Chapter Text
“You’ve been a great comfort to me, these past months,” he told her. Kind and welcoming, no hint of ill intent in his voice.
He was never malicious, or at least not intentionally so. He had no reason to be, not when everyone already gave him everything he wanted. That made it all the worse. The implicit assumption that she wanted the same thing as him.
“I don’t know what I would’ve done without you,” he reached for her hands and grasped them tightly. She smiled falsely but he didn’t notice, for it was not her face he was staring at.
“I’m glad I could help, Your Grace,” she said. Or rather, her father was glad that the king was taken with her. He was the one who sent her here.
“It’s been so lonely,” he lamented. The queen had been dead for half a year, and the princess was in no mood to remain in the city. She took her spot as Princess of Dragonstone rather quickly, leaving the keep rather empty.
He took another step towards her, so close that she could feel his panting breath on her face, trapping her against the table. “And please, call me Viserys.” She didn’t, and never would. Too friendly, it always felt wrong on her tongue. Not that the king would care much after he started getting what he really wanted.
“Y-your Grace,” she stammered out when he pressed impossibly closer to her. “If someone were to walk in- it’s unbecoming of a maiden.”
“It should be our secret then,” he said, a slight teasing grin on his face that twisted her stomach in a horrible way.
“My father wishes for me to be wed soon-” she tried. That part wasn’t a lie, but she knew exactly who her father wished for her to marry. Still, if it might bring the king back to his senses…
“And what if I do not want you to?” The king asked. His eyes looked down for a moment, “I cannot wed again. Not after Aemma.” It almost gave her hope until his eyes scanned her figure again, “But…a wedding is not strictly necessary.”
She wanted to protest. That’s not right, the Seven decree it is a sin to lay with another outside of a marriage. It would be horribly improper to lose her maidenhead before her wedding night. She didn’t want to lay with the king at all. Not that it mattered.
Years later, she still wondered why. Why wasn’t a wedding necessary? Was something wrong with her? Had she displeased the king and he deemed her unfit to be his wife? What had she done to deserve such callous disregard?
The king announced his intention to remain a widower and her father pivoted the plan. It was not a queen, but someone who could whisper into the king’s ear and overhear his private conversations, that would still be useful.
Without asking for her input, her father decided, “A paramour should suffice just as well.”
Alicent stood at the pyre, near two decades later, and watched the king’s body turn to ash. Her father grieved for his friend but didn’t let it show. The crown needed to project strength at this time and he was never one for emotions. She thought she should be more upset about it than she was, yet she felt numb more than anything as the flames took him.
Her daughter shuffled uncomfortably next to her. There were too many people gathered on the hillside for her liking, Helaena never liked large crowds. Her youngest boy, Daeron, clung tightly to her dress, nervously glancing around at the other lords who’d come to mourn the king.
Her children weren’t particularly heartbroken about their father’s passing. Her other two boys didn’t even bother to come. The king never had the inclination to spend much time with them. He helped them certainly, arranging for their chambers in the Red Keep, occasional name day presents, and he got Aegon and Aemond places in the City Watch, not that her eldest stayed there long, but he remained distant from them.
They were still bastards, after all. Something shameful to hide away as much as he could while keeping Alicent close. Even when Aemond lost an eye to a pair of squires in a fight that escalated too far, he hardly lifted a finger.
Don’t be ungrateful, Alicent reminded herself. She was merely his paramour, she was lucky to get anything for her children.
Much as she felt the urge to look back at the other lords, Alicent kept her eyes focused on the pyre. Their judging glances bore into the back of her skull and she was sure there were whispers about how improper it was for her to show her face while King Viserys’ proper family were here.
Luckily, the soon-to-be Queen Rhaenyra paid her little mind. Alicent had seen her scarcely in the years since she’d met the king, aside from odd glances when Rhaenyra returned to the capital for tourneys or celebrations. Rhaenyra held her husband’s hand while her children stood silently next to her. None of her three boys looked anything like Ser Laenor, with matted brown hair and pale skin. Alicent was hardly in a place to judge her for that though nor was it any of her concern.
