thing. Just as another knight it’s knocked off his horse, harshly, tumbling onto the rough earth. you and your sister had your jaws dropped that was really harsh than usual. you motion with you hand, Ser Harold over, he lowered himself to your level.
“What do you know about this Ser Criston Cole, ser Harold.” you murmured into his ear, not laying your eyes off of the knight. You felt Alicent eyes observing you from her vision briefly, before returning her eyes back onto the tourney earth.
“ I’m told Ser Criston Cole is a common-born son of Lord Dondarrion’s steward. But other than that, he just unhorsed both of Baratheons lads. I really couldn’t say.” as he disengage the conversation and went back to his normal positioning.
The remaining knights formed a line. A herald’s voice rang out.
“Prince Daemon of House Targaryen, Prince of the City, will now choose his first opponent!”
Your uncle rode a slow circuit of the lists, studying the men before him. You glanced at your sister. you knew how highly she considered him. A noticeable smile had brushed her mouth. You raised a brow, then straightened in your seat and looked back toward the field.
Daemon’s gaze settled on Gwayne Hightower. before pointing his Lance at the high tower.
“Prince Daemon Targaryen chooses Ser Gwayne Hightower of Oldtown — eldest son of the Hand of the King!”The other knights withdrew.
You looked sideways at Alicent. Her expression had been carefully blank until that moment. Now the first traces of tension showed. Without thinking, you slid your hand across the space between you and briefly interlaced your fingers with hers. a quiet acknowledgment, nothing more despite the flutter in your heart, before releasing her. She offered you a small, grateful smile.
Rhaenyra noticed and gave Alicent a softer look of her own. The two combatants prepared. The tilt began. Gwayne was struck from his horse and hit the ground hard. Alicent’s hand flew to her mouth. You placed a steadying palm on her shoulder, though your eyes remained fixed on the field. All around you, nobles leaned forward. Gwayne’s face was bloodied. Alicent glanced back toward her father. Otto met her gaze and gave a small nod of acknowledgment. She turned back to the lists, fear still clear in her expression.
Daemon rode toward the noble booth and stopped beneath the railing. Rhaenyra rose at once. You studied her for a moment, noting the shift in her manner around your uncle, but said nothing. You and Alicent followed her to the rail.
“Nicely done, Uncle,” Rhaenyra called down, smiling.
“Thank you, Princess.” Daemon looked up at her, then past her. “Now I am fairly certain I can win these games. Lady Alicent—having your favor would only reassure me further.”Something unpleasant twisted low in your stomach as you looked from him to Alicent. She smiled, removed her favor, and tossed it down to him.
“Good luck, my prince.”
The three of you returned to your seats amid fresh applause. Rhaenyra was still smiling, but the expression did not reach her eyes. You read the tightness in her posture and recognized the quiet flicker of jealousy. A knowing smirk touched your mouth before you leaned back and let your gaze drift to Alicent, who was still clapping. She was striking in the sunlight, more than you cared to admit. You pushed the thought down at once, though your eyes lingered a moment too long on her mouth before you forced them back to her face, wishing she had not caught a glimpse of it.
you analyzed over your shoulder as your father departed.. you glanced at your sister before leaning over Alicent, brushing her back with your hand so you could fetch your sister. as you gestured towards your sister to get close enough, so you could whisper something in her ear. Notifying her that their father has presumably vacated because of the labor of their brother. she looked over at you, her eyes searching yours nervously. you gave her a reassuring smile before landing your hand in her palms. before whispering, “I’m sure mother will be okay my sister. Perhaps she’s wishing for our father to exist there for the miracle.” you couldn’t help but sweat at the thought of it similarly. You understood that you were likely telling an untruthful tale, but you had collected the courage to advise your sister, some solace somewhat instead than notifying the unclarified truth.
The tournament continued on..
______
you had taken notice as the others began to leave out of the noble booth. your heart thumping in your ears, your lip starts to quiver a slight speck, your eyes drifted onto the tournament fields, not bearing to glimpse at your sister comprehending the likelihoods of why they’re fleeing.
______
The land you stood upon, felt bizarre.. awareness that your mother is now lifeless is gutwrenching.. The wind tugged at the silver-gold strands of your hair, but you hardly felt it. Your sights stuck around on the wrapped structure of your mother and the far smaller shape resting near her. your brother. You did not glimpse at Rhaenyra. You could not. If you did, the careful stillness you had forced upon yourself would shatter. Your fingers were latched around her hand, packed sufficiently that your knuckles had gone white. She held on just as fiercely. Neither of you communicated.
Syrax waited a short distance away, golden scales catching the grey light of the overcast sky. Her great head was lowered, amber eyes fixed on her rider. She made no sound, only the occasional flex of her wings, as though she too figured out the significance of the moment. Silverwing were located farther back, restless, sensing your stillness. The dragonkeepers kept their distance. you carried in tears glancing at the body as daemon approached both of you. “ they’re waiting for you..” he whispered to his nieces. You read your sister‘s expression as she voiced high Valeriyan “I wonder, if during those few hours my brother lived my father, finally found happiness”
“your father needs you both.” he responded. “more now than he ever has.” you let a teardrop down your eye as you responded into the conversation. “I will never be a son…” your sister looking over to you like you seized her words straight out of her jaws. You felt her fingers slip from yours for only a heartbeat before you reached again, catching her wrist, then her hand once more. You moved with her, two steps, three, until you both stood close enough to feel the heat already rising from her dragon‘s breath, already.. even though she hasn’t even opened her mouth just yet. Tears had collected in your vision. They did not plunge. You would not let them. Not here. Not while the court watched. Not while your father stood hollow-eyed and broken a few paces away. You kept your face calm, chin lifted, the picture of a princess who had already acknowledged what the realm requested. Only the tight grasp on your sister’s hand sold out you. Rhaenyra’s voice was low when she gave the command.
“Dracerys.” as a dragon paraded down. A spurt of heat and gold fire poured forth, engulfing the pyre. The flames clambered high and luminous against the dull sky. You felt the warmth on your cheeks, on the tears that still refused to fall. Your fingers tightened around Rhaenyra’s until it must have hurt, but she only squeezed back.
You still did not peek at her. You attended to the blaze instead, watched it take what remained of your mother and your brother, and let the roar of the dragon cram the space where your own voice would not come. Silverwing let out a low, mournful sound behind you. Syrax’s wings shifted, restless now that the deed was done.
___
The entrance to your chambers closed with a soft thud. You stood in the center of the chamber for a point, still in your black gown, the smell of smoke and dragonfire clinging to your hair. Rhaenyra hung around near the door, watching you. The stillness between you two felt heavier than it ever had.
You shifted first.
Calmly, you unpinned the hefty cloak from your shoulders and spread it across the back of a stool. Your hands did not tremble anymore. Your face remained composed, almost remote, as you passed over to the small table near the window and poured water into a cup you did not drink from.
“You’re very calm,” Rhaenyra said at last. You glanced at her, then away. “There is little left to speak.” She strode farther into the chamber. “You hardly looked at the pyre. You narrowly looked at me. You were placed there like stone while Syrax scorched our mother and—” “I understand what happened.” Your voice was even. Too even. “I was there.” avoiding eye contact as you poured the water into the cup.
Rhaenyra’s expression narrowed. “That is all you have to say? ‘I understand what happened’?”
“What would you have me do, Rhaenyra? Wail in semblance of the entire court? Break to my knees and plead with the gods to undo it? It reverses nothing.” Something in her snapped.
“Stop it.” Her voice rose, strong and raw. “Stop putting on like you feel nothing. You have been like this since we got back to the castle… composed, prevented, distant. As if Mother’s death is simply another duty to be endured. Do you not care? Do you not—”
“Of course I care!” you snapped back the words left you louder than you intended. urgently looking at your sister, over your shoulder before turning your body fully to face her. the careful mask you had composed starting to rupture. Your hands twisted into fists at your sides. Rhaenyra gazed at you, expression unclear. For an extended second neither of you spoke. Then the tears you had delayed all day ultimately brimmed over. You tried to blink them away, flunked, and the next puff of air came out shattered.
“I feel it,” you said, voice trembling. “I feel all of it. Every moment. when we were sitting there at the tourney yearning for this not to be happening… The way Father could not even meet our sights afterward. I feel it so greatly it unnerves me.” You took a step toward her, then another. “But I cannot tumble apart. Not in front of them. Not when everyone is already attending to to see which of us will break first. I will not give them the satisfaction of seeing me weak.” Rhaenyra’s outrage drained away as quickly as it had arrive. Her eyes filled. You reached for her at the same time she reached for you.
Your arms latched around each other with hopeless force. You concealed your face against her shoulder, fingers grasping the back of her gown as if she might disappear if you loosened your hold. just like your mother did with your brother.
A suffocated sound escaped you half sob, half gasp.. and once it began, you could not cease it. Rhaenyra kept you just as tightly, one hand nestling the back of your head, the other pressed firmly between your shoulder blades.“You are not weak,” she whispered fiercely against your hair. “You never have been. You do not have to haul this alone, do you hear me? Not with me.” you bobbed your head in agreement against her, unable to form words. The tears came harder now, silent and relentless, absorbing into the material of her gown. She swayed slightly with you, grounding you both, the way mother used to do when you were both were small to even comprehend that you were twins.
“I keep catching a glimpse of her,” you managed after a time, voice softened. “Every moment I stroll around the castle and look at the usual spot she used to be accompanied to.. I see her briefly. I sensed her presence was there” “I understand.” Rhaenyra’s own voice was thick. “I do too.” You stayed like that for a long time.. two sisters in the quiets of her chamber, attaching to each other while the rest of the Keep moved on without them. No one knocked. No one interrupted. For once, the realm and its infinite anticipations remained outside the door.
When your breathing finally steadied, you did not pull away instantly. Neither did she.
