Sweetling

by jonesingjay

Summary:

From a young age, Alicent harbors a deep infatuation for Rhaenyra. However, with time, this admiration turns into an all-consuming obsession. Alicent cannot let go of her desire to possess Rhaenyra and is willing to do whatever it takes to make it a reality, even to the extent of participating in her father's plans to see his blood on the Iron Throne.

Notes:

This is my first fan fiction is years. I was inspired to write because of the great Alicent/Rhaenyra stories I've read here. I'm writing this story with the intent of showing how something so sweet can turn so sour.

If you have any feedback, suggestions, questions or constructive criticisms I am open to that.

Chapter 1: Sweetling

Summary:

Alicent is greeted warmly by Rhaenyra, and the encounter leaves a lasting impression on her.

As a young girl, Alicent Hightower had wavy auburn hair that cascaded down her shoulders, complementing her soft, round face. Her wide, brown eyes were filled with curiosity, innocence, and wonder. Although obedient and soft-spoken, her timidity often annoyed her father, who frequently scolded her to speak up, causing her to retreat further into herself. "The realm's delight and the heir apparent," his voice had a hint of displeasure when he mentioned the young alpha, Rhaenyra Targaryen. Alicent was afraid to ask why her father looked so displeased, for fear that he would direct his anger at her. All she knew was what she overheard her father say about the young Targaryen. He believed that Rhaenyra was unfit to rule the realm and that her reckless behavior would ruin everything built.

At the age of eight, Alicent had her first encounter with Rhaenyra. As she watched from the sidelines, Rhaenyra was completely engrossed in practicing her swordsmanship with a wooden sword. Despite her opponent being much larger and stronger, Rhaenyra was quick and light on her feet. She moved gracefully and precisely, effortlessly evading her opponent's attacks and launching counter-attacks. Finally, with a powerful hit, Rhaenyra knocked her opponent onto his back and held the wooden sword at his neck, forcing him to yield by raising his hands in defeat. From the stands, Viserys was cheering her on, clapping and shouting words of encouragement.

As Otto walked away from the training yard, he turned to Alicent and said, "Come along, child." However, Alicent was so absorbed in watching the older girl practice her sword-fighting skills that she didn't even notice when her father tightly grabbed her arm and forcefully pulled her toward the stand where the King was seated. Viserys was drinking from a goblet when he turned to face them. Otto approached the King with respect and said, "Your Grace."

"You see my daughter out there, Otto? She's shaping up to be a fine fighter, don't you think?" he asked. Otto nodded respectfully but then voiced his concern about Rhaenyra's training. "Yes, your Grace. She is quite fine. But do you think it's a good idea for her to train in the yard with less than a moon before her 14th nameday?" The King brushed off Otto's concern and returned to Rhaenyra. However, Alicent could sense her father's displeasure with the way he pushed her forward."This is my daughter, Alicent, I told you about. She'll be staying in the Red Keep." He then proceeded to squeeze her shoulder with a force that made Alicent wince in pain, but she didn't dare utter a sound. Her father's tone was harsh as he chided her, "Don't you have something to say, child?" Alicent's heart raced as she struggled to find the right words, but she couldn't get the greeting out or the curtsy she had practiced for hours. The seconds felt like hours as she stood there, paralyzed with fear. However, before the situation could escalate further, an interruption provided some much-needed relief, and Alicent was saved from further embarrassment.

Rhaenyra walked toward them, her skin dewy with a fine sheen of sweat from engaging in vigorous activity. Her mesmerizing lilac eyes were filled with amusement, and her face glowed with radiance. The sun, positioned just behind her, cast a warm golden light, illuminating her silver hair. She was a breathtaking sight to behold.

Otto's lips formed a tight smile as he looked at Rhaenyra, but his eyes conveyed a different story. His insincerity was quite apparent as he spoke, "Impressive, princess."

Rhaenyra, however, was aware of Otto's insincere praise. She shifted her gaze towards Alicent, a young girl she had not seen before. The princess greeted Alicent with a playful bow before taking her hand. Rhaenyra paused momentarily, gazing at Alicent's picked cuticles, and planted a gentle kiss on the back of her hand. "Hello, my lady," Alicent's laughter filled the air, but it was short-lived as her father's grip on her shoulder tightened, abruptly ending her amusement.

"What's your name, sweetling?" Rhaenyra crouched down to meet Alicent's eye level and gazed into her eyes. However, Alicent became too shy to make eye contact and cast her gaze downwards.

Otto introduced his daughter to Rhaenrya, saying, "This is my daughter, Alicent. She will be staying at the Red Keep."

However, Rheanrya didn't pay attention to Otto and addressed Alicent directly, saying "Nice to meet you, Lady Alicent," as she stood upright. Rheanrya then turned to leave, but Alicent responded in a whisper, "You too." Rhaenrya glanced back, smiled broadly, and said, “I look forward to seeing you again.” With those words, Rhaenrya departed, taking Alicent’s heart with her.

Chapter 2: Adoration

Notes:

I wanted to write a longer chapter. I managed to write one scene. I didn't want anyone reading the story to wait too long. I'll try with the next chapter to write something longer that pushes the plot forward.

The Red Keep was bustling with activity, with preparations in full swing for Princess Rhaenrya's fourteenth nameday. Alicent, an onlooker, was captivated by the bustling servants and the lively chatter that echoed through the halls.

 

Alicent was in awe of the grand scale of the preparations for a week-long celebration leading up to Rhaenyra’s nameday. The opulence and extravagance of the wealth display were beyond anything she had ever seen. She stayed out of the way and blended into the background. 

 

Alicent was content with not having her father's watchful eye on her, allowing her to wander the Red Keep and the Godswoods. She brought along her book. The book was special to Alicent, as her mother had read it to her when she was a baby until her mother's recent passing, which was why her father brought her to court.

 

She stumbled upon a magnificent tree that seemed to reach the sky. Alicent's innocent brown eyes were filled with wonder as she gazed up at the tree before her. The tree's bark was white, a face was carved into its trunk, and the blood-red leaves left her awestruck. She had never seen anything quite like it in Oldtown.

 

Alicent was unaware of Princess Rhaenyra's quiet approach from behind. Suddenly, Alicent felt a gentle tap on her shoulder, causing her to jump in surprise. She turned to see Princess Rhaenyra standing there, and a shy smile slowly spread across Alicent's face.

 

Rhaenyra's laugh was pure and harmonious, without any hint of malice. Alicent was enchanted by the sound of the princess's laughter. As Alicent looked up, she saw Rhaenyra's kind and gentle gaze resting on her, and she felt a sense of comfort wash over her. 

 

"My apologies, Lady Alicent, I didn't mean to startle you," said Rhaenyra, her voice soft and gentle. Alicent believed her. The princess had been kind to her. "You have found one of my favorite places in the Red Keep. Isn't it amazing?" Rhaenyra said as she admired the tree. Alicent kept her eyes fixed on Rhaenyra and nodded in agreement. "It's a Weirwood tree," Rhaenyra explained.

 

"Weirwood," Alicent softly repeated to herself, committing the word and this moment to memory. Every interaction with the princess was worth remembering.

"This is a place I like to go to when I want to be alone," she remarked, turning towards Alicent, standing beside her. "It's also a perfect spot to sit and read," she added, noticing the book in Alicent's hand. Alicent tightened her grip on the well-worn leather-bound book.

"This book is special to you," Rhaenyra said gently , her voice filled with understanding. 

Alicent looked down at the grass and nodded. She hesitated to reveal to Rhaenyra why the book was so meaningful to her. The memories of her older brother Gwayne teasing her for carrying the book around came flooding back. He would often take the book from her and hold it just out of her reach, making her face turn red with frustration and tears. The book was her sanctuary, a world of princesses, knights, and magic that offered solace from the harsh realities of her life. Only then, with a sneer on his face, would he give the book back to her and scold his younger sister for crying. Alicent's grip on the book grew tighter as if it was the only thing keeping her from falling apart.

With a softness in her voice that mirrored the kindness in her eyes, Rhaenyra asked, her curiosity genuine, "What's the book about?" 

Alicent looked up at the princess. Her silver-gold hair was down and flowing, and her eyes were kind. Rhaenyra was the most comely girl she had ever seen. "It's a collection of stories about princesses, knights, and magic," Alicent answered , her voice filled with shyness and excitement .

 Rhaenyra's eyes lit up with curiosity. "Are there stories about dragons?" Alicent nodded, and Rhaenyra's face lit up even more. "I love stories about dragons. I have a dragon," Rhaenyra said proudly.

Alicent's eyes widened in surprise . "You have a dragon?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper.

Rhaenyra beamed and nodded, her chest swelling with pride. "Her name is Syrax. One day, I'll introduce you to her."

Before Alicent could stop herself, she vigorously shook her head. Rhaenyra laughed with amusement in her eyes. "Are you not a fan of dragons, Lady Alicent?" 

"Dragons are scary," Alicent whispered and gazed at the ground. Her brother Gwayne's words echoed in her head: You're not a babe, Alicent. Stop acting like one. She wanted to lift her head and look at the princess because she didn't want the princess to think she was a babe, but her gaze stayed on the ground.  

Rhaenyra knelt to eye level with Alicent. She slipped her hand gently underneath Alicent’s chin and slowly lifted it, a gesture of affection. Alicent felt a warmth spread from the simple touch, and her stomach felt fluttering with a mix of excitement and uncertainty. It was a feeling she had never experienced before, a strange but not unwelcome sensation. 

