Chapter Text
Lady Alicent Hightower
Alicent smiles at her friends. She is not yet the queen, but when Viserys allowed her to start building a household of her own, Alicent didn't hesitate. As a queen-to-be, she needs a crowd of loyal women around her, for court is a precarious place, and though the betrothal has been announced, her fight is not yet won. Because of that, she chose familiar faces over offering her favour to the daughters of powerful lords. There will be a time for that later, but for now, she needs a group that is discreet and devoted to her and her alone.
"Have the seamstress started to work on your wedding gown, Lady Alicent?" Falyse Ambrose asks, her brown eyes shining with excitement.
Alicent shakes her head slightly. "It's too early for that. The betrothal has just been announced, but I've set up a meeting with the best seamstresses in the city to see what ideas they have. My uncle promised that I could have anything I wanted," she announces, her voice trembling with joy. Like Falyse, she enjoys fabrics, gowns and adornments, and plans to set fashion trends at court and the realm.
"Perhaps you should summon someone from the Reach? Everyone knows our seamstresses are the best," her cousin, Delena, chimes in. "You cannot let the princess overshadow you on your big day."
Alicent's lips twist into a scowl at the mention of her future step-daughter. Princess Rhaenyra is a few years younger than her and a huge brat. Alicent blames her betrothed for that, for Viserys spoiled the girl rotten and gave her too much freedom. That is another thing Alicent plans to change once she becomes the queen. It's about time someone taught Princess Rhaenyra a lesson.
As much as she would like, she can't start now, for Rhaenyra is the king's heir and outranks Alicent at court. But the moment Viserys says his vows and puts the crown on Alicent's head, that will change. And once Alicent gives the king a son, she will make sure Rhaenyra will pay for the humiliation she caused Alicent in the last few weeks.
The princess does not approve of the king's match. Her opinion matters little and less, yet Rhaenyra is not shy about voicing her discontent. Her blatant disrespect of Alicent has been grating, especially since Viserys does nothing to scold her. But Alicent can be patient. Revenge is best served cold, after all.
"There is no way for Rhaenyra to overshadow me," Alicent replies confidently, lifting her chin slightly. "With the way she scowls and grumbles all the time, she loses her charm quickly. And if she continues to frown so much, her face will become wrinkled by the time of my wedding day."
Her friends snicker viciously. Each of the girls has been a victim of Rhaenyra's harsh comments or sneers, so they have no love for the princess.
Stupid, stupid girl, Alicent thinks. Rhaenyra thinks that just because she was named the heir, she can do whatever she wants with no regard for consequences. She prowls the halls like a wraith, showing no effort to curry the favour of the lords, offering no smiles or flattery. That's not a way a woman can advance in the world they live in, and though everyone was understanding for the first few moons, excusing the princess' behaviour with the loss of her mother, Alicent knows people are getting tired of Rhaenyra’s insolence and barbs.
She opens her mouth to share more of her plans for the upcoming weeks when a knock comes on the door. The maid enters the room quietly and curtseys before telling Alicent that her father wishes to see her.
Alicent smiles. "Forgive me, my ladies. I may be the queen one day, but even I cannot keep the Hand of the King waiting," she says as she stands up. Her ladies wave off her apologies and chuckle at her little jest.
If Rhaenyra had any wit to her, she would know that is the way women in their world gain power - through pretty smiles, gentle words and small japes that make everyone jolly.
That was how Alicent secured the king's favour and ultimately won his heart.
As she steps out of the room and walks down the stairs to her father's solar, Alicent recalls the path to her biggest achievement. The king was grieving the death of his wife and son terribly. He needed comfort - someone to soothe his pain and reassure him that there’s still room for love and joy in his life. He did not find that in his daughter, who was a terror to everyone after Aemma's death, her father included. He did not find that in his brother, who went to the Stepstones to wage a war against the king's wishes. Only Alicent and her father stood up to the task. With kind words, they lit the path for him and guided the king out of the darkness of grief into the sun, helping him realise that he is alive, and the future stretches out for him, bright and full of opportunities. As little experience as Alicent had, it wasn't very difficult for her to make Viserys love her, for like every other man, he wished someone pleasant by his side, to hear praise from the lips of his wife and soft words of love and loyalty.
