Chapter Text
Rhaenyra ran her wrist across her sweat-soaked forehead. She was exhausted, and full of thirst but she couldn't even begin to think about giving up. She looked up. Right there, only a few meters ahead of her, in silence, was the woman awaiting for her, and for the future that was theirs.
Maybe not the way all her folks expected, I certainly did not dream it would be that way either, but it was there. And it was hers. And she wouldn’t let anyone take it from her.
With fire and blood, she thought, I'm gonna take what is mine.
Defying her opponents was only a fraction of the things she would have to do to achieve her goals, but it was almost completed. She glanced at Alicent once more before wielding her sword. She looked… worried, and a bit sad. Rhaenyra knows that it was something that would have quite a significant impact in Alicent’s life too. Winning or losing, the way Rhaenyra left that arena would define Alicent’s destiny forever.
She sighed, looking forward. Waiting for the next one. Her next opponent would be the Lannister’s champion. Some snob rich boy who would never enter a tournament like that if he didn’t buy his way in. He mastered the sword like he mastered the women, according to his wife in a late night chat after much wine and gossip, terrible. He would bounce and act all prude, like he was some type of king, like he owns all the seven kingdoms. And he might as well be, he could buy his way all up to a throne and wear a golden crown, he could have men marching with a lion printed on their chests, but he would be a man nonetheless. But she was no man, Rhaenyra was a dragon. He did a little parade for the audience. The great lords of all the seven kingdoms were there, from Winterfell to Dorne. They laughed, drank wine and gambled.
He stops right in front of the king and bows. Viserys had a very worried look on his face, you could see some displeasure too, but the concern was greater. He was sitting behind Alicent, Otto next to him, and every now and then the king's hand would mutter something. Rhaenyra didn't know if they were encouraging or disapproving of what she had done. It's not everyday the princess heir to the iron throne enters a dispute for the hand of a lady.
Normally the fate of future kings and queens is sealed since childhood, their marriages have already been arranged, sometimes before their birthdays. And so was Rhaenyra’s. She would marry some high lord or lady that could establish some type of mutual gain for the kingdom. Viserys dreamed it would be one of her Valaryons cousins, Laena or Leanor, or maybe some Lanniester twin for the good sake of their wealth. Certainly he didn't dreamed of his daughter quite literally fighting for it. Neither did Rhaenyra a couple of days prior.
Two Days Before
It all started even before their arrival at Oldtown. Rhaenyra once again bored with the nonstop kings parade. Why bother to travel for days in carriages when she could fly on Syrax’s back for only a few hours?
Oh poor Syrax, Rhaenyra thought, do you miss me and our flights as much as I do? Probably not. It had been only two days since they started their parade to the Hightowers home. Syrax has probably been taking advantage of all the extra sheep the dragon masters feed her to keep the dragon calm while Rhaenyra is away.
Even so, thinking about flying was the closest thing the princess would get to flying for a week minimum. Oh, how she loved to fly on dragonback! It was the thing that she loved the most in her life, probably the thing she was better at too.
"Are you excited, my princess?" Criston took her out of her daydreams.
"With what, exactly?" She asked.
"Well," he began, "with the opportunity of meeting the Hightowers in their home? They are one of our best alliances. This tournament will celebrate that, after all."
“It could have been celebrated in The Keep, we have plenty of room.” She looked away, the landscape of The Reach was a mix of bright green and flowery fields.
“Indeed, we do, my princess. I’m sorry if I upset you, ma’am.”
“You didn’t, Criston. I was just in my head a little bit.” Rhaenyra saw how he blushed a little bit, she found it funny how easily shy he got. Sir Criston Cole has been a great companion to Rhaenyra since she was announced heir to the iron throne. She liked his companion quite a bit. He had been the first to take her sword training seriously. He never went easy on her just because she was the crown princess. Rhaenyra greatly appreciated that. They became good colleagues over time, friends even, and Rheanyra enjoyed having someone grow alongside her in a way. It was the kind of companionship she thought siblings probably shared. She wouldn’t know. “And you’re right about this being an opportunity. It is good for me to strengthen the bond with the lords and smallfolk of the Reach, a royal campaign could do the job.”
Criston looked satisfied enough with the praise. Rhaenyra sighed quietly, she would have to be extra charming and clever for the next few days and for what? For a respect that was not only her right but that she should already have.
