Chapter Text
“Hold still, Rhaenyra.” Alicent complained light-heartedly as she passed a boar-bristle brush through Rhaenyra’s silver-gold hair. Her brow furrowed as she noted that Rhaenyra’s hair had snagged on an unfamiliar and most unwelcome necklace. Alicent brushed her fingertips over the steel. “Where did this come from?”
Rhaenyra bit her pink lips to try to hide a smile in the mirror. “Daemon gifted it to me.” Alicent could see her girlish giggle starting to bubble up and frowned. “It is made from Valyrian steel like dark sister.” She was well aware of Rhaenyra’s fascination with Daemon and his ancestral sword. How lucky her uncle was to be able to wield a sword and be a knight. Rhaenyra had thought since she was a young girl that Dark Sister should have been hers, as it had belonged to Queen Visenya who was a woman, so surely it should have found its way through the female line and into Rhaenyra’s own hand. All such entitlement faded when she was in the presence of her uncle who seemed more than worthy of the sword to her.
Alicent sighed. “That was thoughtful of him, though it does not compliment this gown.” Rhaenyra’s gown had been a yellow fabric that bordered on gold, the silver colouring of the Valyrian steel necklace contrasted in a way that Alicent had always found displeasing.
Rhaenyra laughed. “Don’t you like it?” She turned to face Alicent seeking her favourite lady’s approval with a bright smile on her face.
Alicent quickly shook her head. “There is nothing wrong with it, it is really quite pretty. But I have only ever seen you wear gold.” She did not care for it, finding it rather ugly in fact but she would never be so rude.
Rhaenyra turned to face her and grinned. “Perhaps I desired a change. A most welcome one indeed from my uncle.” Despite her initial instinct to seek out approval from her lady, her affection for her uncle and sheer glee at having received a mere moment of his attention blinded her. Rhaenyra’s head was up higher in the clouds than it was when she would fly over the city atop of Syrax.
Alicent gave her a tight smile and nodded. She didn’t care for how Rhaenyra behaved around Daemon. His moniker was the ‘Rogue Prince’ and for good reason, he was dangerous, he was reckless and violent. Rhaenyra’s fascination with him worried her to no end. She did not like him and could never trust him. Just that morning, Alicent had been forced to listen to her father go on yet another tirade about Daemon’s violent actions in King’s Landing, the very moment the King had bestowed power and responsibility upon him by making him Lord Commander of the City Watch.
Regardless of her good sense on the matter she couldn’t block out the small part of her brain that was fascinated by him, that made her heart flutter whenever he smirked in her direction. However, due to Alicent never really being far from Rhaenyra’s side, the moment that rakish cunt of a smirk turned towards his niece Alicent was immediately tense and alert, she felt the need to take on the role of a protector for the young Princess. After one particular occasion of Daemon loitering too significantly around the two girls, paying no mind to Rhaenyra’s other ladies, Alicent began to advise Rhaenyra that she should begin the search for a noble, worthy sworn shield to protect her, past her father’s guards who were sworn to him and not her.
*******
Alicent closed her eyes for a moment, soaking up the warm sun’s rays on her face, momentarily fearing that freckles would appear and litter over her nose and cheeks. She resumed her walk into the courtyard, near bouncing on her heels in anticipation and excitement for her favourite person’s arrival. The girl had endured being at court alone with her father for far too long, the brief visit from her elder brother, Gwayne, had been incredibly welcome.
After the death of Lady Alerie, their mother, Gwayne had refused to return to court with Otto and Alicent. The latter had not had a choice, if she had not gone who would have looked after her father and ensured he was well? Gwayne had thought it right that he grew into a man in Oldtown with their uncle Lord Hobert and their cousin Ormund.
Two years prior before his nameday and even the death of their mother Gwayne had been knighted at the age of sixteen, which was the true purpose of his visit to King’s Landing. He had not come to see his beloved sweet sister, or suffer their father but rather to compete in what the King was calling the Heir’s Tourney, in celebration of the son he hoped the Queen would be able to give him this time, after such a great deal of miscarriages, stillbirths and deaths in the cradle.