Prince Daemon loomed behind them, a hand of his settling on Rhaenyra’s shoulder. Alicent tensed up unconsciously. Over the years, the prince had visited the keep more often than his niece and made his opinion on Alicent quite clear. The words whore and seductress had been thrown around liberally, with unsubtle threats towards her “bastard whelps”. If Rhaenyra thought the same…
She squeezed her youngest son’s hand tight. There was a time she’d dreaded the idea of having children. The day Grand Maester Mellos said she was with child, she cried so hard that she’d vomited. Losing her maidenhead out of wedlock was shameful enough. To have a bastard growing in her belly, her family would never accept her again.
There was nothing she could’ve done though, trapped in this arrangement with the king by her father. The guilt and shame had been replaced with longing over time. Longing that she could’ve lived a proper life with a proper husband. Or at least, someone who cared for her beyond slaking his lusts from time to time.
It was not to be though. The everpresent gossip through the keep when her name was mentioned made it clear. The king’s mistress was all she would ever be.
Rhaenyra’s coronation came and went swiftly with nary a glance in Alicent’s direction from her or Daemon. It gave her hope they were content to leave her be. She was still the Hand’s daughter after all and had every right to remain at court as long as he wished.
She broke her fast that morning with her children. Aegon rarely came back to the keep these days. Where he spent the nights, Alicent didn’t know, but she’d grown used to it by now and wasn’t concerned. Aemond slept in the City Watch barracks most nights with the other gold cloaks, so Daeron and Helaena were the only two left in the keep to eat with her.
Her daughter was always quiet and kept to herself, so Daeron carried the bulk of the conversation. He rambled excitedly about the stablemaster in the Red Keep, Ser Luthor Staunton, who let him help around the stables and feed the horses the other day.
Daeron was supposed to be practicing his swordplay in the training yard at that time, ideally so he could become a gold cloak like his elder brothers, but he was an easily distracted child. Something new was always catching his eye and he’d done all sorts of odd work around the castle whenever she wasn’t around to watch him. She wasn’t mad about that though, he stayed out of trouble for the most part.
“I want my own horse someday,” Daeron proclaimed.
Alicent smiled, “You’ll need one, if you are to be a knight.”
“A daring knight,” Helaena whispered, prodding her food lazily.
Daeron then continued, describing in detail the exact horse he’d want, what he’d name it (“Vigilance! Like Great Uncle’s sword!”) and all the places they would go. Alicent couldn’t help but feel a twinge of pain in her heart. Her boy had the blood to ride a dragon. If he were a true prince, he would’ve been given a dragon egg, and he wouldn’t need to daydream about a prospect as mundane as horses.
Daeron hurried off soon to his lessons, darting through the halls and weaving around the crowd of people who were passing through. Alicent forgot how much energy a boy of one and ten could have.
She and Helaena set off not long after. Alicent’s father always gave her tasks to do since she had little else to do during the day. Messages to read or write or events to organize that he didn’t have time for, since King Viserys used to unload anything he didn’t want to do on his Hand. It had started to lessen with Queen Rhaenyra and her husband taking charge of the Small Council, but she was sure there would be something to keep her busy.
Her daughter, meanwhile, stopped at a different wing of the keep. “Hey, Waters! Hurry up!” One of the ladies called after her as they approached. The girl of three and ten hurried over to join the other ladies with only a scant nod to her mother.
Helaena was a handmaiden to one of Tyland Lannister’s nieces. It wasn’t the highest position at court, but she performed her duties well and Alicent held hope it might one day result in securing a good marriage for her daughter. With any luck, she could leave the bastard name behind.