Rhaenyra pressed a brief kiss to the temple of your head, the same way she had when you were children and thunderstorms kept you awake. “We will get through this,” she said softly. “Together. The way we always have.”You latch your eyes and held on a little longer, allowing yourself believe her.
______
soon enough, your sister had left to go to her own chambers for the night had gone late. The knock arrived long after the Keep had succeeded quiet. You had not anticipated anyone. Rhaenyra had merely just left, and the weight of the day nonetheless sat heavy on your shoulders. You almost told the servant to send whoever it was away..
until the faded voice on the other side of the door caught up with you. “It is only me.”
Alicent.
You hesitated only a moment before opening the door. She stood there in a simple dark gown, hair loosely braided, eyes exhausted but steady. In her hands she held up a small tray with a teapot and two cups. No servants accompanied her. She had come independently. “I thought you might not have eaten,” she said quietly. “Or rested.” You stepped aside to allow her in. The door closed behind her with a soft click, sealing the two of you into the stillness of your chambers. The fire in the hearth had scorched low. The only light came from a few candles and the faint glow of the embers. Alicent arrange the tray down on the low plateau near the window seat. She did not utter at once. She simply poured the tea with careful hands. You remained standing, suddenly uncertain what to do with yourself. “You did not have to come,” you said. “I know.” She glanced up at you, then back to the cups. “I wished for to.
Something warm and dangerous fluttered beneath your ribs. You glimpsed away before she could notice it on your face. You sat on the edge of the window seat. Alicent joined you after a moment, close enough that the fabric of her skirt brushed your own. She offered you a cup. Your fingers dusted when you seized it. The connection lasted only a second, but it lingered in your mind far extended than it should have. You sipped in silence. The tea was warm. Her presence was warmer.
“You were very composed today,” Alicent said gently after a while. “At the pyre.” You stared into your cup. “I had to be.” “I know.” Her voice softened further. “But you do not have to be so contained with me.”
The words settled over you like a quiet invitation. You felt your throat tighten. The careful control you had compelled back into place after Rhaenyra left began to slip again.. not in the sharp, breaking way it had with your sister, but slower. Softer.
You set the cup down. “I keep thinking I should feel differently,” you admitted. “Stronger. Unmistakable. Instead everything feels… distant. Except when I close my eyes.” Alicent shifted closer. Her hand rested lightly on the cushion between you, close enough that your fingers could have brushed if either of you moved.
“Grief is not a straight path,” she said. “It comes in tides. Some days you will stand against them. Different days they will pull you under. Both are qualified.” You glimpsed at her then. The candlelight caught the soft brown of her eyes, the scatter of freckles across her nose, the gentle curve of her mouth. She was so close. Too packed. Your heart beat harder than it had any right to in a moment meant for just mourning. You despised that it did. You hated that even now.. especially now, you could not stop noticing how beautiful she was, how the sight of her still alleviated something tight in your chest even as it developed a new ache entirely. You should not feel this way about her. She was your companion. Your closest friend, perhaps. The daughter of the Hand. A lady of the court. Everything about this was unthinkable, and yet the feeling stayed, peaceful and persistent, refusing to take off no matter how many times you told yourself it was only suffering or loneliness or the need for comfort.
“You are staring,” Alicent said softly, a small, tired smile touching her lips. Heat rose to your face. You looked down at once.
“I am tired,” you murmured letting out a gulp, which was true, but not the whole truth. Alicent’s hand eventually moved. Her fingers brushed over yours, then settled, warm and steady. She did not pull away. Neither did you.
“I figured,” she whispered. “You do not have to illustrate.” The simple kindness of it nearly undid you. You turned your hand beneath hers so that your palms touched. Your thumb moved once, almost without permission, across the back of her hand. Alicent’s breath caught.. soft, hardly there but she still did not yank away.
For a long moment neither of you spoke. You wanted to tell her that her presence made the silence bearable. That the sound of her voice settled something restless inside you. That when she looked at you like this, gentle and unguarded, it became harder to remember why you were supposed to keep these feelings locked away. Instead you only whispered, “Thank you for coming.”
Alicent’s fingers tightened slightly around yours. “I will stay as long as you need,” she answered. “Even if all you require is quiet.” You nodded, eyes reducing to where your hands rested jointly. The passion you had tried so hard to dismiss mashed closer to the surface than it ever had.. warm, aching, and still carefully implied. You did not name it. You only clasped her hand a little tighter, and let yourself tilt, just slightly, into the solace she offered.
Outside the window the night remained still. Inside the chamber, the fire cracked softly, and for the first time since the pyre, the weight on your chest felt a fraction lighter.
____
Days pass by..
The throne room was plugged shoulder to shoulder with the high lords of the realm. You were located among them, one additional noble face in the populace, intentionally placed away from the dais. Your crimson gown was rich but restrained, the black laces drawn tight along the bodice and sleeves. Fresh jewelry slept at your throat and wrists.. nothing flashy, nothing that would draw the eye more than crucial. Your hair had been organized with care, silver-gold strands swept back from your face in a style befitting a princess of the blood who was not, today, the center of engagement.
You kept your hands folded loosely in front of you. Your expression remained calm, polite, unreadable. On the raised platform, your father sat the Iron Throne. Rhaenyra stood in front of the iron throne dressed in Targaryen black and red, the weight of the moment already coming to terms across her shoulders. One by one the lords came forward. They knelt. They spoke the words. They pledged their blades and their allegiance to King Viserys and his named heir, Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen. You watched her.
From this distance you could still see the way her chin raised, the way her sight moved across the hall as each lord rose and stepped aside. She looked every inch the heir. Strong. Certain. The sister you had always known would one day stand in the light while you remained just beyond it. Something tight pulled low in your chest. You were glad it was her. Truly. The idea of wearing that future yourself made your skin feel too short.
You had never wanted the throne. You still did not. And yet standing here, dressed like any other highborn lady, attending to the realm kneel to your twin, left a quiet hollow beneath your ribs that you could not quite name.
Support, you told yourself. You held her gaze when her eyes briefly mopped the crowd and found you. You proposed the smallest nod. steady, reassuring, meant only for her. Her expression flickered, soft for half a heartbeat, before she turned back to the next lord approaching the throne. Around you the pledges continued.
“I, Lord of House…”
“…do pledge my allegiance…”
“…to remain loyal of King Viserys and his named heir, Princess Rhaenyra…”
Each vow settled over the hall like another stone laid into a wall. You felt the shape of the future stiffening around both of you. There would be no more putting on the question of succession was unsettled. There would be no more quiet years of simply being sisters who flew dragons and stole cake from the kitchens. Your eyes drifted, just once, toward the place where Alicent were located with her father, the hand of the King. She was watching the ceremony with careful attention, hands folded, face composed. You looked away before she could notice.
The crimson fabric of your gown suddenly felt heavier. The jewelry at your throat rested like a reminder of exactly what you were: a princess of the blood, a dragonrider, a twin and still, in this moment, only another face in the public offering quiet support from afar. You kept your spine straight. You kept your expression calm. You kept your eyes on your sister as the last of the great lords knelt and spoke the words that bound the realm to her. You did not look away.
Viserys spoke “I, Viserys Targaryen, first of his name. King of the Andals and the rhonayar, and first men, Lord of the seven kingdoms and protector of the realm. to hearby name rhaenrya Targaryen. Princess of Dragon Stone and heir to the iron throne.” lords and ladies bow their heads before returning up to look at the new heir. Your eyes settled upon your sister as she took a deep puffs in. You knew precisely how she felt.
As she was now heir to the iron throne.
______
It had been months since your mother perished… You and Rhaenyra walked side by side through the quiet corridor, the soft glow of candlelight stretching along the stone walls.
“It’s only been half a year,” Rhaenyra said, starting up the conversation firstly her voice quiet and closed. “And already they are trying to remarry my father and replace me as heir. I know what the lords whisper in their secret councils the moment I am sent from the room.” You glanced at her. Her stare was fixed on the candles along, jaw in an firm set. “You cannot spend every moment worrying over the schemes of lords and king.” you said gently.
“And what if Father does remarry?” alicent finally spoke up looking at you both.. “He loves you. He loves you both. And he chose you as his heir, Rhaenyra.” “He didn’t choose me,” she answered, sadness twinkling across her complexion. “He spurned Daemon.” Forward of you, Alicent knelt before a small altar, the glow of several candles illuminating her features. She leaned forward, blew one of them out, then glanced back over her shoulder at the two of you.
“Kneel with me,” she said softly. You both moved toward and sank down beside her. Alicent clutched her hands together.
“I find this helps me feel closer to my mother,” she admitted. “I know it may sound foolish.” “We don’t think it’s foolish,” you and Rhaenyra let out nearly at the same time. Alicent’s expression loosened up. Her gaze establish on yours first. “Good. Because I hoped you might try.” She glimpsed toward the remaining candles. “If not for me, then perhaps for them.” she had replied softly, trying to comfort you guys into the idea of prayers.
The flames cast a warm, shifting light of orange and gold across your complexions. Rhaenyra looked toward Alicent. “What do I say?” “Anything you wish,” Alicent responded. “It is only for you and the gods to hear.” You turned your stare back to the candles. The silence settled around the three of you as you commenced your own silent prayers. After a moment your eyes stung, beside you, Rhaenyra’s mirrored the same expression. “I don’t want him to see me only as his little girl” she whispered. Alicent made a weak sound of und nnnerstanding. She reached out, seizing your hand, then Rhaenyra’s. You laced your fingers through both of theirs, holding on. The easy connection steadied something in your chest. A small, peaceful smile touched your soft shade of pink lips as the three of you hung around there together
—————
Later, from the hour itself has proceeded late.. you and your sister both agreed on to have a dinner with your father. you’re still cutting out the nutrition on your tray when your sister had spoken one's mind first breaking in the stillness of the chamber.
