#Alicent Hightower fanfic

[chaosfae-writes]

𝐦𝐲 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞, 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐞

premise: a crowded marriage of three, a suffocating marital bed, and one must go — and it’s the meddling husband.

pairings: Alicent Hightower x Targaryen!woc!reader, Targaryen!woc!reader x Vaemond Velaryon (arranged)

ao3 // 15k words

warnings: birth/labor, wlw romance, infidelity, jealously, arranged marriage, misogynistic Westerosi views.

a/n: for my Alicent, my little meow meow. Alicent really said, “look at me, look at me, I’m the husband now.” prepare yourselves, it’s long, please take your time.

do not repost my works.

The birthing bed is a woman’s battlefield.

Choppy breaths of agony, quivering and irate as a wounded animal. Squelching wet noises mildly echo, the scent of copper is nauseating —- the terrain of your neck is damp with sweat. Nostrils flaring, baring teeth as a snarling dragoness.

White hot fire licks along your uterine walls, sore pelvis aches as if it’s cracking, bloodied thighs shaking, chest heaving, throat parched and dry as unforgiving Dornish sand, and the Queen’s tender fingers interwoven with yours.

Alicent’s knuckles baring white, milky fingers clutching tamarind tart fingers as in one fist. She’s perched on her knees behind you, as your spine laid against her bodice hanging off a chair; not caring that blood has now stained her dress — embroidered emerald fabric now adorned with murky brown stains.

It’s been a few hours into the long night, guttural groans rip through your throat, stings as if shards of glass live there —- by now the entire realm of King’s Landing has heard your wails. Trembling teeth, mouth wet with tears and sweat.

Your dizzied skull falls defeatedly upon the crock of Alicent’s neck; sweetly she lays her cheek on your temple. Alicent is a mess, heaving and panting from the stress.

She’s on her knees ungracefully, her thick midnight auburn hair in messy tresses, no longer does she don the regal guise of a queen, but as a soldier in war.

Murmuring under her breath, pleading to the Gods for you and the child to survive the labor -— the ichor that slowly trickles and seeps from the cave of your womb terrifies her as it pools and stains down your thighs.

Prayers recited as hymns, as chants, pleas to the Gods for your life. You have been a life-line to Alicent, been her anchor at each of her births —- throughout her entire life. And she too, will be by your side.

As your hands shook in pain, entering into the new world of motherhood, Alicent witnesses it as not your step-mother, but as your entrusted companion—- as lovers, with ease, she assimilate to the role of husband, as if it’s her babe too who is struggling to breathe life into the new world.

“Push, princess! Its crown is near!”

Throat nearly torn, you muster the strength to push, a high-pitched scream pierces through; a wounded animal using all her strength to bring her unborn cub to the world. A babe’s cry comes as a crackle of thunder, an unforgiving war cry — the fight is won! What a shrill, fiery dragon unfurling its wings.

Relieved gasps, your abdomen a tad bit lighter, but still a little swollen flesh. The umbilical cord still connected, the connection still strong.

“A daughter, princess!”

Exhausted cheers as the baby is swathed in a blanket, sore fingers out-stretch for her. You sob in relief, face wrinkling with a wavering smile, as Alicent kisses your cheek, inches away to your lips. The maidens say nothing over the gesture, too overjoyed — it’s all too familiar. It has been for years.

Clumps of blood clots rest upon Valyrian pale tufts of hair, you cradle the delicate neck of your snuffling babe, your baby’s little chubby fingers curl mindlessly in the air. The babe’s spine lay on the flesh of your thighs, sinking into yourself on the bed.

Doe violet eyes blink, and stare at you, curious and innocent. Alicent is truly over-joyed, her sore shaky fingers reaching for the newborn’s cheek. “Hello there, we’ve been expecting you.” Gently your thumb caress your daughter’s cheek. Alicent’s stroke the ends of your daughter’s hair —- pale as fresh snow.

“What name shall you bestow her, Princess?”

A beat of silence, you smile as a name rings in your mind. “Alysanne, beautiful Alysanne. Named after our late good queen.” A joyous moment, all basking at new life— maidens, the mother, the mother queen all awe at little Alysanne, her arms wiggling in mid-air.

All glee at new life.

All but a missing husband.

-

The journey from Driftmark to King’s Landing was a blur. It took two days by ship for the return. His trip back home was cut short by the caw of a raven.

‘Ser Vaemond, come with haste to King’s Landing, as the princess is in labor.’

Vaemond tiressly demands for the chariot rider to speed up his horses on the kingsroad, all under the blanket of the night sky —- with the letter still in his grasp, wrinkled.

Anxiously clicking his heels against the wood, scoffing furiously at himself for ever leaving. Bouncing in his seat, his back hunched.

His fingernails digging into the velvet stitching of his cushion, his teeth seeping out, as if he hisses in anxiety.

The Red Keep towering into the night-sky, stars twinkle and shine; the driver couldn’t utter a word, clumsily Vaemond shifts to the door.

His feet bolts out the luxurious carriage, dashing up the castle’s stairways, knees bowing inward, nearly slipping onto his face. The palace slumbers with only few sworn shields roaming on duty, and the many more counting roaming in the streets down below in Flea Bottom.

All move in the presence of Vaemond, clearing the path for him. His feet twisting, and twirling upward the grand stairway, his sweaty palms gripping the railing.

His wife’s chambers are not too far, inching closer and closer by footfall. His heart beats as a wild war drum against his chest, so many thoughts swim in his mind—— what does his child look like? Is it a daughter or a son?

Hurried steps softly echo, closer and closer now to the chambers. The hallway seems as a stretched maze, mocking him as if he could never reach his end.

With a flick of his wrist, the golden knobs are tugged, and yet it’s silent.

The shared quarters glow in dark ambience. The scent of incense is faint. Vaemond straightens his wrinkled cloth, and takes a step closer.

The silence breaks.

A bitter scoff, more as a bite, “By the Gods, he has arrived. What husband doesn’t even accompany the birth of his first born?” Alicent sits across from the bed, posture now rigid.

Her fingers curl near her chin, as in deep thought. The low crackles of flames illuminate her face, wickedly cold as stone. The marigold hue casts upon Alicent’s face —- ever so strikingly benevolent.

Vaemond’s nose flares, cheeks puffing up, walking on edge, inches more closer to Alicent now, his tongue ready to lash out.

“I’m quite baffled, your Grace — from how high you reign on that horse of yours, it’s a miracle from the Gods that you haven’t fallen yet.”

“She was nearly at the Stranger’s door.” Alicent nearly shouts in a hush — bolting from her chair with a dull screech, and the clicks of her heels -— maintaining her volume to make sure she doesn’t awaken you; peeking over her shoulder.

Not even a stir from Alysanne and yourself, a soft smile adorns Alicent’s face. But as quickly as it came, it quickly went, muffled footsteps grating Alicent’s senses, coming closer behind her.

“I arrived as soon as I —-” His hurried footsteps halted clumsily, the crackle of the flames echoing piercing the silence.

There he sees it.

The splotches of blood that splatters across the green flourish, Alicent’s mouth is pursed, her eyes calculating and cold. Staring him down with such distaste, her lips twist as if to spit poison, with a hint of a curled smirk.

And he sees it all, he sees her spite.

Alicent never changed into clean nightwear, but remained in the soiled dress, wearing the stains of your blood that slipped from your warm womb —- proudly so. Just moments after your birth, you nearly slipped away to the Stranger, too much ichor spilled.

Despite edging on death, you drowsily clung Alysanne against your damp breast —- if you were to draw your last breath, at least, your little girl was the last touch you felt before departing from this realm.

The sight of your body succumbing to unconsciousness nearly sent Alicent’s soul to the heavens, she felt as if she could crawl out of her skin; your bodice crumbling back into her chest.

The handmaidens quickly grabbed your crying little girl, one of them dashing to fetch the maesters —— all the while amidst the chaos, Alicent’s cradles you, her hand stroking your jaw, pleading for you to awaken. Nearly shrilling on the top of her lungs.

For the last two days, Alicent had been by your bedside, hawking over the maesters —- no woman can trust the maesters, the very ones who cut through the belly of the late queen.

Maesters only follow the word of their king—- but for you, Alicent ensured all the hand-maidens and maesters listened to her strict commands as knights on a battlefield.

She snarked, and nipped, scaring all of them away and even your devoted maidens who were reluctant to leave you —- to the point of herself solely attending to you as your care-giver, as Ser Criston Cole guards the chamber doors outside dutifully.

For sparse moments Criston would leave his post, and see Alysanne. The moment his rich brown eyes fell upon the sight of Alysanne in your arms, he swore to the Gods that he will protect her till his last breath.

Alicent served you the milk of the poppy by hand. Cradling Alysanne when you were in deep slumber, and when you would awaken, in and out of consciousness, Alicent would softly help bare your breast for Alysanne to feed.

Alicent would gently cuddle your baby in your exhausted arms, guiding little Alysanne’s plump cheek against yours, both heads on the pillow.

Alicent wants him to bear witness -— for him to see that even as your husband, that mere title means nothing, it never held true value, nor never will.

How boldly she is—- impudent even. Raised to be modest, to uphold duty, it’s never been in Alicent’s nature to be cruel, but something has changed in her over the years.

Perhaps it’s the manipulative lessons from her father, the loneliness that iced her heart to become this unhinged cornered animal.

That’s who Alicent is now — cold and hardened as an uncut emerald gem.

Another knot formed these past fortnights, tighter in the tether of your two souls, it’s her who gets to see the scars, to bear your blood.

A badge of honor.

No marital vow can diminish this bond.

“Your Grace, it’s quite late. I must retire for the night, to tend to my wife.” The formalities bundle in Vaemond’s mouth as pit seeds, biting his tongue from lashing out.

He sees it, the condescension that vibrates off of Alicent, pursuing her lips in deep thought. Alicent hums with a tone, sneering at him with just her eyes, but as a drop of a coin, her mood shifts in such trained manners.

“Of course, Ser Vaemond.” She turns her back to him, walking to your sleeping body, bending over to gently kiss your forehead, and little Alysanne’s forehead.

“Oh— please do make sure to provide her with the milk of poppy in the morrow.” Alicent doesn’t look him in the eye, as if doing so is tedious, that he is beneath her.

“She still aches. Here,” Alicent points strictly at a bowl that rests nearby on a table, “rag soaking in warm water, she runs a little chill. As well, do make sure not to ale her as she feeds Alysanne by her breast.”

‘Alysanne? By the Gods, he has been blessed with a girl! The babe has been named?’

Vaemond swallows his confusion and surprise, awaiting for Alicent to leave his chambers—- although, if he could, he would throw her out the door himself. She tells him what to do, as if instructing a child, that he couldn’t merely comprehend basic tasks to take care of his wife.

From the corner of her eye, Alicent senses Vaemond’s shame. Shame for missing the birth of his child, his first daughter —- more so, rage, and she feeds off of it like a starved animal.

“Goodnight.” Alicent’s hand gestures to Vaemond dimessively over the shoulder, quietly shutting the door shut. Vaemond stands rooted in the middle of his chambers, his fists coiling by his sides—- he mutters under his breath, cunt.

Alone now, Vaemond steps close to the bed. Both Alysanne and yourself undisturbed, deep in slumber. The babe tucked in your arms, cozy under the thick blanket.

Vaemond’s hand shakes over your cheek, stroking a damp strand of your hair. Breathing frustration through his nose, his knuckles graze the cheek of his newborn child.

His anger simmers, he missed it—- the birth of his first daughter.

-

“Prince Lucerys has been officially declared the heir to Driftmark— how absurd.”

House Velaryon has been blessed by the Realm’s Delight fertility once more, a new babe, a new heir. The silver beauty birthed yet another boy with rich brown hair, and dark brown eyes. A gleeful time for House Targaryen … and a grievance upon the queen. A son, healthy — and strong.

It has been three days now since the birth of Alysanne Velaryon, not yet presented to the realm; your inistience of wanting Rhaenyra and Daemon’s presence in the royal court.