Rhaenyra's thumb caressed Alicent's chin, which made Alicent's grip on the book loosen. "She's quite gentle once you get to know her," Rhaenyra said, her voice reassuring. "I was around your age when I first rode Syrax." Rhaenyra's smile was warm, her eyes filled with a distant memory. "It's an incredible experience—flying in the sky, seeing King's Landing from above. One day, I'll convince you to ride Syrax with me," Rhaenyra said, her touch as gentle as her words, as she swept Alicent's auburn hair behind her shoulder. Alicent felt a surge of warmth, a sense of being cherished, as Rhaenyra's hand left her chin.

Feeling brave, Alicent spoke up, "I'll never ride a dragon, princess."

Rhaenyra's laughter was a melody that filled the air, and she leaned in, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Sweetling, when it's just you and me, you can call me Rhaenyra."

She hesitated, torn between her father's expectations and her desire to please the princess. "It's not proper to address you that way, princess," she finally replied , her voice filled with uncertainty .

"How I despise etiquette," Rhaenyra playfully rolled her eyes and sighed.

To please the older girl, Alicent asked, "You won't tell my father?"

Rhaenyra's head shook, her hair swaying with the movement. "It'll be our secret." Alicent's nod was a promise, a pact between them. "Will you read me one of the stories about dragons in your book?" asked Rhaenyra, her eyes shining with anticipation.

Alicent's eyes sparkled with joy, and she smiled. "Yes, Rhaenyra."

They settled underneath the Weirwood tree, with Rhaenyra lying in the grass and Alicent reading for her.

Chapter 3: Laena

Summary:

Alicent isn't the only one who wants to spend time rhaenyra.

Notes:

These 'chapters' have been slow coming and short. I'm going to do a time jump that will include Alicent presenting as an omega at the age of 11. Rhaenyra will be 17.

OR

should i stick with writing a few more chapters with alicent 11 and rhaenyra 14?

let me know in the comments section below. thank you.

It was an exciting week in the realm as it celebrated Princess Rhaenyra's 14th Nameday. King Viserys spared no expense in hosting opulent feasts, grandiose balls, and exhilarating tournaments to honor his beloved daughter, the rightful heir to the Iron Throne.

Nobles and dignitaries from all corners of the Seven Kingdoms gathered for the weeklong festivities, eager to bask in the presence of the Realm's Delight and earn favor with the future queen.

Among the esteemed guests was Alicent, whose fascination with the princess was undeniable. Rhaenyra, a striking figure in the Targaryen colors of red and black, held Alicent's attention. The silver-haired girl, a captivating presence, playfully spun her dance partner, Lady Laena Velaryon, who threw her head back in laughter. Alicent watched, her curiosity piqued, as Rhaenyra led smoothly, with Laena following effortlessly.

Rhaenyra's unwavering gaze was fixed on Laena, a longing in her eyes that Alicent couldn't ignore. Laena, with her silver curly hair cascading down her back and beautiful dark skin aglow in the candlelight of the throne room, was the reason Rhaenyra had been distant since their afternoon in the Godswoods. She had arrived at the beginning of Rhaenyra's nameday week, and every time Alicent saw Rhaenyra, her cousin Laena was by her side.

Alicent absentmindedly picked at her cuticles.

 

Rhaenyra was engaged in a conversation with a distinguished older gentleman who gestured animatedly with his hands. Despite her attempts to appear engaged, her eyes continually wandered across the crowded room in search of someone. Suddenly, her mesmerizing lilac eyes met Alicent's, causing Alicent to take a sharp breath and feel a delightful flutter in her stomach.

Rhaenyra's sly smile and playful wink were aimed directly at Alicent, causing her to feel special in the crowded throne room. Alicent beamed with joy as Rhaenyra gracefully excused herself from the conversation.

"Lady Alicent," Rhaenyra said with a warm smile, greeting Alicent as the air grew warmer and the room quieter. Rhaenyra gracefully bowed, delicately grasping the back of Alicent's hand and planting a tender kiss upon it. Alicent's lips curved into a subtle, bashful smile as Rhaenyra straightened her posture and gently took Alicent's hand.

At that moment, she noticed the raw, bleeding skin around Alicent's cuticles. Feeling embarrassed, Alicent lowered her head. Rhaenyra tenderly massaged the pad of her thumb in gentle, circular motions against Alicent's hand. With a delicate touch, she placed her hand underneath Alicent's chin, lifting her head and casting a fond gaze upon her.

Feeling embarrassed, Alicent confessed, "Father says it's a disgusting habit and unbecoming of a young lady," and withdrew her hand.

Rhaenyra's voice took on an even softer tone, her words working as a soothing balm to Alicent's self-consciousness. "I think you're lovely, Ali," she reassured, her eyes brimming with sincerity, causing Alicent's cheeks to flush with a deep, warm color. She felt a rush of delight at being addressed with a nickname by Rhaenyra for the first time. "Would you like to dance?" Rhaenyra extended her left hand to Alicent.

"I don't know how to dance," Alicent confessed with a bashful smile.

"In all honesty, neither do I," Rhaenyra replied with good humor.

Alicent's eyes widened with disbelief. "But I saw you dancing with Lady Laena."

A gentle smile played upon Rhaenyra's lips as she looked out at the crowd. "She makes me look good." Her eyes, the color of lilacs, sparkled with affection as they landed on Laena. The two girls shared a meaningful gaze, and Rhaenyra's fondness for Laena was evident. "It may seem like I'm guiding her, but in truth, she's guiding me," Rhaenyra's words revealed the special bond she shared with Laena, making Alicent feel ordinary. When Laena broke their eye contact, Rhaenyra redirected her attention towards Alicent.

Notes:

A snippet from chapter four that I'm writing.

Rhaenyra, too, underwent changes. At the age of five and ten, she experienced a growth spurt, her presence becoming more commanding. Her years of training and dragon-riding sculpted her body, her shoulders broad and her muscles defined. Rhaenyra's face matured, her jawline sharp. These changes stirred something in Alicent, a flutter in her stomach that she couldn't comprehend. Rhaenyra was the only one who could evoke such a reaction.

Chapter 4: anyone reading?

Summary:

hello?

due to lack of engagement on the previous chapter i'm going to stop writing this story. eventually i'll go ahead and delete it. i thought it was a good idea for a story. maybe not. tons pf great stories to read. i guess mine wasn't one of them. thanks to those who took the time to leave a comment. i appreciate it.

update: 6/20
i'm going to continue sweetling. i'm writing chapter 4. i'm going to stick to making this chapter longer than previous chapters. so, there will be more than one scene. i have many exciting ideas for this stories and scenes that i will write. after alicent reaches the age of maturity. in chapter 4 alicent is 1 and ten and rhaenyra is seven and ten. i've decided to continue with the six year age difference and challenge myself to write their story.

thank you to everyone who took the time to show your support and that you won't this story to continue. because of the overwhelming amount of support i feel good about continuing this story and improve my writing. if i were able to write and post faster i would. so apologies in advance for waits inbetween chapters.

i'm going to leave this up post up as a reminder to myself that some people do like what i'm writing. i'll respond to individual comments left underneath this post.

thank you

Chapter 5: Prelude

Summary:

Rhaenyra makes a promise to Alicent.

Notes:

Thank you to everyone for your overwhelming support. I appreciate that you took the time to leave an encouraging word. I have replied to your comments in the previous post. I didn’t consider that my post could be a problem for some. I do understand the criticism, directly and indirectly. Now, with all that said, let's get into why you and I are here, ‘Sweetling’.

Alicent harboring a childhood crush on Rhaenyra that turns into an obsession, was inspired by the Game We Play, written by Anonymous. It’s a must read on my list of A/B/O Rhaenyra and Alicent stories.

I do want you to know that I have several plot ideas and scenes in mind for future chapters that I'm excited about.

In this chapter, Alicent is a recently presented omega and 11 summers. Rhaenyra is 7 and 10. I decided to keep the 6-year age difference in. Keep in mind that some questionable things will be subtly mentioned. However, a reminder that this story is from Alicent’s perspective, who is an unreliable narrator because she sees things the way she wants to and tends to misinterpret Rhaenyra’s actions and words.

I intended for this chapter to have multiple scenes. It's been a month since I posted. And, I didn't want readers to wait any longer.

Alicent's presentation as an omega at the age of eleven summers marked a significant turning point in her friendship with Rhaenyra. As an unmated omega, Alicent found herself bound by societal rules, causing a shift in her relationship with Rhaenyra, an alpha. 

 

"It's so unfair," Alicent whispered, mindful of Rhaenyra’s sworn shield, Ser Criston’s presence. Alicent’s voice filled with frustration and sadness, "that we're not allowed to spend time together alone."

 

In response, Rhaenyra assumed Septa Marlow's stern tone. "It's inappropriate for an unmated omega to be alone with an alpha," she said playfully, her lilac eyes sparkling with mischief.

 

Alicent couldn't help but giggle, her laughter a testament to the joy Rhaenyra brought into her life. To stifle her laughter, Alicent instinctively covered her mouth with her hand. Captivated by the sound, Rhaenyra gently lowered Alicent's hand and clasped it in hers. "Your laughter is a melody I never want to miss, Ali. Please, don't hide it from me." Her lilac eyes, filled with sincerity and a hint of longing, held Alicent's gaze. 