Alicent greatly disapproved of the cause of her brother’s presence in the capital. She did not care for the prospect of the only family she had left competing in such dangerous activities. She adored jousts, the sport enthralled her but she would not be able to enjoy it while thinking of all the ways injury could come to her only brother. He was all she had left of her family unit after the loss of their mother and youngest brother save for her father who felt like an ever constant shadow hanging over her shoulder. Thoughts of a splintered lance impaling him or a bad fall from his horse doing something to damage his wellbeing made her nauseous.
She cast her worries aside when she finally laid eyes upon her older brother. Alicent jumped into Gwayne's arms and laughed gleefully, regaining some of the childlike wonder that life at court has been chipping away at over the past five years. He lifted her easily by her slim waist as he spun her around.
Alicent looked into Gwayne’s deep blue eyes as he set her down, they had their father’s colouring but there was a wide rounded softness that served as a memory of their Lady mother.
Alicent squeezed Gwayne’s larger hand, his skin and cuticles perfectly intact save for the callouses gained from training with a sword. “I have missed you, brother.” Her words were soft as they were earnest.
“And I you, sister.” He gave her his handsome caring smile but noted the tightness visible in her throat and the slight quiver in her bottom lip. “How is our father?”
“He is still recovering from the death of mother, Gods rest her soul.” She looked down at her feet. Otto had changed after the death of his wife. He had been inherently ambitious since he was a boy, a trait that came with being a second son. Alerie had softened him, he was a family man as much as he was a politician. He was gentle and caring. Two years on from the loss of his wife and youngest son, he was a changed man. Now controlled by his ambition, pride and plots. He no longer looked at his two children, kindly, seeing them as reminders of Alerie and as pieces only valuable if he could move them around the board. Alicent would have never been so harsh on her father, nor would Gwayne as he respected him above all else. They saw him trying to be the man he was before and struggling immensely.
His voice, which had deepened since she last saw him, was filled with concern for his only remaining sibling. “He hasn’t been too hard on you, has he?” Alicent shook her head. “Alicent, look at me.” He tilted her chin up.
“He’s been well, Gwayne, he is only worried about the King and his difficult rogue of a brother.” Gwayne’s thumbs stroked soothing patterns on Alicent’s hands. “It is only that I am worried about you. I do not like for you to take part in these tournaments, they put you at too great a risk of getting hurt.” She looked up at her brother with big teary brown eyes, seeming like a little girl again despite fretting as if she was stepping into the shoes of their mother.
He smiled softly down at her. “I am a knight, Alicent, hastilude is part of the fun and entirely necessary.” He seemed proud of his words of the actions and training he had gone through to advance to his knighthood. Alicent could not see the cause for pride in his chosen dangerous and violent profession when he could have been a courtier working with their father.
“But must you risk getting hurt in front of me? It sickens me with worry.”
“I’ll be fine Al, it is sport, not battle. Weapons are blunted and lances are meant for breaking, there is no cause for you to worry, sweetling.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead. In spite of his assurance that it was not battle, he wished it soon would be, so that he may have a chance at proving himself as a warrior. But he didn’t wish to trouble his little sister with such thoughts. He chose this line of service to vow to protect her and all the other innocent maidens of the realm. “I must go get ready, I’m sure my fair sister will grant me her favour?”
“Consider it a given.” She gave him a parting smile and began to make her way to her seat in the royal box.
She hadn’t been paying attention to where she was going, lost in her own head with worry, until she bumped right into a hard wall. She felt the wall steady her by her waist and quickly muttered her sincere apologies before glancing up and grimacing internally at the vile charming smirk that met her. “Forgive my thoughtlessness, my Prince.” She whispered quickly.
