Chapter Text
In two short years, the shape of power in the Red Keep had shifted so thoroughly that even the most inattentive lords could feel it. The crown Princess Rhaenyra was now the unofficial highest authority with her allies gaining more influence.
Maester Vaegon had returned to Oldtown temporarily to officially be named an Arch Maester, an honor that should have kept him in Oldtown’s grey halls. Instead, he returned to court with authority and it was not quiet or subtle. Without any discussion he had taken the place of Maester representative on the small council. He had eclipsed Grand Maester Mellos entirely.
Mellos still attended meetings. He now simply stood behind Vaegon’s chair like a scolded child and not a man who served in the capital for years. Then news spread that Mellos was forbidden from treating the princess or any member of her household. It was as public as it was deliberate separation of the crown princess’ and King's households.
In an even more surprising turn of events, the eldest Targaryen, had cast aside her vows to the Faith and reclaimed her name and rank. No longer Septa Rhaella, she was once more as Princess Rhaella Targaryen, head of the newly christened Dragon Charities.
The renamed Queen Alysanne’s charities were now an official institution of the crown. It would be run by future Princesses and maintained by royal ladies in waiting. A position made to maintain the image of the crown and manage the smallfolk of Westeros. It was a huge success for Princess Rhaenyra as she was the driving force behind making the Dragon charities official.
Now the head of the Dragon charities would have a chair on the small council to bring reports and speak with lords on issues of the realm regarding the smallfolk and their work. This was the first seat on the small council that would be exclusively for royal women in perpetuity.
Plans were underway to work with every Kingdom to raise food and learning houses along with orphanages. Institutions not run by the whim of the Sevens servants but by the nobles who ruled the lands. Soon noble Ladies across the realm would have places at their Lord husbands tables and a voice in running their home regions.
Ladies were overjoyed knowing they and their daughters would have true power not solely bestowed to them by their fathers and husbands.
The Lords were happy knowing they would not have to deal with the faith's demands to donate to their charities. Many knew most of their coin went to extravagances while the septons and septa’s who actually provided charity were left with scraps. At least they knew the Dragon Charities worked and produced law abiding and tax paying smallfolk.
More coin in their coffers was the best motivation for accepting this change.
While many supported the charity, the Faith did not approve. They were furious after losing many political battles against the crown princess they would not lose another.
Petitions arrived bearing the seals of the Faith of the Seven, demanding the elder Princess return and obey her vows. They declared themselves the Light of Westeros. Ser Otto, still a resident of the Red Keep as steward to his daughter’s household. He personally brought the matter before the King.
The response from the small council was swift and unified.
Lord Strong noted calmly that many septons and septas had left the order after long years of service without punishment; no law bound them beyond their own vows.
Ser Westerling called the Faith “unshrivelous cowards” for attempting to command a Princess royal blood and an old woman.
Lord Velaryon had been furious, speaking with an anger not heard from him in many moons. He yelled that the Seven were not the only gods worshiped in the realm and that presumption of spiritual supremacy was outrageous.
Prince Daemon suggested burning the petitions and sending the High Septon the ashes.
Thankfully, it was the Crown Princess who spoke most forcefully. She declared that the Faith had forgotten itself, that it was beneath the authority of the Iron Throne, not above it. For them to presume they could command a Princess of Westeros was an insult of the highest order.
The King, after private meetings with his council and family, finally rejected the petitions outright. Much to the displeasure of Ser Otto and Royal Lady Alicent who had both gone to the King and beseeched him to see the light and adhere to the will of the seven.
The Lady Hand had the honor of sending the ravens.
As for Princess Rhaenys, the title of Hand had never been more suited to someone.
When she was first named, murmurs spread like smoke. Some expected Lord Celtigar to resume the post. Yet the older Lord himself gave his support for her appointment. His endorsement quieted some dissenters before they could gather force.
Princess Rhaenys proved formidable and then exceptional compared to the last hand.
Ser Otto had served two Kings and used his position to further his own ambitions. He had woven his influence like a spider’s web, favoring the Reach, advancing the Faiths agenda, and rejecting pleas for help if they did not benefit him.