 

Alicent bashfully smiled as she gazed into Rhaenyra's eyes, feeling the warmth of her hand gently holding hers. The dappled sunlight filtered through the lush, blood-red leaves of the Weirwood tree, casting a mesmerizing play of light and shadow on Rhaenyra's handsome face. In that fleeting moment, amidst the serene beauty of the surroundings, Alicent wished for time to stand still, wanting to savor every second of this intimate connection beneath the ancient tree.

 

Rhaenyra shot up in height at seven and ten, her presence becoming more imposing. Her rigorous training and dragon-riding had sculpted her physique, her shoulders broad and her muscles well-defined. Rhaenyra's face had matured, her jawline now sharp, a testament to her growth and strength. These changes stirred something in Alicent, a flutter in her stomach that she couldn't comprehend. Rhaenyra was the only one who could evoke such a reaction.

 

"We'll still see each other," Rhaenyra assured, her voice tender as she gently caressed the back of Alicent's hand with her thumb. Her eyes, a striking shade of lilac, held Alicent's gaze.

 

"Do you mean it?" Alicent nervously asked. Rhaenyra held Alicent's hand firmly, a silent reassurance that she was there, preventing Alicent from picking her cuticles.

 

"Yes, I mean it." Rhaenyra's lilac eyes glowed with warmth and sincerity as she playfully arched an eyebrow. "You won't grow tired of me, will you?"

 

Alicent shook her head eagerly. "I'll never tire of being with you, Nyra."

 

Rhaenyra's laughter filled the air like a melody, a genuine smile lighting up her captivating face. Rhaenyra's distinctive smoky scent with earthy undertones wafted through the air, adding to the moment's warmth. "Good; I couldn't bear the thought of you no longer enjoying my company," she affectionately responded.

 

Alicent gazed at Rhaenyra's larger hand, which was holding her own. "You won't grow tired of me, even when Lady Laena is here?" she asked bashfully.

 

"Ali, please look at me," Rhaenyra gently requested. Alicent hesitated, afraid of what the older girl might say. " Ñuha sweetling, I'll never tire of you." Alicent locked eyes with Rhaenyra, finding only honesty and warmth in her lilac gaze. 

 

A fortnight later, Lady Laena Velaryon returned to King’s Landing.

Chapter 6: hands

Summary:

Alicent experiences the intensity of Rhaenyra's attention.

As Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen and Lady Laena Velaryon strolled through the serene and ancient Godswoods, their intertwined arms conveyed a sense of regal grace. The sunlight filtering through the leaves lent their figures a golden hue, casting an almost ethereal glow around them. 

However, for Alicent, who observed them from a distance, the sight starkly contrasted the unease that filled her, making the scene anything but enchanting. As the delicate butterfly wings fluttered in Alicent’s stomach, they stirred anxiety within her instead of evoking warmth and joy. 

Ser Criston, resolute and vigilant, dutifully guarding Princess Rhaenyra, was a familiar sight. 

Rhaenys Targaryen was chaperoning her daughter, and Rhaenyra was unfamiliar. This made Alicent increasingly anxious, causing her to pick at her cuticles as she contemplated this nervously. 

Rhaenyra's betrothal to Laena has yet to be announced, and Alicent doesn’t look forward to that day. Once a betrothal was formalized, they would begin their courtship, leading to Rhaenyra taking Laena to wife. This union was not just about love; it was about securing the future of the Targaryen lineage, a duty that Alicent was certain weighed heavily on Rhaenyra's shoulders. Rhaenyra needed an heir to carry on the family name and eventually ascend the Iron Throne. 

The reality of the situation was upsetting, and it manifested in Alicent's nervous habit of picking at her cuticles, causing herself unnecessary pain. Watching Rhaenyra with Laena daily added to Alicent's emotional turmoil, making it harder for her to cope. The sight of Rhaenyra's affection for Laena was painful and torturous for Alicent to witness. When Laena was away from the keep, Alicent could pretend that Rhaenyra's heart belonged solely to her, but in reality, Rhaenyra's affections solely lay with her cousin.

"Alicent," Rhaenyra's voice was full of happiness, a stark contrast to the anxiety that gripped Alicent. She hid her hands behind her back, not wanting Rhaenyra to see her bloody cuticles. As Rhaenyra drew closer, Alicent's unease intensified. Laena, with her silver curly hair cascading down her back, was a vision of beauty, her arm entwined with Rhaenyra's. 

Alicent’s eyes were filled with tears. The sight was unbearable for Alicent. For the first time, she didn't run to Rhaenyra; she ran from her. Her name echoed faintly in the distance until it was no longer audible.

Alicent knelt in deep reverence before the altar, surrounded by the solemnity of the sept. The flickering candles illuminated the space with their warm glow, casting shadows of the Seven Who Are One - a single deity with seven faces on the walls. With her hands tenderly clasped in sincere prayer, she offered a solemn plea that resonated through the hallowed surroundings. 

"Mother, I call upon you to have Rhaenyra's attention and affection," Alicent's whispered plea reverberated through the sacred space, her longing palpable. With closed eyes, she fervently repeated her prayer, her earnest desire hanging heavy in the air.

"Alicent,"

Alicent was startled by Rhaenyra's voice. She couldn't help but wonder if Rhaenyra had overheard her silent plea to the Mother. Anxious thoughts raced through her mind. However, her heart also soared. Rhaeyra had gone after her. 

As Rhaenyra knelt beside her and softly uttered, "Sweetling," Alicent couldn't help but be captivated by the depth of emotion in Rhaenyra's voice. Her eyes were mesmerizing as she gently lifted Alicent's chin. "I care for you," she confessed, the sincerity evident in her words. Tenderly tracing Alicent's face, she expressed concern, "When you ran away, it worried me."

Alicent averted her gaze and timidly responded, "I'm sorry."

"There isn't anything for you to apologize for," Rhaenyra soothed, her voice gentle. She tenderly clasped Alicent's hands. "I promised we would see each other, even when Laena is here, and I haven't upheld my words. And I'm deeply sorry for that. When I say I care for you, Alicent, I mean it. I hope you'll accept my apology."

Alicent was struck silent, her fear of shattering this fragile moment overwhelming. She could only nod, a gesture of acceptance. Rhaenyra smiled. Alicent felt a rare sense of favor from the gods. She couldn't tear her eyes away from Rhaenyra. 

The dimly lit room, illuminated by flickering candles, accentuated Rhaenyra's striking features. She felt the familiar flutter of butterflies in her stomach being close to Rhaenyra, to have her undivided attention. 

Rhaenyra, with a deep sense of empathy, gently rubbed her thumb against the back of Alicent's hand. She gazed at Alicent's hands, not with judgment but with a profound understanding. 

Alicent was ashamed. Her cuticle picking became worse with Laena's return to King's Landing. More often than not, her cuticles were bloody, raw, and painful from the persistent picking she seemed powerless to control. Alicent picked the skin when she felt upset and overwhelmed. 

"Alicent, you are comely .” Rhaenyra sensed Alicent's shame, lifted Alicent's hand, and tenderly kissed the raw skin. 

Alicent's heart raced as she took a sharp breath, feeling the fluttering of butterfly wings in her stomach intensified. 

In that moment, she experienced a love so all-encompassing and consuming, unlike anything she had ever read in her books. 

Without hesitation, she leaned in and planted a delicate, tender kiss on Rhaenyra's cheek, then quickly pulled away, hoping her flushed cheeks wouldn't betray her feelings in the soft candlelight of the sept.

For the first time, Rhaenyra was left speechless. Her gaze locked on Alicent without a single word escaping her lips. 

"Nyra," Alicent whispered shyly, breaking the silence and rousing Rhaenyra from her reverie.

Rhaenyra closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and began to speak. "Alicent, if you were—" Rhaenyra's words pained herself to say and hung in the air. She released Alicent's hands with a gentle touch, and Alicent immediately sensed that she had interrupted a crucial moment. 

Alicent regretted speaking, knowing she had seen a vulnerable side of Rhaenyra she rarely witnessed. Rhaenyra fidgeted with the rings on her finger, revealing a glimpse of the uncertainty she felt.

Alicent was aware of this side of Rhaenyra, burdened by her responsibilities as the heir. King Viserys's failing health only added to the pressure on Rhaenyra, who now had to shoulder more duties, including representing the king in council meetings when he could not. 

Alicent's father, Otto, the King's Hand, had shared his private concerns about Rhaenyra. Yet, Alicent remained steadfast in her belief that Rhaenyra would rise to the occasion and be an extraordinary queen when the time came.

Rhaenyra questioned Alicent, "Why did you run away from me?" Her hand stretched out tentatively before retreating without making contact with Alicent. 

Alicent responded with a hesitant shrug, her eyes betraying a vulnerability. Her voice barely above a whisper, she confessed, "I didn't want you to see me. I didn't want you to see my hands." She couldn't bring herself to share the entire truth with Rhaenyra. The sight of Laena on her arm made it painful to be in the couple's presence.

"The moment I met you in the training yard, I saw you, Alicent," Rhaenyra murmured as she gently held Alicent's face. Rhaenyra's warmth was palpable, and the roughness of her calloused hands was oddly comforting to Alicent. Rhaenyra shakily breathed. "Even now, I see you, Ali."

As their eyes locked, Alicent noticed an unfamiliar intensity in Rhaenyra's gaze. Her lilac eyes darkened, causing Alicent's own heart to quicken.