Despite your uncle living in far Pentos, and your sister residing on the island of Dragonstone with Laenor, and her children —- just for a bit, due to tensions arising once again between the queen and the heir.

Before Rhaenyra’s departure, she had just been in labor, delivering her second child. You were hoping that sending ravens detailing the new birth of your firstborn would help bring your favored loved ones back home, and bask in unison over new life.

Cooked platters sliced pheasant, steamed vegetables, bread, and gallots of wine. But even the sweet tang of wine cannot tame the sour disgust that weighs on Alicent’s tongue. A hovering presence looms across the table, ever so snide, ever so thinking. A selfish void that will devour any in its path.

Across from Alicent is her father.

At times, Alicent would have her private dinners with Otto, when even his affections are twisted, and against Alicent’s well-being, she still seeks his love, and advice. Despite the filth he has taught her, what child doesn’t crave their father’s love?

“The disrespect that Rhaenyra harbors for her own kin, parades her bastard son as a true born.” Alicent scoffs, leans back in her chair, her cuppee resting in her palm, her nose scrunches in distaste.

“Corlys has his daughter wedded to Daemon, and his son —” Alicent titters a bitter chuckle, “A pillow-biter claiming bastards as his own. Corlys’ claim no longer upholds.”

Alicent doesn’t stop her bitter poison, and her father relishes in it, seated across his daughter with a small proud smirk. Her fueling rage will guide her to uspur Rhaenyra, for her son to ascend the throne. How proud he is, as his daughter falls deeper into her spite.

“Alysanne is true blood, she deserves her inheritance in Driftmark.” Alicent impatiently takes a gulp from her wine, the sweet tang trickles down her throat, but it doesn’t quell the brewing venom.

“Rhaenyra claims to care for her younger sister, the gall of it all.” Alicent doesn’t stop, she can’t, she has to release this anger, even in her quiet solitude with a man whose tenderness only reaches so far.

Blinding affection has Alicent turning her perspectives away from her obvious hypocrisies, but no taught honor or ideals in her mind can truly touch you.

Otto Hightower sees women in power as a preposterous notion, a sin against the order — women cannot provide value to the natural law; only if aided by a man.

Otto prides himself on the molding he persisted upon his daughter over the years, a Hightower as Queen of all seven kingdoms —- the last Hightower to rule, fell to her demise to Maegor the Cruel. And he vows to never let that fate fall upon his only daughter.

Indeed, Otto has his strict opinions but —- even he has his exception; under his benefit. He has admire your tenacity since you were a little child, bright-eyed and naive once.

Yet intelligent, claiming that you wanted to do good for the people as princess, despite your inheritance being knocked down behind your siblings.

He can see you are a woman grown, determined and ambitious, making plans as the new lady of Driftmark to contribute for the land to prosper; just perfect for his molding.

Otto can perhaps reach his hand into the political dynamics of Driftmark through you, carefully craft your black and red dragon scales to a lovely shade of emerald.

“Vaemond is a proud man, too proud —- but, a better fitted heir for Driftmark. Corlys is weak, he cares more about names than honoring heritance.” Otto cuts into his meal, the warm pork melting in the cave of his mouth.

“If Vaemond were to become the new Lord of the Tides,” Otto clicks his tongue, “Alysanne will be named his heir.” His tone lingers, a hint is thrown in the air; calculating his thoughts.

Alicent hums in agreement, her mind twisting in her murky thoughts. Nodding along, hell-bent, her motives aren't as ambitious as her father. Her belief is solely molded by you, but that this is what’s best for you, for Alysanne.

‘Alysanne must become the new heir of Driftmark. Tis only fair.’

The silent tension breaks.

“She will soon expect her sister to return.” Alicent mutters in her wine, her fingers unlock, as she gazes down at her porcelain plate, her finger tapping against the silver engraving.

“And her uncle.” Otto speaks in a hush.

It’s no hidden secret, the rogue second son harbors deep affection for his younger niece. Most of your childhood was spent on dragon back with your uncle, and older sister—- your uncle is a rather protective creature.

When Daemon departed on dragon’s back to the far Pentos with Lady Laena, he hugged you tightly the day he left. You sobbed for long days, alone in your chambers, aware that you won’t see your favored uncle and cousin for a time.

But exile is no more than a word to Daemon.

Often leaving Pentos with his wife, and children, gallancing around the court with Rhaenyra and her children, as Viserys allows it.

And that worries Otto.

To have your alliance, he must first go through the turmoil with Daemon, and Rhaenyra. To convince you to forfeit your loyalty, in favor of your youngest siblings.

The seven hells can freeze over in frost-bite, and you still won't turn your back against the menace of a prince. Prince Daemon will rip through the realm with the flames of Caraxes before he lets his niece support the Hightowers.

“Marriage.” Otto perks up, his finger tapping against the table. His tone is ominous, and yet it leaves a heavy weight in the air. “You have given birth to Aemond moons ago,” Otto’s eyebrow raises, goading his daughter’s reaction, with a knowing nod, “—- and one day, he will be in need of a bride.”

Alicent’s eyes are moon-wide, but with a silver of agreement, she’s tittering on the idea. “Aemond will learn under our wing, be wed to Alysanne —- perhaps, the fresh air of the sea is healthy for a boy.” Alicent’s lips curl into a devious smirk.

Hightower blood on the Iron Throne, on the seat of Driftmark——how marvelous.

“Indeed.” Otto’s pride gleams into a wolfish grin.

-

Devotion.

All Alicent has ever been in her life is devoted. A devoted daughter, a devoted wife, a devoted mother, and a devoted queen. But alas, in all of King’s Landing, no one truly took Alicent’s side, despite her efforts to maintain peace. To engrave her voice within the council.

At first, before she grew as a child bride, and a babe herself who bore children; she thought perhaps her father was her aide, since Rhaenyra shunned her the moment King Viserys announced the engagement — but he is not, he never was.

But despite the sorrow her father gifted her in this life, she still harbors love for him.

But no, never her father.

Is there still peace from Rhaenyra? No — Rhaenyra doesn’t see Alicent, and Alicent doesn’t see her, it’s as if they speak different languages.

Perhaps the king?

No, never her husband, who never showed affection for his younger children — in his heart, he has only one child.

No, never the king.

The court shall see to her efforts?

No, the lords would rather entertain themselves with the king’s sickly rambles and her father’s greediness than to solely hear a woman’s thoughts and ideas.

Only through her father as her mouth-piece, would the court take her efforts into consideration. At birth, Alicent was a woman marked for sorrow. A loneliness so deep, simple kindness would send a jolt.

A young Alicent would pray and pray to the Gods for a love she can hold onto every night — just herself. Selfishly would cling to her heart, stuff and sew it herself.

For a while, Rhaenyra band-aided the wound, but it wasn’t enough. Rhaenyra was once a true friend, and Alicent would sometimes catch herself missing those lost years in the quiet of her solitude.

Especially when she holds the ripped piece of paper from the historical text of the late Queen Nymeria.

But it wasn’t Rhaenyra, it was never her.

It was you.

Tamarind tart skin that shines under the sun, silver pale hair that curls at the shoulders, violet eyes and plump cheeks. Velaryon and Targaryen descent, inheriting your late mother’s complexion, and the aquiline nose you share with your older sister.

So pretty, with your braids interwoven with your waves of silver. Wispy lavender, and red dresses, and gem rings that adorn your fingers. Such a peculiar creature, so dainty, yet fierce—- digging your heels as a young girl in the training grounds.

Alicent used to watch your private lessons in the training grounds with your uncle, and or with Ser Harwin from time to time. Or rest under the trees’ shade, as you practiced your archery in the gardens, much to your septa’s dismay.

A deep friendship blossomed, years spent reading under the hovering weirwood, late conversations as young girls, attending tourneys, and even inviting Alicent to your chambers, to sleep in one’s embrace.

A beautiful bond—- soon challenged by a beast.

Your mother had passed, taken by the Stranger, just as the late Queen Aemma had many moons ago; died in labor, trying to birth a son into the realm.

A piece of yourself died with her, a void that could never be filled. Late fortnights, wailing at the sept, head bowed, pleading to the Mother for mercy, whispered prayers for her to carry your mother safely to the heavens.

Consoled by Rhaenyra, and Alicent, as you all kneeled at the fire pit. Your forehead connected to your arms, wailing, as Alicent’s and Rhaenyra’s heads rested on your shoulders. Your sobs echoing against the sept’s walls.

The faint memory of copper still lingered in your nostrils, to see your mother’s lifeless body coated in her own ichor—- dry-heaved and wailed over her.

It took all the maidens and maesters to pry you off of her.

It was the king’s duty to wed, and bring heirs, you knew he had to marry again. Word spread among the court, advising with much encouragement for Viserys to remarry—- not all were enthralled at the prospect of a girl crowned heir for all the realm.

And the beast conquered as he pleased, just as his ancestors.

The day came, months after your mother departed from this realm. And you can recall the day vividly, the pang to your heart still fresh.

The day Viserys announced that he will take Alicent as his new bride, she can still remember your solemn face, quickly blinking away tears, smiling through the restraining pain —- how you dashed as fast as light after Rhaenyra who couldn’t bear to stomach the anger within herself.

Alicent can still feel the empty ache, witnessing you flee away in what she mistook as disgust, rage, and heartbreak. Pacing through the keep, trying to follow your trail, as a puppy galloping after a scent. Trembling fingers cling to the engraved walls, balancing herself.

Faded voices loomed from the heart of the gardens. Under the Weirwood tree, two pale silver heads now barking at one another, crying. Pacing after one another, hands flying in the air—- trying to understand this grievance.

Rhaenyra sobbing, angry tears stained her flushed pale cheeks, as you tried to soothe her down. Alicent hid behind a pillar, picking at her cuticles.

It felt the garden soil unearthed itself, caving inside —- ready to swallow you. Collapsed onto your knees, your mind buzzing. Sniffling, as your fingernails fully scratched at your skin.

Timid footfalls echoed nearby, slowly your eyes peeked through your wet lashes. Before you, Alicent walked to you, her auburn hair haloed by the sunlight.

Kneeling before you, her lip quivered, her hands fearfully hovered over yours. Afraid that you might reject her, but you took hers into your hands wholeheartedly.

“I don’t desire him. My intentions were not for pleasure.” Alicent spoke in whispers, heavy with sorrow. “My father sent me to his chambers, I —” Alicent’s breathed quickened, as if her cavity was tightening.

“I simply gave comfort for his loss.”

You believed her immediately, for months, Alicent had been aiding you through your grief over your late mother. All Alicent ever does is tends to anyone in need.

You embraced her in your arms, shushing her, apologies slipping from her. Shaded by the Weirwood tree, consoling each other.

Duty had to be upheld, autonomy isn’t a woman’s right. Resentment coiled itself as eels—- loathing the very man who is your father.

Father Time felt rushed yet the atmosphere felt slowed—- the preparations to integrate House Hightower into the royal reign was tedious and buzzing, causing you to spiral.

Days and nights spent weeping in your bed, hugging Alicent tight. Time blurred. Ceasing down to the atoms, time was not your companion. You didn’t have the space to breathe —- one blink, and the day of the wedding ceremony came bursting violently.

Dressed Alicent in her ivory wedding gown, accompanied by Rhaenyra—- but you possessively took over, fixating on her hair pieces, and tying the spinal laces.

An ivory dress, with gold threading of dragons against her chest, her brown hair pinned in curls, with a creamy red jeweled crown. Cleaned her bloodied fingers with a warm rag.

As you leaned against Alicent’s spine, brown fingers clinging to her shoulders, your cheek resting against the crock of her neck. Her face glowing with a dew from fresh dried tears.

You whispered in the shell of her ear, “In another life, blessed by the Gods, I shall take you, Lady Hightower as thy wife. Under the Weirwood tree, wed you in Valyrian tradition.” A tear escaped your eye, staining her skin.

Alicent sniffled, droplets falling down her milky cheeks, onto her lips.