“we haven’t talked much. Since..” Your father put down his utensils as he glimpsed at you and your sister between you both “a regret of mine. We should be free to speak our minds to one another.”
“you can say whatever you like. You are the king.” you had said softly, glimpsing up at your father feeling like for the first time from months of quietness between you and your father.
his stare had soften and examining at his two daughters. “I loved your mother very much.” Nodded gently, your gazes softening “as so did we.” he nodded in acknowledgment. before looking down his food, the stillness holding the chamber together. of the crickets twittering outside breaking the stillness and silence of the chamber.
“Ser Harold, had provided a fine line of tourney knights.” she spoke furthermore, breaking the silence once more. “Oh?” he had answered back. she smiled as you did too. “When questioning them. I discovered Ser Cristion is the only man with true battle experience” you spoke, eyes broadening as you expressed it. Even your mind couldn’t comprehend the truth that only one of the tourney knights had encountered conflict. Showing genuine shock that only one of them has experienced battle. He grinned, nodding once more.
“He’ll make a fine knight of the kingsguard.” he let out looking at his daughters.. you feasted up upon your food as you looked at your sister. seeing that her expression had flattered when her father had to blow her off clarifying herself at the small council. just letting off it as she’s young, but she’ll understand when she’s older. You understood the emotion as you looked at your sister once more while chewing into your eats glimpsing that she had eventually let the subject go for now. Her eyes coming across yours as she dilate them for a moment gesturing something. you had nodded in a silent agreement as she finally took a bite out of her nutrition as the silence took maintenance of the chamber once again.
____
An emergency council had been announced in the corridors of red keep you and your sister needed instantly.
You met her in the corridor outside the chamber, skirts already collected, breath short from the hasty walk. No greeting was required. The glimpse she gave you was enough. something had gone wrong. And you both acknowledged it as you stroll into the chamber. The chamber was already whole.
Otto Hightower standing strict at the Hand’s place, Lord Corlys with his jaw set, Grand Maester Mellos clutching a folded parchment. Viserys sat at the head of the table, face drawn. The Dragonkeeper Elder stood near the wall, weathered and solemn, the aroma of ash and scales still clinging faintly to his robes. You and Rhaenyra seized your spots side by side behind the king’s chair, closer enough that the material of your sleeves brushed. You clutched your hands tightly behind your back, eyes fixed on the dark stone of the foundation. The Grand Maester cleared his throat and evolved the letter.
“It is the pleasure of Daemon Targaryen, the Prince of Dragonstone and rightful heir to the Iron Throne, to announce that he is to take a second wife in the tradition of Old Valyria. She is to assume the title Lady Mysaria of Dragonstone. Her Grace is with child and is to have a dragon’s egg placed in the babe’s cradle in the custom of House Targaryen.” a pause. The Maester’s voice did not waver, though the chamber had gone silent.
“The Prince has invited you to his wedding, Your Grace. It is in two days’ time.”
Otto’s voice ran through first, strong and controlled. “This is nothing less than sedition.”Lord Beesbury murmured agreement. Corlys’s expression dimmed further. Viserys exhaled, long and weary. “My brother wishes to provoke me,” the king declared. “To answer is to give him what he wants.” “The realm is watching, Your Grace,” Otto pressed. “Daemon has seized Dragonstone, has surrounded himself with an army of gold cloaks, and has now stolen a dangerous weapon.”
Viserys’s hand tightened on the arm of his chair. “Assemble a detachment, Otto. I will go to Dragonstone and drag Daemon back to face justice myself.” “Your Grace—” Otto started up, already rising. You barely gave attention to the rest of the discussion. Your gaze remained on the floor. In your mind the words stacked elevated with every heartbeat. An egg. He took an egg. And the truth that you didn’t know which egg terrified you even more.
Rhaenyra shifted beside you. When she spoke, it was in High Valyrian, directed at the Dragonkeeper Elder.
“Skorior drōmon, Uēpys? Skorior drōmon Daemon lāettas?” (Which egg, Elder? Which egg did Daemon take?)
The old man answered in the same tongue, voice low and respectful. “Drōmon Ēdrurzo īles, Dārilaros. Dārilaro Baelo mazumbille iderēptā hēnkon luon.” (The egg was Dreamfyre’s, princess. The same that you chose for Prince Baelon’s cradle.)
The same custom that had been meant for the little brother who never lived long enough to even understand the legacy he carried. Daemon had attained into that grief and taken it for a spectacle.. for a whore he meant to style a lady, for a child that may or may not even exist. The name landed like a blow. Dreamfyre’s egg. The one chosen for Baelon. Anger rose burning and impulsive in your chest, tangled with a sharper, quieter grief. How could he? How could he take something so bound to the dead and turn it into a taunt? It was absurd. The urge to speak, to demand, to curse Daemon’s name in both tongues, scorched beyond your teeth. but you kept your quietness, hands latched behind your back, eyes remaining on the stone.
Rhaenyra’s shoulder brushed yours. You felt her glimpse. When you lifted your eyes a fraction, she met it and gave the smallest nod. No words. Only the shared understanding that had always lived between you as you both were twins after all. She would not let this stand. You knew it in your blood. You repaid the nod once, tightly…
______
The corridors of the Red Keep felt colder than usual that afternoon, the late sun slanting through the high windows in thin, pale bars that did little to warm the stone. You strolled gradually at Alicent’s side, your phalanges loosely correlated with hers the manner they constantly were when the corridors were peaceful enough to permit it. The faded rustle of her green skirts matched the quieter whisper of your own darker ones.
You had been quiet for several extended moments before the words finally fell down free. You had it newly developed knowledge that lady laena is a considered bride of the king such as your father.
“It is… disgusting,” you muttered, eyes fixed on the worn pattern of the carpet underfoot. “Laena Velaryon. She is still merely just a child. Hardly more than a girl playing at being a noblewoman. And Father—” Your voice flattering. your throat closed up a bit, then soothed with effort. “I know he must remarry. I know the realm demands an heir that is not a woman, that the council will not rest until there is a king rather than the queen of my sister. I understand duty. I have been raised to understand it. But a child, Alicent… To look at her and think of the marriage bed… it turns my gut.”
Alicent’s fingers tightened gently around yours. She did not interrupt you. She never did when times like this stress occurred. “I do not wish for him to move on so quickly,” you continued, quieter now. “Mother is not even a year in her tomb. including my brother” Your throat closed for an instant..
“I know it changes nothing. I know the king must take another missis. I will obey. I will smile and stand beside her when the day arrives. But I despise that it has to be so shortly. And I despise that it has considered to be her.. the thought contempt me better than anything ever has” Alicent halted. In the quiet alcove between two tall windows she veered around fully toward you, her unrestrained hand rising to dust a loose strand of silver-gold hair back from your cheek. Her expression was soft, carefully composed.. the identical delicate mask she had worn for years whenever the court pushed too hard. Behind her stare, something closed and more problematic flickered, something she did not name.
She did not speak of the private audiences her father had begun to request of late. She did not speak of the way Otto’s voice lowered when he spoke of the succession, of the king’s loneliness, of opportunities that must be seized before the Velaryons tightened their grip. Those conversations remained latched behind her lips. Instead she strode closer, until the pale aroma of her sent.. something clean and leafy, like crushed leaves after rain. dressed around you both. “Your father must remarry,” she said, voice low and steady. “It does not matter whether the bride is Laena Velaryon or another. The realm will not permit him to remain a widower forever. A new queen will arrive. And when she does…” Alicent’s thumb caressed once across the back of your hand.
“She will be your stepmother. A motherly figure to you.. Not just an stranger or a cousin kept at arm’s length. She will adore you, both of you. as greatly as your father does. That is what a queen must do. That is what any lady who seizes the position at his side must comprehend.” Her stare held yours, warming and unwavering, even as the secret knowledge of her father’s ambitions sat serious and unspoken in her chest.
“You will not be set aside, Neither of you. You are still his daughters. That does not change because another lady wears the crown Your mother once wore.” the quietness of the room remained as you took her hand more and start strolling around the castle once more taken another lap… you appreciated her during these times , if you were alone with these thoughts, you don’t know how you would survive. especially without the comforts of your own mother, or your sister.
________
The doors to your father’s solar opened with a soft creak… You were already within, placed near the window where the last glow of twilight painted the stone in faded gold. Viserys stood by the great table, one hand braced against its perimeter, the other absently bothering the edge of a map. The silence was between you both as you knew what was arriving of your sister. When you twisted your skull over your shoulder to look at your sister stepping into the chamber.
When Rhaenyra entered, still in her riding leathers, the faint aroma of dragon and salt clinging to her. Your fathers head lifted at once. His expression stiffened.
“You disobeyed me,” he said, voice quiet but sharp. “You fled King’s Landing without a word. You are my only heir. You could have been killed.” Rhaenyra did not flinch. She strode further into the room, chin raised in that quiet, persistent way that had always been hers. “I retrieved the egg without bloodshed. Something Ser Otto could not have managed alone.” A stillness stretched. Viserys’s jaw functioned. Then the fight appeared to drain from him all at once. His shoulders slumped. He glanced from her to you, and the sternness in his face loosened up into something far more fragile.
“Your mother’s absence,” he murmured, nearly to himself, “is a wound that will never heal. Without her… the Red Keep has lost a warmth, and I dare say it will never recover.” Rhaenyra responded within a heartbeat, her voice quieter than usual. “It pleases me and my sister.. to hear you say this.” You met her gaze for the briefest moment, then finished the thought as though the words had always belonged to both of you. “To know that we do not lie alone with our grief.”Viserys’s expression rumple into something almost puppyish in its sorrow. He nodded once, slowly.