She trailed through the keep and up to her father’s office in the Tower of the Hand. He had a Small Council meeting soon but they would hopefully have a few moments to talk. The iron door to his chamber swung open slowly with a creak. Somehow, it didn’t draw her father’s attention away from the parchment he was reading.
“Good morrow, father,” she greeted.
He breathed a heavy sigh before looking up at her, placing the parchment before her. She raised an eyebrow slightly in confusion, but he only gestured for her to read it. Cautiously, she took a seat and picked up the letter.
I, Rhaenyra of the House Targaryen, First of Her Name, Queen of the Andals and the Rhoynar and the First Men, Lady of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm, hereby relieve Ser Otto Hightower of his post as Hand of the King.
Alicent’s heart sank immediately, she didn’t bother reading the rest. Panic flooded her as she looked back over to her father, who for once seemed to be at a loss for words.
“What happened?” She inquired.
Otto took another breath. “Her Grace said she valued my leal service to the crown over these years, but I should spend the rest of my life with my family. Evidently, she has someone else in mind for the post.”
“But…” Alicent opened her mouth to protest but no more words came out. This was a royal decree by the queen, nothing to do but follow it.
“We always knew this was a possibility,” Otto reminded her, though bitter in his tone. “The queen has never been fond of me. I had hoped to have more time to ingratiate myself before she took such drastic action.”
“Never been fond,” was an understatement. Alicent suspected the dislike was more to do with Daemon’s influence than anything, however. Seven hells, Alicent wondered then. Is she going to name Daemon as Hand? The prince had always wanted the position. It was a worrying possibility.
“What do we do then?” Alicent asked warily, even though she already knew the answer.
Otto sighed again. “Go home to Oldtown. There’s no reason to linger.”
The idea put a pit in her stomach. The last time she saw her family had been at a tournament years ago. Gwayne had been kind, even if it was forced, but her other brothers scowled at her and her children. One of her cousins had delighted in tormenting Aegon and Aemond, eventually causing a bloody fist fight for which Aegon had been blamed.
“Unruly and violent, as all bastards are,” they had said.
Hightowers are supposed to be pious and proper but there was nothing respectable to them about four bastards. If they went to her home in Oldtown, she feared it would bring nothing but misery and scorn for her and her children.
“There must be another option,” she said, half-pleading. She had given her entire life and endured decades of contempt for the sake of her father’s plans and the king’s happiness. Surely, it could not all unravel so easily.
Her father looked at her with something resembling pity but only shrugged. “I will be returning to Oldtown within the next few days. You can come with me or find some other arrangements, do what you wish, daughter.”
Alicent was startled as she returned back to her chambers to see Aemond waiting at a table, staring out the window. He was still fitted in his armor and golden cloak, fiddling with the strap of his eyepatch.
She hurried over to him at once and he wordlessly rose to meet her embrace. It wasn’t often he had time to visit these days. A boy of only five and ten but he was already working day and night in the City Watch. “A bastard and a cripple,” he lamented once. “I need to work twice as hard as the other men to earn my station.”
Alicent wanted to remind him he was barely more than a boy himself, but it would do little good when he was so convinced. Guilt rose in her again, with royal blood, he should lead a better life than this.
They settled back down at the table. “How do you fare, my boy?” She asked.
“Exhausted,” he admitted. “But none the worse for wear.” He went on, elaborating on the patrols he’d been doing throughout the city and the few friends he’d made with fellow guardsmen, to which Alicent listened diligently. At the end, he added, “I saw Aegon the other day when I was out on patrol.”
“Is he well?” She asked quickly. He’d come back to the keep only once since the funeral, saying little and less before disappearing again, and she could not help but fret about him.
Aemond shrugged, “He’s not made trouble with the gold cloaks, at least. He wasn’t pleased to see me though.”
A sigh escaped her lips. It pained her to think Aegon was struggling out in Flea Bottom by himself but he scurried away from them at every turn. “If you see him again, please tell him to come back. Something important has come up.”