When she reaches her father's solar, Alicent knocks on the door and steps inside when she's admitted. To her surprise, Otto looks troubled.
"What is it, father?" She asks as she crosses the room to touch his shoulder. She expected to find him still full of joy and pride because of their accomplishment, not frowning deeply as he stares at the courtyard through the window.
He tilts his head towards the scroll on the desk. Before Alicent can grab it and read it, Otto shares the contents with her. "The Triarchy is losing. The war on the Stepstones is soon to be over."
Alicent presses her lips together. She knows what her father fears. Once the war is over, there is a chance Prince Daemon might return to court. From the time she spent with the king, Alicent knows that Viserys misses his brother. Wretched as he is, Daemon still has his claws in Viserys' heart. If he returns to court, Viserys will welcome him back.
Not wanting to worry her father further, Alicent squeezes his shoulder gently. "It matters little and less. Even if he returns, Daemon is bound to do something stupid and earn himself another exile."
That's the thing about Targaryens. Dragons made them foolish; they act recklessly and speak without thinking, for they think a dragon will always protect them, but at court, their monsters are useless. At court, wit and cunning matter more than swagger and arrogance or even the roars and fire of their beasts.
"He might spoil our plans," Otto mutters, unconvinced by her reassurance.
"He can try. He will only make a fool of himself," Alicent replies harshly. She has her own history with Daemon and knows well what kind of snake he is. She also knows his weakness - he will always prioritise his amusement and pride over reason and careful calculation. "He can't stop us. Not now. The betrothal was announced, and in a few moons, I will become Viserys' queen. And once I give him a son-"
Before she can finish her sentence, a terrible shriek thunders over the Red Keep and the city sprawling at its feet. Alicent and Otto look at the sky, expecting to see the subject of their conversation - a silver-haired man atop scarlet mount, but instead, their eyes find something different.
Although Alicent has never seen this dragon, she recognises it at once. The afternoon sun shimmers on the pale blue scales and silver markings, making the dragon look as if its wings are made of sapphires, brilliant and gleaming against the clear sky. It’s Dreamfyre.
Otto groans loudly. "Gods, not her."
***
Everyone gathers in the Throne Room, and the hall is buzzing with whispers - some excited, some scared, but all curious. Alicent must admit that she is intrigued herself. She has heard of Viserra Targaryen, the only surviving child of King Jaehaerys and Queen Alysanne, but she has not had the chance to meet the woman. Alicent arrived at court a few weeks after Princess Viserra took her dragon to the sky with the intention of exploring Essos.
That was the official story, though Alicent knows the princess decided to visit her sister, the infamous Saera, in Volantis. She still cannot believe that Viserys allowed it.
Surprisingly, most of the courtiers do not mention that when they talk about Viserra. And they talk about her a lot. The princess’ story made her into a legend of sorts, and Alicent heard so many tales about the woman. It was impossible not to grow curious about her.
Princess Viserra married Lord Manderly. She was six and ten, her husband forty years her senior. By all accounts, the marriage was a failure - a rare blemish on Queen Alysanne's list of wonderful matches. There were rumours about the princess trying to run away days before her departure to White Harbour, of wild exploits in the city to soothe the disappointment over her future husband, and of plans to escape her fate by seducing her older brother, Prince Baelon. But in the end, Viserra boarded the ship that took her to White Harbour and married a man who could have been her grandfather.
The marriage was unfruitful. It produced no children - not even a whisper of pregnancy - and when Lord Manderly died five years after the wedding, the princess returned to court, draped in a mourning gown with a veil covering her face.
According to the story, the king and queen intended to find another husband for their daughter, but Viserra claimed she was too heartbroken to marry another. She was given the space to grieve and heal, but by the time the subject was brought up again, Jaehaerys and Alysanne had lost almost all of their children. When Viserra declared her wish to remain a widow, they let her, eager to keep their remaining child close.