“I wish I had known better what to say to you both in the aftermath,” he let out. “I struggled to realize how quickly my daughters had become women grown… and that they understand what is now expected of me.” Tears collected in Rhaenyra’s eyes, though she did not let them plunge. She held your father’s gaze steadily. “The king must take a new wife.” Viserys drew a careful breath. “I could never replace your mother. No more than I intend to replace either of you as my heirs. But our line is vulnerable… too easily ended. And by marrying again, I may begin to ensure that we are better defended.” “Against whom?” you asked, the question quiet but clear. His eyes moved between the two of you, lingering on the shared silver-gold of your hair, the shape of your faces that so closely mirrored Aemma’s and his own. “Whomever may dare to challenge us.”
You had stood up and walked over to your sister Rhaenyra stood side by side now, expressions nearly identical in their restrained uncertainty. A nervous swallow caught in your throat, soundless. The significance of what must come next pressed against your ribs. Rhaenyra spoke first, and you merged her, the words rising together as if spoken from one heart. “We understand,” she said.
“The realm must come first,” you finished softly. “Rather than any private desires.”
Viserys looked at you both for a long moment, something aching and appreciative in his eyes. Then he strode forward and rested a hand briefly against each of your shoulders in turn. Looking at your sister, then laying his eyes upon you.. “I love you both.” he said, voice rough. “As much as I loved your mother. Never doubt that.”
The hour had grown late. With a gentle motion he dismissed you both toward the doors. Neither of you spoke as you left the solar and parted ways down the quiet corridor.
______
The next sunrise the Small Council chamber was already filled with low conversation when the doors opened for the king’s daughters… You and Rhaenyra entered side by side, shoulders nearly touching, hands clutched neatly in front of you. Your chins were lifted in the same quiet defiance you had worn since girlhood. The lords rose out of courtesy. Otto Hightower inclined his head with practiced politeness. Alicent stood merely behind her father’s seat, green skirts still, fingers bothering the edge of one sleeve.
Viserys stood near the tall window that looked out over King’s Landing, the soft glow catching in his silver hair. He turned only when the room had settled, then stepped slowly to the head of the table and relaxed one hand upon the carved back of his chair.
“Good morrow, my lords.”
A brief pause. His gaze drifted across the table and came to rest, for a heartbeat, on you and your sister. You both submitted him the slightest of nods, approval, understanding, the quiet promise you had provided him the night before. A faint, appreciative smile brushed his mouth before it faded into something heavier.
“I have decided to take a new wife.” The stillness that followed was absolute, as though the very atmosphere had been pulled from the chamber. Viserys’s eyes lowered to the table for a moment, then lifted again. this time finding Alicent. She were placed very still beside Otto, hands squirming at her abdomen, eyes flashing once toward you and Rhaenyra before dropping.
“I intend to marry the Lady Alicent Hightower… before spring’s end.”
Alicent’s face drained of colour. She swayed almost gradually not that noticeable, fingers twisting harder in the fabric of her sleeve. Her gaze glanced up again. first to Rhaenyra, then to you and held for a fraction too long. Nervous. You felt the terms land like a blade between your ribs.
Your lady. The girl you had observed across godswood and sept passageways since girlhood. The one whose soft voice and careful compassion had settled somewhere deep and secret inside you years ago.. emotions you had never dared name aloud, emotions she almost certainly did not percentage and had never even questioned. And now she would stand beside your beside. Wear his colours. Bear his children. Bed her.
The thought was so violently awry it made your vision sharpen for a moment. You kept your face still, breath carefully measured, but inside something cracked open and bled. Beside you, Rhaenyra’s composure flickered.. just a twinge at the corner of her mouth, a tightening around the eyes. Your own expression mirrored it exactly. Lord Corlys rose so abruptly his chair scraped against the stone. Both hands planted flat on the table, voice low and shaking with restrained fury.
“This is an absurdity. My house is Valyrian, the greatest power in the realm—” Viserys’s voice cut through, quiet but iron-hard.
“And I am your king.”
Corlys stared at him for one long, burning second. Then he turned on his heel and strode from the chamber without another word, the doors slamming shut behind him. Alicent’s eyes had fallen to the floor. She fidgeted with her fingers, shoulders slightly hunched, before forcing herself to look up once more. directly at you and your sister. The remorse in her face was plain. You fulfilled that gaze without blinking, something sharp and wounded flashing behind your own eyes before you locked it away.
Viserys’s voice softened as he spoke your names.
“Reader. Rhaenyra.”
You both went around. Without a word you correlated arms, the connection steadying, and strolled from the chamber together. An knight fell into step behind you. Neither of you glimpsed back. Neither of you offered farewell or blessing.
In the corridor the air felt thinner. Rhaenyra’s arm was rigid against yours. her jaw was clenched so tightly a muscle jumped beneath the skin. You matched her silence, the secret weight of your own feelings pressing harder with every step. betrayal layered upon betrayal, the knowledge that the girl you had quietly loved would soon be your father’s wife, and that nothing in the world would ever feel simple or safe again.
_______
The announcement still hung in the air like the aroma of burning incense long after the council chamber doors had shut behind them. You and Rhaenyra walked the long corridor in silence at first you both let go of each other arms, the soft drag of your skirts the only sound between the identical rhythm of your steps. Outside the tall windows the afternoon light was gold and indifferent. Inside, everything felt sharper. Rhaenyra was the first to speak
“He looked at her the way he used to look at Mother.” You kept walking. Your hands were folded too tightly in front of you. “She stood there,” you said, nearly to yourself. “Quiet. Proper. Like she already knew.”
“Of course she knew.” Rhaenyra’s jaw flexed. “She’s probably been at his side every night for moons. Reading to him. Smiling that soft little smile. I thought—” She cut herself off, then laughed once, sharp and humorless. You swallowed. The words sat heavy on your tongue. I thought she was mine to look at.
“She’s still our friend.” you offered, softly though the sentence felt thin even as you said it. Rhaenyra stopped strolling. Twisted. The hallway extended empty in both paths. “Is she?” Her violet eyes searched your face the way only a twin’s could. looking for the break. “Because the moment Father named her, something in her face changed. Did you see it? Like a door closing.” You halte your gaze away first. Toward the distant sculpture of some long-dead Targaryen king, anything but her.
“She’ll be queen,” you said quietly.“Our stepmother.” “Don’t.” “What?” “Don’t make it sound so clean.” Rhaenyra stepped closer. “He chose her. Over any proper match.” Your stomach twisted. “She wasn’t—”
“She was.”
The words came out raw. “And you know it. You’ve known it longer than I have.” There it was. The boundary. You felt heat climb under your skin. “What is that supposed to mean?” you asked.. Rhaenyra’s voice dropped “It means you’ve been eyeing her. The way she shifts. The way you look at her when you believes no one sees. And now she’s proceeding to stand beside him on the throne and smile at us like nothing is smashed.” “Stop.”
“No.” She moved into your space, the way she always had when she wanted the truth.
“You’ve been oddly more quiet since we left that chamber. Too silent. You keep beginning sentences and swallowing them. Talk to me. Not as someone of the court… but as your sister, gods as your twin sister. The one you shared a cradle with.” You attempt to. The first attempt came out as a laugh that broke in the middle. “I’m fine.” “You’re not.”
“I am.” Your voice rose despite yourself. “It’s just.. Father. And her. And the way the council glimpsed at us. Like the realm had already determined we were the old story and she is the new one.” Rhaenyra’s eyes narrowed. “That’s not all of it.” “It is.” “It isn’t.” She footed closer still. “You’re shaking. and you only certainly shake when you’re nervous.” You hadn’t noticed. Your hands were quivering against the silk of your skirts. You curled them into fists. “I don’t want to talk about this.”
“We are too far deep in the conversation to return back to normal so you either tell me or I’m gonna find out on my own terms and I’m gonna be upset, my dear sister.” Rhaenyra’s voice was softer now, but no less relentless. “Something is eating you alive and you’re pretending it’s only politics. It’s not. I’ve known you since before we had words. So stop lying to me.” The corridor suddenly felt too narrow. Too bright. “You wouldn’t understand,” you said, shaking your head, closing your eyes for a brief moment inhaling the air as you opened your eyes once again to look at her.
“Then make me understand.”
“She was ours.” The confession tore free before you could stop it. “She was mine. The late nights. The walks in the godswood. The way she attended when no one else did. And now Father takes her from us and calls it duty and everyone will anticipate us to curtsy and smile and call her Your Grace while she seats where Mother used to be placed.” Rhaenyra’s expression flickered, outrage, then something closer to recognition. “You think I don’t feel that?” she demanded. “You think I’m not feverish?”
“It’s different for you then it is with me.” “How?”
You glimpsed at her then. Really looked. The same silver-gold hair. The same high cheekbones. The same stubborn set of the mouth. And still she didn’t see it.
“Because you only lost merely just a friend,” you said, voice breaking. “I—”
The word caught. Rhaenyra went still. “You what?” You shook your head, already regretting the opening you’d given her. closing your eyes before reopening the violet again . But it was too late. The truth had been pressing against your ribs for months, and the council chamber had cracked the wall clean through.
“I like her.” The acknowledgment came out small and nasty and true. “I like her. Not the way a sister likes another girl. Not the way a friend does. I don’t like her as just a court lady. I look at her and something in my chest tugs so tight I can’t draw breath. And now she is going to marry our father and share his bed and carry his offsprings and I have to stand there and watch it transpire like it doesn’t carve me open every time she smiles at him.” Silence. Rhaenyra stared at you. examining your face silently, her eyes trailing over your familiar features. The color had drained from her face, then surged back in a hot rush.
“You…” She exhaled hard. “Gods. How long?” she said, in a hush to whisper, leaning close so nobody if they were peering in the conversation, could hear it.
“Long enough.” Your laugh was dry. “Long enough that every time she brushed my hand or leaned intimate to whisper something, I wished to keep her there. to keep her as my own wife. And I never said anything because she was Alicent and I'm a princess and it is impossible. And now it’s worse than impossible. It’s discontinued.” Rhaenyra’s hands appeared, hovered, then settled on your shoulders. Her grip was almost painful. “You should have told me.”