“We shall wear marital crowns as our ancestral women before us.” You sniffled through a weak smile, under your puffy eyes. “I shall wear green, to honor your house.” You whispered.

“And I shall wear shades of red and black.” Alicent whispered back, nearly sputtering through her tears. Her chin wobbled.

A marital ceremony, a splendor to the realm, but a horror. A malevolent man, tightly his hand gripped your love, Otto Hightower walked his child to her death, with a proud smile.

Rhaenyra wore lavish black with intricate threads of crimson red, hair pinned into a jeweled headpiece—- truly a delight. A reminder of her inheritance, no matter of your father’s new marriage. In her own terms, it was her way of grieving.

But not a grief that rivals yours.

The High Sept blessed the union, with a shaky gesture of his ailing hand, reciting the scriptures of the Faith, as Alicent stood in a pure innocence—- sold for the price of power.

Recoiled underneath your skin, at the sight of Viserys’ hands engulfed over Alicent’s. Leaned inwards for a kiss, his chapped lips nearing those familiar pink lips you have tasted—- sweet, and tender.

Alicent’s brown eyes filtered slightly, twitching with disgust.

Screaming internally, as the claws of the Seven hell’s demons scratching raw at your throat, fists tightened shielded by your fabrics.

That’s not how she likes to be kissed! Don’t hold her, not as that! Be gentle with her! STOP DEFILING HER!

A kiss to seal this matrimony hailed from the seven hells.

Rhaenyra and yourself bowed dutifully, stiffly and rigid; before your father— the king, and his new wife, the new Queen of Westeros—- your new step-mother, your love.

Slurred and drowned in wine, engorged in feast to only vomit over a balcony —- throughout the night, Alicent’s eyes broke at the sight of your head bobbing tipsily, eyes closing one slowly after the other.

Dizzyingly watched the acidic chewed food stained in burgundy spirits fall along the palace wall.

A dainty hand stroked your back, pulled you into a warm embrace. Rhaenyra tended to you, caressing the slope of your spine, as you wailed over the balcony.

You couldn’t bear to prolong your presence during the wedding feast, Rhaenyra guided you to your chambers that night. Helped clean you, and shed you of your gown into your sleeping wear.

The cushioning of your bed sunk you into a hard sleep, as your sister tucked you under massive blankets.

Awoken that fortnight, by a slight shake of the shoulder, a heavy grogginess pulling you down as rocks in one’s pockets.

Blurry vision cleared, strained a bit in the dark, to see a sniffling figure by your bed’s edge. Those big brown eyes—— gleaming wet. A gasp left you, without a second, you enveloped her into your arms, as Alicent bursted into wails. Her cries pierced your heart.

Your hands stroked her back, guiding her into your blankets, as your fingers caressed her, you felt sticky wetness, causing Alicent to whine.

Your hand shook, in the gleam of the moonlight, crimson stained your fingertips. Tears showered your face, mouth shivering, as Alicent cried, muffled words into the crook of your shoulder, “It hurts.”

Your mouth agaped in silent agony, both arms encased Alicent, cooed her. Rocked Alicent to sleep that night till her weeping quite down to silence —- you vowed in the dead of night, that you will do your duty, you will honor Alicent; do right by her.

Stood by her, and kept her company —- and plotted. Your father will not have the oath of being Alicent’s husband, it felt wrong.

Built the courage to go against taught beliefs, over moons—- until one day, you lured Alicent to the gardens, with a soft note left in her chambers.

‘Meet me by the noon hour, in the gardens.’

Waddled down to the gardens, carrying her first born, Alicent found you pacing, burning a hole in the grass. A soft mutter, my dearest. Alicent’s fingers stroked the jut of your elbow, she didn’t enjoy seeing you overwhelmed with stress.

With a deep inhale, and wild wide eyes, only a few words could be muttered.

“Let us be wedded.”

A disbelieving chuckle escaped Alicent, but by the glimmer of your eyes, it was nothing short of a joke. Alicent’s face drained, with a teary wavering smile.

Slow nodded, and a hasty smile, Alicent accepted the proposal.

A warm day it was, the sun beamed upon King’s Landing—- a little white lie to escape the palace, to seek refuge.

Accompanied by a sole witness, your beloved Grey Ghost—- as he flew majestically upon the sky; as Alicent and yourself rode on one of those long boat to Dragonstone.

Silver steel, ichor staining bottom lips, and the slope of your foreheads connecting. A caress of Alicent’s swollen bump.

United in blood, as one.

Devoted —- all your life, you have only been to Alicent. Loyally by her side, despite the growing pains between Alicent and your sister; trying to be the voice of reason.

Alicent’s grief suffocated her, a girl enduring a woman’s sorrow. Being Alicent’s shadow in each of her births, defending her against all odds.

Cherish and care for her children —- your siblings —- as your own. Cared for your brothers and sister more than your father ever did.

A child bride who everyone said should be grateful to be queen of all seven realms—- not given grace to be seen as a girl, not even a woman, but a mere object.

Only one did. You are her companion, the only one who desires her body wholesomely, who yearns for her mind. You plague her thoughts all through the hours, at night, and in her sleep.

Itching possessiveness tingles at Alicent’s fingers, flooding her veins. How she yearns to box you in a jar, and gaze upon you, a beautiful treasure that no one can have.

Unimaginable acts she will do—- just to keep you.

-

Dearest sister,

New life has been welcomed to the realm, a babe with ripe cheeks, and a soul kicking as a goat. Beautiful bronze skin, and pale Valyrian hair.

A girl, by the Gods, she is magnificent!

I yearn for you and uncle to be home — I dearly miss all the children, how they would love the babe. Her name is Alysanne, named by our great-grandmother, the good mother.

Please return home. I pray to the Gods that the animosity will soon be seen to end. We are family, by blood and marriage.

Love you dearly, sweet sister.

May the Gods be with you, and the children.

A letter freshly written, ready to be sent to Dragonstone by raven. Given to Alicent by you, praying deep down that one day the broken bond between Alicent and your sister would be mended.

Tirelessly over the years, attempts to cease Alicent’s emotional humiliation upon your sister, weaponizing the crude word ‘bastard’ against your nephews.

Continuously in-between Alicent and your sister, being forced to choose who’s side to be in. Nearly straining your relationship with Alicent at one point of time.

Alicent’s lips purse into a scowl, crudely folding the letter once more, instead of packaging the letter for the awaiting raven, Alicent simply stashes it within her library.

Rhaenyra doesn’t get to savor the joy of your motherly glow, she doesn’t deserve to see Alysanne. To pretend to be the doting aunt. Not after snatching away Alysanne and your future, the blatant disregard of loyalty, usurping Driftmark.

Alicent will not see to such treason.

-

Sunlight twinkles, and illuminates the king’s chambers. A warm day, the sun swelling with joy.

Sweet hands pat Viserys’ chest, arising him from his slumber. He awakes with a small cough. His eyes blink open, to see his wife kneeling before him.

Viserys sighs with a small smile, with a whisper of Alicent’s name.

“Viserys,” Alicent’s kindly whispers your name to gain his attention. Tenderly her hands reach for the joints of his elbows, guiding him to sit up right from his rest. “She and the baby have recovered.”

A soft cough followed by a relieved chuckle emits from Viserys, now with the will to move on his accord despite his ailing pain.

For a while now, the sickness has bestowed more ache on the king. The milk of the poppy and the maesters hovering over his well-being has become more of the normal routine.

Alicent points to the wooden chamber doors, there you stand with little Alysanne clutched in your arms. Viserys’ lips stretch into a wide smile.

You are a vision of your late mother. With your hair brushed back into a braided crown, as waves cascade down your spine, with various woven braids decorated with little gold ringlets, with a gold chain across your forehead.

A pant of guilt and endearment blooms in his chest.

“My sweet girl.” He outstretches his arm, beckoning for you to come sit beside him.

An odd jolt of happiness is in your step, taking a spot next to your father, Alicent assists you to make sure Alysanne doesn’t fall from Viserys’ weak grip.

For once, in such a long time, you felt seen by Viserys. For once, you are not the spare.

“Father, her name is Alysanne.” You softly cradle the sleepy babe in your father’s arm, a toothy smile stretches his face, his cheeks plump with joy.

“By the Gods, she is beautiful.” He strokes her little cheek with his thumb, her little chubby fingers grab his index finger. Viserys glees with a laugh, “We must fetch a dragon’s egg for her cradle.”

A joyous occasion, as Alysanne is held by her grand sire. Viserys coos at her little sleepy mumbles. A lovely family unit, a mother, a grandfather, a step-mother and a step-grandmother —-- a lover.

All but a husband.

-

Awoke the morrow with a sleeping wife, and child—- went on his morning walk for his own time.

Returned to an empty chamber.

Vaemond walks with a stride, such speed to his step along the pathway to the king’s chambers. As he nears the doubled wooden doors, a hand halts him at his chest that is followed by the clink of armor.

With a heavy breath of annoyance, Vaemond doesn’t have to turn his face to see who has the nerve to stop a father from his child’s presence. The sworn shield, the queen’s loyal dog.

“Ser Criston, my wife is in the chambers with my child. You dare stop me?”

“The queen has instructed that no one enters.” Smugly Criston stands digiantly with a snide smirk, the implication is snarky, and bold — ‘and that means you’.

‘Pitiful and pathetic.’ Vaemond mulls, his lip twitching.

“I do wonder…” Vaemond tilts his head mockingly, back-peddling his steps, calculating his next move. Criston arches his brow.

“I’ve always forethought the queen leashed your head as her pet, but now I truly see, I mistook the wrong one.” Vaemond’s eyes trail for a second —- Criston’s face scrunches in offense.

A chorus of spewed shouting and pushing ensues. Shoving each other, declaring for the other to throw the first blow.

Even before the marriage, when it was simply courting—- the decision of marriage being made by Viserys upon your behalf, Alicent was always near in the shadows.

Putting her thoughts on how the ceremony should commence, only letting you decide what you want—- even going so far as to suggest to Viserys to end the bethroyal that ‘there are more suited men for her hand. Ser Vaemond is only a second son, what is there that he can offer her?’

The courting phase was always interrupted with Alicent stringing along. Vaemond would try to isolate you, converse with you, sweet-talk you —- but never once asked you of your interests, only boosted himself, and what he can provide.

And to Vaemond’s displeasure, Alicent would whisk you away at any given moment, hushed whispers among each other, and girlish laughter; with a sly eye over her shoulder at him.

Vaemond admits he didn’t fall in love for the sake of romance as those fairytales that young maidens read. He was the peruser, convincing Viserys for your hand, that ‘pure valyrian blood must be in union.’ You are his cousin. A cousin he barely saw over the years, but enough encounters to be familiar with one another.

It offended Vaemond greatly when Alicent rebuffed him, stating it was unfair to you to not have the choice to choose your betrothed, like Rhaenyra once had. Alicent was furious, her face scrunched in fury.

“It seems that our grace has forgotten that Princess Rhaenyra was bestowed the choice —- do you recall how she squandered it?”

Alicent’s lips pinched shut, turning to Viserys, hoping he would consider her decision. But Viserys’ allowed this, claiming that it is best that his second born be close by, not married off to another foreign house —- in a far away land.

Alicent has been a thorn in Vaemond’s rib, she made it her life’s purpose to torment him. Never could he be alone with you during the time that bridged between the proposal and wedding ceremony.

Vaemond was surprised Alicent didn’t sneak in their marital bed the fortnight of the ceremony. But she took full control anyways —- and Viserys let it happen every time.

Now, he sees another ploy of Alicent’s. To isolate him as a husband, and now as a father. He cannot even present his own child to the king as a man, the pride and honor of such an act stolen. Alicent has pilfered this opportunity right from under his feet.

To add salt to the wound, her sworn hound is restricting him from entrance.

“Vaemond?” Your muffled voice beckons for him through the door, he tries to inch closer but Criston doesn’t relent his intrusive hold, earning a growl from Vaemond.

“Vaemond, that you?” Footsteps closer behind the chamber doors, the latch clicks, with just a sliver of a crack the door opens.

