Chapter Text
In my end is my beginning.
Alicent had been eight when the priest at church had said the words, lecturing his parish on how death was not a tragic loss but the way towards Heaven, how Christ would descend on Earth to destroy men and save them, and how the world to come would be born out of the ashes of the sinful world Alicent lived in.
It wasn’t until years later that Alicent read the actual, unadulterated quote in one of Viserys’ books of poetry: In my beginning is my end. In succession / Houses rise and fall… She had been crying that day, and she still vividly remembered that though the priest had gotten the words wrong – as he had many things – it didn’t matter in the end: ends and beginnings were the same.
Her new beginning as Viserys’ wife had turned out to be her end, she had bitterly mused at the time. And now, she thought as Viserys’ coffin passed her by in the church… Now, she didn’t even know which one she was living.
It changed everything, of course, she reflected as she sat even straighter, always devoted, always dutiful. She was alone in the world now. A widow. A single mother. She saw everyone’s gazes on her – saddened, pitiful, condescending, a few admirative of Viserys’ loving wife who even now looked the picture of dignified grief, as she should.
She could read the same question in all their eyes as they came to her one after the other like ants on a business, placing a kiss on the coffin as a last mark of affection and giving her a hug and a few words; an amused interrogation from her brother-in-law Daemon, a commiserating one from cousin Corlys, a sincerely sorrowful one from his son Laenor, a resigned one on her father’s part, a judgment (as usual) in Rhaenys’ gaze. What will happen to her now?
It was the same look she had seen in the mirror that morning.
And then came the woman.
Alicent had never really seen her picture – Viserys jealously kept it to the drawer of his bedside table, as if Alicent’s seeing it would place a smudge upon perfection. Yet, as Alicent’s eyes landed on the woman who came after Laena Velaryon, she knew immediately who she was.
Rhaenyra.
Long, blonde-white hair, a heart-shaped face, indigo eyes, a round and delicate face—She was the most beautiful woman Alicent had ever laid eyes on.
And she was her step-daughter – the daughter she’d never seen, Viserys’ most prized child.
“All my condolences, Mrs. Targaryen,” Rhaenyra said smoothly. She had a voice like chocolate – warm, soothing, deep. Her handshake was firm yet her skin was smooth on Alicent’s. Alicent felt her knees buckle under her – it was too much, meeting the evasive step-daughter like that, on that day, in the church, next to her father’s decaying body.
“Thank you,” was all Alicent could utter. She was at a loss. She knew what she should say – You must be Rhaenyra – she knew what she wanted to ask – Why are you acting like you barely know him? Why haven’t you announced yourself when you arrived? Why didn’t you contact me to organize things? Is the funeral to your liking or did I mess things up and you hate me now?
But she couldn’t manage a word, and in a blink Rhaenyra was gone.
Burying Viserys in the cemetery was a tedious affair, which Alicent attended like a ghost. She wanted to cry helplessly for Viserys and to throw herself on his coffin to scream her fears at him, hoping that maybe now he’d listen; she couldn’t. She wanted to talk to Rhaenyra, to make up for her uncouth behavior, to make sure things were alright; but Rhaenyra was just a blurry shock of white hair among the crowd, and Alicent had the kids to take care of.
As a matter of fact, the ceremony was spent preventing Helaena from going and looking at a species of grasshopper that looked particularly interesting, checking that Aegon didn’t look too bored and wasn’t stuck fast on his phone, and reminding Aemond that he was supposed to look just a tiny bit sad instead of relieved when they lowered the coffin on the ground. Daeron couldn’t stop twitching, and Aegon’s eyes were red-rimmed from too much screentime, but at least those could pass as manifestations of grief. Alicent might have given up on making her kids feel anything for their father, but it didn’t mean she wanted to be scolded by the rest of the family for being a bad mother. Not again and especially not today.
The opportunity arose when they exited the cemetery, after people ushered back to their cars whispering a few noncommittal words of comfort to the distressed widow and the orphaned children.
“Go wait in the car,” she told the children, handing Aemond the keys. “I’ll join you in a few minutes.”
“Can’t we go now?” Aegon yawned, and Helaena shook her head. “Mum has someone important to meet,” she said. As always, she seemed to know more than she should—bright girl.