He raised an eyebrow, inquiring further as to what had happened. Alicent told him the truth, that his grandfather had been removed from his post and was returning to Oldtown in a few days.
He took the news in stride, not letting any worry show on his features. “Are we to return to Oldtown as well?”
“I don’t know,” Alicent told him honestly. “We won’t be able to stay here.”
“Is there no one else at court?” Aemond asked. “One of Lord Hightower’s bannermen, perhaps, who could help us keep our place in the Red Keep?”
Alicent considered the idea. She didn’t have many allies at court, beyond those in her father’s retinue, who were all returning to Oldtown with him. Most other lords and ladies scoffed at her as a harlot who shamed her house by being with the king. There was Lord Lyman Beesbury, the Master of Coin, who was sworn to her uncle, but he was forgetful and traditional besides, and there was little chance that Lord Hightower would vouch for her.
“It is unlikely,” she decided.
Aemond’s brow furrowed in thought. One possibility came to Alicent’s mind, though she dreaded it. Aegon seemed to already have a life of his own in Flea Bottom. Aemond and Helaena both had their places at court, and she knew they would look out for one another. She could endure the harsh, judging looks and the scorn of her family back at Oldtown if it meant Daeron could live a decent life there.
The thought of splitting up her family though, of being separated from her children for even a few years, twisted her gut. They were all she had. It would be a risk all the same to hope that her cousins would be kinder to Daeron than they were to Aegon and Aemond.
She shook her head. There must be someone, anyone, at court who would be willing to help them. Her father had allies, Lord Tyland Lannister and Lord Jasper Wylde, but they would be more likely to toss her to the wolves.
Another idea came then, a plainly foolish one. If it was for her children though, she would beg whoever she must to help them. She reached over and gripped Aemond’s hand tightly, assuring him she would deal with this problem and he need not worry himself over it.
Her heart thrummed uncomfortably in her chest as she walked through the halls of the keep, just as it did whenever the king summoned her. The act itself had gone from horrid and painful to a dull duty over the years, but dread always pooled in her stomach when she approached his chambers.
King Viserys was never cruel to her but she didn’t love him and never enjoyed laying with him. After birthing Aegon, no one else would have her so she had to remain in the keep. Her father had kept up hope that the king might legitimize his bastard son someday, for all the good that hope did.
Today, however, she did not go to the king’s chambers, but his brother’s. There was no one else for her to turn to, she believed. He was close to the queen and she hoped held some affection for his other niece and nephews. She would do whatever it took, even if it meant striking a deal with Daemon.
His room was shrouded in darkness, the only light coming from the fire in the hearth. Alicent stepped in cautiously, spotting the prince in a chair by the fire, a cup of wine in his hands. His eyes met hers for only a moment before a sly grin formed on his face and he downed the contents of his goblet.
“Lady Alicent, how good it is to see you again,” he greeted. His eyes didn’t reflect the warmness of his words. She clasped her wrists to prevent herself from picking at her fingers until they bled out of nervousness. An ugly habit that she’d tried to break over the years.
“Prince Daemon,” she dipped in a curtsy and stood an awkward distance away from the prince. “I never got the chance to welcome you back to the Red Keep. It’s made brighter by you and your family’s presence.” A little flattery never hurt, she hoped.
“Her Grace wished for Laena and I to stay after the funeral, who am I to deny her?” Daemon replied.
“I hope your lady wife is adjusting well, I know it’s no Driftmark-” Alicent started.
“What do you want?” Daemon interrupted her, evidently tired of the pleasantries. The prince was always blunt, for better or worse.
Alicent nodded and took a breath. “I’ve come to ask a favor of you.”
“A favor?” Daemon repeated, as if the idea was funny.
“I’m sure you know by now, my father will no longer be serving as Hand of the King. He is returning to Oldtown within the next few days,” Alicent began.
Daemon smirked and refilled his glass, “Oh, I know. ‘Twas I who suggested such action to the queen.” His grin grew impossibly wider at her tensing up slightly. Pointedly, he continued, “The crown has no need for snakes in its midst.”