Kingdoms had suffered greatly while he had the King's ear and trust. Princess Rhaenys unraveled the chaos and manipulation he left after being removed from his position with great difficulty. She did not use her newfound position to manipulate the realm or favor her husband's ambitions. She served the realm and helped prepare its future Queen to rule.
Lords found themselves heard regardless of their alliances or beliefs. Disputes were judged without favoritism. When matters grew dire, she did not wait for supplicants to crawl to King’s Landing. She mounted her red dragon and flew to them to resolve the matters herself.
The sight of the Lady Hand descending from the sky to settle grievances became legend in its own right. For many of her visits to different regions, crown Princess Rhaenyra accompanied her. Right by her aunt's side upon her golden dragon. Learning how to settle disputes and handle the affairs of the realm from the woman who was raised to be Queen her entire childhood before her disinheritance.
Some began to wonder, quietly, in solars and taverns alike, what the realm might have been like had she remained heir after her father’s death. Would it have been better? Would the realm have accepted her if the old King supported his granddaughter?
In private chambers and behind closed doors, a new title began to circulate.
Not the Queen Who Never Was.
But the Queen Who Could Have Been.
The one thing they all agreed on was this. They thanked the gods that the Crown Princess and future Queen was learning from someone capable instead of the incompetent man who sat on the throne.
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Rhaenyra had watched with amusement as Otto and his faction scrambled desperately to get their pawn with child. After Alicent became the king’s wife, more than a year passed without her becoming pregnant. Not with our lack of trying. The King's new wife was in Viserys’s bedchambers near every night. Everyone knew she was attempting to solidify her position by birthing a Prince.
The court delighted in it.
Her Ladies especially.
They had been furious when they learned the truth, that Otto had used her mother’s mourning to maneuver Alicent into the king’s bed to sway the King into wedding her. That Alicent had agreed to it. Whatever sympathy might have existed vanished quickly.
Cassandra, Maris, Sharra, and Cerilla had been the most openly enraged. Each of them under the thumbs of men who already saw them as nothing more than pawns. Their anger at Alicent was laced with something deeply personal. Rhaneyra had given them safety from their oppressors, Alicent forsaken the opportunity to escape and chosen to follow hers.
The rest were quieter, but no less cutting, their barbed words often delivered sweetly in passing where they could not be directly punished. Her Northren ladies and Ruby were far less subtle, openly defiant whenever Alicent’s household crossed their path.
The pranks had begun small, almost harmless at first. Alicent’s favored silks misplaced or replaced with less flattering colors, her perfumes switched with cheaper blends, her letters delayed or “lost” for days before reappearing.
Lyarra, Ruby, Maege, and Lyra brought their defiance into the training yard, facing the knights and guards of Alicent’s household openly. When the guards tried to interfere, they were met with steel instead of submission. Lyra moved first, smiling as she cleanly disarmed her opponent, Maege following just as easily. Within moments, both men were in the dirt, their weapons gone and their authority with them, while laughter spread through the watching crowd.
Becca and Amera were even quicker to raise steel. After a Redwyne boy in Alicent’s gaurd drunkenly insulted Larys, they stepped forward without a word. In less than four moves each, the man was disarmed. His blade knocked aside before he could react. The humiliation was swift and complete, and the story traveled through the Red Keep by nightfall of his pathetic skills.
Ser Gwayne fared little better. Laena drove him back with relentless force ending the match. His next one against Rhaenyra was finished with a clean disarm that sent him to the ground. She looked down at him, unimpressed, seeing the same hollow pride she remembered.
She leaned closer, her voice low.“It seems as though all Hightowers fall when facing dragons.”
The yard laughed as she straightened, and this time his composure cracked, not into anger, but shame. As she turned away, Rhaenyra could not help but wonder if he knew the truth of his family’s actions. Whether he had been told of Otto’s schemes. If deep down, he understood that his house stood in the wrong.