At that moment, Alicent wondered if this was how Laena felt when she was the object of Rhaenyra Targaryen's attention—the Princess of Dragonstone, the future Queen of the Andals and the Rhoynar and the First Men, Lady of the Seven Kingdoms, Protector of the Realm, and Dragonrider.

Notes:

Just a reminder. For anyone side eyeing Rhaenyra's actions or words. This is from Alicent's perspective. What Rhaenyra is feeling or thinking is unknown. I have considered writing a chapter from Rhaenyra's perspective to get clarity. And, I've also considered, Alicent over hearing a conversation that would shed some light on what Rhaenyra is thinking.

My first two scene chapter. haha. Maybe, I can get to three next time. And, hey! It didn't take over a month to write this.

Thanks for reading guys. I appreciate the comments, kudos, follows, and subs. I'm seriously looking forward to what you think about this chapter. definetly let me know.

Chapter 7: Rhaenyra's pov

Summary:

The history of Rhaenyra's relationship with Laena.

Notes:

It's been awhile...

Fair warning. This chapter is entirely from Rhaenyra's pov and focuses on her history with Laena up to the present day. Alicent makes an appearance at the end of the chapter.

"Your Grace," Rhaenyra attempted to capture her father's attention, but King Viserys was utterly engrossed in his intricate scale model of Old Valyria.

 

Approaching her father, Rhaenyra repeated, "Your Grace," but her efforts to divert Viserys's focus from the model proved unsuccessful. He remained completely absorbed in the miniature before him.

 

"One of the most magnificent civilizations humanity has ever known, the epicenter of an empire that once ruled over half of the known world, was destroyed by the Doom," Viserys reflected, lost in contemplation.

 

Rhaenyra listened silently, aware that interrupting would only prolong her father's tangent on the revered empire.

 

"Did I summon you to accompany me to the small council meeting?" Viserys inquired, confusion etched on his aging face. His forgetfulness had become commonplace, and the decline in his mental and physical state over the past several years was evident. 

 

"No, Your Grace, the small council convened earlier today," Rhaenyra gently corrected him, "I was seated beside you."

 

"Yes, I recall. You sat with me. The council deliberated on many matters," Viserys responded. She realized her father didn't recollect the meeting, which troubled her. "Why have you come to my chambers, Rhaenyra?"

 

Rhaenyra's heart swelled with determination as she declared, "I intend on taking Lady Laena Velaryon to wife." Rhaenyra desired Laena to be a lover, confidant, Queen Consort, wife, and mother to her children.

 

Viserys inquired, "Have you sought Otto's blessing?"

 

"Why should I seek Otto's blessing?" Rhaenyra countered, her disdain for Otto palpable. 

 

As the Hand of the King, Otto had wielded his influence to stress the necessity of a male heir to Viserys. Rhaenyra held Otto partially responsible for her mother's multiple miscarriages and, ultimately, her death in childbirth.

 

She resented her father for heeding Otto’s counsel that a male heir was needed to ascend the throne and agreeing to the risky procedure that led to her mother's passing. 

 

"Seeking Otto's approval to marry Lady Alicent is the proper thing to do," Viserys answer was tangled in confusion.

 

Twisting her rings, Rhaenyra contemplated her father, once the towering figure of her childhood, now diminished in both mind and body with no signs of recovery.

 

"I will seek the blessing of Corlys and Rhaenys to marry their daughter, Laena. I felt it was important to inform you before I announced my intentions to the small council. The courtship will begin, and by the end of the year, Laena will become my wife." Rhaenyra's words were firm, leaving no room for argument. Clearly, she wasn't seeking Viserys's blessing but was instead showing respect by conferring with him.

 

Viserys seemed lost in thought, his attention on his model of Valyria. 

 

Rhaenyra, troubled and perplexed by her father's behavior, said, "I shall take my leave, Your Grace," and left Viserys to his thoughts.

(****)

107 AC (Rhaenyra aged 10, Laena aged 9) 

The ancient Weirwood tree's beautiful, blood-red leaves rustled in the wind. Their vibrant colors and delicate leaves created a mesmerizing sight. Rhaenyra and Laena, surrounded by the tree's beauty, found themselves in an imaginary world within the Godswoods. The gentle breeze carried their laughter through the air, adding to the enchantment of the moment.

 

Rhaenyra, her wooden sparring sword in hand, playfully evaded an imaginary counterattack. Her eyes sparkled mischievously as she taunted, "Is that all you've got, Ser Longbottom?" Rhaenyra circled her opponent. 

 

Laena, the younger of the two, was always fascinated by Rhaenyra's adventurous spirit. She watched her cousin with great interest, entirely captivated by the scene, her admiration for Rhaenyra shining in her eyes.

 

Rhaenyra's small hands gripped the hilt of Dark Sister, her eyes shining with unwavering determination as adrenaline surged through her. Ser Rhaenyra Targaryen, Knight of the House of Targaryen and Lord Commander of the Kingsguard let out a primal scream and thrust the sword ahead of her. Her arms extended as far as they would reach, aiming the makeshift weapon directly at her opponent, drawing Laena in with each step.

 

As the Valyrian steel clashed in a breathtaking display of skill, Rhaenyra's sword mastery was a sight to behold. She deftly dodged her opponent's every move, her movements a dance of grace and precision. Dark Sister, her sword, was an extension of her being, and with a playful glint in her eye, she toyed with her opponent. As the battle drew to a close, she swiftly overpowered Ser Longbottom, a testament to her unparalleled skill.

 

Standing over him, she pointed the tip of her sword at his throat and commanded him to "Yield."

 

"I yield," Ser Longbottom readily replied.

 

Rhaenyra's face lit up with joy as she heard the crowd's cheers, but Laena's cheers truly mattered to her. Running to Laena, Rhaenyra's heart overflowed with love as she embraced her, her feelings for Laena shining through in every gesture.

 

"Lady Laena Velaryon, you are the loveliest girl in all Seven Kingdoms. I crown you the Queen of Love and Beauty," Rhaenyra declared, placing the flower crown they had collected and tied together on Laena's head, a crown that paled in comparison to Laena's natural beauty.

 

"Thank you, Ser Rhaenyra, my brave and strong knight," Laena said, gently kissing Rhaenyra's cheek, causing Rhaenyra to smile bashfully.

109 AC (Rhaenyra aged 12, Laena aged 11)

 

Laena's presentation as an Omega affected Rhaenyra. It pulled her in with a captivating allure that seized her attention completely. As they sat surrounded by the peaceful nature of the Godswoods, the sunlight filtered through the leaves of the ancient Weirwood tree. The golden rays danced and shimmered, casting a mesmerizing glow on Laena's flowing silver curls. They framed her face and lent her a radiance that enchanted Rhaenyra. She was spellbound by Laena's dreamy smile, entirely under its captivating spell.

 

"You are staring, Rhaenyra," Laena giggled and bashfully smiled.

 

"Ao issi gevie," Rhaenyra reverently replied, her voice barely above a whisper. In that tender moment, she reached out and delicately took Laena's hands.

 

Their eyes met, locking in a silent exchange of emotions. Laena leaned in gently and placed a soft, feather-light kiss on Rhaenyra's cheek, the warmth of her lips lingering like a fleeting but cherished embrace.

 

After Laena's tender gesture, Rhaenyra summoned her courage and leaned in to press her lips against Laena's, embarking on their first kiss. Their lips met in a delicate and intricate dance, and as Rhaenyra closed her eyes, she savored the sensation of Laena's plump, tender, and warm lips, tenderly meeting her own. This innocent yet mighty kiss conveyed many emotions, symbolizing the beginning of their relationship. When Rhaenyra eventually drew back, she was speechless, her eyes reflecting a mixture of wonder and an intense yearning for more.

 

Laena must've had the same idea. She closed the space between them. This kiss was longer and more exploratory. Rhaenyra squeezed Laena's hands. Her heart fluttered, and the butterflies in her stomach excitedly flapped their wings. It could've been a few seconds or a couple of minutes. Laena pulled away. Rhaenyra missed the press of Laena's mouth against her own. She opened her eyes. Laena adoringly gazed at her. Rhaenyra realized she was utterly besotted with her cousin. 

 

Rhaenyra, who had not yet presented as either an alpha or omega, was determined to defy the odds and become an alpha despite the rarity of female alphas. She knew her presentation was out of her hands, but she clung to the hope of being an alpha. Rhaenyra imagined courting Laena to marry her and build a family together in her future vision. She imagined her mother being free from the difficult pursuit of bearing another child, hoping to produce a male heir for Viserys and securing the succession to the Iron Throne.

 

Rhaenyra made a solemn vow to herself and Laena, her eyes shining with unwavering resolve. "I will present as an alpha," she declared, her voice filled with determination.

 

Laena softly held hands with Rhaenyra, offering a reassuring presence. "Nyke jāhor umbagon syt ao," her voice was gentle and warm.

 

One year later, Rhaenyra's life took a significant turn. At the age of three and ten, she presented as an alpha.

 

Her beloved mother, Aemma, passed away on the birthing bed, leaving a profound void in Rhaenyra's heart. 

111 AC (Rhaenyra aged 14, Laena aged 13)

Week of Rhaenyra’s 14th name day celebrations

 

The Godswood was drenched in an almost sacred stillness, a peaceful hush that descended as night embraced the surroundings. Within the encompassing seclusion behind the trunk of the ancient weirwood tree, Rhaenyra and Laena found themselves shrouded in darkness, illuminated only by the soft glow of a lantern. Laena's beauty emanates an ethereal radiance in this gentle luminescence, captivating Rhaenyra's every sense.