She kissed them all on the forehead, ignoring Aegon’s horrified face, and pushing the keys into Aemond’s hand. “Please go and wait for me. I’ll be just a few minutes. I really need to talk to someone now, I swear we’ll go home right after that.”
She checked the kids got into the car safely (you never knew, not when Aegon was left to his own devices) before rushing towards Rhaenyra’s rapidly retreating back.
“Excuse me,” Alicent said, catching the other woman by the elbow. “Rhaenyra?”
She turned to Alicent, her face half-curiosity and half-annoyance. Outside, in the light of day, she was even more breath-taking than inside the old, dark building.
“I believe we haven’t been introduced properly,” Alicent said quickly – perhaps too quickly – trying to maintain her composure. “I’m Alicent, Viserys’—”
“—second wife. I know,” Rhaenyra completed. Alicent couldn’t tell if her voice was mocking, or sad, or annoyed. However, she didn’t mean the insistence on the word second.
Well. Maybe that was why Rhaenyra had never come to her and Viserys’ wedding, or to any of her half-siblings’ birthday parties, or to any other occasion ever since Alicent had married into the family. She probably resented her father replacing beloved, wonderful Aemma with such a young, penniless woman as Alicent.
“I believe you’re Rhaenyra,” she said, swallowing back the justifications that wanted to tumble out of her mouth – I swear I didn’t want to replace her, I swear I didn’t manipulate your dad, do not believe what this God-forsaken family might have told you.
“I am,” she answered placidly.
“I’m ever so sorry—You should have sat with us in the front rows—and helped organize everything. I didn’t know how to contact you—”
“It’s fine,” Rhaenyra waved her concerns away. She looked as if she just wanted to walk away, and Alicent wanted to insist, to show her there was something worthy here, they were family, the kids would like an older sister—but Rhaenyra would probably dislike them all the more for it. “I didn’t exactly leave a number or an address behind me. Laenor and Laena told me what I needed to know. I’ve only just arrived in town.”
“Still,” Alicent insisted, “if I had known you were here—”
“I didn’t particularly want to be seen,” Rhaenyra shrugged. She hesitated. “And I’m not in very good terms with the family, or with Dad for that matter. It’s not important. I didn’t come to be noticed.”
The way she said it though – it suggested it was important, that she wanted to be noticed. Yet she had an absent look in her eyes, as if she wasn’t exactly directing any reproach to Alicent. This was most strange, but once again, this was the Targaryen family, and more exactly the explosive and secret feud that had opposed Rhaenyra to Viserys.
“I’m very sorry for your loss,” Alicent said softly, taking Rhaenyra’s hand in hers and pressing softly. Rhaenyra looked surprised and she stared at Alicent as if seeing her for the first time.
“Thanks,” she said, and she smiled for the first time since Alicent had seen her – a small, tentative smile.
“You should come to dinner one of these days,” Alicent suggested. Rhaenyra’s smile had made her bold, and she wanted to know this woman more. Perhaps because she was the shadow that had loomed on her marriage for fifteen long years. Or perhaps because Alicent hadn’t imagined that the shadow would be so intriguing. “You’re family. My children would love to meet you.”
That was a bald-faced lie, or at least a complete invention, because her children had rarely manifested any interest in their unknown half-sister, and truth be told she suspected Helaena didn’t even know she had an older sister. But that was before they had any reason to care, and Aegon had been temporarily obsessed with the evasive Rhaenyra back in the day – he would ask plenty of questions and talk about her constantly and write her unsent letters and make drawings and ask if she never came because like Dad she didn’t love him, until Viserys snapped and commanded him never to mention her again. He had neglected one necessary addition to comfort Aegon, though – telling Aegon he loved him – and Aegon had cried all night long while Alicent held him. Afterwards, Alicent had often wondered if Aegon had warned his siblings never to talk about Rhaenyra and that was why they had never really asked.
Alicent decided not to bring up these memories.
“Would they?” Rhaenyra asked, her tone neutral, as if she herself didn’t know what to think about the proposition. Perhaps she didn’t like to think about her half-siblings either.
“I would,” Alicent said with as much warmth as she could invoke. “I’d love to get to know you better. We’re family.”
Rhaenyra looked contemplative. “Maybe I will, then.”