Even her ladies noble brothers had joined in the quiet war. Under Daemon’s command, the training yards had become a place where Alicent’s household found no favor. Daemon made his expectations clear: honor was not optional, and any man who disrespected women would find no place among those he trained. It was a harsh lesson for some, but one he enforced without hesitation. The result was inevitable. Nearly every knight and guard trained under him came to despise Alicent and Otto, their loyalties shifting firmly toward Rhaenyra.
Laenor, ever dramatic, played his own role with enthusiasm. With his noble squire friends, he spread exaggerated tales of Viserys and Alicent’s missteps throughout the taverns, each retelling more embellished than the last. Laughter followed wherever he went, and with it, whispers.
Together, they turned the Red Keep into a storm of rumors. That the Seven had cursed the marriage, that the gods punished sinful unions, that Viserys and his young bride were paying for their wrongdoings. Some even muttered that the falcons had only been the beginning of divine retribution.
Maegor and Cyrse come again. A barren wife for a Kinslayer.
None suspected the tea that had quickly become the Royal Lady’s favorite blend had anything to do with her condition.
Moon tea was sharp and bitter, fragrant with tansy and mint. Any maester, even the incompetent Mellos, would have recognized it instantly. But this tea was outwardly harmless. It was delicately sweet, honeyed and floral, something Alicent drank daily without hesitation. A harmless comfort in her new life, or so she believed.
Alicent was lucky Rhaenyra would not condemn another woman to miscarriage after miscarriage and dead babes. She had seen what that did to her mother and countless Ladies of the court. She would never force a woman to undergo such suffering, not even someone she despised.
However she would not allow her family's killers to be born.
She would not have to suffer lords praising Aegon, the second of his name, as he was called by his supporters. Nor the court watching her as if counting down the days until an infant half-brother would replace her.
She felt no guilt in preventing those monsters from entering the world. Nothing more than andals with silver hair. The cruel boy who would have been Aegon the Second, the drunken brute and rapist, would never draw breath. Nor would the one-eyed terror who would burn and butcher anything he could to overcome his inadequacy.
The ones who murdered her hatchlings would not even be mourned by their mother for they would never exist.
Alicent would never meet her disgusting sons. Not the one she was disappointed in nor the one she favored. Both who in another life had torn the realm apart. They would remain nothing more than ghosts of a future that would never come.
She smiled through it all as the maesters and Hightowers scrambled to get their pawn with child.
In public, she was polite and distant when all matters concerning her new step-mother came up.
The realm praised her endlessly for that.
How noble the Princess was, not to torment the woman who betrayed her. Instead focusing on her own matters and preparing for Queenhood. How kind, how magnanimous, how regal.
She was not outwardly cruel to Alicent. She did not need to be. They rarely met. Alicent had no power over her and she had no reason to seek out the woman who betrayed her so many times over. Servants were instructed to remain polite but distant. Cold courtesy was far sharper than open hostility.
Best of all, Rhaenyra did not have to lift a finger to ruin her reputation.
The foolish actions of the hypocritical whore had done that. Alicent had stumbled through courtly matters with astonishing incompetence. And this time, no one rushed to defend her as a naive young Queen thrust into ruling. She could not act as an innocent lamb when the whole realm saw her for what she was:
An oath breaking whore. A calculating cunt who had reached far beyond her station without preparation and now suffered for it.
The incident with the tapestries had been particularly foolish.
When only five moons had passed since her wedding and with no rounded belly, Alicent had attempted to remove the ancient Targaryen and Valyrian art throughout the Keep. Trying to replace them with depictions of the Seven, despite being told repeatedly she was only permitted to decorate the King’s wing, his garden, and her own adjoining rooms.
Castilian Ser Anders had tried to stop her gently, speaking to the Lady in private before being forced to report it to the highest ranking Targaryen woman. Rhaenyra herself
That had been a delightful afternoon. She had summoned Alicent to the council room and reprimanded her publicly. Reminding her and the court of how little power she had. It had given her the perfect opportunity to punish the little traitor.
She ordered Alicent to be banned from royal meals for the next two moons and to reread the contract which made her the King’s Lady wife. Since she had clearly forgotten what her position was.