 

With a delicate touch filled with tenderness and adoration, Rhaenyra cradled Laena's face, her caress reverent, brimming with profound emotion that threatened to engulf her.

 

For so long, Rhaenyra had guarded these feelings in her heart, preserving them in the innermost recesses of her being. However, as she gazed into Laena's eyes that night, the unspoken words and unshared emotions weighed heavily upon her soul.

 

Rhaenyra hesitated, a current of apprehension coursing through her. She was stricken with fear of the potential consequences that loomed should she dare articulate the depth of her feelings.

 

This moment was pivotal, a precipice holding the promise of reciprocation yet also the looming prospect of heartbreak. Nevertheless, Rhaenyra knew she had to give voice to the words that had long been confined within her, to lay bare her emotions, and to uncover whether Laena's heart beat in consonance with her own.

 

As they drew closer, she could feel Laena's warmth radiating from her body. Their lips met in a gentle, tender kiss, each expressing affection for the other. Rhaenyra closed her eyes, savoring every moment of the intimate connection. She threaded her fingers through Laena's curly hair, feeling the soft strands between her fingertips. With a soft sigh, she whispered, "Avy jorrāelan," feeling the weight and depth of those words as they left her lips and lingered in the air between them.

 

Laena leaned in so close that her breath tickled Rhaenyra's ear, and her soft, steady exhales created a delicate rhythm against Rhaenyra's skin. With a tender whisper, she murmured, "Jurnegon issa," the warmth of her breath sending a shiver down Rhaenyra's spine.

 

Rhaenyra's heart raced, its thunderous beats reverberating in her ears as she pondered if Laena could discern the fervent flutter within her. Opening her eyes, she found herself ensnared in Laena's shimmering gaze, witnessing unspoken emotions and a profound depth of affection.

 

"You love me," Laena's voice quivered with doubt and vulnerability, laying bare the rawness of her emotions.

 

With tender care, Rhaenyra cupped Laena's cheeks, her touch wiping away the tears that shimmered in the corners of Laena's eyes, radiating the warmth of their connection. "Yes," she murmured reverently, infusing her words with unspoken adoration. Then, she asked in return, "And do you love me?"

 

Laena gently placed their entwined hands down by their waists, her touch exuding tenderness and devotion. She pressed a delicate kiss to Rhaenyra's cheek before sealing their love with a kiss that overflowed with unwavering affection. "Jurnegon issa," she declared, her voice resonating with love.

 

Rhaenyra exhaled a quivering breath, feeling the comforting squeeze of Laena's hands as she whispered, "Say it again, please," her voice carrying a deep, almost desperate longing.

 

"Jurnegon issa, Rhaenyra. Nyke va moriot jāhor," Laena pronounced with an unwavering declaration of love.

 

Rhaenyra shut her eyes, leaning her forehead against Laena's, feeling their profound connection enveloping them in an unbreakable bond. A wave of love engulfed them, saturating the air with undeniable emotion. In a barely audible whisper, she echoed, "Jurnegon issa."

114 AC (Rhaenyra aged 17, Laena aged 16)

Present Day

 

Rhaenyra let out a contented sigh as she rested her head on Laena's lap. She could hear the sweet sound of a bard's lute. The sensation of Laena's gentle fingers running through her hair brought her a deep sense of comfort. 

 

Opening her eyes, Rhaenyra found herself gazing at Laena, bathed in the soft, golden light filtering through the crimson leaves of the weirwood tree. With its enchanting beauty, the tranquil scene filled Rhaenyra with profound joy, knowing that she was loved by Laena and reciprocating that love in full. 

 

The depth of their love was palpable, and it filled Rhaenyra with a sense of completeness and utter happiness without questioning the gods' benevolence.

 

"I had a conversation with my father today," Rhaenyra confided in Laena. A look of curiosity crossed Laena's eyes as she encouraged Rhaenyra to continue. 

 

"I don't think he fully understood the depth of what I was trying to express," Rhaenyra recalled, her mind drifting back to the bewildered expression on the king's face. "I told him about my desire to marry you." As Rhaenyra spoke, Laena's fingers, previously entwined in Rhaenyra's silver locks, subtly loosened their grip, and her tender lips parted as if she wanted to speak yet remained silent. 

 

Rhaenyra felt a pang of anxiety. She had anticipated an ecstatic reaction, envisioning Laena overwhelming her with affection. Sitting up abruptly, Rhaenyra earnestly added, "If you'll have me, I vow to cherish and honor you for all the years ahead."

 

"I have waited so long for this moment," Laena said with a beautiful smile, her laughter filling the air. "You certainly took your time," she playfully pointed out.

 

Rhaenyra's joyous laughter resonated through the air, intertwining with her deep yearning for the gentle caress of Laena's lips against her own. In a moment of vulnerability, she cast a glance at the bard and her loyal protector, Ser Criston, who stood within view, and confessed bashfully to Laena, "I've been wanting to ask you for so long, even before either one of us presented."

 

Expressing the intensity of her emotions, she tenderly took Laena's hand in hers, pressing a soft kiss to her knuckles. "Before fully understanding what love meant, I knew that my heart was yours. I will love you until my very last breath. It has always been you, Laena. You are the one I long for as my lover, confidant, Queen Consort, wife, and mother to our children." Rhaenyra's commitment to Laena was unwavering, a testament to the depth of her love.

 

Laena’s light purple eyes shone with tears, reflecting the overwhelming declaration of Rhaenyra’s profound love and unwavering devotion. The words deeply and profoundly touched Laena, evoking a strong emotional response. 

 

As Rhaenyra looked at Laena’s delicate mouth, she was captivated by her full, alluring lips, finding them almost irresistible. The wetness, warmth, and softness of those lips were all too familiar to her. At that moment, there was nothing Rhaenyra yearned for more than to kiss Laena and feel close to her in a way only a kiss could accomplish.

 

As Laena's hand lay gently on Rhaenyra's chest, she felt her heartbeat's reassuring, steady rhythm. Rhaenyra covered Laena's hand with hers, silently expressing her profound longing, a depth of commitment that resonated in her touch. With unwavering conviction, Laena expressed, "I desire to spend the rest of our lives together."

 

Tears of joy filled Rhaenyra's eyes as she experienced overwhelming love for her beloved, Laena. The depth of Laena's affection, reflecting her own, deeply moved her. "I will speak with Corlys and Rhaenys over dinner and seek their blessing," Rhaenyra expressed nervously, twisting the intricate ring on her finger, seeking reassurance that Laena shared her desire to marry.

 

Laena, deeply affected, delicately intertwined her fingers with Rhaenyra's fidgeting hands. "I want to marry you, Rhaenyra. I want you to know that my love and certainty in us will never waver," she declared, her voice filled with love and conviction.

 

Rhaenyra let out a sigh of relief, feeling the weight of Laena's unwavering promise soothe her.

Rhaenyra sat at the dining table, her eyes bright with laughter, as Corlys told a humorous anecdote from his youth. 

 

The sweet and fruity taste of the wine lingered on her tongue as she sipped from her goblet, adding to the moment's warmth. With Laena, her beloved, seated beside her and Corlys and Rhaenys opposite, Rhaenyra couldn't help but feel a surge of happiness. Yet, hidden beneath her joy was a nervous flutter in her stomach. She knew she had to gather her courage and seek their blessing to marry their daughter. 

 

Although she had made peace with the possibility of defying her family, their approval meant the world to her. As the laughter subsided, Rhaenyra acknowledged that the time had come. Setting down her goblet, she felt a subconscious jolt of nervous energy as she absently twisted her ring. But despite her nerves, she was determined to seek their blessing. 

 

Laena's comforting gesture soothed Rhaenyra's nerves. As she placed her hand on Rhaenyra's arm, offering a reassuring squeeze, the room seemed to fill with warmth and support. Locking eyes with Laena, Rhaenyra felt comfort wash over her. The playful fidgeting with her ring ceased as she drew reassurance from the tender smile gracing Laena's lips, knowing in her heart that everything would unfold as it should.

 

Rhaenyra’s voice is steady and determined. "I seek your blessing to marry Laena in the ancient Valyrian tradition," she proclaimed, her unwavering love for Laena giving her strength. Her eyes never left Laena's, shining with adoration and deep affection. "I love her with all my heart, and I promise to honor and cherish her for all eternity, even beyond my last breath."

 

While Rhaenyra eagerly anticipated Corlys's response, Laena's mother, Rhaenys, gently intervened by placing her hand on her husband's arm, signaling that she wanted to speak first. She pragmatically inquired, "What is it that your heart desires, my daughter?"

 

Laena's lips curled upwards in a shy but genuine smile, and a faint rosy blush began to blossom on her cheeks. Rhaenyra felt her heart flutter with a mix of happiness and excitement, knowing that the moment held a special significance. Laena gazed at Rhaenyra, in the candlelight Laena’s eyes glistened with unshed tears of happiness. "To marry Rhaenyra." 

 

In that moment, the world seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of them. The warmth of Laena's hand in hers filled Rhaenyra with a sense of peace and belonging, as they both shared the silent understanding of their love and connection. The unspoken promise of a future together hung in the air, intensifying the anticipation of what was to come.

