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The Queen may not have dragon’s breath, but her rage makes up for the lack.
An agitated presence that has been hovering for the very beginning of your pregnancy. Looming over the handmaidens that sparked unease in them—- terrified to make the wrong move.
One wrong move, and the queen hisses.
But to you, Alicent has been wonderful. Tender and caring as always. All the duties that Vaemond should be doing as husband, is all being done by Alicent—- you wouldn’t want it any other way.
If hunger strikes, Alicent is snipping at your handmaidens to get fresh food. If the ache of your condition weighs on you, she is already guiding you by the elbow to lay down, fluffing your pillows before one of your ladies gets the chance.
For a while, in the very beginning, your small circle of maidens were in charge of bath preparation, with Alicent overseeing, but a small mishap of the water being too hot stung your skin, earning a yelp—- your lover wasn’t too pleased.
Never have you seen her so tough, and strict with the staff. The way she hissed at your loyal ladies —- to the point of their heads bowing in shame— coldly scolding them that you are in a delicate position; a princess carrying a babe must be safe, and comfortable.
Murmurs of apologies and obedient bowing calmed Alicent, but it wasn’t enough. Since then, she has taken up bathing you herself, and it is more comfortable that way. You preferred it.
The way Alicent has taken charge, has only made you melt even more. She can do no wrong in your eyes. She has seen you bare, washed and made love to your body with such devotion.
For each of Alicent’s pregnancies, you were by her side. Your father never did acts of love for Alicent—- but you were there, that’s what mattered. For all of it. For the months of carrying, to the bloody soaked birth. Held her hands tightly as Alicent screamed in pain, and prayed to all the Gods for her to live. Brushing her auburn-brown hair, washing her, ensuring she ate, and rested well post-labor.
Now, it is her turn. She makes sure of it.
It has only been six moons to the day, but it has been wonderful.
Alicent didn’t send your handmaidens away completely, but instructed them on what she believes is the best for you. And you bask in her attentiveness. So protective, even in front of your staff— she has taken the lead, and no one can tell her to cease.
Everywhere you go, Alicent was there. Everywhere she goes, you are there. But, it is not only handmaidens who are being barred from your presence.
There is now a growing shield crafted by Alicent, against your own sister and husband.
It’s been complicated upon your feelings. You wish to experience your first pregnancy with your eldest sister, who has already been at the birthing bed. But you do want to appease Alicent—- just the sight of Rhaenyra makes her itch. And she doesn’t suppress words of anger in front of you.
And it doesn’t quell Alicent’s irate with Vaemond parading you around like a trophy to the royal court. All too happily to marry and impregnate a Targaryen princess, earning him a title and more status.
How he lazily kisses your cheek, holding you to him as if this is a happy marriage— more of an inconvenience, she calls it -— trying to rub elbows with the king himself, indulging in Viserys’ silly interests; to be seen as the perfect son-in-law.
It makes Alicent sick with rage, and jealousy.
To see Vaemond’s hands touch you. To pretend he is a doting husband, when she has been the one to do so.
‘Vaemond has done his duty, and even then, he was useless’, Alicent thinks, ‘A diseased vermin.’
All the borderline aggressive thoughts that buzz in her mind, all its energy goes directly to her torn cuticles. Whenever you escape Vaemond’s social space, Alicent would quickly clean your cheek with a handkerchief, to cleanse your face of his lips.
He has no clue how unwanted he is. Even in your secluded moments with Alicent, both of you mock and laugh at him.
To your joy, when you became with child, Vaemond didn't try to touch you. It is in usual royal fashion, that a man goes to his space far from the wife who is expecting, so the mother to be will deal with the maternal aspects.
At times, when he tries to see you, Alicent would be there, hawking, to his annoyance. Unfortunately, he wouldn’t go, Alicent and yourself only had a few excuses, so you would be forced to be alone with him.
All his conversations are dull. Recently, he talks of the prospects of having an heir, a child to carry his legacy— but he doesn’t speak of a child.
To Alicent, the life inside you is nothing of its father, but a babe made up of everything good from you.
In all honesty, you are rather content to be in her own private chambers, with your little brothers and sister, cooped up together as a nest. Or going to the gardens, reading together, or the Sept, or gossiping like the young girls you use to be.
And if you are not with Alicent, you are spending time with Rhaenyra, and your nephews—- much to her dismay.
And on cue, whenever Rhaenyra comes to spend time with you, the bickering begins. To Alicent, your sister’s presence is an invasion.
Like the argument ensuing at this very moment.
“No.” Alicent’s tone cuts the air sharply, with finality.
A click of a tongue, “Do you speak for her now?”
A brewing fight of stallwalling going on now for stretched uncomfortable minutes. It began when Rhaenyra came in, proposing the idea of taking a ride on dragon back, only for it to be shut down by Alicent.
“No, but I do know what is right for her. I say no.”
“I did not think I needed your permission.”
“Mayhaps, you should look beyond your reckless ignorance,” by now, you tuck your head down as an embarrassed child, as Alicent doesn’t stop, “she is with child. Being thrusted into the skies can harm her.”