His voice spilled from his lips, calm and smooth, and very unlike him in nature. “There’s no need, my lady.” He smirked down at her and brushed his fingers up and down her waist. The pink blush of an innocent green girl rose up her cheeks as she frowned at the ground. His drawl was lazy but entirely practiced in his teasing. “If you wanted to be pressed so close to me all you needed to do was ask my lady, though if it were to be imagined my way, this,” he paused, his fingers grasping at the neckline of her bodice causing her to gasp. “Would have found its place on the floor.”
He reaches out to play with her hair as she scoffs in shock and pulls away as if he had pricked her. “Do you deem that an honourable way to behave with a lady, your grace?” She sneered up at him fighting her blush and she simply refused to acknowledge the fact he was already in his armour which she had a particular weakness for.
“Do you take issue with my manner, my lady?” He continued to appraise her with a smirk painted on his lips seeming very much amused by her irritation. He was intent on flirting with her and getting under her skin. She, however, was intent on standing her ground and biting back at the way he toyed inappropriately with her and Rhaenyra.
“I do indeed, it is not princely nor civil and entirely inappropriate.” Her lips formed an unconscious pout from her frown, as her back straightened and she held her head high.
“Do tell me what makes it inappropriate, my lady.” He insisted, while crowding her space slowly backing her towards a nearby wall.
Alicent walked backward steadily, unaware of the proximity to the stone walls of the courtyard. “You are so far from a respectable man it is infuriating and an insult to your station. You entirely lack chivalry in regards to young ladies.” Her back hit the wall but she refused to allow herself to feel crowded. He was now so close to her she could smell him and feel his breath on her skin.
“And you are respectable?” He asked her quietly, his voice growing colder, she had successfully hit a nerve in naming him unworthy of his station.
She tried to maintain her conviction but his body was beginning to press against hers and cloud her train of thought and fury. “Yes! Am I not?” He was the worst possible person to seek reassurance and validation from but she could not help to as he goaded her.
“A girl of fifteen who clings to the princess the way her father clings to the King is in no way worthy of my respect. However there is something dangerously attractive about that pretty rage in your big doe-like eyes. Certainly much prettier than your daddy aren’t you?” He had leaned down so close to her the tips of their noses touched and she could see every speck of violet pigment in his eyes which briefly distracted her from his taunts and insults.
A brute. She couldn’t bring herself to understand why Rhaenyra was so fascinated with him. Well she supposed she could understand in some ways but her friend was too far gone in her attraction to the Prince for Alicent’s liking.
“I am the princess’ primary lady, it is my role at court to be her friend and care for her feelings. I therefore have no appreciation for you toying with her. Leave Rhaenyra alone. As for my father,” she pushed back off the wall getting closer to Daemon but gaining more control and freedom. “You may struggle to understand his role at hand as you have no experience within the role but the Hand’s job is to stand by the King in all things and serve as his advisor. And I take after my mother.” Daemon had of course known Alerie Hightower while she was at court and now thought of Alicent as having her mother’s face and her father’s tongue.
She had angered him; her words grated him even when spoken from such pretty lips in a melodic tone. He would not take out his anger on the girl but rather irritate her further and prod her to see what would happen when she finally cracked. He held her waist in one of his large calloused hands. “You don’t appreciate my games with Rhaenyra, but you would not understand them, they are games for dragons. However, if you prefer, I could play with you, you could be my finest doll from Oldtown.” He brought his other hand to the other side of her waist, tracing patterns through the pale blue fabric of her dress. He tugged her closer to him and to some surprise she did not yet pull away.
Her pretty blush had returned to her cheeks. “I am not a doll.” She protested lamely, somewhat distracted by his warm touch. He hummed in response.