 

Corlys's radiant smile reflected profound satisfaction as he commented, "I had a premonition about this dinner. Didn't I, my dear wife?" His upbeat and joyous tone interrupted Rhaenyra's contemplation of her fondness for Laena.

 

Rhaenys emitted a soft chuckle, the hint of mischief twinkling in her eyes as she spoke. "Was it a premonition," she teased, "knowing that this moment would come?"

 

Corlys's laughter resonated throughout the room, a warm and joyous sound that filled the space. His affectionate understanding shone through his warm eyes as he met Rhaenys's gaze. "Rhaenyra, my dear, you've always held our blessing to marry our daughter."

 

"Thank you, Corlys and Rhaenys." Rhaenyra gracefully nodded, fully aware of the weight of their blessing. Rhaenyra and Laena's betrothal marked an important union of great significance.

 

"Where is His Grace to celebrate this joyous announcement?" Corlys's question about the king's absence hung in the air, casting a slight shadow over the joyous announcement. The king's absence, a pivotal figure in celebrating his heir's betrothal, did not go unnoticed.

 

Understanding the expectations for the king's presence, Rhaenyra felt torn. While his attendance was customary and crucial for the occasion, she also felt a compelling need to shield him. She knew all too well that it wasn't one of Viserys's good days. His peculiar behavior and confusion would overshadow the joyous occasion.

 

In response to Corlys's question, Rhaenyra explained, "His Grace retired early this evening. He isn't feeling well." Viserys was truly unwell, and his decline in mind, body, and spirit continued. Despite her own inner turmoil, a storm of conflicting emotions, Rhaenyra was resolved to continue protecting him for the sake of the House of Targaryen, a duty that weighed heavily on her heart.

 

"A hasty betrothal would raise doubts about Laena's maidenhood," Rhaenys cautioned.

 

"Mother," Laena murmured, her cheeks flushing with a deep shade of embarrassment, a clear indication of her discomfort with the situation.

 

"Before you announce your intentions to marry, there will be a proper courting period," Rhaenys asserted firmly, her tone leaving no room for argument. Her gaze shifted between her daughter and Rhaenyra.

 

Rhaenyra fought the urge to mention that she and Laena had been unofficially courting for years. She was eager to marry her beloved as soon as possible. Despite her feelings, proper etiquette demanded that Rhaenyra and Laena adhere to tradition, and the weight of decorum pressed heavily upon her heart. 

(****)

As Rhaenyra made her way through the dimly lit halls of the Red Keep, the flickering light of the candles threw eerie and elongated shadows across the walls, creating an eerie and contemplative atmosphere. Despite having received the blessings of Corlys and Rhaenys, her heart was burdened with a mix of emotions. The absence of her mother, Aemma, occupied her thoughts heavily.

 

When she entered her chambers, her loyal lady-in-waiting, Elinda, was there, standing attentively. "You may retire for the evening," Rhaenyra gently dismissed her.

 

“Are you certain, princess?” Elinda's concern was evident in her voice and expression.

 

“I am certain,” Rhaenyra replied with stoic resolve.

 

“Did tonight not go well?” Elinda inquired gently, her concern growing more pronounced.

 

“Corlys and Rhaenys have given me their blessing,” she said, meeting Elinda’s gaze.

 

“Then what troubles you?” Elinda’s voice was filled with genuine concern. She was more than just a servant; she was Rhaenyra's confidante.

 

Rhaenyra stood before the painting adorning the grand wall above her fireplace. The painting captured a moment in time. Viserys had specially commissioned the artwork to commemorate his daughter's second name day. 

 

In the painting, a young Rhaenyra was seated on her mother's lap, her small, chubby hands wrapped around a meticulously crafted toy dragon, her eyes bright with youthful innocence and wonder. 

 

Her mother, Aemma, exuded a regal elegance befitting a queen, her poise and grace captured in every brushstroke. Her presence in the painting commands respect and admiration, making her an embodiment of royalty and strength. The painting spoke volumes of love, tradition, and the intricate tapestry of their family history. 

 

“She will not be here for this,” Rhaenyra softly confessed. Even though she didn't mention her mother’s name, Elinda understood who she was referring to. “So many moments I would’ve given anything for her to be there. She won’t witness my marriage to Laena. Her grandchildren will never know her warmth and love,” Rhaenyra's eyes welled up with tears. The void in her heart seemed impossible to fill. “She won’t witness her daughter become the first Queen of the Seven Kingdoms.”

 

Elinda tenderly pointed out, "Princess, she is always with you. I see the imprint of her guidance and love in everything you do." 

 

Rhaenyra's heart ached as she longed for her mother to witness the woman and alpha she had become. She fell into a contemplative silence, her gaze fixated on her mother in the portrait—radiant and graceful. In that poignant moment, she could almost hear the echo of her mother's laughter, feel her comforting embrace, and inhale the enduring scent of lavender that always surrounded her.  

 

Rhaenyra's voice was barely above a whisper as she murmured. "I'd like to be alone," she said, her vulnerability palpable. Her lilac eyes shimmered with unshed tears as they reflected the profound longing and profound sense of loss she felt for her mother. Elinda quietly showed herself out of Rhaenyra’s chambers.

"Princess Rhaenyra, I heard your call," Ser Criston announced as he entered her chambers, his hand instinctively finding the comforting weight of his sword hilt. His sharp eyes scanned the room, ever vigilant for any sign of danger.

 

Rhaenyra regarded him with a mischievous glint in her deep, lilac eyes. "Ser Criston, there is no need for concern. I am perfectly safe," she reassured him with a playful smile.

 

Ser Criston's gaze lingered momentarily, assessing the surroundings before he finally relaxed his grip on his sword, a visible wave of relief washing over him.

 

Rhaenyra chuckled softly. "Your unwavering dedication to my safety does not go unnoticed, Ser."

 

Straightening his posture, Ser Criston's expression softened with pride. His eyes reflected unwavering loyalty and devotion to his princess.

 

"Ser Criston," Rhaenyra began. "Tomorrow after breaking fast, I will call on Lady Laena, and Rhaenys will chaperone. You will join us and keep Rhaenys engaged."

 

"You are calling on Lady Laena? To court her?" His eyes were downcast as if lost in contemplation

 

Rhaenyra smiled. "Yes, I am taking Lady Laena to wife," She declared with unwavering confidence, the joy evident in her eyes. 

 

"I should have known," he replied with a strained smile. "It makes sense that you and Lady Laena would wed. If there isn't anything else you require of me, princess, I will return to my post." His tone was seeking permission.

 

Rhaenyra raised an elegant eyebrow, her piercing gaze locked onto Ser Criston. The subtle change in his demeanor didn't escape her notice. "Do you wish to say something, Ser?" Her voice was firm, yet it carried a note of genuine curiosity that would pique the interest of the audience.

 

Criston hesitated, his eyes briefly flickering with indecision before he shook his head. "No, your grace," he answered, his tone respectful but tinged with a hint of inner turmoil.

 

Rhaenyra studied her sworn protector, her keen eyes assessing his every movement. Despite Criston's best efforts to remain impassive, there was a fleeting hint of something unspoken in his gaze that she didn't miss. "You may return to your post, Ser," she finally said. 

 

"Yes, your grace." Criston respectfully bowed, his movements precise and controlled, before he turned and left Rhaenyra's chambers.

As Rhaenyra and Laena strolled through the Godswoods, they were under the watchful eye of Rhaenys, who was carefully supervising their walk. 

 

Ser Criston followed a few paces behind Rhaenys, although his presence seemed unnecessary as he made only a few half-hearted attempts to distract Rhaenys.

 

Spotting Alicent in the distance, Rhaenyra smiled and waved, realizing that she hadn't spent much time with the girl since Laena's arrival. Rhaenyra waved Alicent over, but to her surprise, the girl ran off, leaving Rhaenyra perplexed as Alicent had never avoided her before. 

 

Removing her arm from Laena's, Rhaenyra expressed her concern. "It's unusual for her to run from me. I should go check on her," she said. 

 

"We can resume our walk when you return," she suggested as a compromise. 

 

"Yes, I'll meet you in the gardens. Ser Criston, please escort Lady Laena and Princess Rhaenys to the gardens. I'll join you shortly," Rhaenyra instructed. 

 

Criston dutifully nodded in response. “Yes, your grace.”

Rhaenyra hurried through the Godswoods, urgently calling out for Alicent. However, the young girl didn't stop, quickly disappearing behind the grand doors of the sept. 

 

Rhaenyra took a moment to catch her breath, feeling a mix of concern and guilt before entering the solemn space. The soft murmurs of prayers surrounded her, and she couldn't help but feel intrusive as she stepped in uninvited. Despite this, her worry for Alicent overrode any reservations about invading her privacy. 

Alicent's heartfelt plea to the mother for Rhaenyra's affection took Rhaenyra by surprise. The sudden realization that the young girl might have feelings for her was unexpected.

 

She reflected on the signs she had overlooked – Alicent always seemed to be nearby, her presence a constant shadow to Rhaenyra's every move around the keep. It was undeniable; wherever Rhaenyra went, Alicent was sure to follow. 

 

Now, she found herself unintentionally overhearing a plea that was never meant for her ears. Her heart went out to the young girl, and she made a firm decision to treat Alicent with kindness and understanding. It was just an innocent crush, one that Alicent would likely outgrow. Nevertheless, Rhaenyra was determined to be mindful of the young girl's feelings. "

 

Ao issi gevie," You are beautiful.