Viserys had nearly reversed her order, nearly, until the Lady Hand intervened. She dismantled Alicent’s reputation even further before half the court and reminded the King that erasing the symbols of House Targaryen’s heritage was not within his wife’s authority. That his heir had been gracious enough not to demand a more severe punishment.
Alicent had stood before the people she wished to control, red-faced while courtiers watched. The King had finally rebuked her, sending his wife to her chambers like a scolded child rather than his spouse.
Even now, Viserys still favored Alicent more than he should. Reputation in tatters or not, she held some strange sway over him. It was pathetic. Seeing a man who claimed he had lost his great love, giving into every whim of the woman he claimed he only married for comfort.
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It had taken many, many moons till she allowed Alicent to become pregnant. It had taken some time but Rhaneyra had finally ensured Alicent carried the one half-sibling she had cared for. She never thought she would be thankful for the maesters' public announcements and knowing when Alicent had slept with Viserys in her past life. But she was now since she had the conception date burned into her memory.
When Alicent conceived, she declared before the court that no other noble lady would suffer as her mother had. She ensured the best midwives were present to care for her fathers wife. She ordered nourishing meals sent daily. Even used the opportunity to place one of their guards in Alicent's service to ‘protect’ her.
Then the day finally arrived. The babe was not the son she and her allies had prayed for. It was a daughter. Her sweet sister Helaena.
Rhaenyra had waited in solar by the birthing chambers the entire night as Alicent labored to bring her sister into this world, ignoring the curious glances of other Ladies present.
She had been the only Targaryen to wait the entire time. Viserys had decided to work on his model while Vaegon and Rhaenys were left to inform the court of his wife’s labours. Her Kepus had waited with her, until he had to leave for his morning duties and Rhaella was in the birthing room with some of the dragonseeds to watch the maesters. And when the cries of a healthy babe echoed through the corridor, she felt something inside her heart heal.
This time, she was the first to hold her little sister. The only one of her half siblings she had been able to bond with. Allowed to get close to before she had been barred from the nursery by Alicent. The babe was small and warm in her arms, pale lashes fluttering as if already dreaming. She was beautiful with her pale skin and a touch of silver hair atop her head. Her eyes not yet full of dreams or visions.
Rhaenyra traced a careful finger along her cheek.
“My sister.” She whispered with fondness. She would truly be an elder sister in this life.
She had felt the eyes of those in the room soften upon seeing the Princess hold her new sister with such care and joy. No one, not even Otto and Viserys who had entered the room after the babe was born, could ruin this moment.
This time, Helaena would be raised as a dragon.
Not hidden away with septas who would beat the fire out of her. Not taught shame for the heritage in her veins. This time she would be a true Valyrian woman: strong, fierce, and proud of her blood. A dragon.
Since Alicent was not Queen in this life, she had no authority to bar the Crown Princess from the nursery. No power to stop her from spending time with her sister and no control over a Princess’s education. So Rhaenyra planned to visit nearly every morning while planning her sister's new bright future.
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Otto was furious. It had taken over a year for Alicent to convince!
Reach women had always been fertile, his wife had given him four children who lived before she died and his good sister had bore six so far. After the first moons passed with no sign of pregnancy, he had spent massive amounts of coin on potions to make his daughter conceive. Had Mellos and his assistants treat her everyday. He had strange foods and herbs brought in, learned of which positions helped women get with child and got Alicent to visit the King every night. He had done everything!
The only reason Aemma had difficulty bearing children was due to the poisons they fed her and the maesters convincing Viserys to bed his wife too young and then too often to ruin her womb.
Alicent had no such hurdles to overcome yet she was failing! Now he had to hear from nobles about how he whored out his barren daughter for nothing!
He had Lords mocking him every day, Ladies with cutting insults hidden behind considerate words. His oafish brother hurling insults as though his shrewish daughter would have done any better!
Then blessedly, one faithful morning maids came bearing news they had been waiting for. Alicent had finally missed her moon blood and Mellos confirmed she was pregnant.
Then he held his head high. Had his daughter paraded through the Red Keep, even with her meager household, her rounded belly made courtiers' eyes turn towards her. Finally with something other than barely concealed derision.