“Vaemond, why all the shouting?”

“Ser Criston refuses to let a father enter.” Vaemond interrupts, pacing from heel to heel, agitated to the brim. Chest puffing, trying to intimate Criston.

You breathe a sigh of frustration, furrowing brows in disheartened dismay —- your gentle arm curls around the edge of the doorway, delicate fingers with the gentlest touch on Criston’s armored shoulder.

“Ser Criston, please let him enter.” The knight’s hardened features soften at your request, no longer bristling with entitlement, bowing his head, and finally steps aside, with a sweet-honeyed, ‘As you wish, princess’.

You sweetly thank him, and extend your hand to grab Vaemond, pulling him inside to partake in the joyous celebration. As Vaemond walked through the chamber doors, an exchange of distaste was thrown through dagger glares.

Alicent’s eyes sharply pierced his heart, if looks can kill, Vaemond would drop dead on the spot —- preferably with his heart cut out.

Alicent sits perched with Alysanne in her arms, swathed in an emerald blanket, as you provide your father his milk of the poppy; his joints were aching, and needed to rest back on his chair.

Alicent’s fingers caress his child’s little toes, purposefully her knuckles graze the stitched fabric—- peeking up at Vaemond subtly through her lashes.

Green cloth?

On his child?

On pure Valyrian blood?

Vaemond nearly wretches in his mouth. He notices your dress is a light shade of evergreen. A dragon brooch on each shoulder that ensembles a gold chain across your chest.

Green? Have you gone mad, woman?

Orchestrated performance, the movement, the positions —- you tending to your father, as the dutiful daughter, the wife and now newly mother. Viserys, the illustrious king, the father, the grandfather, weak but strong, overlooking the new life of his bloodline—- and her.

Alicent held little Alysanne, observing it all with a proud smile.

As if Alicent is the husband.

And Vaemond is merely a stranger trespassing.

Alicent’s eyes, methodical and smug. Vaemond sees it, he sees it all. He’s dying inside to snatch his child away from Alicent, but who knows—- Alicent would probably fall prey to the act of victim, cry to her husband that she has been wrongfully accused —- of what exactly?

Vaemond doesn’t have any evidence to his brewing resentment.

What can he say? The Queen has been trying to meddle in his marriage for the last two years? That she won’t let him near his own babe? That she has to be everywhere with his own wife?

Every soul in court will say how crude he’s being, that it’s all nonsense, merely preposterous.

‘The Queen is a good woman.’ The court will proclaim, ‘That she’s only performing her duty as the princess’ mother.’

‘She is no mother to you.’ Vaemond thinks. ‘Not even you can see through Alicent’s games.’

“Ser Vaemond, bless be. Sired me a beautiful granddaughter.” Visery sits as a jolly aging man, hair thinning to the point of some of his dome visible, and even a little pot belly protruding through his embroidered fabric.

Vaemond smiles, “Thank you, Viserys.”

“Truly, she’s beautiful.” A voice stabs Vaemond, swallowing down his loathing with a strained tight-lip smile.

Alicent is gazing down at Alysanne, rocking her against her breast, “She has her mother’s beauty.” Her tone is innocent, a demure smile to Viserys, and he falls for it, nodding along.

‘Fool. She plays you for a fool, Viserys.’

Vaemond walks to you, with the same forced thinned smile. His fingers reach for your long thick hair, caressing the curls, kissing your cheek.

No doubt in his mind, he can sense Alicent’s irate, and for a moment, it delights him.

-

‘Alas, the charade has ceased.’

Vaemond feels lighter, finally getting solace between himself and you. Time to part from Viserys and Alicent, Vaemond desires to eat a morning meal with you. To break fast together with Alysanne in her cradle, gurgling happily.

Recovery from birth has left you famished, craving for a hearty meal.

Departing from Alicent gave a shiver up your skin, it felt wrong to be away, she has been so attentive during the labor, and the after birth. Always holding Alysanne, as if she was Alicent’s blood.

Alicent hesitantly restrained herself, as Vaemond took control like the reins of a horse. Alicent wanted him to leave, to befall in the pits of the seven hells, so she can have Alysanne and you to her own.

But, an outburst couldn’t be made.

Ser Criston swiftly dashed to your aid, his arm jutted out for you to hold on to—- conveniently occupying the space that was meant for your husband. But at least, Vaemond was able to hold his child in his arms back in Viserys' chambers.

Trailing behind Vaemond and yourself is your handmaiden, Elinda Massey—- who is also your sister’s handmaiden. You summoned her to help you, still a bit achy at your step.

A mousey, loyal, and gentle woman. In her arms is Alysanne, letting your daughter’s small chubby hand grab at her slender creamy fingers.

Vaemond walks behind you as if a lonesome man, a mere man trailing behind a princess, and her sworn shield, watching you and Criston laugh and converse—- excluding him is your second nature.

The dining chambers are filled with platters of food—- the extended polished wood covered with meats, eggs and fruits.

See Criston bows, taking his post at the door, his darkened gaze shadowed by a brow.

“At last, we are alone.” Vaemond’s hand holds yours, his thumb stroking your fingers. Crawling with disgust within yourself, forcing a genuine smile to appease him.

“I have missed you.” Vaemond leans in, speaking against your cheek, his warm breath nearly making your skin recoil in a shrivel.

“And I, you.” You spoke in a formal, practiced infliction.

Vaemond’s lips connect to the skin of your cheek, daringly near the corner of your mouth. In times to display marital affection, to keep from shriveling away, you close your eyes, and a vision of Alicent soothes your mind.

Whenever you were to ‘perform’ your bedding duty as his wife, you lay limply on your back as a spread eagle, and imagine Alicent ravaging your body—- as she has done many times. Years now of this affair, suppressed away in the dead of night, hidden behind closed chambers with only whispers.

Edina cradles Alysanne close to her chest, prepping your little dragon for her slumber.

Vaemond pulls a chair for you, “This food looks divine.” He says, his hands caressing down your shoulders. An innocent smile forms on Edina’s face. “Queen Alicent has ordered the feast.” Her tone was gentle.

Vaemond chews the soft wall of his cheek, but wrinkles his mouth to a feigned smile. Nodding with a sardonic scrunch of his nose.

Edina breathes a smile, her eyes in your direction, “The Queen has also extended an invitation, the children desire to see little Alysanne.” She speaks, with adoration in her eyes on Alysanne.

Before you can speak, Vaemond interrupts. “Ah, yes, the king’s children shall see their niece,” He boasts. “We’ll present Alysanne after our fast.” Vaemond turns swiftly in his seat, almost lifting his fork, but your hand-maiden stammers.

“The Queen has not requested your presence, Ser Vaemond.” Edina’s voice lowers to an anxious stammer.

Vaemond’s mouth wrinkles, limbs frozen stiff. He slowly turns with a sharp shark eye. “I am their brother by law.” He says matter-of-factly. His eyes narrow a little, small and spiteful.

“Yes, of course, Ser Vaemond—-” she’s flushed with embarrassment, you nod your head that it’s okay, she hasn’t spoken out of turn. “But, Queen Alicent has only requested our Princess, and Lady Alysanne.”

Vaemond brews in silence, his eyes pierce and burn into the void. His breathing became heavier. Anxiously with a brave face, you instruct Edina to take Alysanne to your quarters, and give her your thanks for the delivery of the news.

Edina whisk away with Alysanne, patting her little bottom, exiting the shared room, leaving behind Vaemond, yourself and the cooked food that now grows cold.

A pregnant pause earns a tired eye roll from you, you can feel the vibrating stewing.

“When will this madness end?” Vaemond speaks, staring into his porcelain plate. You turn your eyes to him, your mouth hitches up for a moment in confusion, “What do you mean, Vaemond?”

His eyes look upon you desperately, “Alicent…” He says, shaking his head in disbelief, “She always meddles. She is a thorn upon me.”

Vaemond’s fingers grip the cloth of his stitched clothing, his fist poking at his chest. You roll your eyes in annoyance, a placid sigh, just hoping he can drop this.

“Do not speak of her in such a manner.” You spread through gritted teeth. “Alicent does not bear any ill will.” Your resonance is firm, no budging can waver it.

Your fingers curl in a gesture for him to stop. Jaw clenching, opening your napkin, just wanting to eat, and move away from this useless conversation.

“She prides herself as if she carries the cock!”

“Vaemond!”

“It is true!” He points at you with such fury, his eyes blood-shot red, “I cannot even hold my own blood without Alicent hovering!” Vaemond nips, his hands shaking, thrashing in the air.

You shush him again, his rising voice grating your ears. “Alicent is good, and kind. I do wish you could be respectful—-” Vaemond’s scoff interrupts you. Your face contorts with offense.

Vaemond’s face softens, furrowing in desperation.

“If you carry any love for me, you will distance us from Alicent.” Vaemond pleads, his hands clasping over yours, his voice irks you, it’s so pathetic.

“Tell her to go, flee from our presence.” Closing your eyes, your face resolving to an exhausted state, you shook your head in defiance, not even daring to look into his gaze, restraining to wretch your hands away.

“I will not.” Your voice is low, and firm, with your dead shark eyes. It’s been like this for the last two years, Vaemond complaining about Alicent, and as usual, your response defies his wishes.

“I understand Alicent was your childhood companion, but—-” Vaemond tries to ease the burdensome tension.

“Is. She is, Vaemond.”

He hums with annoyance, head nearly falling in exasperation, “Do you love me?” Vaemond asks in disbelief, questioning your faithfulness.

He leans back, offended and forlorn that he must ask such a question. You shake your head, with a sympathetic strained smile, “I care for you.” Patting his hand, a gesture often used to calm whining children.

“My wife does not harbor love for her husband?” He speaks through his teeth, wrenching his hand away from your touch.

A scoff escapes your lips, inhaling deeply, with a harsh swallow. Why must he make matters so difficult?

“This is an arranged marriage, marital vows spoken for the sake of allyship between our two houses. I care for you, Ser Vaemond, but I do not love you.”

“You love another?”

”No.” You spoke too quickly.

A pregnant pause.

Vaemond’s anger dissolves, fading to a blank stare, his breathing becomes shallow. His burning stare earns an uncomfortable shiver, uneasy in your own seat.

Jagged puzzle pieces twisting, slowly forming together —- all the times of Alicent’s shadow lingering. Whenever he dares utter a mention of Alicent, all you do is brush him off, as if he was the mere nuisance.

“You do.” He speaks in a hush, bolting to his feet, he huffs under his breath, such a petulant child. Stepping back a few steps, sneering.

As if the pieces finally shape and move, the thought pushes through the crevices of his mind. A deadpan chuckle scuffs from his mouth, his eyes just staring into you.

“The Gods made man and woman….” Vaemond trails off, unflinching, boring into you. No, no, no… your throat clenches in a swallow. Your brows compress into what seems as hurt and confusion, but truly it is fear.

“A man and woman shall share thou bed, and—” Vaemond’s eyes widens, motioning you to finish the well-practiced verse.

“And?” He prodes, he tilts his head, clicks his tongue. Your face morphs to silent anger, staring up at him with lavender daggers, breathing harder now.

“You are well taught of this verse. Have you forgotten your teachings?” Vaemond mocks you. Your glare at him through your lashes, your nose flaring into a snarl, muttering a spiteful whisper.

“One shall not lie with the same sex.”

Vaemond nods mockingly, his eyes never leaving yours. Muttering under his breath, “ Yes, yes. ”

Violet optics stare with fury.

A screech of a chair follows.

Vaemond begins chanting, spewing zealot verses, as a delirious septon. Pacing back and forth, hands twirling into the air.

“A sin against the Gods!”

A crack of a slap echos, so hard his face is swacked to his side, his mouth pouted. The sting of your rings vibrates against his cheek. Vaemond stares at you in disbelief, but your spine straightens, what once was gentility in your eyes, is now just disgust.

“I am your wife.” Your throat tightens, unable to swallow down the tears. No tears wasted on your husband —- no, never. Tears for that the truth could bleed out, such a scandal it could be!