“The reasons matter not,” she said, a bit too quickly. “With his departure, I have no reason to remain in the castle-”
“That’s a shame,” Daemon cut in, his tone dry and unfeeling. “I’ll be seeing you then.”
Alicent huffed but kept her composure. With another deep breath, she went on, “Oldtown is no place for my children, your niece and nephews. I understand you care little for me, but for their sake, I ask that you speak to the queen about allowing us to remain at court.”
Daemon rose from his chair and took a few lazy steps towards her. She kept her eyes on his, unwilling to back down. “After leeching off my brother for near twenty years, you simply move on to the next Targaryen?”
Alicent shook her head unconsciously. Leeching made it sound as if she got anything out of it. Her father certainly did, but all Alicent got were dirty looks, ridicule, and years of horrid memories. She didn’t tell Daemon that though, figuring he wouldn’t care to hear her side of the story. “We would remain out of your way, you’d barely even know we were here.” Just as Viserys preferred it.
“Trueborn Targaryens walk these halls now. My daughters and the queen’s sons. It just wouldn’t do to have a gaggle of bastards running around the keep,” Daemon told her.
Her insides twisted further. If she could not get Daemon to agree, she would have no one else to turn to. “Please, my prince. They are your brother’s flesh and blood. The king wouldn’t wish for-”
“Your spawn are nothing but polluted Hightower wretches,” Daemon sneered. “A cripple, a simple-minded cunt, and a brat. And your eldest…” His lips transformed into a snarl and Alicent unconsciously took a step back. “I was down in Flea Bottom the other day and heard plenty of tales of the brothel that offers the ‘authentic Targaryen experience’.” He laughed wryly. “A whore just like his mother.”
“I-I’m not a whore,” she defended weakly, more on instinct than anything.
“No?” Daemon asked mockingly. “You certainly play the part of one well.”
She winced against her better judgment, breaking eye contact. Daemon chuckled again, taking more steps towards her until he was right next to her and leaned in close.
“If you were a whore, I would make you an offer. I could do as you’ve asked and you can keep your home here in the Red Keep…if you get on your knees and suck my cock.”
Alicent flinched again immediately. Vitriol was on her tongue in an instant, preparing to berate the prince for even suggesting it, but her mouth wouldn’t open to stand up for herself.
She felt immense shame yet part of her mind couldn’t help but consider it. Her virtue and reputation were already in tatters and she’d debased herself for the king for years. She’d learned to endure it, to ignore the urge to cry at unwanted touches and the guilt that gnawed inside her. If it was for her children, what was a few more years of it? Or even just until she could figure out some other arrangement.
Daemon saw her mind working to decide and laughed, loud, prolonged, and mean-spirited. He settled back into his chair, an insultingly smug smile plastered on his face. “I’ve no need for whores, unfortunately. Scurry on back to Oldtown already, I don’t want to see you or your bastards running amok in these halls again.”
Alicent sighed and let her fingers pick at each other freely as she trailed out of his chambers. She returned to her own and collapsed on the bed, full of regret and humiliation.
It was the worst idea she’s ever had, somehow even worse than turning to Daemon for help, but there were few options left to her. Alicent’s father left in the morning, and if she did not find a place in the keep, her family would be separated. She had the idea last night that she could find a home down in Flea Bottom as well, but she doubted that would be any safer for her children than Oldtown.
Her last hope lied with the queen herself. Perhaps a futile hope, she can’t imagine Queen Rhaenyra has a positive view of her father’s paramour, but she had to try. Alicent prayed to the Seven that the queen at least held some scrap of concern for her half-siblings’ wellbeing.
She donned her finest dress, dark green like her house colors but even she would admit it was far from proper to meet with a queen. Her father decided years ago that she hardly needed new, beautiful dresses if she was to remain with the king, who didn’t care one way or the other what she wore. Most of her clothes used to be her mother’s, in truth.