“And said what? That I’m in love with the girl Father just made our stepmother?” Your voice broke down completely. “That it hurts so much I can’t even be properly furious at her because a portion of me still wants to defend her from the very thing that is destroying me?” Rhaenyra’s eyes were bright. She pulled you in hard, forehead against yours the way she had when you were small and the world felt too big.
“Then we despise this together,” she whispered. You closed your eyes. The tears eventually spilled, hot and silent.
“I don’t know how to stop wanting her.”
Rhaenyra’s arms tightened. “Then don’t stop,” she said against your hair. “And if the wanting ever becomes something she can answer.. if the gods are cruel enough or kind enough to allow it.. then we face that too. But right now we walk these halls like we still own them. And we do not let anyone see you crack.”
You nodded against her shoulder, breathing in the familiar scent of her. Home.
_________
Months had passed since that day.. The hour was late enough that even the Red Keep had gone quiet. You sat by the window of your compartment with no light flickering in only the light at the moon, illuminating your features. With a book open and unread on your lap, the candle burned low. You had trained yourself not to think of her. Duty brought it in easier. Duty was a neat word. It allowed you name her Your Grace in the corridors and dip your head and maintain your voice steady. It let you pretend the lady who once seated with you in the godswood had been replaced by a queen with a growing belly and a husband’s specifically your father’s ring on her finger.
Until the soft knock came. Interrupting your inner thoughts your eyes meeting at the door. Wondering who’s coming in at the Late hour… You understood the sound of her hand against the wood before she spoke. As she knocked again.
“It's only me princess. May I enter?” You closed the book. Stood. Smoothed your night robe with deliberate calm.
“Of course, Your Grace.”
The entrance opened. Alicent strolled inside wearing a simple red dressing gown, her hair loose around her shoulders, one hand resting lightly over the curve of her stomach. The pregnancy was there . not a noticeable belly bump, but still a small curve of her stomach that confirmed the pregnancy, but visible enough that every servant in the Keep already spoke of the coming child in hushed, reverent tones. She looked tired. Beautiful in the way that hurt. She shut the door behind her.
“You haven’t called me Alicent in months,” she said quietly. You kept your face carefully calm and your voice calm as you spoke. “You are the queen.”
“I am still the same lady who used to fall in slumber against your shoulder when we were girls.” “No.” The word came out sharper than you intended. “No you are not.” you responded in a hushed whisper.. Alicent’s eyes searched your face. “Why are you doing this? The coldness. The way you look through me at court. The way you leave a room the moment I enter it. I thought… after everything… that we could at least remain friends.”
You turned away, toward the window again. “Friends do not become stepmothers.” voice lingering in the air.
“I did not ask for this.”
“And yet you never complained about it.” you had raised your voice, quite a speck, glimpsing over your shoulder as you reached the window. Silence stretched. You heard the soft rustle of her gown as she shifted closer. “Talk to me,” she pleaded. “Please. I cannot bear this distance any longer. You glimpse at me as though I have become a foreigner.” Something in your chest snapped. You spun around.
“Because you have. Because every time I see you I have to remember that you share his bed. That you carry his child. That you are his now in every way that once belonged to the space between us.” Alicent’s breath caught. “That is not fair.” “Fair?” Your voice rose. “You want fairness? Then tell me why you came here in the middle of the night if not to force me to look at what I cannot have.”
“I came because I miss you.”
“Stop.” “I came because the way you speak to me now feels like a wound that will not close.”
“I said stop.” She footed closer still. Close enough that you could catch the scent of the faint scent of lemon and something warmer beneath it. Close enough that the soft swell of her stomach brushed the air between you. “You are shutting me out,” she said, voice trembling with anger and hurt now. “And I will not simply leave until you tell me why.” The words tore free before you could cage them.
“Because I envy him.”
Alicent went still. You laughed, bitter and broken.
“I envy my own father. I lie awake imagining what it would be like if it were me instead of him. If I were the one who got to kiss you goodnight. If I were the one who got to put my hands on you and feel you tremble. if I was the one making you make their sweet unholy noises of yours while I pleasure you. If I were the one who got to make love to you until you forgot every duty and every title. If I were the one who married you and put a child in you that belonged to us.” Your voice cracked.
“But I cannot. Because I am a woman. Because I am a princess of the blood. Because you are the queen and you are married to my father and the entire realm would name it treason and sin and madness. So I call you Your Grace and I maintain my distance and I pretend that the way I want you does not live. And still you come to my door and ask me why I will not smile at you.”
Alicent’s eyes were broad, shining. Her lips parted. For a long moment neither of you spoke.
Then, very softly, she said, “I feel the same.” The air left your lungs. “I have felt it since we were girls” she continued, voice barely above a whisper. “Since the first time you looked at me like I was something more than a Hightower daughter. I married him because it was expected. Because the realm demanded it. Because my fathers doing. Because I did not know how to refuse without destroying everything. But every night I close my eyes and it is your face I see. Your hands I imagine. Your voice saying my name the way no one else ever has.” She took one final step.
“I am carrying his child and yet I still I want you.” Something inside you broke open completely. You reached for her at the same moment she reached for you. Your mouths met in a desperate, clumsy collision of breath and need. Her hands slid into your silver-gold soft hair. Yours framed her face, then lowered to her waist, careful of the gentle curve between you. The kiss deepened, hungry and aching, years of silence gushing into the press of lips and the soft sound she made against your mouth. When you finally drew back, both of you were shaking.
Alicent rested her forehead against yours, eyes closed. “How shall we return back to normal after this..” You did not answer with words.
You kissed her again.
The second kiss was unhurried.
You felt her smile against your mouth, soft and nearly shy, as if the confession had finally loosened something tight in both of you.
When you pulled back just enough to breathe, Alicent’s fingers were still threaded in your hair. “I used to imagine this,” she murmured. “Late at night, when the Keep was quiet. I would lie beside him and pretend the hand on my waist was yours.”
You brushed your thumb across her cheek. “I hated him for having you. And I hated myself for wanting what I could never claim.”
“You have me now,” she whispered. “For as long as this night lasts.”
Her words lived in between you like a shared secret. You kissed her again, deeper this time, and she answered with a quiet sound that went straight through you. Nuzzling the warmth between your thighs. Careful of the gentle curve of her stomach, you guided her back towards your bed. The mattress dipped under your weight as she lay down,red dressing gown falling slightly open at the collar. You followed, bracing your weight on your forearms so nothing pressed too hard.
“Tell me if anything hurts,” you said against her throat already pressing kisses along her neck,. “I will.” Her hands slid under your night robe, warm palms mapping the line of your back. “Just… don’t stop touching me.” You didn’t.
Kisses trailed from her mouth to the hinge of her jaw, then lower, lingering at the pulse that fluttered beneath her skin. She arched when your lips found the soft place just above the neckline of her gown. You loosened the ties with unhurried fingers, baring her slowly.. collarbones, the swell of her breasts, the rounded proof of the child she carried. Your palm rested there for a moment, reverent. You guided your hands towards her breast holding one of her breast in your hand.. grazing the tip of her harden nipple since the cold air of your chambers had affected her. Your eyes watching her shutter, you knew that she enjoyed it. You took the other side of her breast took your mouth around the nipple, wrapping your lips around the bud, sucking on as the tip hardden more. hearing her soft gasp and her finger is latching onto the back of your head . pulling you closer to her breast. you obeyed, sucking on it, swirling your tongue around the bud before pulling back after a few minutes your saliva connecting onto it, leaving a trail of it between your lips.
“He’s already changed everything,” you said quietly.
Alicent covered your hand with hers. “And still I want this. I want you.”
The rest of her gown slipped away. You shed your own robes. Skin met skin with a soft, shared breath. You kissed her breasts, careful, tasting the faint salt of her skin once more until her fingers tightened more in your hair and her hips shifted restlessly. When your hand slid lower, between her thighs, she was already warm and slick. A small, needy broken sound escaped her.
“Please.”
You touched her the way you had only ever allowed yourself to imagine. slow circles on the top of her clit , then moving your fingers more down until you entered her Cunt. Roaming your fingers deeper, memorizing the exact pressure that made her breath catch. Alicent’s head tipped back against the cushions, lips parted, eyes half-lidded and dark with desire. You watched every glimmer of pleasure cross her face while your fingers worked, until she was quivering and whispering your name like a prayer.
When she reached for you in turn, her touch was eager but gentler than your own hunger.
She explored you with the same focused compassion she once used to turn the pages of a book, and the contrast nearly undid you. You kissed her through it, swallowing the soft gasps that rose between you. Her fingers eventually got exhausted and she slipped out.
You shifted lower on the bed, trailing slow kisses down the soft line of Alicent’s stomach. She watched you the whole way, eyes dark and half-lidded, one hand still resting in your hair. You pressed a lingering kiss just below her navel, careful of the gentle curve.
You resolved between her thighs, guiding one of her legs over your shoulder. The first soft press of your mouth against her drew a sharp little inhale from above. You started slow, open-mouthed kisses along the sensitive skin of her inner thighs worshiping her body, then higher, until your tongue ultimately traced a deliberate line through her folds.
She tasted warm and faintly sweet. You licked furthermore, firmer this time, flattening your tongue and dragging it upward in a long, wet stroke. Alicent’s hips twitched upward seeking more friction of your tongue. Her fingers tightened in your hair.
“Gods…”
You hummed against her in response to her words and felt the vibration pull another soft sound from her throat. Your hands moved underneath her knee , resting your hand on top of her thigh, the other hand rest up upon her curve of her stomach. keep her steady as you focused, orbiting her clit with the tip of your tongue before sucking gently. The way her thighs trembled around your head made heat coil low in your own stomach.