The Princess and the Queen in a twisted love affair—- the shame it would bring to the names Targaryen, and Hightower.

“And you will respect me as such.” You spoke with an edge, with a firm finality. You whisk away from him, Vaemond believing that this was the end to the conversation.

The rough edge of the wooden table digs into the heels of your hands roughly. Tinkering your body back and forth by the grip, yearning to scream. Throat burning raw, splintering.

But the longing inside of you is violent, changeling. To vomit the ache that has been brewing —- Vaemond’s foot has been tinkling the pot, and now it has spilled.

You just want him to understand —- that a young girl to be married to her cousin, a cousin she has no grown affection for, to be ripped from her autonomy, to have hidden her true love secretly—- that this isn’t what a girl should be subjected to.

Your fists bang against the dining table, stinging the wound tight flesh. Twirling so fast, it startles Vaemond in a flinch.

“I have only been dutiful, sacrificed my body… for you. ” Your voice in a hoarse whisper. Peering at him over your shoulder, nearing a sob. Dutiful not in the traditional sense, but you have defended him, even when you couldn’t stand the man.

“I am a second born, but I am a princess, no less. My title is your prize.” Heavily restraining your breathing, the sorrow transforming into anger.

“I am merely a token for your status. A pawn for the purity of your bloodline.” Speaking through tears, frustration from your wounded core spewing. “Yet, I have not begrudged you, nor humiliated you.”

Vaemond flinches back, his pride stomped on under your pretty foot. Grinding the heel into the splatter.

“I have done what was expected of me!” You shrill, your breathing becoming haggard, “And here you stand, demanding me to throw away the only companion I have!”

“You have me, darling.” Vaemond’s faux sweet tone does nothing but disgust you.

“You’re more like my father than I thought.” Your nose recoils in shame. That left a sour twang on your tongue. “I had no say in this— this —” you’re stammering, dry-heaving as tears collide down your cheeks, but the fury is boiling over.

Murmuring under your breath, ‘I didn’t want this. I didn’t desire you.’ Vaemond huffs a breath, stepping closer, his presence suffocating.

Vaemond goads you, ‘say it, say it!’ Nearly hovering over you, his nose inches away from yours, but the blood of the dragon that soars through you snips back against the weak feeble sea snake.

“—- THIS MISERABLE CHARADE OF A MARRIAGE!”

Both of your voices shrill higher, mangling over each other in volume, alarmingly. Vaemond screams that he is your husband, to obey his word as law, but you follow no man. Vaemond corners you into the wooden table, trying to scare you, but you bark right back at him.

The roaring echos so badly, it may have reached all through King’s Landing.

Criston barges inside the chambers, the carved doors nearly thrashing against the wall pavement. Bolting towards Vaemond, thrashing him by the jut of his arm, standing in-front of you as a shield.

Vaemond shrills, “How dare you lay your hands on me?!” Criston seethes his sword, the sharp steel’s reflection blinking at Vaemond, catching his eyes within the reflection.

“I will not permit insults upon her grace.” Criston’s teeth are grinding, he hissed through his clenching ivories.

“No offense has been made, Criston.”

Criston’s face peeks over his steel shoulder, you assure him with a smile. “I am quite alright, thank you.” The warmth in your eyes melt to cold ire regarding Vaemond.

“My husband lost himself briefly, I assure he will refrain himself from a spectacle.” Cold, dead violet eyes blink at him, Vaemond hums with disbelief.

Criston lowers his sword, swiftly into its leather sheath. His rich brown eyes never leave Vaemond, as he walks back to his post.

The doors shut.

The silence hangs tightly.

“Vaemond, I don’t desire an argum—” You sigh, turning around on your heels, but your words die in a gasp, his hand grabs your jugular, a weak attempt of intimidation by a small man.

Vaemond’s fingers clutches the terrain of your throat, pulling you into him by his grip. A startle overwhelms you. Your fingers hovering over his wrist, gripping onto him. Offense melts into mockery.

A small laugh leaves you, tittering at Vaemond. Snide eyes blankly stare at him, daring for him to continue. Embarrassment floods him, releasing your throat.

“Such affections will not be tolerated.” Vaemond hisses, his face morphing between stoic and hostile. His ego is bruised and bitten off at the edges.

“Will it? ” A soft insulting chuckle emits from your lips, your face cold yet devilish. “Who will believe such tales?” You breathe another chuckle, more harsher now, your lavender eyes leering at him.

“My father will never believe such fabrications . His dear wife, and his daughter—”

“Soiling each other. ” Vaemond’s voice grats, and gruff, his voice looms low. You shake your head in disbelief, your pale curls bouncing against your cheekbones.

A sick, derisive smile, “You will become ill with your unfounded paranoia.” Coyly your hand plays with his cloth that rests at his shoulders.

“Why do you insist on such vile lies?” You ask him, your hand rests upon his shoulder. Caressing his shoulder through his luxurious vest.

“By the Gods, Vaemond—- why can’t you see that Alicent means no harm?”

The shells of Vaemond’s ears burn, his voice cracks into a groan, he refuses to submit to your ‘seduction of sweetness’ . Twirling his body in a circular pacing —- as if he was possessed by unholy madness. Your feet peddle backwards, rather smug at his insolence.

Vaemond turns his body, composing himself.

“We will leave for Driftmark.” Vaemond’s index finger menacingly pointed at you. “By the morrow.”

His hand strikes the air with every word he utters, “That is my word. ” And another, “ That is my law. ” Vaemond spins in haste, his heels clicking against the marbling with vigor.

You watch him depart and disappear, your head held high indignantly, but as he disappears through the chamber doors, you nearly collapse to your knees.

Your fingers fidgety and twirling the gold bands of your jeweled rings, clutching your belly —- your torso nearly hunching over from the rush of anger, and fright. Your belly is trembling.

The familiar emerald gem resting on your marital finger, fiddling your fingers against each other. You kiss it to ground yourself.

Criston waltz back inside your chambers with an irate gait.

“Princess, are you alright?”

You nod hastily, clearing your throat, already hoarse from the screaming. “Yes, I am quite fine.” You hesitantly move back and forth, feet bobbing from toe to heel, not sure if you want to sit for a moment or run to get Alysanne.

Criston steadies you, before you fumble to pieces from the overwhelming stress. He guides you by the joints of your elbows, seating you down on the velvet dining chair.

Criston’s admiration bleeds profusely. A rarity these days to acquire a male companion, who doesn’t yearn for your womanhood, but seeks out your mind—- and approval.

Criston mounts Alicent and yourself on a pedestal akin to those carved idols in the sept. A peculiar affection, Criston seeks to mold himself to be worthy in your eyes. As a pleading mortal prays to the Mother.

Beyond his rich brown eyes, he sees a being holy. A girl, who accompanied Alicent, saved him from the edge of his own sword, from the filth of his sins.

Your sworn shield since you were a young girl. A bond built on the fragments of trust, and pain.

“Does he often yell at you?” Criston asks. His eyes shadowed under his dark brow. Big brown oculus glistening with newfound frustration.

Your mouth gaps open, trying to find the words, but Criston is bristling as the hairs of a cat’s spine. “He dares abuse you?”

An airy inhale catches your throat, as tears sheen your eyes. “Abuse, that word weighs too heavy—- he’s an entitled man, who believes a woman should kneel in obedience.” Shaking your head, with a forlorn smile.

“In all the Targaryen bloodline, has there ever been a mousy woman?” You giggle, shoulders shaking. “He prides himself as a conqueror.” A boisterous laugh escapes Criston.

“A conqueror? Barely a knight.” Criston speaks cruelly, a mean smirk curling at his lip. “In the battle field, his armor is polished.”

A moment as this, a wife should display shame to discuss her husband with disdain, but Vaemond is not a man. Your hand was forced to wed a spoiled brat—- your father has no qualms on arranged marriages.

-

The Red Keep has many secrets. A plethora of hidden away chambers —- fit for two people. Alicent’s chambers were your favored choice of solace.

Alicent entrusted you with her secrets, and her fears, as you have done as well.

Her fingertips graze against your skin, tracing softly against the curve of your wrist, to the underside of your palm. Stroking the healed scar, the very one Alicent gave you many moons ago.

Just two bodies lying together, in bliss. The warmth of the fire pit and body heat encases you both. Flesh dew and scented from a shared bath of oils and soaps.

It wasn’t always so pleasant through the early years of shared girlhood. The guilt, the shame of harboring such affection for a woman. There isn’t a word in the western tongue for this affection.

There were days as young girls, Alicent would lock herself away, reading over verses, deep in prayer. As you spent hours with septas reciting prayers in unison, under the cloth of your dress, pinching and scratching the flesh of your thighs till splotches of deep purple formed.

Alicent mutilating her fingernails, gnawing or pinching away the redden cuticles.

Many suns and moons passed in the early days, but the love kept growing. The perpetual denial, the discreet glances, the graze of fingers tantalizingly touching—-ever so close, ever so far. How lost you become in Alicent’s moon-brown eyes.

The guilt was far too great, keeping distance between each other, but the ties thread only stretched painfully. A desperate longing, a raw human feeling.

Harbored tenderness finally exploded, blinding tears, and dashing feet carried you through the corridors of the sept, one day. There, as a holy vision, Alicent knelt in prayer, crying silently.

Clicks of hast feet alerted her, turning her watery gaze over her shoulder, as her fingers rested interlocked. A lost little babe under the towering marbling of The Mother.

This separation was a death sentence, vile and cruel. No longer, could you stay away, you needed her touch. And she did too for yours.

Without a word, you collapse to your feet before her, as you would in worship. Kneeling against her green silks, sniffling as your head falls against her thighs, her gnawed fingers wove themselves within your pale tresses.

‘Why did the Gods sew my heart to you?’

Alicent’s lips peppered kisses on your scalp, sniffling as her hands clung onto your back, cradling you. Rocking you back and forth, a rhythmic cradling, as a mother would.

If you were born a son, perhaps life wouldn’t be so cruel, so unfair.

Haunted by then the guilt of loving one another when your father took Alicent as his new bride. By the eyes of law, Alicent is your step-mother, but she never was, nor ever will.

The rings you both bear, is a reminder that your union isn’t recognized by the law of man, but the law of the Gods. Biting down on your bottom lip, sucking it into your mouth as a child, you couldn’t bear to stomach today’s charade.

“He suspects.”

Alicent’s head rises from your shoulder, confusion and fear creeping into her brown eyes. Her brows pinch, her fingers stroking the silk of your nightgown.

“Your father?” She asks in a whisper, so hushed as if scared anyone could hear beyond the walls.

“Vaemond.”

“How?” Alicent shakes her head, her beautiful face morphed with concern.

“As we were breaking our fast, he threw a fit, that your invitation didn’t extend to him.” You wearily laugh, “He went mad, raving on about how you seek to keep me from him.” Alicent sits up, her hand sinking into the mattress, darkness enveloping her eyes.

“Did he strike you?”

“No, thank the Gods. Criston came to my aid,” You wipe the tears that spill over your eyes by the back of your hand, “If he were to strike me, I would’ve gutted Vaemond as a fish.”

Alicent became quiet. “It worries me, so.” She says. Her thumb flicks against a cuticle. Quickly, you cease the harm, engulfing her hand in yours.

“My love, please.” You whisper, tapping her fingers gently. A sweet whisper stops Alicent’s assault.

“He will not have us seperated.” Alicent swallows, her face shrivels, the mere images of you being whisked away —- as she would be left behind to drown in this loneliness.

Shaking her head, speaking through wet inhales, “The Gods answered my prayers as a child,” Alicent’s head fell in a bow, her forehead connected to your knuckles, “I will see to it that you shall stay.” Alicent spoke through her tears, muttering now as a prayer, you must stay.

Rocking back and forth, hunched over as she would be in deep prayer—- stripped raw for you to see.

Alicent holds your inner wrist, kissing it against her lips. Her eyes were dilated, stammering under her breath. Your arms encase Alicent in a tight, warm hug. Cradling her as a babe.