He thought their future King would be here soon. That they would finally finish the plan his family enacted generations ago to rid themselves of those heathen dragon ridding tyrants. And unlike Cyrse, Alicent had succeeded. In the past five generations of his family, all women had produced sons first and he thought his daughter would too.
Not even the bratish Princess being praised for being so kind and generous towards Alicent could have ruined this.
Then he entered her birthing chambers and saw the Princess holding what he thought was his grandson. That was when that faithless turn cloak Princess Rhaella went up to Viserys and congratulated him on his new daughter, a godsdamned Princess!
He had used every ounce of strength not to erupt in rage. No wonder Rhaenyra was so happy!
A younger sister could not be used to finally displace her. And her half sister's mother was not even Queen! If it was a boy, not one lord would have cared if grandson were a bastard born if it meant a King! What use was a girl born to Alicent whose reputation was in tatters!
As he took deep breaths to stop his lung from erupting in coughs, he saw Viserys holding Alicent’s hand as she rested in the freshly cleaned birthing bed. Saying he had another beautiful and healthy daughter to dote upon.
That her many prayers had been heard and the gods finally blessed their union with a child.
As King he should be enraged! But of course the man was a fool. He had actually made his daughter heir and treated her if she was truly to be Queen. Even giving in to her ridiculous demands when she was meant to be a mere placeholder for his future son.
Finally, the midwives who Rhaneyra had convinced Viserys to put in charge of the birth, said the new mother and babe needed rest. Ridiculous, maesters were learned men, it was foolish to put a woman in charge for any reason. He watched as the Princess reluctantly placed her sister in Princess Rhaella arms who then gave the babe to Alicent. His daughter held her new daughter awkwardly before a midwife assisted her.
Foolish girl. A woman should know who to hold a babe.
Rhaenyra then spoke. “I will be going to the dragon pit to get a cradle egg for my new little sister.”
Viserys was overjoyed “Thank you my dear! I know you will choose the most splendid egg.” He had his hand on Alicent's shoulder as he spoke. “Is it not this wonderful, my wife! An egg chosen by the youngest dragon rider in history will surely be blessed.”
He watched as Alicent shook not from the exhaustion of birth but fear. He knew his daughter hated those winged beasts.
Throughout her pregnancy she had pleaded with him not to put one of those disgusting eggs near her future babe.
How did he raise such a fool? She had no power and the only way she could get any was if all her children had dragons. Even better if they were cradle hatched.
He immediately crossed the room to sit on the bed before his daughter and squeeze her leg, hard, to stop from spouting out her true feelings.
He turned to the girl not having to force a smile, knowing his granddaughter would receive. “Thank you Princess Rhaenyra, it brings my own daughter such joy to know her babe will receive such an honor.”
He turned back to his daughter who was still covered in a sheen of sweat from her labours and glared at her. She then finally spoke in a shaky voice. “Thank you Princess, it is an honor.”
Rhaenyra had smiled then with joy but he could see a smugness hidden behind it. She simply nodded before completely ignoring them both and facing her father.
“Your Grace since you have not yet given my new sister a name, might I suggest one.”
No! No! No!
He could not let this brat name his granddaughter! For a boy, the name was supposed to be Aegon. The conqueror come again.
Instead, Alicent failed, having a girl first. The name needed to be Alyssane after the good Queen.
Before he could interject Viserys spoke to his daughter with joy. He had been steadily losing control over and access to the King. He had not regretted it more than he did now. Viserys had been desperate to get back into Rhaenyra’s good graces, giving in to near all of her whims.
“Oh my darling daughter of course! Alicent, Otto is this not most wonderful! Rhenayra what name do you have in mind, perhaps Visenya?”
He watched as the girl shook her head slightly. “No your grace. I have come up with a new name for my sweet sister.”
The Princesses’ smile grew and stepped forward toward the bed where he and Alicent sat with his royal granddaughter. As she got close he had to move and stand. Forced out of the way as though he were a lowly servant!
She now stood before her new sister. He was forced to watch and listen as she gently stroked the babes head and looked right at Alicent with her piercing, violet eyes.
“Helaena, after both our mothers. Lady Helen and Queen Aemma.”