Alicent trailed through the halls and found Ser Criston standing guard outside Rhaenyra’s chambers. That’s good, she thought. She and the knight weren’t close, but he’d been kinder to her than most others in the keep.
She remembered when Aemond lost his eye, most every instructor had given up hope he could be a knight, but Criston took the little time he had away from his duties to help train him.
“I need to speak with Her Grace, if she’s able,” she told Criston plainly.
Ser Criston raised an eyebrow. “Is she expecting you?” Alicent shook her head. “I’m afraid she instructed me that she wasn’t to be disturbed for the rest of the night.”
Alicent sighed but wouldn’t give up so easily. “It is an important matter, Ser. It’ll only take a few moments of her time.”
Criston seemed to catch on to her urgency. “Are you certain you want to speak to her?” He asked with concern in his voice. It did sound a bit mad, she supposed, for her to turn to Queen Rhaenyra for help, but she was determined nonetheless.
“I am in need of her assistance. For my children’s sake,” she told him. The mention of them seemed to soften Ser Criston.
He sighed and turned to knock on the door. “Enter,” the queen’s voice echoed from within a beat later. There were harsh whispers as Criston entered and spoke to the queen. Alicent held her breath, and against all the odds, the knight emerged and allowed her to enter the queen’s chambers.
She stepped in slowly and nervously, preparing for the disdain on the queen’s face. Her silver hair fell freely over her nightgown with a cup of wine in one of her hands. Queen Rhaenyra ran a hand across her face before finally turning to face her. “Lady Alicent.” Her eyes scrutinized Alicent, trying to discern what rumors of her father’s paramour were true and which were false. The sight made her look all too similar to Prince Daemon.
“Your Grace,” Alicent curtsied. “I’m sorry to disturb your rest.”
“Don’t be,” Rhaenyra waved it off. “I hadn’t found sleep yet anyway.”
“I will not take up much of your time,” she promised. Alicent’s eyes focused to the ground, feeling like the queen’s violet gaze was piercing through her. It wasn’t exactly malice in her features though, perhaps simply distrust, Alicent guessed. “I would ask for a boon from you.”
Rhaenyra held back a scoff poorly. “You require my help?”
“Yes,” Alicent inclined her head respectfully. “I know we don’t know each other well, but I am sure you know of me. You dismissed my father as Hand a few days ago, and he is returning home on the morrow.”
“That was nothing personal,” Rhaenyra answered. “Ser Otto has served the crown faithfully, but I prefer someone I know better and trust more to serve as my Hand.”
“Of course, that is your right as ruler,” Alicent acquiesced. “I am not here for him, but rather for my children, your siblings.” Rhaenyra’s features softened and she nodded for her to continue. “My son is a member of the City Watch and my daughter is a handmaiden. My eldest too works in Flea Bottom. I cannot leave them to return to Oldtown with my father and they cannot return with me and ruin all their prospects at court.”
Rhaenyra’s expression turned to confusion momentarily before she steeled her gaze.
“I ask only that you allow us to remain as we are, living here in the Red Keep,” Alicent told her. Quickly, she added the same promises she made to Daemon, “You would not have to worry, we would all remain out of the way of you and your family. We would ask nothing more.”
The queen tapped her goblet methodically, her mind at work deciding what to make of Alicent Hightower. “Why come to me with this?” She asked.
Alicent’s face fell, but answered the question truthfully. “I find I have few friends at court these days, no one else to turn to. My children are your half-siblings and I would hope some part of you cares for them and their futures.”
Rhaenyra took a slow drink of her wine before setting the cup down and taking a few steps towards Alicent. Closer, Alicent could see the queen’s features more clearly in the dark. The light of candles flickered on the queen, making part of her silver hair appear to glow, while her deep, violet eyes traced over Alicent again.