“Oh, my love,” You croak, voice hoarse, laying your head on her spine. “The Gods have blessed us to still have one another, I have no doubt that I shall stay.”

“You have blessed me with a daughter.” Alicent says in a hush. “In another life, she is ours.” Her eyes gaze upon you.

Cupping Alicent’s cheeks into your palms, leaning for a kiss. Kissing her eyes, the bridge of her nose, between her eyes getting a titter from her.

Alicent strokes her nose against yours, her lips capturing yours. Lips melting, wet tongues fondle —- Alicent suckles your tongue, her milky fingers untying the cotton, slithering fingers underneath the flaps, cupping your swollen breasts.

One of Alicent’s hand trickles mischievously down your belly, caressing your sore mound, through the white night wear. A gasp slips from your lips. Her teeth nip at your cheek, open wet kisses trail across your skin down the slope of your throat.

Flesh singing alive, and Alicent whispers to be gentle, a little fondling, but no penetration. Unlike Vaemond, who sought for your body just merely days from birth.

Intertwining bodies cast shadows by the dim candle light, and girlish giggles echo against the chamber walls.

-

The hour is late.

Alicent and yourself departed for the night, begrudgingly to upkeep the reputation of dutiful wives.

In comfortable silence, Edina helps your achy bodice, in your night routine. Brushing your hair, and assisting you with Alysanne. You bathed her, and clothed her. As you held her against her chest, Edina brushed your hair.

It’s restful, and Vaemond isn’t near to ruin such bliss. You weren’t sure where he had run off to, but you didn’t muster the strength to care.

A quiet knock on your chambers alerted you, and for a moment, a growl nearly slipped. “Edina, can you please see who that is?” You ask sweetly. She mutters, Yes, princess.

Edina opens the door gently, with only a silver opening. As you rock your daughter against your breast, Edina breathes in a relief, turning back to you. You stare at her through the reflection of your mirror.

“It is Ser Criston, Princess.”

You sigh with a smile, grateful it isn’t your husband. You shuffle carefully in your stool, “Please, let him in.” Patting Alysanne’s little bum.

Edina moves the door wider, and Criston bows his head respectfully. “Hello Criston.” You greet him with a hum, “Is everything well?”

“A meeting has been called, Princess.” He says, almost with a tone of urgency. Your brows pinch in confusion, “The hour is late, why has the council been summoned?” Titling your head, eyes tired.

“I saw Alicent, and Otto accompany your father in the council chambers—-” Criston exhales with frustration, “— along with Vaemond.” His jaw clenches.

Stoned fury cements itself on your face, swallowing down, breathing becoming more heavier.

“Edina, please take Alysanne. I must tend to my imbecile of an husband.” The courtesy of graciousness, and taught manners are long gone, seeping out of you with the urge to bark.

Edina shuffles with quickness at her step, her hands out-stretched for Alysanne. Carefully Edina took your little bundle in her arms, you kissing her little furry head, as Criston helped you get to your feet.

“Criston, please take me to see Vaemond.” Your hand cupping Criston’s extended forearm, guiding you, his other hand on-top of your fingers.

A malicious smirk curls at the corner of his mouth, as you mutter obscenities under your breath along the path of the keep.

-

A meeting has been summoned.

An invitation only for Viserys to join Vaemond in the council room, but Alicent and Otto have come forth as Viserys’ shadows.

“I see your grace, and the Hand has come.” Vaemond says, rather annoyed. Alicent’s gaze subtly searches the room, but you are nowhere in sight.

“Whichever you must say,” Viserys says with a smile, “can be spoken among my wife, and my hand.” Viserys limply walks to the council table.

“Of course.” Vaemond strains with a formal smile. He clears his throat, his hands behind his back. “It’s time for my wife to reside in Driftmark.”

Silence commences. Alicent’s eyes widen.

“My daughter has just been born, and I would like my blood to enjoy her home.” Vaemond continues. A sullen look drags on Viserys. “So soon, my granddaughter has just been born.”

“Of course, not yet. Out of respect, we will stay for a little longer, but once we are ready—” Vaemond’s words are snuffed out, by Alicent’s scoff.

“No— - she cannot leave. King’s Landing is her home.” Alicent speaks anxiously, turning to Viserys. Vaemond scoffs under his breath. Alicent’s head twists in his direction with such haste, any faster her head would have spun and fallen off her shoulders.

“Two years we have stayed, not once has my wife visited Driftmark.” Vaemond puffs his chest, “She has not seen the seas of my home!”

Alicent chortles, a wet growl. “Viserys, please see to this.” She turns back to Viserys, “The children will miss her, you won’t see Alysanne for a time.” Alicent’s slender fingers grasp Viserys’ clothes forearm with a tightness. An exhausted sigh escapes him.

“Or you will miss her.” Vaemond spits.

“She is my friend, of course I would.” Alicent hisses through her teeth. Vaemond’s feet walk one by one, with sardonic thumps; leaning into Alicent’s space.

Alicent’s eyes squinted, “And where is she? It would be preferred to have her presence.” It didn’t feel right to not have you in this meeting, yet Vaemond is here overseeing a decision on your behalf.

“It is her right to choose where her home is! This should be her decision!” A vein slightly protrudes at Alicent’s neck, her throat straining.

“Your peculiar need for my wife is —- disturbing.” He says spitefully.

“Enough of this!” Viserys shouts, shutting both Alicent, and Vaemond to silence. “Two moons of this insufferable fighting—” He wheezes, “from the both of you!” He clicks his cane against the marbling, declaring his authority.

Vaemond towers over Alicent, nearly cornering her, but she doesn’t back down. Holding her head up high, staring back at him with such hate. A vision of silver, and a shuffle of metal enter the room.

Criston wedges himself between the two, his feet in stance for a brawl, but Vaemond only chuckles at the notion.

“Alas, the sworn mutt has come to protect his consort.”

“Must we have another go?” Criston asks, his dark brows shadowing his eyes. Venomous snake eyes, as his hands itch to slice Vaemond into an carasses.

”Would you liken I tell the king how you disrespected the princess?” Criston’s throat is hoarse, vein bulging. The seething rage within him is reaching a high.

Vaemond sucks his teeth at the notion. “My wife and I merely had a disagreement.” Alicent leans into Criston’s side, her lowered eyes twitching in a hooded glare.

Viserys shouts your name, his voice echoes within the room, beckoning you to him by his shaky hand. He caught you peeking from the chamber doors, watching the speckable.

Alicent’s eyes flooded with relief at the sight of you. You waltz inside with a determined gait, but as Vaemond opens his arms for an embrace, you swiftly pardon him with a worried smile, for Alicent and your father.

Vaemond’s feet bobbles, rooted into the marbling, still staring at the direction you walked through. Criston laughs to himself, at the pitiful sight.

Alicent holds you by the shoulders, shielding you away from your pestering husband.

“My sweet girl,” Viserys says, “Vaemond is declaring for you to leave.” He’s wounded. Viserys truthfully doesn’t want to see you depart, but you are a wedded woman now.

By law, a wife must accompany her husband, and it is two years late for your leave for Driftmark, such as Rhaenys had when she became lady of the sea.

“Yes, my love!” Vaemond says with a sardonic boast. “Our daughter has been born. It is our time to depart for home.” He steps closer, preparing to pry you away.

“The decision shall be done, only by my daughter’s permission.” Viserys casts a gaze at you, with such a kind smile, entrusting you to choose the ‘best decision’, to tame this spectating chaos.

Vaemond is repulsed at the notion of Viserys allowing you to make a decision on such matters.

You nearly stutter as a jester before everyone, terrified. Out of nature, your fingertips fidget with your ring. Not the ring bestowed to you by Vaemond, but the very ring shared between Alicent and yourself.

Blinking tears back, all eyes fall upon you. Alicent’s distressed wet eyes stare into yours, silently pleading with you.

You do not wish to prevent your daughter the opportunity to enjoy Driftmark, it is her home just as King’s Landing, but your heart is torn —- to be separated from Alicent is a murder.

Your soul won’t bear it, it would be felt as death. Worse than the pain during the wedding between Alicent and your father, the grief caused you to nearly fall ill. To separate the children—- hopes of being a family again shattering before you.

Hesitantly, your mouth quiver, but your mind was set. Driftmark is simply just a dragon’s ride away.

“I wish to stay here,” you proclaimed, standing with a firm posture. Vaemond’s eyes wide and enraged, gawking at you.

“Alysanne has just been born. There is no need for hast, I shall stay here in King’s Landing.”

A weak smile stretches just a little on Alicent’s face. All the fury seeps away from her face. Vaemond sputters in disgust, and rage. Nearly foaming at the mouth as a rabid dog.

“Then so be it.” Viserys proclaims, walking towards you with his cane, the ache of his body weighs on him, causing a limp, and a cough.

With no hesitation, you dash to his side, as does Alicent. You whisper to your father with a kiss to his cheek, a firm yet gentle ‘thank you, father’.

The pin drops. The hinges snap.

The Sea Snake breaks through the bubbling sea foam. A man cannot take anymore of this.

“ Viserys,” Vaemond pleas, shoulders shaking, fingers curling, “she plays you for a fool. Don’t you see that Alicent has bewitched your daughter—”

“Enough!” Viserys stomps the end of his cane, the clank startling you, as a frightened little girl, you cling onto your father’s forearm. His aging face distorts, his eyes leering into Vaemond.

“I respect you, Ser Vaemond, but you shall hold your tongue.” Viserys waddles closer, “Alicent is your queen, and respect is in order.”

Otto leans by the pillars, arms crossed against his chest. A spectator enjoying a theater play.

“Alicent is my daughter’s childhood companion, and I will not see them separated.” Viserys declares, stomping his cane onto the ground, echoing against the keep, its thud emphasizing his decision.

His word is law.

“I love your daughter, Viserys—”

“Then act as such!”

Vaemond sighs loudly, nearly stomping his feet in defeat.

“Vaemond, for the nearly twelve moons, you have made me mad with your judgment.” Viserys huffs. Shaking his head at Vaemond’s childish attitude. “Ridiculous bickering with my wife.”

Viserys softly tilts his head, “No more of this.” He whispers to Alicent. She swallows down, holding onto Viserys’ arm, mouth wrinkling into a frown, as if reprimanded as a child.

“Alicent ploys against me—-” Vaemond’s words die into a groan as a fist punch at his chest. A series of grunts and thrashing. You bellow for them to stop this thrashing.

Vaemond and Ser Criston tussle on top of each other, Viserys declaring for both of them to cease. Your pleas fall onto deaf ears. Your feet carry you near them, trying to tug Vaemond off of Criston, fruitlessly.

A clash of limbs, a tug of war. With one miscalculation of his elbow, a crunch and airy gasp of pain breaks. A collision against the floor, you softly whine in pain.

Shouts of your name, and feet running.

Nose welting as a smashed berry, seeping into the cave of your mouth, copper embedding on your palate. Your vision is blurry, colors of fabric and candle flames are translucent murky strings before your eyes.

Sensations of hands picking up your limp body in marital fashion, your mind too deep in a daze to connect with reality. Not sure who has you, muffled shouting becomes clearer.

Your lavender eyes are blank, and unblinking, as your vision begins to unclog the fog—— auburn hair stands before you, and trembling fingers caress your swollen lip.

Out of habit, your tongue glides over the top cage of your teeth, stinging the swelling flesh of gums, but you don’t stop the brushing of ivories.

“Fetch the maesters!”

You inhale a small gust of breath, a deep one that fills your lungs to an odd relief; as if you haven’t breathed in ages. Such vacancy etched in your pupils, gazing through your lashes to witness a faded vision of Vaemond staring in surprise.

He tries to come near you, but your father barks in his face. You don’t seek his affections, he has committed enough damage for a fortnight.

Sweet palms encase your cheeks, dabbing the spilling blood that coats the bridge of your nose, its sticky. Scared breaths escape Alicent, hyperventilating, as your eyes become loopy, one closes slowly after the other. The maesters all encircle you, muttering that your nose may be broken.