You took your time. Long, slow licks that covered every sensitive place, then tighter flicks that made her breath stutter. When you sealed your lips around her clit and sucked in a steady rhythm, Alicent’s free hand clutched at the sheets. Her back arched as much as the pregnancy allowed, a shattered moan slipping free.
“Fuck… right there yes… don't stop.” You didn’t. You kept her there, working her with focused, hungry patience. tongue and lips and the occasional careful press of two fingers sliding inside her while you continued to suck. Her sounds grew elevated, more desperate. The hand in your hair guided you without forcing, showing you exactly what she needed. you pulled back after a while, releasing your grip upon her belly and as you kissed a lingering kiss on her clit as you moved up her body once more.
the need grew too sharp for only hands and mouth. You shifted, careful, and settled between her thighs with your own. The first slow press of your body against hers drew a shared, shaky inhale. You moved together in a rhythm that was more ache than urgency deep, unhurried strokes that let you feel every tremor, every quiet sound she made. Her legs framed your hips. Her fingers dug into your shoulders. The world narrowed to the heat of her, the soft weight of her stomach against yours, the way her breath hitched every time you rolled your hips just so.
You kept the pace deliberate, mindful of the life she carried, until the pleasure crested in long, shuddering waves. Alicent came first, face mashed to your neck, a softened cry that sounded like solace. The flutter of her body pulled you after her moments later, the release so intense it left your arms shivering as you held yourself above her a shaky breath coming out of your body.
For a long time neither of you moved. You stayed joined, foreheads touching, breathing the same air. When you finally eased to the side, you gathered her against your chest, one hand resting protectively over the curve of her belly.
Alicent’s fingers traced idle patterns on your arm. as you lean your face down and kissed her again.
“i love you reader..” she whispered against your mouth, still breathless. You smiled and kissed the corner of her lips. “Good because I love you too.”
@Lilithtales 2026. Do not feed or use my work into AI, translate, use without my permission, or claim my work as your own.
A/n: I’ve been having a surprising amount of fun writing this little story. Please leave a comment if I should continue or any requests you may have. Xo
Hours passed as Rhaella lay awake, watching her beloved, not daring to surrender to sleep.
She simply watched.
She committed every part of Alicent to memory. The faint lines time had etched around her eyes, each freckle scattered across her fair skin, the stubborn crease between her brows that remained even in sleep. She looked younger like this. Softer. Even now, she still pouted ever so slightly in her sleep, her bottom lip jutting out just enough to make Rhaella’s heart ache.
Gods… How had it come to this?
The guilt sat like stone within her chest.
She had failed. She can’t determine at what exactly but she felt it deep within her bones.
First came this needless war, cemented by Aemond, consumed by old wounds he had never learned to let heal. Then sweet Jaehaerys…
A memory she could never bury.
After Jaehaerys, Helaena had become but a shadow of herself. Then, Aegon had vanished after Rook’s Rest, broken in body and spirit.
Their family had splintered beyond repair. And Rhaella had stood helpless as each piece fell away.
What could she have done differently?
Had she been born a son, would any of this have happened?
Would her father have smiled at her?
Would her mother still be alive?
The thoughts came unbidden, cruel in their familiarity.
She had spent her entire life trying to outrun them. Now another had joined their ranks. She had allowed a man to lay hands upon Alicent.
Rhaella squeezed her eyes shut. She refused to imagine what might have happened had she arrived only moments later.
Perhaps she truly was cursed.
Everyone she loved suffered.
Her mother.
Aegon.
Helaena.
Jaehaerys.
And now Alicent.
Silent tears slipped down her cheeks before she even realized she was crying. She made no move to wipe them away. None of it mattered now.
There was still one thing left she could do.
Escape.
This time tomorrow they would be across the Narrow Sea, far from councils and crowns, far from dragons and war. Alicent. Helaena. Little Jaehaera.
She would see them safely away. That was her duty. The only one that had ever mattered.
Lord Jasper Wylde.
Rhaella’s gaze drifted toward the window. The sky beyond remained dark. There was still time.
She rose quietly and with infinite tenderness, she pressed a lingering kiss against the familiar crease between Alicent’s brows.
“I’ll be back before you wake,” she whispered.
Careful not to disturb her, Rhaella straightened the wrinkled gown she had never bothered to change before making her way to the chamber door. It opened with barely a sound.
Ser Roland stood waiting where he always had, vigilant as ever. The knight straightened immediately.
“Princess.”
“No one enters this chamber until I return.”
He inclined his head.
Rhaella hesitated only a moment, her gaze drifting back toward the sleeping figure beyond the half open door. Guilt gnawed at her for leaving Alicent alone again.
But she trusted her protector. He would not fail her.
————————————————————————
The descent into the Black Cells felt colder than Rhaella remembered.
A single torch burned in her hand, its wavering flame casting long shadows across the damp stone walls. The air smelled of mildew, rust, and something fouler. Water dripped steadily from the ceiling, the sound echoing through the winding passage like the ticking of a clock. Rats scattered beneath her feet, disappearing into cracks within the ancient stone.
She had been here before.
On that damned night.
The memory came unbidden.
She and Aegon had stood in these very tunnels after Jaehaerys’ killer been dragged below. Rhaella scarcely remembered the questioning, nor the man’s pleading. What she remembered instead was the blood.
It had taken three buckets of water before the crimson finally washed from beneath her nails. Even then, her hands still smelt of iron.
Her grip tightened around the torch.
A lone Gold Cloak stood waiting outside Lord Jasper’s cell just as she had ordered hours before. Unlike the Kingsguard, the City Watch had been born of a different ilk, they understood that justice was not always clean.
The guard stepped aside without a word.
Lord Jasper heard her footsteps before he saw her.
He looked up from the floor with open disdain, dried blood still marking the cut across his face.
“What absurdity is this?” he muttered. “Have I truly been thrown into a cell at the whim of an overemotional princess?”
Rhaella said nothing.
She stopped just beyond the iron bars, the torchlight illuminating only half her face.
Silence settled between them.
It stretched so long that even Jasper’s confidence began to falter.
Finally, he broke it.
“Have you come to kill me, then?”
Rhaella regarded him without expression.
“They taught us the horrors of dragonfire,” she said quietly. “They say it clings to flesh. That it melts steel to skin and leaves a man alive long enough to pray for death.”
Jasper’s throat bobbed.
“My brother survived it.” Her violet eyes never left his.
“Perhaps, if my drunken brother could endure such agony…” She tilted her head ever so slightly “…rest assured it might not be as terrible as they claim.”
For the first time since she had entered, Jasper’s composure cracked. A bead of sweat traced a path down his temple. Yet pride won out.
“Is this your pathetic attempt to frighten me?” he scoffed. “Do what you must. The gods know the truth. They shall judge me justly.”
Something dangerous flickered behind Rhaella’s eyes. “You have no right to speak of gods.” Her voice remained calm, though each word struck like a blade. “The Queen Dowager is the very visage of the Mother, and yet you have disgraced her. I have no doubt the Seven have already turned from you.”
A bitter laugh escaped Jasper. “The Mother?” he sneered. “Do not speak to me of piety. She wears devotion like a veil, yet welcomes temptation beneath it.” His gaze slid knowingly over Rhaella.
“Do you truly believe no one noticed? The lingering glances. The endless excuses to remain at her side. The way her eyes sought yours before any other.” His face contorted with disgust.
“Tell me, Princess… am I to die for laying hands upon a sinner? Or because I laid hands upon your sinner?”
For the first time since entering the cell, Rhaella smiled.
It was small.
Cold.
Almost pitying.
“If she is my sin,” she said, “I shall answer for it when my time comes.” She stepped closer until only the iron bars separated them.
“You, however…”
Her gaze hardened.
“…will answer for what you did today.”
Whatever satisfaction Jasper had hoped to find vanished. Without another word, Rhaella turned away.
She stopped beside the waiting Gold Cloak, placing a hand upon the man’s shoulder. “First take his hands, then his head”
The guard gave a single nod.
Rhaella retreated from the back cells without looking back. She found it unnerving how little coin it had taken for a member of the City Watch to embrace depravity, but she was grateful.
————————————————————————
The first thing Alicent became aware of was warmth.
Not the warmth of the morning sun creeping through the curtains, nor the dying embers crackling softly within the hearth, but something familiar.
She stirred, lashes fluttering as sleep reluctantly released its hold.
Rhaella.
She had somehow managed to fall asleep sitting upright against the carved headboard, their fingers still intertwined as they had been the night before.
Alicent’s chest tightened.
The princess’s neck was bent at an angle certain to ache by morning. Loose strands of hair framed her face, interrupted only by the familiar streak of silver that caught the first rays of dawn. Shadows lingered beneath her violet eyes, remnants of a battle she had fought through the night.
Even in sleep… She looked worried.
Alicent’s thumb absently brushed the emerald ring adorning Rhaella’s finger. The cool gold beneath her fingertips drew forth a memory she had not thought of in years.
It had been summer.
The gardens smelled of roses and the two of them had laid watching a young Aegon chasing dragonflies across the grass, blissfully unaware of the women watching over him.
“If you could go anywhere,” Alicent had asked still watching her boy, “where would you go?”
Rhaella had not even paused to consider it “Wherever you are.”
The answer had earned her a laugh and a shove to the shoulder.
The memory faded as quickly as it had come.
A small smile tugged at Alicent’s lips before disappearing just as swiftly.
Unable to stop herself, she reached forward, carefully tucking a loose strand of hair behind Rhaella’s ear.
“You’ll ruin your neck,” she whispered.
“I’d ruin far worse for you.”
Alicent startled.
Violet eyes slowly opened, amusement shining through the exhaustion.
“You’re awake?”
A sleepy smile tugged at Rhaella’s lips. “I’ve been pretending.”
A breath of laughter escaped Alicent before she could stop it. Rhaella looked at her as though she had just watched the sun rise.
“There she is.”