“That is all you’ve come for? The chambers you’ve already been staying in?” Rhaenyra inquired, her brow furrowed slightly. Alicent could briefly see the family resemblance to Aemond.
“Yes,” Alicent confirmed quickly. “I don’t know what stories you may have heard about me, but I’ve no wish to intervene in your family’s affairs. I swear to you, we will bother you no further after this.”
She silently prayed to the Seven as Rhaenyra took in her words, hoping desperately that they convinced her. A few moments stretched out before she answered, “Of course, you can remain at court as long as you like.” Her tone was light and easy, as if it was no trouble at all.
Alicent released a breath suddenly, her eyes darting across the queen’s features for any hint it was a lie or trick, but none came. “Thank you, Your Grace. You will not regret this, I swear.”
The queen’s lips curled slightly, “I’m sure I won’t. Have a good night, Lady Alicent.” She bowed low before turning on her heels and hurrying out before the queen had a chance to change her mind. Only after making it all the way back to her chambers did it finally hit her and she sighed deeply in relief.
Her youngest two were already asleep in the chamber next to them, but Aemond had elected to spend the night in the keep rather than the barracks. He didn’t want to miss them in the case that they did have to leave in the morning.
She allowed a soft smile to fall on her face as she saw Aemond had already fallen asleep while waiting for her on one of the beds. Alicent collapsed onto the other bed and resolved to share the good news with her children when the dawn came.
She thanked the Seven and thanked Queen Rhaenyra for allowing them this chance, and vowed silently they would not waste it. They simply needed to keep their heads down and stay out of trouble. For most of her children, she hoped that wouldn’t be much of a problem.
The first time Rhaenyra heard of Alicent was a few months after she’d come to Dragonstone. Rumors spread incessantly about the girl that her father had taken to his bed. She didn’t believe them until the word came that Lady Alicent was with child despite not being wed, and sure enough, nine months later, the truth was undeniable when Aegon Waters had shining silver hair.
The tales varied wildly. The ones Daemon believed said she had seduced the king and hoped he would make her his new queen in the wake of Queen Aemma’s passing. Daemon insisted she leeched off the king for his jewels and riches in lieu of a crown, with no shame or remorse.
Further rumors spun that she was the one spreading the lie that he killed Lady Rhea Royce and she was fueling the rumors about Jace, Luke, and Joffrey being bastards, in hopes that the king would decide to legitimize Aegon as his heir.
Laenor and Laena preferred the rumors that it was an act of love. Nothing else could make Alicent stay by the king’s side or bear four of his children, in their mind. They said Ser Otto had grown to resent the king for sullying his daughter’s prospects, and caused frequent conflicts in the Small Council room.
After finally coming face to face with the lady herself though, Rhaenyra didn’t know which ones to believe. Alicent seemed unsure of herself, hardly the demeanor of a seductress. She had mentioned her eldest son worked in Flea Bottom, which struck a chord with Rhaenyra.
Why would that be necessary if Alicent had valuables from the king? The dress she wore seemed less extravagant than a woman of her station should have as well, even if it fit her quite well. If the other tales were true, why would the king leave Alicent and his four children without anything if they were in love?
It didn’t seem to make sense in Rhaenyra’s mind. Alicent asked for nothing but a place to stay and seemed almost fearful of what Rhaenyra could do. It was clear she loved her children deeply at least, her plea to help rang sincere in Rhaenyra’s mind. While Alicent seemed certain she would stay away from Rhaenyra and her family, the queen was intrigued by the woman and felt an interest to learn more.
Part of the queen couldn’t help but wonder what her half-siblings were like as well. She’d never had the chance to properly meet them while she was away on Dragonstone.
Rhaenyra took another long drink from her wine cup before shifting back into bed. Much as she might like to spend all night pondering Alicent and her bastards, she had higher priorities as the Queen of Westeros. Still, she fell asleep with thoughts of the auburn haired woman and which tales might be the truth regarding her father’s mistress.