She belatedly pulled away her senses returning to her. He spoke again before she could run or insult his honour. “You are prettier still than your lady mother, Lady Alicent, prettier than any other of Rhaenyra’s ladies. I would place you amongst the comeliest girls at court. No lady can match you for fairness of face and cleverness. Your loyalty to your friend is admirable.” She had already become a part of his little game as he played her excellently, because she was young and stupid he won a great smile from a girl who could not resist the push and pull of cruelty followed by praise. Perhaps it was because of how she had been raised. Daemon was rewarded with warmth in her eyes rather than fury and such corruptible innocence in her smile that even Rhaenyra, his true favourite toy, lacked. She had more care and regard for others than his niece did. Even as she spat insults at him it was almost entirely only in defence of her Princess, who Daemon admittedly was attempting to corrupt and prepare to be his next wife when he finally did away with his bronze bitch.
“But I thank you my lady for your review of my manners, your opinion is duly noted and will be considered.” He teased cruelly, he nodded her off and let her excuse herself watching her ass as she walked away.
Alicent quickly made her way to the royal box. She cleared her head entirely of Daemon because she understood as well as he did that he was playing her like a harpsichord and clouded her mind with pretty smiles, eyes and words while being an awful cad. She knew he didn’t actually care for her more than Lady Elinda Massey, Melanthe Strong, or Danelle Strong, but she was his favoured target because of who her father was.
Alicent soon found other matters to preoccupy herself with. She sat picking at her nail beds worrying for her brother, for the Queen and for Rhaenyra but she couldn’t stop Daemon creeping into her thoughts making her frown. Distantly she noted that King Viserys had begun speaking. Rhaenyra arrived at her side and pulled her out of her own head as they watched the joust and commented. Alicent watched with interest as the knight from House Cole performed so excellently despite being from an unknown house from the Dornish Marches in the Stormlands. She commented to Rhaenyra who watched him with little interest no doubt sitting in anticipation waiting only to see her uncle. Alicent’s interest in Cole quickly dissipated and turned to disdain as he violently knocked her brother off of his horse. In an instant admiration turned to loathing, despite Gwayne appearing to be fine and standing back up ready for his next round.
Alicent frowned as Lord Boremund Baratheon referred to his cousin Princess Rhaenys, as the Queen who never was. She had nothing against Rhaenys and imagined that she likely would have made a good Queen, but to say that on today of all days while the King was still awaiting and celebrating a male heir - while putting his daughter to the side - seemed out of touch. The King could have had his tongue or head for that comment. It seemed to her however that Viserys lacked the back bone that made a true ruler. In fact she had overheard both the maesters and her father speak in hushed tones about how the King had been suffering complaints of infected cuts from sitting the Iron Throne. While much to her Septa’s chagrin Alicent was not a great master of the histories she did recall having heard that to be cut on the iron throne was to be rejected as ruler.
A smile finally graced her fair lips as she gossiped with Rhaenyra. Watching Ser Cole carefully before the dramatic unnecessary fanfare for Daemon began. She smiled and clapped but nowhere near as widely as Rhaenyra beside her. Her smile quickly fell as Daemon selected her brother for his opponent, worrying her deeply. There was no doubt in her mind that Daemon had picked Gwayne sheerly out of spite for her father. She knew this would only rile up her father further. She was concerned for her brother no matter what but being made to go against Daemon who was ruthless and unpredictable made her feel well and truly ill. Gwayne had promised her it would not be overly violent that the tourney was a celebration not a battle, but he could only hold up the promise on his end. She began chewing on her cuticles in anxiety. For a moment pride shone through her anxiety as Gwayne got a good hit in, despite her love and pride for how far her brother had come she felt that his good fortune could not last for long despite her prayers to the Mother. Alicent gasped, her stomach falling down to her feet as Daemon dehorsed Gwayne by going for his horse’s legs, Gwayne's helm flying off as both he and his horse collapsed to the ground. She wanted to jump out of her seat and assure for herself that her brother was all in one piece. It was a dirty move that left a sea of spectators in shock. She glanced back at her father for reassurance that her brother had in fact been okay as he left the arena her father nodded back at her and she tried to put it behind her but she would be sure to check up on him afterwards. She was still sick with worry as Daemon rode up to the box. She steadied her expression and followed after Rhaenyra reluctantly frowning down at Daemon.