Viserys speaks of his aunt most favourably. During their conversations, Viserra was mentioned often and with utmost affection and respect from the king. Alicent's father calls the princess a thorn or a viper, and before they rushed to the Throne Room, Otto warned Alicent of Viserra. To the Hand of the King, the princess is an enemy almost as dangerous as Daemon, or perhaps even more.
Alicent does not know yet what to think. The woman Viserys described is not a threat, but she heeds her father's words and keeps her guard up. Otto does not throw words to the wind, but Alicent is aware that an enemy of her father might be nothing to her. Perhaps he simply does not know how to deal with a woman? After all, Rhaenyra also causes him trouble.
Sometimes only a woman knows how to put another lady in their place, Alicent thinks.
Her eyes flicker around the Throne Room to gauge the reactions of the most important people. Viserys is grinning widely. He does not even sit on the throne as he waits for his aunt's arrival, but instead stands at the foot of it, almost trembling with excitement.
The same can be said about Rhaenyra. It's been moons since Alicent saw the princess smile, but now, Rhaenyra's eyes are sparkling, and the dark scowl that twists her face most of the time is nowhere to be seen.
The members of the Small Council are more tempered in their reaction. Beesbury has his usual insipid look in his eyes. Strong's face looks like it had been cut from stone. Tyland Lannister looks as curious as Alicent. Only Otto, Grand Maester Mellos and Septon Eustace show any signs of concern and wariness.
Her musings are interrupted by the herald, who hits his staff against the ground before announcing in a booming voice, "Princess Viserra of House Targaryen!"
Alicent blinks, not quite believing her eyes. Viserra is forty, yet the woman who enters the room looks no day over five and twenty. She's tall and slender and walks with a grace that is almost unsettling. At least one thing said about Viserra was true, for Alicent has never seen a woman as beautiful as the princess. She has fine features, perfectly proportioned, almost as if her face was the work of the most talented artisans and the best sculptors in the world. And there is not a single wrinkle in sight, despite the age, tribunals and tragedies the princess experienced in her life. Her silver-gold hair cascades down her back in lush waves, and with the sunlight streaming into the Throne Room, it looks almost like it's shimmering, giving the princess an otherworldly glow.
Men and women gathered in the hall turn their heads, their eyes hungrily following the princess as she saunters slowly through the room with her head held high and her back straight.
She walks like a queen, Alicent notices with dismay. Arrogance is something every Targaryen has in spades, but as Alicent's eyes meet the gaze of the princess briefly, a shiver runs down her spine, and she knows that her father spoke the truth. Viserra Targaryen is dangerous. Alicent can see it in the sly glint in the woman's purple eyes and the hint of a smirk upon her lips.
"Aunt Viserra!" Viserys exclaims, opening his arms in greeting. A wide grin splits his lips, and his eyes shine with pure happiness. Alicent has never seen this look on his face.
Viserra offers an elegant curtsey. "Nephew! How good it is to be home at last," she says in a melodic voice before grasping Viserys' shoulders and kissing him on both cheeks and lips. To Alicent's horror, she notices a faint blush on her betrothed's cheeks as he looks at his aunt.
"It's good to have you back," Viserys says. "You have no idea how much it gladdens me to see you. You've been missed, dear aunt."
Viserra chuckles. "Of course I was. How could you not miss me?" Then, Viserra turns her head, and her eyes fall to Rhaenyra. "Oh, my! You can't be my little niece!"
Instead of replying, Rhaenyra falls into Viserra's arms.
They embrace until tears begin to glisten in Viserys' eyes. "My lords and ladies, today is a day to rejoice, for the daughter of House Targaryen has returned home at last!”
As if on command, the nobles gathered in the room reward his words with a round of applause. Alicent claps, too, but with little enthusiasm. Viserra Targaryen has been back for no more than a few minutes, but Alicent is already wary of her.
When Rhaenyra at last releases the older princess and takes a step back, Viserra places her hands on Rhaenyra's face, appraising it closely. "I see I have a competition for the title of the most beautiful woman in the Seven Kingdoms, sweet niece." She pauses as if trying to decide how that makes her feel before smiling warmly. "I can share the title with you."