She tried to hide the forming blush by rolling her eyes.
“I mean it.” Rhaella shifted to face her more fully. “I see the woman I have loved since she refused to speak to me for two days after losing at cyvasse.”
Alicent scoffed. “You cheated.”
Rhaella gasped dramatically. “I most certainly did not.”
Alicent raised a brow. “You hid one of my pieces beneath your sleeve.”
Rhaella placed a hand over her heart in mock offense. “You put my character into question.”
This time Alicent laughed properly. Gods… It really was the most beautiful sound.
Three quiet knocks interrupted the moment. Their smiles faded almost instantly. Duty had found them once more.
Rhaella rose from the bed and crossed the room, opening the chamber door just enough for Maester Orwyle to slip inside.
“Princess,” he greeted in a hushed voice “Everything is prepared. Cloaks have been laid out, and a fishing vessel awaits the morning tide.”
Hope stirred within Rhaella’s chest. She inclined her head. “You have done us a great kindness, Maester.”
“The realm has asked much of Her Grace.” He lowered his gaze. “I pray this small service may repay but a fraction of it.”
With one final bow, the maester took his leave.
Rhaella stepped into the corridor where Ser Roland stood waiting. “Have someone bring Queen Helaena and Princess Jaehaera.”
“At once.”
By the time she returned to the chamber, Alicent had wandered to the window. She stood with her back turned, absentmindedly picking at the skin around her nails as she stared out over King’s Landing.
Rhaella crossed the room until she stood beside her. Neither woman spoke.
Below them, the city stirred as though it were any other morning. Merchants lifted their shutters. Bakers opened their ovens. Children chased one another through narrow streets while fishermen called from the docks.
None of them knew how soon Rhanyra would be approaching.
“It’s really happening,” Alicent murmured.
Behind the fear there was a small glimmer of hope deep within her voice. Rhaella reached for her hand, lifting it to pressed a soft kiss against her knuckles.
“Together,” she promised.
Outside, somewhere beyond the city walls, the distant beat of dragon wings rolled across the waters of Blackwater Bay.
“Together.” Alicent smiled. It was small. Fragile.
The gods had always been cruel enough to let hope bloom before demanding it be buried.
House of the Dragon: Queen Alicent Hightower x Lady in waiting!reader
Rating: Mature (MDNI)
WC: 1.7k
HOTD Masterlist
Tags/Warnings: PWP, WLW, femdom, oral, fingering, facesitting, spanking, cuddling, kissing, thigh riding, a bit of roleplay, biting, marking, just two women in love, no use of y/n, no physical descritpion of reader given, no beta we die like Ned Stark :(
A/n: For anon who requested Alicent and the prompt "can you be a good girl for me?" I love writing domme!Alicent so much. Comments, reblogs, and likes are appreciated.
Summary: You live to serve your queen.
Queen Alicent had taken a shine to you many years ago when you came into her service as a lady in waiting. At odds with Princess Rhaenyra, her once close companion, she drew you closer into her arms, and soon you turned into a trusted confidante. Then you became something more. You became her paramour, keeping the queen's secrets while supplying her pleasure. However, she was a generous lover, happy to shower you with affection and sweet releases.
Your fingers skimmed down her bare back as she shifted in the bed next to you. Red curls fell around her alabaster skin while your fingertips traced down the notches of her spine.
"What dress will you wear today?" you whispered, shifting closer and wrapping your arms around her waist before nuzzling your face against the back of her neck.
"The green velvet with the high neck and fitted sleeves," she murmured, sleep still heavy in her voice, making it sound huskier than usual.
"Mmm, you wish to cut a stern figure today."
"Does that excite you, sweetling?"
"I do find it enjoyable when you play the firm, commanding queen."
"And you are my unruly subject? In need of being reminded of your place?" she mused.
"You know me too well."
She shifted in your arms until she was facing you and drew you into a deep kiss. All plush lips and tangling tongues. "I like to think we both understand the other very well."
"After all these years, I certainly hope so." You drew her bottom lip between your teeth, gently nibbling on it and coaxing out a soft moan from her.
Soon, a mess of limbs tangled beneath the sheets. Your mouth was warm on Alicent's neck while her palm skimmed down your belly until she reached the apex of your thighs. Those heated fingers stroked you, opening up your slick flesh before sinking inside with ease. She kept a steady thrust while you rolled one of her rosy nipples between your thumb and forefinger. Eventually, your moans bled into hers as her fingers danced you into the throes of pleasure. You barely had time to catch your breath before she plunged her coated fingers into your mouth.
"You do taste delicious, my darling girl," she cooed, a wicked smile toying on her lips as she straddled your thigh. Her pink flesh glistened in the early stream of golden dawn as she rocked against you. All you could do was coo and mumble around her fingers. A sticky mess was left over your tepid skin, leaving Alicent's cheeks flushed rose red, and her fingers finally slipped free from your mouth with a soft pop.
"Now that is a way to start the morning," you grinned, squeezing her hips.
She laughed softly, bending down to kiss you and tickling your cheeks with her fiery curls. "Now, you must ready me for the day.
"Yes, Your Grace," you said teasingly.
Gently you wiped between her thighs, kissing the velvety soft inner flesh before tying her stockings into place, then put the undershift over her head. You took great care with the green velvet dress, tightly lacing her into it and ensuring the fabric was smooth. A few moments later, Tayla arrived to assist with the queen's hair, brushing it out until it gleamed like sizzling embers. You handed her the golden and green veiled bourrelet to place on top of Alicent's head before fetching her simple jewelry and heeled shoes. A cheeky smile tugged at the corners of her lips as she watched you kneel before her and slipped the green velvet shoes onto her feet. She would have you back in that position soon enough.
"Thank you," she told you and Tayla, adjusting the gold seven pointed star dangling from her neck and standing to make her way to the king's chambers to break fast with him.
"Come, you must be hungry," Tayla said with a knowing grin, linking her arm through yours. You wondered what secrets she fed to the infamous White Worm, but you trusted her to keep this one tucked far away from prying ears.
Day slowly turned into night as a velvety ink spreading over the sky with small stars glittering like diamonds in the abyss. Once again you found yourself in the queen's chambers, keeping her company that evening as you indulged in cherry tarts, a sweet white wine, and a card game, using berries for the bets.
"Was it a long day, Your Grace?" you hummed, peering at the cards in your hand.
"Indeed. Viserys is still too weak to sit on the throne, so my father and I heard petitions today," Alicent replied, gently rolling her neck as she placed two strawberries into the bowl in the middle.
"It sounds as if you need a relaxing night," you grinned, matching her berries and raising with four plump blueberries.
"My, we are confident," she teased, adding blueberries to the bowl.
"Mmm, I am, but I do not wish for berries if I win."
"And what would you claim as your reward?" Her voice dropped an octave, dark eyes gleaming rather mischievously.
"To be at my queen's mercy."
She inhaled sharply. "Then I shall show it and fold." She placed her cards face down on the table before placing her elbows on the sturdy wood and resting her chin on top of her laced fingers.
"Mayhaps I was bluffing," you grinned.
Her lips turned into an amused grin. "It matters not; I wish to give you what you desire." She shifted back into her chair, still dressed in her attire from this morning. "Can you be a good girl for me?"
Your stomach tightened, your cunt clenched. "I can, Your Grace."
She tilted her head and made her posture ramrod straight. "I'm not certain I believe you. I know what a wicked little thing you can be."
You sank to your knees, slowly crawling over to sit at her feet with your chin resting on her knee. "I just need your guidance then, Your Grace."
She reached down to hold your chin, stroking your cheek with her thumb. "At what sort of queen would I be if I neglected to lead and correct one of my sheep?"
You shivered from her touch and at her words, damn near dripping onto the floor beneath you. While you loved Alicent in all her forms, this one sent arousal pooling through you. The power she held was intoxicating, and you got a thrill when she wielded it.
"Tell me, my dear girl, have you sinned today? You must be honest with your queen," Alicent cooed, running her thumb over your lips.
The confession fell all too easily from your mouth. Gods help you if you were ever taken hostage; you would not last more than a moment before the truth spilled from you. Though, perhaps, that lay more in Alicent's control than your loose lips. She tutted softly, a stern look flooding her dark eyes flecked with gold. A liquid amber.
"Oh my dearest, succumbing to the sins of the flesh. You must be punished for this," she decreed.
You dropped your head, eager to play your part. "I understand, Your Grace."
"Lift your skirts and bend over my lap," she instructed.
Slowly, you stood, your legs feeling like jelly before you, gathering your skirts with your fingers and tugging them up around your waist. Your lower half was left bare and vulnerable as you bent across her lap, feeling the soft velvet beneath you.
"Seven on each cheek. To earn the Gods' forgiveness," she said, stroking your quivering arse before striking.
You bit your lip, resisting the urge to squirm as she slapped your skin until a burn settled over your flesh. After delivering her promised seven to each cheek, she landed an extra slap to the tender flesh just below the curve of your arse, making you yelp.
"You took your punishment well, sweetling," she praised, stroking your warm, abused skin. "Now the Mother may show her mercy and love. Undress me."
With trembling fingers, you took great care removing her jewelry, shoes, and clothing before freeing her hair until it tumbled down her shoulders in lush curls. She turned her focus on you, unlacing your gown and letting it billow around your feet.
"Out of your shoes, but leave your stockings on, then lie against the pillows."
You slipped your feet free before crawling onto the bed and arranging yourself over the cream colored pillows, your belly fluttering. She approached you like a wolf would a sheep, a ravenous look in those amber eyes. Her pounce was languid, taking her time as she kissed her way up your naked body before capturing a nipple between her teeth. The sharp bite of pain made you mewl. Her short, blunt nails raked down your side. She would tear you apart slowly, piece by piece, until you were ruined. Caught in her powerful jaw.