“Nicely done uncle.” Rhaenyra leaned down and smiled at the older man.
“Thank you, Princess.” Much to Alicent’s surprise, Daemon quickly redirected his attention to Alicent. She had hoped that he had already had his fill of teasing her for the day but it did amuse and flatter her that he was neglecting Rhaenyra in favour of her. It brought a small smile to her face and she bit the inside of her cheek in an attempt to prevent her blush.
“Now I am fairly certain that I can win these games, Lady Alicent.” He said with a lazy grin as he tilted his lance towards her. “Having your favour would all but assure it.”
She smiled back down at him amused by his attempts at charming her. Part of her hated herself for being so quickly and easily appeased by his charming smile and the attention he paid her. Alicent reasoned with herself that a Lady of her station could not afford to behave any more awfully to a Prince of the Realm than she had earlier, so really it was her duty to smile and blush cordially as she responded to his attentions. As she leaned down to retrieve her wreath of flowers she was sobered by her father’s disapproving glare squashing any hint of a girlish crush in that moment. She returned to the balcony and painted a smile on her face as she slid the wreath down his lance. “Good luck, my Prince.” His returning smile and swagger washes away the effects of her father’s glare and she is able to smile and enjoy herself once more. She returns to her seat clapping and grinning vibrantly. She begins having true fun at the tourney, nearly bouncing out of her seat in excitement as she watches the games, entertained by the sport and thoughts of Daemon now that she no longer had to worry about her brother getting hurt further. Her enjoyment was swiftly put to an end when things turned violent and ugly. The stress of the horrific violence caused her to pick at her nail beds. Knights were meant to be chivalrous and she never enjoyed when they appeared blood thirsty.
Her mood takes another positive shift as they announce Daemon’s return, a soft smile gracing her lips. Alicent leans forward on the edge of her seat as Ser Cole proves a worthy match against the Prince. She watches closely, noting that Daemon simply refuses to be defeated and fights as hard as possible. A marking of a great warrior no doubt. Daemon looks up at her with his arms up grinning when he thinks he has won only to be dragged back down by Ser Cole and made to yield. Perhaps he is more of a showman than a warrior but still his perseverance was an admirable quality. Alicent redirects her grin to Ser Cole as she pulls Rhaenyra up excitedly.
“Gods, he looks Dornish.” She tells Rhaenyra. Smiling down at him and watching him appraisingly as Rhaenyra gives him her favour. Despite his Dornish appearance and colouring Alicent notes that he’s rather attractive however she is resolute in the fact that she will never like him after watching him strike down her brother.
After the sit back down she notes the return of her father and the travelling whispers. Alicent stands understanding immediately what it means and wanting to almost shield Rhaenyra from the thing she herself experienced not too long ago.
*******
Daemon and Alicent stand on either side of Rhaenyra, offering their support, dressed in black robes as they stand before the late Queen’s funeral pyre. Alicent was heartbroken, feeling as if she had lost her second mother in such a short timespan after the loss of her first. She began to wonder if she was the common denominator ruining and killing these women.
Her heart ached for Aemma, the babe they had named Baelon after the King’s late father, Viserys and most importantly Rhaenyra. She listened as Daemon tried to comfort Rhaenyra despite not understanding their ancient tongue. She just hoped his words hadn’t been insensitive as they often were. A deeply selfish part of her wished it would be her he was offering comfort to or that she would be able to comfort Rhaenyra herself without interjection from other parties. Besides, her mother had recently passed due to wretched complications from the childbed, who knew how to deal with the issue better than her. Alicent scolded herself internally and forced herself to look away and allow them their moment feeling horrifically selfish and sinful. She remembered that Daemon’s own mother, Princess Alyssa had never recovered from the birth of Prince Aegon and suffered a whole year fighting the complications of the birth before succumbing to the Stranger. She was consumed with guilt reflecting on how similar Princess Alyssa’s death had been to that of her own mother causing her to feel a kinship with Prince Daemon and King Viserys. They had been even younger than she was when they lost their mother.