He froze and watched in horror as the king's eyes filled with joyful tears.
“My dear. It is perfect.”
He had lost yet again to a mere girl.
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Where had it all gone wrong?
Alicent stared at the painted ceiling above her bedchamber, the candlelight flickering across scenes of the Seven. The Mother’s face seemed colder tonight. The Warrior sterner. Or perhaps that was only her imagination twisting shadows into judgment. She was alone after all the maids had left with Helaena sent to the nursery. Her little babe, a girl.
She had done everything right. Why was she being punished?
She had not dishonored herself before marriage. She had never given her maidenhead to the king in secret, no matter what vile songs the smallfolk sang. She had offered comfort to a grieving widower, as the Seven told her to do through Septons. She had prayed and she had endured.
For that she had been named a whore. An oathbreaker. A traitorous harlot.
She was a King’s wife and yet not Queen! No crown, no throne, nor any power. Just the title of Royal Lady and wife of the King. Even the replacement septon had stumbled through his speech at her wedding, correcting himself before the realm.
Lady Alicent.
Not Queen Alicent.
Her body tensed in anger as she heard the babe scream in the nursemaid's arms. The strain of shifting her tired arms made them sting with pain as her scars made their presence known.
The falcons, she still felt the phantom sting of talons across her arms when she closed her eyes. The screaming. The blood. The humiliation of attending her own wedding feast wrapped in bandages while nobles whispered that the gods had sent judgment.
It had not been the gods.
Her father was certain of that. Daemon and Rhaenyra must have arranged it, though no proof had ever been found. They had both been so cold after the throne room incident, their minimal civility sharp and cutting.
She had once believed Prince Daemon considerate even if cruel. He had allowed Gwayne to serve her new household. She had thought that it was a gesture of goodwill. Instead her brother had been demoted within the gold cloaks, stripped of the ability to advance. And she, the King’s wife, had been given only one Kingsguard and a small number of gaurds, as though she were lesser.
Her wedding, which should have been a triumph, had become a twisted spectacle. Mockery in the streets, awkwardness during the ceremony. Blood on the stairs of the great Sept. An awkward, uncomfortable bedding before a half-drunk crowd that barely touched Viserys for fear of worsening his wounds.
Even now her stomach twisted remembering the herald’s voice announcing the bedding.
She had expected to step into power even if she was denied Queenhood.
Instead she had been given minor duties. A small household with barely any Lords offering their daughters to serve her. After she had attempted to finally have the Sevens depictions adorn these gods forsaken walls, she had been mortified to discover she had less power than the Castilian!
Rhaneyra and Lady Rhaenys had humiliated her for attempting to decorate the Red Keep, before the entire could from their seat on the small council. Two women seated at the council table, in a place meant for men. It felt wrong and disorderly. Women should not rule.
The whispering had grown steadily worse after that. Even more so as each moon passed with her not quickening with child.
Incompetent.
Cursed.
Barren.
Punished by the Seven.
Her father had made matters no easier, insisting she visit the King nightly until she conceived. He had even given half of her mothers dresses to Rhaenyra and did not tell her why. Those were supposed to be hers and now she only had a mere few of her mothers dresses.
She had prayed that Rhaenyra would stop this cruelty, that they might mend what had broken between them. Instead the Princess treated her with frosted courtesy, never cruel enough to draw sympathy, never warm enough to allow comfort.
And Alicent could not punish or command her. She was just a Lady wife with a status lower than her own stepdaughter. A distinction that was in writing and the insult of that burned every day.
Even the girls she had gathered into her household were the scraps of minor noble houses. She only had Bethany as her head lady, Lord Redwynes daughters: Alice and Julia, and four other ladies from houses so minor they were not worth mentioning.
With them she did what proper ladies should be doing and taught only what they needed to attract a husband. Prayer, embroidery, and household management. Nothing like the lessons the Princess had her ladies participate in, unlike her she would not allow her ladies to debase themselves. They would be beacons of piousness compared to the Princess's heathens.
