Chapter Text
The corridors of the Red Keep buzzed with whispered gossip, maids scurrying with trays, guards shifting uneasily, and servants casting furtive glances as Rhaenyra’s heels clattered against the stone. Servants froze mid-step, and even Ser Criston Cole, posted at the far end, straightened as Princess Rhaenyra stormed forward, her silver-gold braid glinting like a drawn blade.
At the center of the hall, Alicent lingered, a delicate figure draped in green, her hands folded nervously before her. She had not expected the Princess to find her so quickly.
“Your Grace,” Alicent began, her voice tentative, “I”
Rhaenyra cut her off with a laugh that was all sharp edges. “Your Grace? Do you dare call yourself that in my presence, while you traipse through grief like a cat over a corpse?” She stepped closer, letting the maids, servants, and even Cole, the silent guard at the end of the hall, see her fury. Every eye in the hall turned. “Did you think no one would notice? That no one would see what you were doing behind closed doors?”
Alicent’s lips trembled. “I only went to… to comfort the king in his grief. I did not..”
“Comfort the king?” Rhaenyra’s laugh was a whip-crack. “Are you that stupid, Alicent, that you did not realize what meeting a widower, unchaperoned, in the dead of night would lead to?” She paused, letting the accusation sink in. “It has not even been a few moons since my mother died, and already you trample on her memory. My mother, the woman who cared for you as if you were her own daughter, who took you in when you were a motherless child, who trusted you, who loved you. She loved him, Alicent and you… you could not wait even a few moons before snatching him from her grave?”
Alicent’s hands shook, and a tear fell down her cheek. “It was not my choice… it was not my intention. I only wished to comfort him. That is all.”
Rhaenyra’s voice rose, sharp enough to make a guard flinch. “And why, pray, was it your turn to comfort the king? What divine duty compelled you to place your hands on him before mine? I am your princess, your childhood friend, your charge. Was it not your duty to comfort me?”
Alicent could find no words, only the soft, choking sobs that betrayed her helplessness. Around them, servants whispered and stole glances, sensing the scandal. Rhaenyra’s eyes blazed; not just with the grief of loss, but with the cold, deliberate fury of a dragon.
Alicent’s lips trembled. “I only went to comfort the king in his grief. I did not..”
“Comfort the king?” Rhaenyra’s laugh was sharp and humorless. “You; why would you comfort my father. What relation do you have with him to comfort him. If you were so worried for the king, why did you not send your father, the king’s oldest friend to comfort him? Why was it you who went, alone, at night? If you really wanted to comfort someone, why didn't you comfort me? You know your princess and friend who had just lost her mother. As a motherless child yourself, shouldn't you be comforting me at such a time."
" Or is it just middle aged men that you comfort" sneered Rhaenyra.
The servants shifted uneasily. Cole’s hand twitched near his sword hilt but he did not speak.
“You are disgusting, Alicent,” Rhaenyra hissed, stepping closer, her voice rising. “Visiting a man at night, unchaperoned, all while calling yourself pious. Is this what your septa and your Faith has taught you? To trample over my mother’s memory at night while parading your virtue in the day. And you call us targaryens queer and heathen. Even we would never stoop this low."
Alicent’s eyes filled with tears. “I prayed for her soul every day-”
“Yes,” Rhaenyra cut her off, her voice ringing through the corridor. “Taking me to the sept to pray for my mother’s soul, while planning to take her position! Did you have no shame? Visiting a man old enough to be your father at night, a man who is the father of your friend?” She paused, her eyes hard. “Or was i guess! Because you are no longer my friend."
The words struck like a blow. Alicent faltered, her tears spilling freely now. But Rhaenyra did not relent. She took a step back, letting her voice carry so all could hear:
“You have betrayed the woman who showed you kindness when you were a motherless child and the princess you swore loyalty to. Do not mistake your prayers for absolution, Alicent. I see what you do in the shadows. And so does everyone else.Remember this: I see everything. And I will not forget."
Rhaenyra turned sharply, her cloak flaring, and walked away, leaving Alicent trembling, humiliated, and surrounded by silent witnesses. Whispers erupted as soon as the princess vanished down the corridor, like sparks catching dry kindling. In a single, searing moment, Rhaenyra had stripped Alicent of her shield of innocence.
-----
Rhaenyra strode through the corridors of the Red Keep, her cloak swishing around her like a warning. Ser Criston Cole fell into step beside her, careful not to hurry her but unwilling to leave her alone in her storm of thoughts.
“Princess,” he said cautiously, “is it true… did Lady Alicent actually visit the king?”
Rhaenyra scoffed, the sound echoing off the stone walls. “Of course it’s true. She and her father… they sold her to the king to gain the crown.”