The sun was setting when they finally arrived at the seat of the Hightowers. It was a very impressive city, the Hightower as tall as the songs say, the place more old than anywhere else in the seven kingdoms. As a kid Rhaenyra read all the tales she could find, she loved the travelers and heroes best, and dreamed of becoming a great name in Westeros history too. Now, as an eighth and ten, she was young and a promising bet for the Realm. Much different from her uncle, the next in line. But not everyone in Westeros approved her just yet, and it was her job to prove them wrong, to rule double as greater and stronger than anyone could imagine of a better suit opponent. “We will disembark from the carriages now, my princess. Let me check with the emissary where we should allocate.” Rhaenyra responded with a firm nod.
Pants. She was realy wearing pants. It was the first thing Alicent noticed about the princess. Black trousers, boots and a black overcoat richly ornamented with blood-red rubies. Pants, for the love of the Seven!
The ladies-in-waiting would sometimes gossip quietly, and Alicent didn't mind. She even liked to listen, but she never participated. It's not proper for a lady to be commenting on nonsense, her father would say, but it's not entirely bad to hold information. You never know when you'll need something. Anyway, that's how she first heard the rumors. From the whispers of her ladies-in-waiting.
"I heard she turns into a dragon on certain moons," one, alanna, said.
"Ha!" another, talya, laughed. "Nonsense, the Targaryans can't do that. Otherwise they would have bragged about it too. But I heard she wears men's clothes. That much i belive."
It was a very interesting thought. Alicent found herself replaying that scene a few times. It would be an unforgivable scandal coming from any other noble family, but almost everything was overlooked when it came to the Targaryans.
Her father would certainly still disapprove, or at least it wouldn't be a positive point in the future queen's favor. Otto had immediately decided that he didn't agree with her as heir to the throne, but even he would agree that she was a better option than Rhaenyra's uncle, Daemon. The rougue prince they called him.
Alicent was in line with her family and the other members of the court. Her father was the image of stability personified. Alicent stood in line with her family and the other members of the court. Her father was the image of stability. Gwayne stood beside him. They looked alike in appearance, but her brother had their mother's gentle eyes and light shoulders. Alicent, on the other hand, was the opposite. Everyone complimented her on the beauty she inherited from her mother, but everyone knew that in temperament she was the closest to Lord Otto Hightower.
The king and princess approached them with their entourage, and Alicent got a better look at them. She had seen several paintings of the king, and as a child, she had even had the pleasure of meeting him and his late queen, Aemma. They were a kind and good-natured couple.
The princess, however, had only seen one painting of her, when she was still a child, in a family painting. But oh, how she'd heard. The Realms' Delight, they called her. She was truly beautiful. She had that Targaryen beauty told of in tales and sung in songs. For a second, Alicent forgot to exhale. Her long, white-blond hair was tied in a single braid. She was taking off her gloves to greet the men. Hand in hand!
She watched as they greeted her father and brother first. She curtsied to King Viserys, and he greeted her with a gentle smile. "It's a pleasure to see you again, Lady Alicent. I see you've blossomed quite beautifully." She smiled. "I appreciate the compliment, Your Majesty. I am very happy and honored to welcome you into my home. I hope you have a very pleasant stay." He smiled again and turned to talk to her father once again.
And then-
Then her eyes met princess Rhaenyra's eyes, and she could have sworn she saw a spark ignite in that deep sea of violet. She bowed, which the princess reciprocated. Then she took Alice's hand in hers and brought it to her lips.
Rhaenyra was the first to break the silence. "It's a pleasure to meet you, my lady," she said, her eyes never leaving Alicent's.
"Likewise, Your Highness. It's a pleasure and an honor to welcome you into my home."
Whatever the spell in the air was, it dissipated as Otto guided the royal campaign so his servants could establish them. "I believe all of you are very tired from the journey, but I would like to invite you to join us in welcome dinner this evening. I will send an emissary with more details to accompany you and assist with whatever is necessary."
Alicent watched as the others disappeared into the castle. Her father sent Gwanye with them, and came to speak to her. "It seems the king likes you. That's good. Remember to look impeccable tonight, Alicent. It's very important to us that we please the king. I'm counting on you."
"Yes, father."
Alicent fled to the gardens as soon as her father left. Of course, she knew she had to behave; it was her duty. Her father wouldn't accept anything less.
Still, it was always very difficult to hear it coming from him so directly; it added enormous weight to her every action.
So she practically ran to the summer garden, sitting down near the fountain. She wanted just a few moments alone with her thoughts. So she could think without anyone catching her off guard. She thought about the coming week, how she wouldn't be able to breathe again until the royal campaign had departed. She thought of how the king seemed taken by time, how much older he seemed. Soon Rheanyra would become queen. Soon the kingdom would undergo a very significant change. Would Rhaenyra be a good ruler? She had no way of knowing. But history would surely remember her. With her defiant, shattering beauty. Alicent, at least, would.