A wounded dragon rests upon the shores of Oldtown, crying for help. A roaming sea snake is lurking, snipping. The tower shines green. Alicent’s eyes catch Criston’s spare dagger —- the banners have been called.

Alicent charges at him, hatred and spite feeding off of each fiber of her being, taking the dagger that was seethed in Criston’s satchel, woven in her grip.

Dashing feet clamor against the flooring —- an ungodly manic shout roars from Alicent, frightening all men. Viserys haggers a few steps back, calling out to Alicent.

“Have you gone mad?!” Alicent’s voice is hoarse, snarling at him as a devilish beast. Her arm raises up, ready to strike through his flesh.

Quickly, Vaemond’s arms fling high, freeing himself, catching Alicent’s wrist in his. Alicent can’t even hear pleas from her husband, nor her father —- the stain of red has engulfed her vision. All shouts for her died in the distance, as blood rushed to her ears.

Murderous thoughts plague her mind as grave rot, to gash Vaemond’s skull open, feed his torn limbs to your dragon, imprison him as a suffering lame —- his delayed death will only sedate her fury.

Harming the only soul she can confide in, the only being who understands her fears, who shares her guilt for possessing love for another woman, but oh —- such a sin is delightful.

You’re the only one who can hear her voice in this wretched hell procreated by the Gods —- you can still hear her heart-beat in a crowded room.

You see her, as she sees you.

Not as your step-mother, more than a childhood companion, but as your lover, another-half of your soul. Stolen moments when the realm is asleep, both crying, laughing as if the world outside doesn’t exist—- ushering fantasies of traveling on dragon’s back to East, exploring the colorful lives of the Free Cities, as young girls again.

Praying on your knees, caressing each other.

Love, this is her love, to be seen in a room of shattered shards of glass that reflect the children you both once were. You won’t leave her alone, to slip away from each other. To be inside each other’s skin, to be inside each other.

Two women tangled in the realms’ webs. Forced to marry men who make their skin crawl. A matrimony in misery together.

“Alicent, put away the dagger!”

“What have you done for her?” Alicent’s whispers, with malice. Her eyes wet with an unshed sheen. Her voice is so low, just enough for Vaemond to hear, as a chorus of shouts fade in the distance.

“Besides take her body as ownership?” Alicent’s voice cracks into a broken wail, “Wedded her to claim her nobility as yours.” Her nose scrunches as a hound, “She is not a pawn in your games.” She hisses through her canines.

“Own her? I, a man, cannot even enjoy his marriage without interference. Meddling in affairs you have no qualms with.” Vaemond’s thrashing causes a slip of fingers.

His veiny hand tussles with Alicent’s arm, a futile attempt tugging by the jut of her elbow, to try to take her to safety, but she doesn’t relent. She thrashes her arm away, with a grunt.

The dagger’s sharp curved tip inches hairs away from Vaemond’s exposed glossy ocular.

“It is my right to be concerned.” Alicent’s teeth bore into a scowl. She’s unrecognizable, edging on her last thread of sanity. “Who will care for her?” Her voice carries the weight of concern, affection, a crack of desperation.

Disoriented voices fade in and out from the distance, a stand-off brewed from loathing, and jealousy. As many try to break apart Alicent and Vaemond—- others flock to your limp body, and the sprinting maesters.

Vaemond leers through his lashes, turning his attention away. Your ichor staining Alicent’s fingernails, and wrists in splatters. Vaemond’s venomous spite inflates akin to spikes, his eyes daringly bore into Alicent’s, sneers low under his breath, ‘suffocating’.

A disgruntled growl slips from Alicent’s lips. “ I am her companion. Her only friend. ” Alicent inches closer, nearly barking in his face. Such a declaration in her bellowing voice, her brows pinching in sorrow.

A moment stills.

He smirks, nose flaring.

“The very friend who bedded her grieving father.”

An ungodly screech rips from Alicent, raw and animalistic. Strength and sheer adrenaline. A scream that echoes the thousand unheard cries of her depraved girlhood. A release of her festering sorrow all in one strike.

By the Gods, what a fleeting delight.

With a swift glide of her wrist, the dagger just inches from the bridge of his nose, but the sharp tip rips a slice on his cheek.

Clamor of voices die in the silence.

Alicent slowly backed away, with such wild rage glistening in her eyes, her fingers trembling loose from her grip. The dagger clanks at her feet, her breaths are haggard.

Vaemond’s fingertips dab against the bleeding slash. Stricken with astonishment at the drips of ichor —- and great offense, Alicent has gathered the nerve to commit such a heinous act.

A suffocating figure comes near as a shadow.

Otto comes to his daughter’s side, his shoulder patting her shoulder to quell the tension that tightens her muscles. His vacant palm grips her wrist, softly squeezing, comfort? A warning.

Towering behind her, with such an ominous categorical glare, Otto breathes through his nose, a frustrated sigh. If no one will take the reins of this masquerade, he will. He always prided himself to be the solver of any problems.

Calculating his next move, to not only pacify Vaemond down, but to not frazzle the feathers of his child.

“Let us handle this bickering with grace.” Otto’s head tilts down, gaze downcasted at his daughter's dome, caressing her thick waves—- whose face was still twitching with lingering tears, exhaustion draining from her.

“We will all discuss our —-” Otto pauses for a second, turning his sight to Vaemond, feigning an inch of sympathy, “troubles in the morrow.” As a master manipulating the strings of its puppet, dancing to his rhythm.

-

Dull pain weighs on the bridge of your nasal, the milk of the poppy soothing most of the inflamed ache. The maesters claim it’s the luck of the Gods that your nose wasn’t shattered, with being the brunt of brute strength.

Resting in your chambers, deep in the massive blankets, boneless bodice sinking into the mattress, but your hooded eyes never leave Alysanne’s cradle.

Even in a moment of enduring the strain of this wound, the motherly instinct within you is overtaken. Awaiting any gurgle, or cry, any excuse to hold her in your embrace.

An uncomfortable whine vibrates low in your throat, nearing a snort, by the joints of your elbows into the mattress, you lift your heavy body up. Groggy muscles tighten and burn as you dig within yourself any inch of remaining strength.

Slow steps inch closer —- one and two, one and two—- your fingers grip the cradle. Carefully, your open palms dive into the blankets, grasping Alysanne’s little neck, and back; by the bent of your knees, you hoist her up.

Small gurgles emit from her heart-shaped mouth, you coo her, connecting her small body against your chest. Rocking her back to slumber, you shuffle back to your bed, hawking your balance, so that your feet don’t catch the loose end of your silk night-gown.

You gaze at her, what a beauty she is.

Despite loathing her father, the miserable masquerade he performed not only before your father, but to the sworn shield, the king’s hand to bear witness —- and above all else, in-front of your dear Alicent.

Vaemond’s outburst of demands, proclaiming you to be taken by his force, to reside the end of your days in Driftmark.

Aware of how tedious Otto is upon his reputation that extends upon his daughter, he will chastise any witnesses to keep tight lips. No whispers of this dreadful night. For once, you hope Otto weaves his fingers —- there is no need for anyone to speak such haughty gossip about Alicent.

‘My love has suffered for too long.’ You mull quietly. Softly grazing Alysanne’s button nose. Alicent doesn’t deserve to be the subject of the talebearers—- to be humiliated as such.

Alysanne mewls in her sleep, but your essence lulls her, caressing her cheek with your nose. Tracing the bridge of her nose with the grace of your finger, admiring her innocence.

“I will not let him have you,” You whisper in a hush, “And I will not have him take me away.”

-

“A mere scratch.”

The head maester dabbed Vaemond’s cheek, as the white cloth soaks in splotches of his blood.

“If it was closer, it would have been a gash, and the loss of an eye.”

Vaemond sits with his fingers digging into his clothed knees, as an insolent child. Vaemond is marinating in his seat, brooding in his pathetic defeat.

His fingers clenching onto the arm-rests, the intricate gold dragon engraving digging into the flesh of his fingers.

A handful of maesters flocked to Vaemond’s aid with haste, as Alicent was whisked away without a word from her father.

Humiliated, that his own wife would not defend his honor, that he was cut down by a woman’s hand, that the king himself would not see the impending shambles of his house.

A shush falls upon the maesters, quietly bowing.

Vaemond’s eyes gaze up to see Alicent at the doors. Mute, and regal, despite losing herself in her anger. The maesters all bow, one after another, taking their leave — all scurry out of the door, as rats.

Alicent walks inside, stoned silent, her palms clasped on top of each other against her belly, her lips pursed — restraining herself, her eyes still red at the rim from dried tears.

No less, her father sent her to mend the peace. Alicent stares Vaemond down, even through her display of vulnerability, she sees him as nothing. As if he is the dirt beneath her feet.

Vaemond stiffened his spine, his chest puffed out to ready brace himself against her wrath. But Alicent doesn’t move… her feet stay rooted. Her eyes are distant, as if reflecting quietly.

She hums.

“His grief doesn't bear a flame to mine.”

#chaosfae writes #alicent hightower x reader #queen alicent #Alicent Hightower fanfic

[aemondsbabe]

The Queen

summary: dairy/letters & lingerie kink || alicent stumbles across a secret of yours and is more than happy to make it come true

pairing: modern!alicent x f!reader

warnings: mature/explicit, 18+ (minors dni!), no use of y/n, afab reader, wlw, pre-established relationship, dom!Alicent, sub!reader, queen honorifics used in the bedroom, lingerie kink, use of a leather crop, oral sex (f receiving), fingering, thigh riding, let me know if i missed anything!

word count: 3.3k

a/n: happy day seven of 12 days of smuff!! i went into a fugue state and wrote 10 pages in 2 hours. the hold that olivia cooke has on me should be studied by science. anyway.

12 days of smuff masterlist!

gif creds to @olliviacooke

likes, comments, & reblogs are very appreciated but never required!

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Alicent’s POV

She was humming, swaying her hips to a new album she’d downloaded earlier that week as she smoothly moved the duster along the wooden surface of your nightstand, careful as she guided it between the lamp and the small potted plant you loved so much. Getting a bit too into the music she was listening to as she tidied up your shared bedroom, though, she accidentally bumped against the growing stack of books on your nightstand. 

“Shit!” Alicent hissed as a few went tumbling to the ground. Sighing, she bent down to grab them, half-heartedly cursing you for insisting on buying new books before you’d finished the ones you had. 

“Huh?” She wonders outloud, pausing the music on her phone when she sees her name scrawled in your familiar handwriting. Her fingers brush over the soft, leather bound book as she picks it up, her lips pursing as she reads the words “Personal Journal” embossed on the front in fancy gold lettering. Her brown eyes widen and quickly glance around the room, despite the fact that she knows she’s the only one home. Biting her lip, she runs a finger over the spine of your diary, weighing her options. On the one hand, she knew it would be a horrible invasion of your privacy to look but… well, what if it was something important? 

She shook her head at the thought. She wasn’t going to be one of those snooping partners! You already told her everything anyway, it’s not like there would be anything in your diary she didn’t already know! You were basically an open book, in fact, it was one of the things she loved most about you – your willingness to be so honest and transparent. 

No, she thought, carefully setting the diary back on your bedside table, I’m not going to! I’m simply – 

Okay, sue her. She’s only human and her name was right there! She’d make it up to you. 

Glancing around one more time, she flipped open the leather-bound book, flipping through it to the page she’d spotted a moment ago. She found it pretty quickly and nervously bit on a nail as her eyes scanned over the page, noticing the date first. It was from only about a week ago. She read on.

I’m not even sure how to bring up the topic, it doesn’t really seem like something you’d just bring up at the dinner table? Like, “Oh, honey, yeah work was great today! Kevin from accounting is finally getting married, I know! Can you believe it? Oh. yeah, one more thing! Can you boss me around in the bedroom like a drill sergeant?” I mean, come on. 

What if she isn’t even into it? What if she wants to be the submissive one? I don’t think Alicent’s totally vanilla, I mean, there have been so many sparks of… something. Sometimes she tells me to do something, usually innocuous like making sure the door’s locked before we leave or to get the laundry hamper from the closet but… God, the way she says it makes me shiver. And when she’s talking on the phone to someone at work? That authoritative voice makes me melt. 