“We are Targaryens. It is in our nature.” She never understood us, Rhaenyra thinks. “My grandmother has done so with our father, when he was merely a child himself.” She hisses, as she fiddles with her adorned rings.
Rhaenyra turns to you, but Alicent steps closer, nearer. This needs to stop now. It is making you feel flustered and annoyed.
You out-stretch your hand towards Nyra, flexing your fingers for hers. She exhales a sigh, taking your palm.
“It is quite fine, sister. We will take a ride later.” Your fingers curl around Nyra’s with a reassuring squeeze. A doe-like smile, silently expressing reassurance. Blindly hoping your interference snuffs the impending fight.
“Now, I must rest. I am rather tired.”
Rhaenyra isn’t pleased, not in the slightest. You can see it in the soft snarl of her upper lip, the way she suppresses it, her spine rigid and cold. She doesn’t understand your tenderness to Alicent, why you entertain her.
She doesn’t know.
She nods curtly. “If you wish.” She forces a tight smile. Bending down now to kiss your cheek, but unbeknownst to you, her purple hues glare harshly at Alicent’s narrowing stare.
It takes all of Alicent’s strength to not rip Rhaenyra’s skin clean off, to snag her off of you, for trying to steal you away.
“Rest well.”
Your sister left without a word to Alicent, not even an acknowledgment. Like a swift sway of steel against her, proving to her that Rhaenyra has no respect, no decorum.
As if you can feel the heat of her thoughts, your fingertips graze her arm, caressing the green fabric. Alicent tilts her head.
“Please. Be kind.” You whisper to Alicent, it’s a soft plea, gazing upon her with eyes shining with glossy desperation. It pains you to witness such constant bickering between two people you love the most.
If only you could get them to reconcile. But even the most pious can be stubborn.
Her resolve melts, Alicent can’t resist your sweetness. With a heavy sigh, she sits next to you on the bed, “I resist my urges of anger with endurance, for you and the children.” She cups your hand into hers, the radiating warmth feels good against your knuckles.
Her brown eyes are hooded, “But I will not permit Rhaenyra to put you in harm’s way.” A cold wave flashes upon her face, and it makes your breath hitch. It wasn’t in Alicent’s nature to be so eerily angry.
She holds your palm more firmly, as if you would float away. She brings your hand to her lips, giving it a kiss. Alicent’s tilts her head back up, and the glimmer of pure anger vanishes.
-
The hidden chamber is dim by soft candle light. Sinking into warm, soft cotton sheets. The silk strokes your flesh delightfully.
Tonight is another night of being pampered. Alicent massages your flesh with imported oils, after a wonderful bath filled with extracts of vanilla, and fresh soaps. She even massaged your swollen feet.
Just like you did when she was pregnant.
Her hands expertly loosened your limbs. Rubbed the oils over your stretched belly, and dressed you for bed. She also brushed your hair into an unfastened braid.
Dozing into a slumber, your vision is a bit blurry. The only senses you can feel are physical. Caresses upon your bodice, as you float. Grazing fingertips soothing you.
Idyllic colors of vermilion, and the scent of body cream. The very one you love to sniff off of Alicent. Sinking into the mattress, but cadence catches your ear.
Murmuring words in the distance.
It’s a soft timbre.
Unintelligible speaking slowly becomes clearer.
“I have already begun preparing cloths, and blankets for you.”
A sleepy smile curls on your mouth. Green stitching, no doubt.
“Your uncles and aunt are so eager to meet you, they pester me.” She rolls her eyes.
No mention of Rhaenyra and the boys—- you’re not surprised. But the mental image of the children playing brings you happiness.
“We will have your baptism at the Sept.”
Suddenly, a familiar fear of your impending labors crept up, the idea that you could not make it through— no, Alicent will not think of it.
She clings to you more.
“I will ensure your safety.” A soft kick against the meat of her cheek. She smiles. “You will be beautiful, like your mother.” Her tone drops, “Nothing like him.”
That broke you. You jiggle with a soft giggle.
Alicent is startled, looking up to see you chuckling into your pillow. You wonder how long she has been doing this— it’s so sweet.
“How long have you been awake?”
“Just for a moment.”
Your finger slips into Alicent’s curls, “A baptism will be wonderful. I can foresee Vaemond’s fit.” That makes her tut.
“Well, he doesn’t have much of a say.” Her open palms soothe your swollen stomach. Your lips suck into a thin smile, trying not to laugh too hard. You can see she does the same.
The humor resides, now fading into a sleepy smile, “My love, I would have not made it this far without you.” Twirling her hair around your index.
“But do not fret, I know how distressed you can be.”
“I must.” She says, “We are surrounded by incompetence.” Alicent lifts herself by the elbow, but her touch doesn’t fray. She lays her head onto the pillow next to yours.
“I concur.”
You do not fight her on it, it’s no use. Alicent has always been protective. You brush the tip of your nose against hers.
“He is ugly.” You snicker.
Alicent huffs a laugh, “As a toad.”