“Nyke jāhor umbagon syt ao.” I will wait for you.

“Avy jorrāelan.” I love you.

“Jurnegon issa.” look at me.

"Nyke va moriot jāhor” i always will.

"Issa jorrāelagon." my love

Chapter 8: this was in the drafts

Summary:

I found this in my drafts. I figured I'd post it. It clearly hasn't been beta'd. I guess I'll keep the story up for now.

Rhaenyra settled into a plush armchair, its soft fabric offering comforting as she sat before the warm glow of the crackling fireplace. The flames flickered and danced, casting shadows around the room and painting the walls in hues of amber and crimson.

She lifted her goblet and took a measured sip of the rich summerwine. Its velvety texture coated her mouth, a delightful sweetness entwined with deep, fruity undertones.

As she watched the fire, her thoughts began to wander back over the day’s events. The significance of her betrothal lingered in her mind, a warm glow that matched the fire’s light. She was destined to unite with Laena, the woman who held her heart—a beautiful privilege in a world where most alliances were forged through cold political strategies and the relentless pursuit of power.

Rhaenyra felt a swell of gratitude within her; unlike so many highborn women, she was not merely a pawn in a game dictated by family ambitions. This union was a true convergence of love and strategy that stood to fortify both House Targaryen and House Velaryon. She felt an undeniable thrill at the thought of their shared future, knowing that her choice was as personal as it was advantageous, setting her apart in a world rife with obligation and sacrifice.

 

A pensive look shaded her features as her brows furrowed, deep in thought. Memories of Alicent flooded her mind, particularly the younger girl's earnest plea to the Mother, asking for her feelings to be returned. Alicent's heartfelt words resonated in her ears, echoing Rhaenyra's own instinct to tread carefully with the younger girl’s tender emotions.

She suspected this infatuation was merely a fleeting fancy, borne out of proximity and shared moments. After all, Alicent was drawn to Rhaenyra not only for her warmth but also because, being closer in age, they had forged a bond intertwined with countless hours spent together.

Rhaenyra reflected on that moment in the sept, remembering Alicent’s big brown eyes locked onto hers. The adoration in Alicent's gaze became suddenly clear to Rhaenyra, along with the misguided feelings behind it. She began to wonder if she had inadvertently encouraged those feelings.

As she reminisced about the first time she met Alicent, she recalled the girl, just eight summers old at the time—shy and barely able to meet her gaze. Rhaenyra tried to put herself in Alicent’s shoes. She thought back to a time when she had feelings for someone other than Laena—a fleeting crush on one of Queen Aemma’s handmaidens when Rhaenyra was just ten summers old. This handmaiden had shown her kindness, and perhaps she sensed Rhaenyra's feelings, though she never acknowledged them. The handmaiden was always kind and attentive, and Rhaenyra wanted to extend that same warmth and support to Alicent.

Rhaenyra thought back on her moments with Alicent, which she had previously seen as innocent. Now, she reevaluated these memories, considering them through the lens of the knowledge that Alicent harbored a misguided crush on her.

She recalled the first time she met Alicent again. The younger girl’s face was round with baby fat, and her dark brown eyes were shy. Her demeanor was hesitant, as if she were almost afraid to look at Rhaenyra. Was that the beginning of it?

 

111 AC
(Rhaenyra aged 13, Alicent aged 8)

 

Rhaenyra clutched the rough wooden sword with a grip that reflected her unwavering resolve, her knuckles white against the dark grain of the hilt. Her doublet clung to her body, drenched in sweat. Each breath she took came in heavy gasps with a rhythm that mirrored the pounding of her heart.

The intensity of her lilac eyes filled with a fierce and unyielding determination that burned brightly within her. As she engaged in her training, she could feel the invigorating pulse of her heritage coursing through her—the fiery blood of the dragon surged in her veins, igniting a visceral thrill that she had come to cherish.

Each swing of the sword was a testament to her strength, her muscles straining under the effort. The adrenaline rush heightened her senses, infusing her with a euphoric rush that reminded her of soaring through the clouds on the back of Syrax.

With every movement, the world around her faded, leaving only the exhilarating sensation of power and freedom—an intoxicating escape that drove her to push harder and become more than she already was.

She enjoyed the thrill of sparring with Ser Criston, whose fierce determination always pushed her to her limits and spurred her growth as a fighter. Having only begun her sword training after presenting as an alpha, she had a significant journey ahead to match the skills of her peers.

Each training session was marked by a tenacity that mirrored her unwavering commitment to improve. Ser Criston, with his keen eye for technique, was more than willing to guide her.

She could faintly hear her father's voice cutting through the clamor of the training yard, offering words of encouragement for the first time he had come to watch her. His presence filled her with a mixture of pride and determination, fueling her efforts as she fought to honor both her own aspirations and House of Targaryen.

Rhaenyra deftly sidestepped the sweeping arc of Ser Criston's wooden sword, feeling the rush of air as it narrowly missed her. A sense of urgency propelled her forward; she knew that her sworn protector, larger and more muscular than she, possessed years of experience that she could only dream of.

Yet, Rhaenyra had something else on her side—her agility and keen reflexes. Each time Ser Criston lunged, she pivoted gracefully, using her speed to stay just out of reach of his powerful strikes.

Rhaenyra focused on wearing him down. She darted around the training yard, her heart pounding with adrenaline and determination. Every sidestep and feint was calculated; she couldn’t afford to show any signs of weakness or fear, especially not in front of her father, the king.

She was acutely aware of his watchful gaze, which added extra weight to her every move. This was not merely a bout of training—it was her chance to demonstrate her worthiness as his heir.

With each passing moment, Rhaenyra's resolve solidified. She wasn’t just fighting a battle of skill; she was battling the expectations laid upon her shoulders.

Tiring out Ser Criston proved more challenging than she'd anticipated, and each clash of wood echoed the urgency of her goals.

She yearned for an opening, a moment where she could capitalize on his fatigue and attempt to unbalance him, aiming to knock him onto his back and claim a symbolic victory.

The intensity of the training compounded her determination. This was a moment meant for proving her strength and indomitable spirit, a declaration that she could stand her ground.

Rhaenyra’s pride surged as she pushed herself harder, refusing to surrender, as the thought of losing in front of her father was simply not an option. She could feel the weight of his expectations—and in that weight, she found the fire to persist, fighting not just for herself, but for her place in the realm.

For a fleeting moment, a dark glint flickered in Rhaenyra's eyes, revealing a depth of intensity. Fueling a relentless drive that overshadowed all else. To her, winning was not merely an aspiration; it was the singular force that dictated her every move.

She fiercely brandished the end of the wooden sword, driving it forward with excessive force. She gripped the sword tightly, channeling every ounce of strength she had. With determination in her eyes, as her sword made contact with Criston's stomach. Her eyes gleamed with intensity.

Criston gritted his teeth, the muscles in his jaw tense. His knuckles turned white as he gripped the hilt of his sword with an intensity that suggested he was on the verge of shattering it.

Rhaenyra could see the veins in his hands bulging. It felt as though the very air around them crackled with tension, mirroring the storm brewing within Criston.

The irritation flickering in Criston's eyes was unmistakable, a violent storm brewing just beneath the surface of his calm demeanor. His normally steady voice became clipped, each word tinged with a simmering frustration. "Princess, this isn’t a tourney," he snapped, his tone sharp as a blade cutting through tension. The gravity of his words hung heavily in the air between them. He stood rigid, the weight of responsibility etched into the lines of his face, as he attempted to convey the importance of his words.

Rhaenyra, her spirit undeterred, couldn't help but smirk, the corners of her lips quirking up with playful defiance. "Oh, I’m terribly sorry, Ser," she replied with a faux sincerity that only fueled his irritation further.

As the tension in the air thickened, Criston's muscles coiled tightly. He grasped the hilt with a fierce grip. With a fierce determination, he began to swing the sword in wide arcs, his movements becoming increasingly erratic. Each swing was executed with boldness, to assert the older alpha's dominance.

Rhaenyra, however, moved gracefully around him, her footwork light and nimble as she evaded his powerful strikes. Each movement was not only fluid but also purposeful, showcasing her training and experience with the sword. As he launched fierce counterattacks, she stood her ground, skillfully parrying his sword with her own, the wooden weapons meeting with a dull thud that echoed through the training yard. Each trying to outmaneuver the other in a display of precision and agility that spoke of both skill and determination.

As she circled around her sworn protector, a predator on the hunt. Her movements were fluid and agile. There was an air of confidence in her demeanor, a playful energy that contrasted with the tension.

Criston’s sword sliced through the air with ferocity, each movement a blur. His once precise and calculated swings continued to devolve into a chaotic flurry. The erratic nature of his strikes revealed the rising tide of frustration within him, each misstep and wild arc of his sword a testament to his growing desperation as he grappled with both Rhaenyra.

Rhaenyra saw Ser Criston's control wane, she sensed a surge of confidence welling up inside her. Each narrow escape from his strikes only fueled her determination, amplifying her chances of emerging victorious. With every deft movement, she could feel the exhilaration of the challenge coursing through her veins, igniting a fire within her spirit.

The heat seemed to envelop Criston. Sweat cascaded down Criston's flushed face, each droplet glistening in the sunlight as it carved its way through the dirt and of his skin. His breath came in deep, ragged gasps.