She watched Rhaenyra order Syrax to ignite her mother. She kept her distance but tried to offer her a reassuring look though she doubted the effectiveness of such a miniscule gesture.
*******
Alicent was summoned to meet with her father that evening after his meeting with the small council. Dressed in black, her pout quivering and tears filling her eyes as he pulled her into a rare tender embrace. “My darling.” His lilt was soft as if he was still talking to his little girl and not his favourite game piece. He rested his chin on top of her head.
Otto inquired after Rhaenyra in a tone so soft it seemed a distant memory. He cupped and caressed her face as he spoke. “I found myself thinking of your own mother today.” She looked down knowing her thoughts had been the same despite it making her feel oddly selfish.
“How is his grace?” She choked out.
“Very low. Which is why I sent for you.” He distanced himself from her and moved to sit down. “I thought you might go to him, offer him comfort.”
Fear filled the girl as her blood ran cold at the thought of being alone with a powerful man in what could be considered a compromising situation. “In his chambers?” Her voice quivered. His silence confirmed it, she moved to chew at the flesh of her thumb. “I wouldn’t know what to say.” He admonished her for the habit.
“He would be glad of a visitor.” As she began to depart he spoke again. “You might wear one of your mother’s dresses.” She froze in her tracks. She had read to the old King as a young girl when they first came to court and her father was appointed hand. It pleased her and made her feel valuable and helpful to care for an ailing dying man. But it quickly became uncomfortable for her when the King would confuse her for one of his deceased daughters. In particular the estranged Princess Saera. When she had been a young girl she still bore the silverish blonde toned hair of the Hightowers which had darkened into a more Florent auburn as she got older so she understood the King’s mistake but he still startled her and put her in an uncomfortable position. It had done her no real good to care for and read to the King for years after at court rumours were still circulating about her warming the old King’s bed before she was even old enough to understand what that meant. While the Septa’s tried to keep any real knowledge of sex away from her as a respectable lady of the court, she understood that it would be incredibly damaging for her image if people were to find out she was visiting the King’s chambers alone at night. Surely no one would want to take her to wife if the rumour mills began calling her the King’s whore again. She was horrified by the prospect of her father sending her to the King but she insisted on being a good daughter so that her father would not grow to resent her. She freshened up, donned one of her mother’s old dresses and tried to muster the courage to appease her father and the King even if it ruined her because a girl like her would not be able to get away with rejecting the King.
*******
Her visits to the King’s chambers became frequent and amicable. She offered him what no one else did without want for personal gain. It was for her father’s gain but that was irrelevant. She offered an ear and friendship. Helping to soothe his loss, endearing him to the pretty young girl. Otto continued to push her to comfort the King. The maiden understood perfectly well what her father wanted of her. She knew of his yearning for power and advantage more than anyone else.
Unfortunately for her father, Viserys was not taken with her in the way he desired. And Alicent would not sully herself far enough to act as the King’s aunt Princess Viserra had done with his father. Alicent was always troubled by the short life of Princess Viserra, particularly by how her brother’s rejection of her led directly to her death. Prince Baelon could have taken his sister to wife and saved her from a tragic fate but he had chosen not to, perhaps preferring common women and whores to his own flesh and blood that needed him.