Cole blinked, aghast. “Her father… surely you don’t mean the Hand? He is… he is quite a dutiful man.”
Rhaenyra turned sharply, her eyes locking onto his with an intensity that made him swallow. “Tell me, Ser Criston,” she said slowly, deliberately, “if Alicent has been visiting the king for so many days that my father has grown fond enough to marry her… do you think Otto Hightower could have been unaware of his daughter’s whereabouts all this time?”
Cole’s mouth opened but no sound came.
“That leaves only two options,” Rhaenyra continued, her voice low and deadly calm. “Either Otto Hightower is a neglectful father who didn’t know where his own daughter went at night… or he knew, and still allowed it. Both options make him look weak… or complicit. And as you yourself said, Ser Criston, Otto is competent. Surely he knew.” She paused, letting the accusation hang. “They want a crown, and they will stoop to any measure to get it.”
Cole’s eyes widened, but he still spoke with caution. “The crown, my princess…”
Rhaenyra’s lips curved in a wry, bitter smile. “Think of it as a repetition of the previous council. If Alicent bears my father a son, his own blood in the line of succession; of course Otto Hightower will want that boy on the throne. No man refuses his blood; Otto is no exception. And when that day comes, he will do everything to persuade my father to name that child heir.”
Cole staggered slightly, shock written across his face. “Surely the king will see through this, Princess?”
Rhaenyra’s expression hardened, a flicker of sorrow breaking through her sharpness as she pushed open her chambers’ doors. “That’s what we shall see, Ser Criston. Whether my father is clever enough to recognize it and keep me as heir… or foolish enough to replace me with Alicent’s son. Whatever happens, we will see.”
She paused, resting a hand on the carved doorframe. Her voice softened, bitter with memory. “It would not have mattered if it were some other woman. After all, one day my father would have remarried. But her… my childhood companion… my friend since we were children. When she came to King’s Landing, my mother took her in as her own. She showed her so much kindness… care thinking of her as a motherless child. And she tramples over it with such cruelty. That I cannot forgive… ever.”
Cole’s gaze remained solemn, unwavering. “You need not forgive them, Princess. After all, what Lady Alicent did was shameful and cruel. But always remember, I am loyal to you. I will never betray you.”
A faint, pained smile tugged at Rhaenyra’s lips. “Thank you, Ser Criston. I… I wish to rest now.”
Cole bowed his head respectfully and stepped aside, allowing her solitude while keeping watch, knowing that beneath her calm there burned a fire far fiercer than any hall of the Red Keep could contain.
----
Rhaenyra had been reclining on her bed, her braid loosened and eyes closed, when Ser Criston Cole appeared at the doorframe.
“The King requests your presence, Princess,” he said softly.
Rhaenyra scoffed but rose, smoothing her gown. “Of course he does.” With a flick of her wrist, she gestured for Criston to follow. Together they walked down the torchlit corridor toward Viserys’ chambers, her steps purposeful but her face unreadable.
She entered without kneeling. “Your Grace. You asked for me?”
Viserys sat at the edge of his bed, his face drawn with a mixture of confusion and anger. “What is this I am hearing about your… your argument with Alicent?”
Rhaenyra tilted her head. “What did you hear?”
He shifted uncomfortably. “That you broke your friendship with her… and called her disgusting. Or some words to that effect.”
Rhaenyra met his eyes, unflinching. “There was nothing I said that was untrue. I cannot remain friends with someone of such reputation: a maiden who visits a widower at night, unchaperoned. My own reputation would be in shambles if I remained friends with her.”
Viserys’ face flushed with anger. “Watch what you are saying, Rhaenyra.”
“Why?” she shot back, her voice steady but biting. “Did I lie? Otto and Alicent sold her to you for the crown. Is that a lie?”
“That is a vile accusation,” Viserys sputtered.
“Then tell me, Father,” Rhaenyra said, stepping closer, her tone low but sharp. “Is Otto so neglectful of a father that he did not know his daughter was visiting a man at night for days on end? Or did he know, and still let her come?”
Viserys opened his mouth, but no sound came.
“Tell me, Father,” she pressed, “you are old enough to be Alicent’s father. You are the friend of her father. Why would a girl visit a man old enough to be her father to comfort him at night? And why would a father allow that?”
Viserys tried to rally. “ Watch your mouth, you sound like Daemon...”
She cut him off. “If it were me instead of Alicent, would you have allowed me to visit Otto at night to ‘comfort’ him after his wife died? Tell me.”
Viserys blurted without thinking, “Of course not!”