Rhaenyra noticed her opportunity and, with a swift, decisive motion, struck the back of Criston's leg with considerable force. He crashed to the ground with a resounding thud. His teeth clenched hard, suppressing a groan that threatened to escape his lips.

As she stepped closer, a victorious glint sparkled in her eyes. A mischievous smirk tugging at the corners of her lips, she gently pressed the tip of the sword against his throat. "Yield," she declared firmly.

He slowly raised his hands in a gesture of surrender. With a deep sigh, he looked up at Rhaenyra before him, a mix of admiration and frustration in his eyes. "I yield, Princess," Criston spoke, the words escaping his lips begrudgingly, as though each syllable was a struggle against his pride. The reality of his concession sank in.

The sounds of enthusiastic applause echoed throughout the training yard, a chorus of claps and cheers that enveloped her like a warm embrace. Her father’s voice stood out, loud and clear, as he cheered for her with unrestrained joy. A profound sense of pride swelled within her chest, filling her with a rush of accomplishment and elation. With a confident smile, she left Criston behind, her heart racing as she stepped forward to stand before her father.

Viserys, raised his goblet high. He took a long, deliberate sip of the rich, summerwine. A satisfied grin spread across his face as he set the goblet down. “Quite the show, child,” he proclaimed, his voice booming with approval.

A radiant grin blossomed across Rhaenyra's face, her eyes sparkling with joy and pride as the corners of her lips curled upwards.

"Impressive, princess," Otto declared, his voice smooth yet laced with a thin veneer of insincerity. Rhaenyra's keen instincts picked up on the façade; his words, while superficially complimenting, lacked any true warmth or admiration. She could see through the tight-lipped smile he wore—a forced expression that resembled a sneer more than genuine approval. It was a gesture that belied the contempt simmering just beneath the surface.

Meanwhile, her father sat nearby, blissfully unaware of the subtle but palpable tension hanging in the air between Rhaenyra and his Hand.

Beneath her composed facade, thoughts swirled like dark clouds as she contemplated her future; one day, she would rightfully ascend to the Iron Throne, claiming the power that was hers by birthright.

When that moment arrived, her first decree would be a sweeping gesture of defiance—she would strip Otto of his title, diminishing his influence and eradicating the long shadow he cast over the House of Targaryen. The very thought of it filled her with a sense of purpose, fueling her resolve. She turned her gaze away from him, refusing to let his presence consume her thoughts any longer. Her path was clear.

Beside Otto, Alicent appeared small and delicate, as if she wished to fade into the background. Rhaenyra, ever perceptive, sensed the oppressive silence that enveloped the younger girl, a tangible force manifesting in the tension of her posture and the way she nervously tugged at the hem of her dress. In a fleeting moment of light-heartedness, Rhaenyra lowered herself into a slight bow, she aimed to draw a smile from the depths of Alicent’s anxious gaze.

With gentle care, Rhaenyra reached out and took Alicent's hand in hers, feeling the dampness of her sweaty hand and the subtle tremor that ran through her fingers. She noticed the raw edges of Alicent's picked cuticles. A wave of empathy washed over Rhaenyra; she felt an instinctual desire to comfort Alicent.

Leaning closer, Rhaenyra pressed her lips gently to the back of Alicent’s hand, holding her gaze with a sincere warmth. "Hello, my lady," she greeted, her voice light and inviting. Rhaenyra hoped that her warmth might transcend the palpable anxiety that hung in the air, if only for a moment. Alicent's laughter echoed through the air, delicate and sweet.

Otto's grip on Alicent's shoulder tightened like a vice, silencing her laughter and extinguishing the flicker of happiness that had just ignited in the girl's eyes.

Rhaenyra stifled the words that bubbled up within her. Instead, she leaned forward, trying to bridge the gap between them, and called gently, “What’s your name, sweetling?” Her voice was soft, almost a whisper, as she crouched slightly to meet Alicent's sad gaze, hoping to evoke even a trace of the joy that had just vanished. Alicent's eyes, once alight with laughter, darted downwards, averting Rhaenyra's gaze.

“This is my daughter, Alicent,” Otto declared, a hint of disappointment flickering in his stoic demeanor. “She will be staying here at the Red Keep,” he continued, his voice steady but lacking the warmth and affection that one would expect from a father introducing his child.

Rhaenyra's heart ached for Alicent. She could sense the shadow of Otto looming over Alicent, a tyrannical figure whose ambitions twisted the very atmosphere around them.

Rhaenyra imagined the moments when the doors were closed, sealing Otto and Alicent away from prying eyes, where Alicent would be left vulnerable, facing the unyielding cruelty of her father.

Rhaenyra cast a fleeting glance at Otto, then focused completely on Alicent. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Lady Alicent,” she said, rising gracefully, as she awaited a reply. Alicent shifted her gaze to the ground, her cheeks tinged with a soft pink.

Not wanting to impose on the moment or burden Alicent further, Rhaenyra made the decision to withdraw. Just as she began to turn away, a voice, soft and barely above a whisper, pierced through the heavy silence.

"You too," Alicent breathed, her words fragile and delicate, like a tender bud breaking through the frost.

A bright, genuine smile spread across Rhaenyra's face. The joy in her expression illuminated the space between them, casting aside the shadows of uncertainty. "I look forward to seeing you again," she replied, her tone imbued with a comforting warmth that lingered.

 

Alicent sitting underneath the blood red leaves of the Godswoods became common. Just as common as thick leather tome Alicent carried with her around the Red Keep. Rhaenyra could see the book was special to the young girl. It was in the way she would swipe her hand reverently across the cover, and her hands turning the pages with care.

Rhaenyra would laid in the grass. Her hands behind her back and her eyes closed. Alicent’s voice was soft and soothing as she read about ladies being swept off their feet by brave knights. When Alicent read about great battles, her voice would rise with excitement. Rhaenyra would become excited as well. She felt like a babe forgetting that she was almost a woman grown, and listened to these stories with apt descriptions. The silly tales of of wizards and magic made her laugh.

Rhaenyra’s laughter would echoed through the Godswoods. When Alicent would the story of a silly wizard who would always messed up his spells and cause chaos.

Today, she found Alicent sitting at the Weirwood tree. The young girl clutched the book against her chest. Her eyes are closed tears streamed down her cheeks, and her bottom lip quivered. Rhaenyra stood before her. Alicent didn’t notice her presence. “Sweetling,” Rhaenyra’s voice was concerned. Alicent immediately opened her eyes. Her cheeks flushed with embarrassment. Rhaenyra crouched down in front of her. “What troubles you?” she whispered. Rhaenyra instinctively reached out, slipped her hands onto the sides of alicent’s face and gently used her thumbs to wipes the tears from Alicent’s cheeks abnd underneath her eyes.

“I’m sorry,” Alicent shakily responded.

“You have nothing to apologize for,” Rhaenyra softly smiled. Alicent looked at her with those big brown eyes, glassy with treats. Rhaenyra felt a pang of sympathy for the child. “Has something happened?” She sat before Alicent.

Alicent gazed down. “I miss her so much.” She shakily whispered. “My mother,”

Those words resonated with Rhaenyra, having lost her own mother to the birthing bed. The memory of that day is still fresh within her mind. Rhaenyra was thirteen summers, when Queen Aemma Targaryen took her last breath because her father wanted a male heir at the council of his hand Otto Hightower. Now, Rhaenyra was four and ten. It still felt like it had only happened yesterday, that Elinda told her Aemma passed. Rhaenyra had collapsed into her arms and sobbed like a babe. Then she wiped those tears. She had to be strong. Alphas didn’t cry. Still, in the solitude of her room, when she stared at the portrait of her with her mother above her fire place, Rhaenyra allowed the tears to fall and sobbed at the most profound loss of her young life. She could feel the threat of tears and her throat became choked up. However, she couldn’t cry. She took a steadying breath. “I understand, Ali.” The nickname flowed naturally from her. The first time she had referred to Alicent in that way. “I miss my own mother as well.”

Alicent looked up. There was the realization that she wasn’t alone. “She was sick for a long time. She’d taken to her bed, and she never left it. This is the only thing left of hers that I have,” Alicent’s grip on the book was impossibly tight, as if she’d loosened her grip the book would disappear. “She would read to me from this book. It’s my favorite. When she could no longer read it. I would read it to her, sit at her bedside for several candle marks.” She cried and shook.

Rhaenyra rose to her knees. Her arms outstretched to embrace Alicent. The younger girl immediately went to her, and dropped the book in the grass. Her small arms wrapped around Rhaenyra’s neck. She sobbed against her shoulder. Rhaenyra gently held her, and rubbed her back. She could sense the tears welling up in her own eyes. “We’ll be alright.” She wouldn’t cry in front of Alicent. She kept the tears at bay. Alicent’s arms tightened around her neck. Her cries turned into body shaking sobs. “I want her to come back. I want things to be the way they were.” She pleaded. Rhaenyra wanted the same for Alicent as well as herself. She’d willingly give up her birthright to have her mother back.

“You would?” Alicent pulled back.

Rhaenyra didn’t mean to say that outloud. She didn’t notice the tears until Alicent wiped the tears from Rhaenyra’s cheeks. Followed by Rhaenyra’s watery laugh. “I would.” Rhaenyra stood. “Enough crying for today.” She sniffled at her eyes. “Let's go to the kitchen for lemon cakes, that always makes me feel better. She held out her hand. Alicent eagerly accepted the invitation. Her fingers intertwined with Rhaenyra’s.