During one of her visits to Viserys chambers when he had been swamped with new burdens that had fallen on him after Aemma’s death, Alicent assured the King that she would be willing and able to assist him in easing the load of new duties that had been thrown onto him after Aemma’s death. King Viserys trusted her completely and soon entrusted her wife many of the duties his wife had previously been taking care of except of course the most important one which was bearing heirs. Though during their talks he would look at her properly when she was distracted and considered how she would look bearing Targaryen heirs. He entrusted Alicent with ensuring the Red Keep remain current and fashionable to maintain a good image for his reign, he handed over the responsibilities of working with Lord Beesbury, the master of coin to plan the countless balls, feasts and tournaments that the King adored hosting but always left to the Queen to plan, as well as that she was granted the honour of running the royal household. King Viserys was known for his legendary generosity and lavished gold, offices and honours among those he favoured. Alicent had quickly climbed his ranks becoming a favourite of the King. She became one of his key weapons with her new heavy load of duties, their relationship was forced to grow even closer as she helped organise his life and ran his household. She soon became the highest ranking lady of the court for she was Queen in all but name and marriage. For a time she did wonder if it was all done to appease her father as the King held him in incredibly high esteem and often compared the daughter to her father, but love soon grew between Alicent and the King that was their own. They offered each other a gentle companionship that had nothing to do with using the other. She admired his generosity though she was more shrewd, he was peaceful and pleasant in a way no other man she was familiar with was.
In the weeks following the death of Queen Aemma there was another loss in the family. Daemon found her chewing her finger while eyeing a tapestry. He smirked and leaned against a stone wall watching her.
“Do you find that position intriguing, my lady?” He teased pushing off the wall and coming closer to her. She blushed and frowned. Which was the exact reaction he desired from her. She curtsied quickly.
“My Prince.”
“I could give you a demonstration, I’m sure you’re capable of such flexibility. Perhaps I could ask my brother.” He got closer to her. It seemed that Alicent was doomed to be seen only as the lover of the King for the rest of her life, first it had been King Jaehaerys, now King Viserys she shuddered to think that next king it would be a King Daemon or even perhaps a Queen Rhaenyra.
Her position as one of the King’s favourites had many advantages but it had changed the way some viewed her, many believing her to be his mistress. She had somewhat fallen in Rhaenyra’s ranks despite her assurances that her relationship with the King was far from untoward. Regardless she had been so busy helping the King that she didn’t have time to tend to Rhaenyra every hour of the day which had deeply wounded the Princess causing her to seek solace in Melanthe Strong much to Alicent’s irritation. Prince Daemon now looked down on her as he was certain she slipped her way into his grieving brother’s bed for status. But now he was a widower as well and perhaps she could console him.
“You are a heathen.” She muttered under her breath causing him to laugh and her to roll her eyes. Due to her new position and security with the King she now felt safer speaking her mind even with a Prince of the blood. “I would have you and everyone know that there is nothing between the King and I. I am only his friend.”
He reached out and wrapped his finger around a loose curl while she glared up at him. It was clear he wasn’t actually hearing her despite his eyes being glued to her soft lips.
“Can I help you, my Prince?” She gritted her teeth.
“As a matter of fact you can. I understand that my brother has entrusted you with new duties.”
“He has indeed.” She gasped softly as his hand slid into her hair and cupped the back of her head. It wasn’t a tender touch more possessive than anything else. His fingers grasped her hair. It wasn’t tight enough to hurt but enough to control. In contempt of her good mind she could not deny that deep down she enjoyed it and mayhaps even found it somewhat pleasurable. She didn’t smile up at him but she was certain he could detect the hint of mirth in her eyes as she gazed at him trying to assure him and herself that he wasn’t controlling her and that she was definitely holding her own in this interaction.
“My bronze bitch has come to her end.” His cadence was filled with distaste at mention of his late wife
“I had heard, I offer my condolences, your grace.” She gave him a sympathetic smile and placed a comforting hand on his arm.
He waved her off. “She is not missed, but as my brother’s sole heir I require a son to secure my position and for that I need a new wife.” She thought that her father would not be pleased at the thought of Daemon being the sole heir. Mayhaps it was because he viewed him as difficult to control, unlike the frail old King and the weak willed mouldable young King. She knew that he was pushing for Rhaenyra as the King’s heir but he no doubt would have preferred if he had managed to get Alicent into Viserys bed. She suspected that he now had his sights set on getting Gwayne to seduce Rhaenyra.
“Do you not wish to observe the appropriate mourning period?”