Rhaenyra chuckled bitterly. “Then why do you think Otto allowed Alicent to visit you? Let’s face it, Father...” she spread her hands in a gesture almost mocking, “you are no handsome knight from a girl’s dream. Why would a girl scarcely a year older than me would want to marry you, if not for the crown she would gain? I would never be interested in someone like Otto unless there were some other benefit. It is the same for Alicent. She is only interested in you because you are the King.”
“That is not...” Viserys stammered.
“Then say it, Father,” Rhaenyra cut in, her voice rising. “Say that it’s not true. Say that Alicent has long loved you and that is why she crept to you at night. Tell me if that’s what you believe.”
Viserys’ lips moved but no words came.
“Did you know, Father,” she continued, her voice dropping into something almost mournful, “that when Alicent came here after her mother’s death, Muna took her in like her own child? Showed her kindness, love, and care. And what did she give her in return? Snatched her husband while her ashes had not yet cooled.”
Viserys stared at her, stricken. “She only wished to comfort me… to provide companionship.”
Rhaenyra scoffed outright. “You are not even seeing how you were played, Father. If it was only companionship, then why did Otto not come to you? He is your oldest and dearest friend, is he not? Why did he not comfort you, provide friendship to you in your time of need? Alicent, on the other hand, was my friend. She knows the pain of losing a mother; why did she not comfort me in my grief?”
She stepped back, her eyes like polished steel. “Tell me, Father. And if you cannot, then do not question me for speaking cruelly to a woman who had no problem doing something so cruel to a dead woman.”
Viserys opened his mouth, but Rhaenyra raised her hand, silencing him.
“I am taking my mother’s chambers and her jewelry,” she declared. “I will die before letting a woman who treated my mother so cruelly sleep in her bed or wear her things. And I am getting new ladies-in-waiting. Ones who will not sleep with my father to get a crown.”
She turned, her skirts swishing like a blade’s arc, and walked out before Viserys could muster a response. Behind her, Ser Criston Cole followed, silent but watching her with something between awe and respect, while the King sat stunned and wordless, her words ringing in his ears.
------
The door slammed shut behind Rhaenyra, her words still echoing in the chamber like a dragon’s roar. For a long moment, Viserys sat frozen at the edge of his bed, his hands gripping his knees so tightly his knuckles went white.
“She…” he murmured to himself, barely audible. “She speaks like Daemon now.”
The fire crackled in the hearth, but its warmth did nothing to ease the chill creeping up his spine. His daughter’s words replayed in his head like hammer blows. Otto and Alicent sold her to you for the crown. He squeezed his eyes shut. “No. No, that’s not true.”
But even as he said it, the words rang hollow.
He rose, pacing, one hand rubbing at his temple. “Otto is my friend. My most loyal friend. He would never, he couldn’t…” He stopped mid-step, Rhaenyra’s voice whispering in his ear: Tell me, Father, is Otto that neglectful of a father that he didn’t know his daughter’s whereabouts? Or did he know and still let her visit you?
Viserys’ heart thudded painfully. Did I actually… was I actually played?
“No,” he muttered again, louder this time. “He has served me faithfully for years. He counseled me through my darkest days. He… he is loyal.”
But his mind refused to obey. Memory after memory flashed before him; Alicent slipping quietly into his chambers, Otto’s measured words about his need for comfort and heirs, the way Alicent’s presence always seemed to coincide with his worst moments of grief.
“If it was only companionship…” Rhaenyra’s voice echoed in his skull. Why did Otto not come to you? He is your oldest and dearest friend, is he not?
Viserys gripped the mantel of the fireplace, his nails biting into the carved stone. “I didn’t know… did I?” he whispered, his voice breaking. “Did I know? Or did I choose not to know?”
A laugh rang in his head: sharp, mocking, distinctly familiar. Daemon’s laugh. He could almost hear his brother’s voice: You fool, Viserys. Played like a harp by your Hand. By a girl half your age. And you call yourself king.
“Stop,” Viserys hissed aloud, shaking his head as if to scatter the thought. “Otto is loyal. Alicent is kind. She only wanted to help.” But even as he spoke, doubt coiled tighter around his heart.
Was Rhaenyra telling the truth?
He remembered the night Alicent first came to him, her gentle hands, her soft voice speaking of his grief. He had not questioned it. Why had he not questioned it? Why did he not asked about her comforting him, when she should have been with his daughter?
Viserys sank into his chair, his hands trembling. “If… if she is right…” He swallowed hard. “Then what have I done?”
The Daemon-voice inside him laughed again, cruel and triumphant. You’ve made a fool of yourself, brother. And you’ve handed your daughter’s birthright to the vipers yourself.
Viserys pressed his palms over his eyes, blocking out the flickering firelight, the chamber, everything. “No. No…”
But the voice of his daughter, and the voice of his brother, would not leave him.