"What a relief," Rhaenyra says, giggling. "I would not want to have you for a rival."
Viserra caresses Rhaenyra's cheek with the tips of her long, elegant fingers. "Of that, my dear, you never have to worry. I've heard other joyful news while I was in Essos," she says. Alicent straightens her back, certain that the older princess must mean her betrothal. Yet, Viserra’s gaze does search for Alicent on the dais or in the crowd of the nobles. Instead, her eyes bounce between Rhaenyra and Viserys, a knowing glint dancing in her purple irises. "The Heir to the Iron Throne! How proud that sounds, sweet niece. I can't express how pleased I was to hear the news. I regret only that I was not here to witness the ceremony."
Viserys smiles proudly as he looks at his daughter. "Westeros will have a queen at last!"
A grimace twists Alicent's features before she manages to school her face into a polite mask again. As much as Viserys adores her, he seems to have little faith in her. There's no need for such declarations, for Alicent will give him a son. And soon.
"Well, if there was ever a man who would finally set things right and appreciate Targaryen women, it had to be Alyssa’s son," Viserra says.
Viserys puffs his chest proudly as if he had anything to do with the decision. Alicent knows it was her father who concocted the plan to name Rhaenyra as the heir to squash Daemon's ambitions for the crown and strip the prince of his power.
Otto coughs. He’s probably as dismayed by the king's words as Alicent. But the sound draws Viserra's attention to Alicent's father. Her purple eyes regard him with disdain. "Ser Otto! You stand so still, I've mistaken you for a gargoyle. Not a pretty one, I'm afraid. The gods have not been gentle with you. It seems that you've aged two decades in the few years I've been gone."
Rhaenyra hides a snicker behind her hand, but Viserys is less discreet. Instead of defending Alicent's father and his loyal advisor, he chuckles at Viserra's jab.
Anger simmers inside Alicent's belly, and she clenches her jaw to stop herself from demanding an apology from the woman.
Her father's skill at navigating court shines through, though, for instead of bristling at the slight, he smiles at the princess. "I'm afraid that's the consequence of helping the king govern the realm. You, on the other hand, aged nothing at all, princess," he says, tipping his head towards Viserra respectfully. "But that's how it should be. We, men, shoulder the burden, so the fairer sex could remain blooming for long years."
Alicent stifles a snicker at her father's reply, hearing the insult in his honeyed words. The princess hears it, too, though she shows no reaction at all.
"And sometimes, Ser Otto, it's just a matter of blood and traits that come with it,” she says with a shrug. A few lords who are unfavourable to Alicent's father chuckle at that, and much to Alicent's displeasure, Viserys also continues to grin like a fool, not understanding that this insult is directed not only at Otto, but House Hightower at large - Alicent included.
Yet, she cannot show her discontent on her face, for her gaze meets Viserys' lilac eyes. She smiles at him, gently and lovingly, just as she knows he likes, and the king returns it, inclining his head towards her.
He beckons Alicent with his hand as he turns towards Viserra. "Beloved aunt, there's someone I want to introduce you to," he starts, but Viserra dismisses his words with a wave of her hand.
"You will show me your amusements another day, nephew. Today, I wish to spend time with my family," she says sweetly as she stares deep into Viserys' eyes.
With horror, Alicent watches as her betrothed's face transforms. Before her eyes, he becomes a puppet in the hands of the older woman in front of him. His eyes grow lighter, almost as if all thought and reason left his brain the moment Viserra met his gaze. The king turns to the crowd. "My lords, soon, we will celebrate the return of my beloved aunt. As for today, I hope you forgive me for my absence, for I wish to spend the day with the women of my heart!"
He offers Viserra one arm and the other to Rhaenyra, and without sparing Alicent a second look, he leaves the Throne Room whispering with his aunt and daughter. Alicent stands awkwardly at the front, the few steps she managed to make when Viserys was about to introduce her, putting her on display. Her cheeks grow hot as she feels the burning gazes of the nobles on her.
She meets her father's eyes and knows the worry she sees on his face is reflected in her expression, too. Viserra is a trouble indeed.