“Alicent, she was little more than an ugly inconvenience to me, believe me I do not require time to mourn.”
She rolled her eyes at his crass words. “What do you require of me?”
“You have the King’s ear, I want you to ensure he gives me Rhaenyra.” Well that would certainly throw a wrench into her father’s plans.
She let out a shocked laugh. “You want me to get you Rhaenyra?”
His smirk drops and he tilts her head up so she has to meet his violet eyes. She scoffed. “And why would I help you do that? Rhaenyra is my best friend, and you, my Prince, would be terrible for her.”
Despite his shock and anger he doesn’t lose his composure with her and paints a smirk back across his face. “Would you rather it were you? I’m sure I could teach you some things, my lady.” He brushes his thumb across her bottom lip pressing down on it.
Alicent frowned, pondering momentarily whether she should be bold enough to bite his thumb, no one would ever believe him. Her eyebrows furrowed. “Is that all, my Prince?”
He nods and steps away from her letting her free so that she may release a deep breath. They refocus on the tapestry in front of them.
“Have you ever wondered what that may feel like Alicent.”
“No, it is vulgar and an offence. I intend to do away with it.” He laughed.
“I look forward to seeing your redesign. But if you ever change your mind, you know where to find me.” His hand grazed her bottom as he departed she was sure she felt him try to grasp the flesh, leaving her angry and reeling. And perhaps secretly deep down wanting for more. She hated him, she swore that she did. She knew the Prince took glee in irritating her as well as making her blush which irritated her all the more because he kept winning.
*******
Alicent stood chatting with Viserys and Daemon in the Godswood at Lady Rhea’s wake though it was not being treated as a somber occasion in the slightest. Well Viserys spoke while Alicent and Daemon listened. She had insisted that they do something small to commemorate his late Lady wife even if it was a small tense family gathering. She now found herself involved in family events where she had no business or right to be by want of the King, not even her father was present. Daemon and Alicent stood shoulder to shoulder glancing at each other and sharing secret smiles at some of Viserys comments.
Alicent tensed immediately as Rhaenyra came over to offer Daemon her condolences. She had refused to mention their union to Viserys, not wanting that for Rhaenyra. In her mind no man deserved her. Especially not her uncle. While she couldn’t blame Rhaenyra for being attracted to the fascinating older man. He would have been pure poison for her. Diluting her claim to the throne not strengthening it as any power she was able to gain he would take for himself. Important factors aside, her father would be furious with her if she blocked all his plans in such a way. If Rhaenyra wed Daemon, Alicent would be forced to beg the King naked on her knees to take her to wife, in an event more humiliating than the one Viserra the Vain suffered.
“Perhaps Prince Daemon would care for a tour of the Gallery. He hasn’t yet seen the new tapestries.” Alicent tried to lighten the mood, glancing at Daemon with her pretty smile.
Viserys mocked her. “Would you like to see the new tapestries?” He laughed to his brother. Alicent’s face dropped slightly before she forced a small smile. She liked the King outwardly. They were friends. But at times he irritated her and she felt deeply disrespected as well as uncomfortable like when he made her swear that she wouldn’t mention their talks to Rhaenyra as if he hadn’t already driven a significant wedge between the girls though she supposed that was her own fault.
“He had no interest in such things.” Viserys told her, still laughing. Alicent was mortified despite knowing Daemon had shown interest in their previous conversation. Or maybe he was just messing with her to gain a favour. Favours and boons were the most important currency at court.
“Apologies my Prince.” She said softly her cheeks and chest colouring pink in her embarrassment.
Rhaenyra noticed her discomfort. “I’d like to see them.” Sympathy emanating from her despite their slight estrangement. Rhaenyra wished to reach for Alicent’s hand but felt she could not.
Daemon gave Alicent a little comforting nudge and smile. What was supposed to be a graze of his hand on her shoulder lingered a moment too long. A silent promise saying “Show me them later” in much fewer words.