Chapter Text
History is often written by the victors. That is an unfortunate fact Alyssa had to learn from a young age. People remembered her father, King Viserys I, rather fondly. In their eyes he was a good, just king who wanted his reign to be peaceful and prosperous. People barely remembered her mother, Queen Aemma, and if they did, she was described as a tragic figure who tried her best to do her duty by her husband, to give him a male heir. Alyssa’s older twin sister Rhaenyra would go down in history as a cruel, mad woman when she was everything but. Well, not in her late years, her madness was pretty much real by then.
Rhaenyra and Alyssa grew up together and loved each other dearly. At least that’s what Alyssa thought. She knew her sister blackmailed their father into allowing Alyssa to marry for love, not that Alyssa ever did. If anyone from her family ever asked her, she would simply tell them that no one captured her heart. If she was honest with herself, in the cold nights she spent laying alone in her bed, lonely and dejected, she fell in love with a man that did not return her affections. For all their similarity in looks, Rhaenyra and Alyssa were fundamentally different. Rhaenyra was meant for greatness, for the throne. She was the realm’s delight with her beautiful blue eyes and silver locks. Men adored her, the common folk worshipped her. Alyssa, with her purple eyes and quiet personality, was used to existing in her sister’s shadow. She was content in doing so, for the throne never tempted her.
No, there was something else of her sister’s that Alyssa wanted, almost desperately. Daemon’s undivided affection and loyalty. Not that she would ever admit as much. To do so would mean breaking her sister’s heart and Alyssa couldn’t bring herself to do that, not when Rhaenyra was the reason she never had to suffer a loveless marriage to one of the numerous pompous lords of their father’s court. So Alyssa kept her mouth shut, smiled and did everything she could to help her twin. Rhaenyra wanted to sneak around with Ser Harwin? Alyssa helped them cover their affair as best as possible. Alicent was being cruel to her sister? Alyssa mediated to the best of her abilities. Rhaenyra wanted to run off to Dragonstone and marry uncle Daemon after faking her current husband’s death? Alyssa prepared her sister’s wedding gown and dutifully got her nephews and cousins dressed appropriately for the wedding. Rhaenyra’s throne was usurped? Alyssa stood by her sister’s side and when needed rode her dragon, Vermithor, into battle.
Then Daemon died and Alyssa’s heart died with him. He had never been hers, but she had always been his. Perhaps she could have been a better sister, she could have tried to contain Rhaenyra’s madness and talk her through her grief, but once Daemon was no longer breathing, Alyssa lost interest in being anything but a convenient weapon for her twin. Maybe the world did deserve to burn, yet no matter how many Green supporters she killed, nothing could fill the void in her chest her uncle's death left in its wake. By the time Aegon had both her and Rhaenyra in his clutches, Alyssa was more a shell of a human being than an actual person.
The sisters walked together to their deaths, leaving the world the same way they entered it - one right after the other. Her deformed half-brother had them standing before his dragon, Sunfyre, surrounded by Green loyalists, Daemon’s babies screaming and crying for Rhaenyra. Alyssa couldn’t bring herself to look at them, to see the last traces of the man she loved and lost. Instead she stepped forward, placing herself firmly between her sister and her brother’s dragon. She didn’t flinch when one of the soldiers used her late father’s dagger to cut the straps of her armour. She didn’t flinch or make a sound when the same blade was used to carve her eyes out, the only parts of her that she didn’t share with Rhaenyra, the only parts that distinguished her from her twin. The kids kept screaming. Rhaenyra was silent. Aegon laughed. Alyssa felt nothing, not even fear. Perhaps she never was a good Dragon, a proper Targaryen, but she wouldn’t cower in her final moments. Daemon didn’t. She turned her blood covered face to where she assumed her sister was standing and smiled. “Fire and blood.” Her voice was strong and clear. She didn’t see the fire as much as felt it caress her skin. Rhaenyra might have been the first to enter this world, but Alyssa was the first one to leave it, her final act as a dutiful sister who did her best to spend her life supporting her twin and protecting her Queen.
Free from duty, free from her loneliness, free from her heartbreak. Alyssa knew she would never be remembered by history as someone remarkable. In the end, the only traces of herself she left for the world were her ashes, dancing in the wind and gently embracing her older twin in Rhaenyra's final moments.