Though in a show of generosity, she allowed her ladies to work in those useless charities now called the Dragon Wings. Alicent had smiled and permitted it with grace. Let her ladies do this charity work and tell all how good a liege lady she is.
She was truly pious and faithful. She endured and would be rewarded. Soon she would have a son, her little Prince and future King. The one she prayed for and all would be well.
And finally, finally, the Seven had answered. After Bryant had recovered and returned to Oldtown he sent multiple ravens saying he prayed for her every day, asking the Seven to bless her with a son.
She was with child, finally. After near two years wed, she was finally doing her duty as a wife. She had walked the halls of the Keep with her head high and hands over her rounded belly.
After that, whispers of her being Cyrse come again and another barren Queen had stopped. The King had even become more attentive, eating with her every evening while she carried his future son. She did not even have to bed him anymore which was a welcome change. Her new babe was blessed by the seven and no one could go against her now.
Rhaenyra had even seen to her care personally. The best midwives attended to her and were the ones who delivered her babe. No risk of Mellos handling the birth alone which she had been terrified of. Even though her duty was to provide heirs, she did not want to be cut open as Aemma almost was. Alicent had almost believed it was reconciliation. That perhaps forgiveness was within reach.
Perhaps she had misjudged the Princess as a wild and cruel woman. After all they had been friends for years.
Then the labor came.
The pain was worse than anything she had ever experienced. Being attacked by the falcons, the time she spent three moons ill, and the swollen feet this damned pregnancy had caused. She had clutched the star symbol on her necklace until her hands bled. Hours passed surrounded by maesters, midwives, and Septa’s giving prayers. It would all be worth it. She would soon have her son, her Prince the future King, and this would be over. The pain had gotten worse, then a midwife told her to give one final push.
And then—
“It is a healthy Princess.”
Not Prince. Princess.
The word had echoed louder than any cry from the wailing newborn.
She held Helaena the moment she was placed upon her chest after she herself had been cleaned. The girl was tiny and warm. Alicent had nearly wept with relief and fierce desperation. Holding the small child awkwardly.
She had seen her husband's disappointment. That flicker in Viserys’s eyes before he masked it with a gentle smile.
“Another beautiful daughter to dote upon.” He had said softly gently holding her shoulder and hand. Giving her undeserved praise.
Another daughter, and no son. No Prince to finally remove Rhaenyra from her underserved position.
Rhenayra had been the only one in the chamber who showed true happiness upon meeting her daughter. She held her new sister until Princess Rhaella had told her the babe needed to be with her, the mother. She finally understood what all the care had been for.
Rhaenyra had not cared about her, only her future sibling. And of course she was happy, a little girl was no threat to her! The Princess had most certainly prayed to her queer fourteen flames to curse her so she had a daughter first, to humiliate her!
She had not even been able to suggest a name for her own child before Rhaneyra had convinced Viserys to name her Helaena. She did love the name as it honored her mother, but that did not matter.
Her first girl was supposed to be named Alyssane! After the only respectable Queen this damned family ever produced. Her father had glared at her with rage while the room celebrated her royal husband officially announcing his new daughter's name.
When they were alone in her birthing chambers, her father’s reaction had not been kind. He dismissed the servants. Sent her newborn babe to the royal nursery. Then he had raged, pacing, overturning chairs, striking tables until his hands bled.
“You must give him a son!” he had hissed viciously. “The next must be a son!”
It was not her fault she could not control if she had a son over a daughter! If women could, only sons would ever be born. As though daughters were failures. As though she was not enough.
Now she lay awake, staring at painted gods on her canopy who offered no answers.
She had done everything asked of her.
And still she stood in Rhaenyra’s shadow. She was not Queen. She was cursed, mocked and could not even wear favorite green gowns without lewd comments following her. Forced to wear black and red gowns most days.
Her fingers curled into the sheets.
This… this humiliation, this uncertainty, this desperate need to prove herself. It all traced back to one person.
Rhaneyra. If Rhaenyra had just listened to her. If Rhaenyra had not turned the court against her. If Rhaenyra had acted like a pious lady instead of a wild girl who worshiped her queer gods. None of this would have happened.
This was Rhaenyra’s fault.