Her teeth marred your flesh, leaving marks on your thighs, hips, and breasts, but left your throat bare for now. "It would please your queen to have you sit on her face, sweetling."
"Y…yes, my queen." How could you refuse such an offer?
The two of you swapped places, her red hair fanned out over the pillow while you slowly straddled her face. Her nose rubbed between your damp folds before bumping lightly over your swollen pearl. Fingers dug tightly into your hips, pulling you tightly against her face before her tongue began its dance. You gave yourself over to pleasure, letting her mouth and tongue bring you ecstasy. With a gentle shift, you adjusted your angle so her nose would bump against your pearl while she suckled on your flesh. Your hands pressed against the headboard, thighs trembling against the sides of her head before the tight band in your belly snapped and you went crashing into pure bliss. You soaked her face. Carefully, you moved off her face and tucked against her side while you panted. Then her throat chuckle rang through the air as she stroked your hair.
"May the Gods forgive me," she grinned.
"I'm sure they'll provide absolution," you teased, nuzzling her neck. "You hold their favor."
"It seems I do," she whispered, turning your face and kissing you. "They sent me you after all."
The kissing continued until mouths were swollen and slightly numb. Your legs intertwined with hers, tangling bodies together and nestled beneath the soft blankets. You never wanted to leave this warm cocoon. Never wanted to leave your queen's embrace.
Rhaenyra's oldest daughter who is left as a hostage in the red keep after rhaenyra is killed by aegon.
At first, people say that they should kill her, because she has a strong claim to the throne by rhaenyra. Even if she is a woman or not, many were just fighting for rhaenyra's place on the throne, why would they fight for her?
But, alicent has other plans for her. She doesn't save her, but she keeps her alive, for herself, for her indulgence.
She makes aegon proclaim the girl as a bastard and a non claimant because she is a girl.
And after that, alicent keeps her to herself. Locking her own room, making her sleep beside her in her bed, forcing her to only wear a sheer white gown during the days and nothing at all at nights.
Alicent, who at first only taunted the girl, but later started to bring her closer and closer to her, slipping her hand in between the girl's legs, playing with her, yet nothing letting ger finish as a punishment for anything.
Alicent who makes reader lay on her back with her legs spread open while she pounds either ger fingers or some type of object into her, only stopping when she herself is satisfied.
Alicent, who sometimes lets reader have a rest, but only after they have cursed her family enough or when she is already left with ger body trembling, twitching and shaking.
Alicent, who makes the girl ride her fingers, and slaps her ass anytime she slows down or stops. She calls her many degrading names, which intensifies when the reader is left clutching at alicent's robes as she goes through a trembling orgasm.
cw: sexual content, this is about boobs, knife kink, blood kink, lactation, drinking, etc
Your husband Aegon, was drunk, again. And you had to play savior, again. You found him in some hovel filled with drunks, his posse of yes men shouting in excitement seeing you come towards them. The pretty wife of the pretty prince. It helped that your figure was filled out with the curve of your chest and hips being visible in any dress you wore. Aegon adored the feel of your full thighs and breasts when he took you, happy to watch the fat move. He was telling one of the younger men at the table, probably newly acquired, about something when he noticed you. Aegon scooted his chair back, opening his arms wide, “wife! How glorious to see you! Come join us!” He patted his lap for you to take a seat which made you roll your eyes but oblige him. His hand rested on the curve of your waist with his other wrapped around a cup of ale. His head was resting on your shoulder, nodding along to some boy's story.
Aegon has never been good with keeping his hands to himself, even more so when drinking. His hand that was on your waist began exploring your body, feeling whatever he could grabbing anything he could get his hands on. You tried to tell him off but he gave you that dopey smile that you couldn’t stay made at. While he was distracting you with his smile, his hand came up grasping your bosom through the corset you wore. You gasped, slapping his chest but he refused to remove his hands, saying it was practically his as he was yours and you his.
𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒
Aemond never considered himself selfish, that was until his wife gave birth. Watching your attention be dragged away from him to focus on the child made him unrationably angry, wanting your eyes and love focused on him instead. There were moments where your attention did belong to only him, which he revelled in. One of those moments was alone in bed together.
The two of you were resting after Aemond took his jealousy on you, leaving you both entirely bare including his eyepatch. Aemond rested with his head on your chest, having you run your fingers through his hair as he soaked in the feeling of the fat of your chest molding around him. His lips formed around your nipple, sucking in like he had never eaten before. One thing he was grateful to his child for was how your breasts seemed to have grown during pregnancy and the sweet milk that spilled from them afterwards.
𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒
You were in Helaena’s quarters as you were the maid helping her care for the twins, after having a babe of your own. Having two babies was always harder than one making you sympathize for the sweet girl, you could tell she truly loved them. You were mainly there just to support her or give her some time to think without the kids crawling over her. On nights when her dreams got to her and the babies woke up at the same time that she was, taking their attention away from their mother to be on you instead. The twins treated you like a second mom a bunch of times, coming to show you toys after they showed them to Helaena. The way you treated her babies made Helaena love you as well.
Tonight you were holding Maelor, letting Helaena sleep in when he fussed over anything, the other two kids asleep happily. You were feeding Maelor, smiling at him in the dead of night. Helaena could see you from her bed as you cared for her child. She got out of bed to join where you two were resting. You smiled at her when she got closer to little Maelor unlatching from your breast. You didn’t see to realize as you kept your breast out to the air, Helaena’s eyes dropping to it. She motioned to you mumbling, “you-you are, um still exposed.” you gasped quickly, righting herself feeling Helaena’s eyes burning into you.
𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒
You were in the sept in old town, praying to the seven around the candle covered altar when your husband came and joined you, kneeling beside you. He lit a candle before lowering his head in prayer, copying your pose. The sept was empty with just the two of you in the massive hall, making Ormund more bold with his actions and his words. He brought his face closer to yours, whispering in your ear, “you are tempting me wife, your breasts are calling to me even in this holy place.”
You gapped at him, open mouthed like a fish from the Riverlands. He smirked at you before his eyes shot down your neckline looking down your dress to take in more of your chest and the skin that was exposed to him then.
“We are in a sept!” You whisper to him trying to remind him to be on his best behavior. He looked forward again, bowing his head slightly saying “do not blame me for loving my wife and the blessings the Gods have given her.”
𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒
You could feel her eyes burning into you, of course during a dinner with the royal family you wear a revealing dress. Of course Alicent ever the pious woman noticed it instantly. She looked embarrassed almost as if it was her chest that was being exploded to the room of royals instead of you. You curtseyed in front of her, bowing low whispering a quiet, “your grace” she smiled a strained smile as she nodded giving you back, “my lady.”
You could feel her eyes on you throughout the dinner, some while politely asking you a question or your opinion, others where you could tell she was subtly staring at your chest. No, not staring. Admiring. The queen of the seven kingdoms, the daughter of the house that is the faith of the seven, was admiring your chest from across the table during dinner with her husband beside her. Her eyes met yours with a flustered embarrassed expression passing over her as she looked away. You would have to talk with her later about it, maybe she wants to borrow some dresses or…see what they look like off of you.
𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒
You were her partner in crime, the only person she trusted with the truth of her plans and her schemes. Alys had been your protector for most of your friendship, making you feel like you owed her most of the time. Tonight was no different, she needed your help with some concoction she was making. All you know was that there was something in the mixture that gave off a sweet floral smell. You sat on top of the table in her room as she mixed the blend of ingredients together. You were both wearing simple dresses as you were the only ones awake at this hour.
Alys had said something about the mixture needing more, what the more was you weren’t sure. Well, you weren’t sure until she came over to stand before you holding a knife in her hand. You brought your hand up expecting her to need blood as it wasn’t the first time she did, but instead she smiled saying, “it needs to come from around the heart, lovie.” you undid the lacing at the front of your dress, pulling it down so that more skin was accessible to your lover. She pulled the fabric down to rest around your waist. She brought the knife up to right above your breast, moving the bowl beneath it to catch the fall off. You whimpered slightly at the pull of the blade, Alys smiling up at you, her hand cupped under your chest to direct where the flow went.
𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒
The carriage ride was horrid, they seemed to catch every bump and hole in the road jostling you around inside the carriage. It doesn’t help that the corset you wore was starting to dig into your skin and the neckline of the dress showed off more of your chest then you usually would have liked. Your husband sat in front of you, wanting to spend some time together before you arrived at the castle. That was the excuse he gave but now that you were on the way there his eyes wouldn’t leave your chest and how it moved with each roll of the wheels. He stared wide eyed, almost like if he blinked he would miss an important moment.
The sight of his amazement made you laugh, your whole body shaking with joy. Gwayne finally tore his eyes away from your chest to your face smiling back at you. “I wish to admire my wife, is that so wrong?” You shook your head at him but kept the amused smile. Your husband was thoroughly whipped for you, and your chest.
𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒
Criston wasn’t proud of himself, but he was a man who had needs. He found himself in the streets of silk looking for something, looking for you. He had met you during a low point, one of the older knights bringing him down here to ‘loosen him up,’ and you were so confident practically claiming Criston when he came in and Criston could do nothing to fight against you as you sucked him into your web. You had taken him into a private room, served him drinks and food while listening to his every worry and woe, your fingers working through any knots on his body while stripping him of his armor. It was the best he had ever felt since coming to Kings Landing and he found himself coming to visit you whenever he got too stressed with the life of the High Lords.
You were waiting for him, anytime there was a large event or visiting dignitary he found his way back to you and you welcomed him with open arms. Ready to hear all of his complaints and heal his ailments. Today was different though as he stormed into the room you were waiting in, quickly stripping himself of his armors while staying quiet. You watched from the bed smiling at him, you were usually dressed when he came in but today you weren’t, nude as you would be after your sessions. Criston turned towards you pausing, taking in your form, he quickly moved, placing his hands around your waist and burring his head in your chest, making you laugh loudly.