Sigh. I just need to find the courage to ask. 

Alicent finally finished the entry and looked up from your journal, blinking as thoughts raced through her head. After a minute, she closed the notebook and placed it carefully back on your bedside table, just like it was before it fell off the table. 

She could barely keep the smirk off her face as she grabbed her purse and keys and shut the front door behind her, a devious, delicious plan quickly forming in her head. 

She knew exactly how to make up for her actions. 

Reader’s POV

You sigh as you unlock the front door, quickly tossing your keys into the small bowl on the entryway table before kicking off your shoes.

“Babe?” You called, furrowing your brows at how unusually quiet the house was. Alicent’s car was in the driveway and normally she’d be playing music by the time you got home but today… nothing. You’re about to call out again when the sound of heels clicking down the hallway makes you stop in your tracks, your bag falls from your hand as your girlfriend finally appears from around the corner.

“Good day at work?” Alicent asks coolly, tilting her head as she leans against the doorway. Meanwhile, you feel dumbstruck as your eyes scan over her appreciatively, taking in every dip and curve as if you’d never seen any of them before. Your eyes skim over her outfit, a black, lacy bustier perfectly framing her chest, with a matching black thong clinging to her soft hips, fishnet stockings held up by an enticing garter belt, all the way down to black, pointed toe heels. She’d even taken the time to straighten her usually curly hair, smoothing it down into a clean, nearly intimidating style. 

She smirked, brown eyes sparkling at your awe-struck expression, smiling when your eyes finally landed on her face; you couldn’t help but swallow when you saw that she was wearing that expensive red lipstick she only brought out for special occasions, the one you love so much. 

Her heels click on the wood floors as she strides over to you and it’s only then you realize that she has something in her hand – a black leather crop. The sight of it makes your knees weak. 

“I asked you a question, baby,” she says gently, locking eyes with you as she gently cups your cheek with in her hand, “It would be rude not to answer.” There’s a hard edge to her voice that makes you lose what little train of thought you had.

“I… uh,” you stutter, blush rising to your cheeks as you stare helplessly at her, fighting to keep your gaze locked on hers, “W-Work was good, yeah. Same as… as usual.” You finally finish, your chest already heaving as you rub your thighs together, desperate before you even know what’s going on. 

“How wonderful,” she smirks and leans in, giving you a sweet kiss like she normally would, but today it has your head spinning, “What do you think of my little surprise?” She asks, though there isn’t really a question in her tone – she already knows your answer.

“I love it,” you breathe, hardly giving her time to finish speaking as you let your gaze wander over her yet again. “What, uhm,” you cough nervously, “What gave you the idea?”

She smiles again, shrugging; you nearly jump out of your skin when she softly runs the leather crop up the inside of your thigh, starting at your knee and stopping tantalizingly close to your core. “Just got the sense that maybe you’d be into it…” She says casually, like you’re talking about the weather, “Was I right?”

All you can do is nod your head, but that’s not good enough, apparently. Her eyes narrow and she wraps a hand around your neck, not too harshly, mostly just sitting it there but it’s enough to make you whimper in the back of your throat, breath catching as her perfectly manicured red nails just barely dig into your delicate skin. “I don’t think that’s the proper way to address me, is it?” She coos, a faux pout to her lips. 

“N-No,” you say shakily, your eyes searching hers, “No… ma’am?” You try, inwardly cringing at how your voice squeaks. 

She clicks her tongue like a disappointed mother, the sound going straight between your legs, as she fixes you with an intense stare. “Baby, you know how I sometimes call you princess?” She asks, smiling proudly when you eagerly nod, “Well, tell me. Who’s more in charge than a princess?”

Your throat goes dry and you swallow thickly, darting your tongue out to wet your lips before speaking. “T-The queen?” You ask softly, pride feathering out in your chest like the train of a peacock when she smiles and nods again.

“That’s right!” She praises, almost as if she was speaking to a child; perhaps you should be offended at her condescending tone, but, if anything, it just makes your heart beat faster. “The queen. Do you want me to be your queen today, sweet one?” Again, you nod, so she continues. “So, address me properly.”

“Yes, my queen.” You breathe the words, core clenching softly around nothing. 

“Very good,” she praises, leaning in and lightly brushing her lips over the pulsepoint on your neck, “Do you want to keep being a good girl for your queen?”

“Yes, your grace, please.” You say with an eager nod, feeling like you’ll explode if she doesn’t touch you, or so something soon.

“Then be good for me and go to the bedroom,” she nods as she speaks, her big brown eyes looking directly into yours, “And strip.” She finishes coolly, leaving you no room to argue. 

You nod quickly and practically leap down the hallway, blushing when you hear her giggling behind you. As soon as your feet hit the soft rug in the bedroom, you tug at your clothes, quickly shedding your sweater and work trousers before unclipping your bra and sliding your underwear down your legs, haphazardly shoving everything into the hamper because you just know she’ll say something about the mess if you don’t. Finally, not knowing what else to do, you stand by the bed, arms clasped in front of you.

She doesn’t make you wait long and you bite your lip in anticipation as her heels click slowly down the hallway, smiling shyly when you finally meet her gaze again as she enters the room. Just like you knew she would, her eyes immediately dart to the hamper and her smile widens when she sees your clothes from today resting on top. 

“What a good girl I have,” she praises as she saunters over to you, her hips swinging enticingly as she moves. Without another word, she sits on the edge of the bed and gently places the crop down next to her on the bedspread, before she beckons you over with a crook of her finger, “You like your queen’s special surprise for you, huh?” She questions, tilting her head as she peers up at you, her hands resting gently on the curve of your hip. 

“Yes,” you nod, your eyes trailing down to her cleavage before you can help yourself and it’s only then that you notice that she’s breathing nearly as hard as you are, a blush extending down her pale neck and chest, “I love it, my queen, so much.” You nearly whisper, dizzy at the thought that she might be enjoying this just as much as you are. 

“Don’t you think you should thank me for your surprise, princess?” She asks coolly, smirk widening as she sees a look of realization in your eyes. 

“Yeah, yes, please,” you nearly beg, already tempted to sink to your knees.

She smirks at your eagerness, all but laughing when you whine as she pushes herself back further, out of your grasp and into the center of the bed, making enough room for you in front of her. Again, she crooks her finger and you hastily follow after her, kneeling between her fishnet-covered legs. With another smirk, she silently spreads her legs, bending them at the knee enough that the heels of her shoes dig into the bedspread. 

Something between a gasp and a whimper escapes your lips as you let your gaze travel down, between her legs, where you’re met with the shocking realization that the black thong she has on is indeed crotchless. Your eyes stay glued to her center, now beautifully framed by two strips of lace fabric; the sight makes you lick your lips without thinking, taking in the way her folds shimmer, even in the low light of the bedroom. Finally, you manage to rip your gaze away and lock eyes with her again, your blush deepening at the hazy look in her eyes as she leans back on her elbows. 

“Go on, princess,” she breathes, that familiar, aroused rasp finally present, “Thank your queen.”

You spring into action, wrapping your hands around her soft thighs as you lean in, kneeling between her legs. Your eyes flutter as you look up the length of her body while you press soft, sweet kisses to the inside of her thighs, your eyes widening when you see her lean over and quickly grab the crop. 

You jolt as she brings it down, smacking one ass cheek with it, not enough to hurt but enough to leave behind a pleasant little zing. “I don’t believe I asked you to tease me,” she admonishes, a playfulness to her tone still as her other hand brushes into your hair, red nails scratching soothing against your scalp, “Thank me properly.” She commands, guiding your head to exactly where she wants it.

You’re more than happy to obey and you press a kiss to the center of her folds, right on her clit, moaning against her as you feel it twitch against your lips. She lets out a breathy moan as your tongue licks a long, straight line up her center, right down the middle, before your lips gently seal around her bud. 

Your eyes flutter closed again as you softly suck at her clit, moaning lowly in your throat at her familiar sweet taste. You move in just the way she likes, kissing and licking over her heat with a practiced ease, pride blooming in your chest with every moan, whine, and sigh of your name. You shake your head against her, attempting to bury your tongue in her twitching core as the tip of your nose teases her clit, your chin dripping with her when you finally pull back. 

“Princess, fuck,” she breathes above you, head tilted down so she can watch as you feast on her, “Fuck me, come on.” She orders, giving another sharp little spank to your bum with the crop. 

You do as she says, smiling as you flick your tongue over her bud while you glide two fingers through her folds, making sure to get them nice and wet before you slide them carefully into her, relishing the long moan she lets out as you do. You can’t help but whimper as her walls clamp down tightly, pulsing around your fingers as you crook them up in the way you know she loves, your lips sealing softly around her clit again, eyes fluttering as you watch her chest heave. 

“Good fucking girl,” she whimpers, accentuating each word of praise with another slap of her crop against you, the pleasant sting you clench around nothing, “Make your queen come, princess, good girl.” She moans, tilting her head back as you redouble your efforts. 

Your arm aches as you fuck your fingers into her, keeping them quirked up against that small rough patch within her, but you pay it no mind, focusing only on the hand in your hair and the taste of her in your mouth, your hips canting desperately in the air. 

You flick your tongue against her bud once more, in just the right way, and it sends her over the edge with a gasp. You moan into her as the hand in your hair tightens and her walls rhythmically squeeze against your fingers, nearly tight enough to push them out. You move steadily, bringing her through her high as you have so many times before, only stopping when she finally goes lax against you. 

You press kisses against her thighs and hips as she comes down, breathing heavily above you. Eventually, the hand in your hair tightens once more, and you sigh happily as she pulls you up. 

“You did so good,” she praises softly, her voice breathy as she presses her lips against yours; she moans softly as your tongue licks into her mouth before she pulls away to trail kisses down your neck, “So good for your queen, my sweet princess.” You sigh happily, eyes fluttering shut as you straddle her, one of her legs between yours.

Your eyes shoot open as she bends her leg, pressing her fishnet covered thigh firmly against your center with a knowing smirk. “Goodness,” she gasps, her beautiful brown eyes widening once she feels how wet you are against her, “I think you deserve a reward too, for treating your queen so well.”

“Please, holy shit,” you gasp, your hips already moving on her leg, the pattern of her stockings adding a delicious friction, “P-Please, your grace.” You quickly correct yourself when she brings her crop down once more, making your back arch. 

“Good girl,” she whispers, mouthing at your neck. She lets the crop fall to the bed again as she cups your ass with both hands, guiding your hips as you move against her, “Take what you need, princess, you earned it.” She breathes, smirking as you shudder above her. 

You nod mindlessly, swallowing thickly as you already feel the knot in your stomach tightening dangerously, each drag of your clit over her stockinged thigh sends shockwaves up your spine. Your breathing gets heavier and heavier as you get closer and she smiles happily, bouncing her thigh against your wet core in the way she knows drives you insane. 

“My beautiful little princess,” she whispers, red lips ghosting over your chest, “Behaving so well for her queen.” 

You fall apart once her lips seal around one of your nipples, sparks of pleasure bursting behind your eyelids as she carefully sucks the sensitive bud into her mouth, gently teasing at it with her teeth. Your body tenses up as your walls clench again and again, your fingers grabbing at the sheets as you gasp her name. 

Finally, your eyes flutter open as your high subsides. Thankfully, you have just enough presence of mind to roll to the side, cuddling against her as your chest heaves. 

“Holy shit,” you breathe through a small laugh, your face flushed as your eyes meet hers. 

“So, you liked it?” She asks, a shy lilt to her voice now that both of you have had the chance to come down. 

“Liked it?” You question, staring at her wide-eyed, “I… I loved it. That was incredible.” You breathe, pressing a soft kiss to her shoulder, “Where on earth did all that come from?”

She giggles softly, a guilty look appearing on her face. “Promise you won’t be too upset with me?” She asks softly. 

“Of course,” your reply is instant as you card your fingers through her soft hair, “Just tell me.”

“I was cleaning a few days ago, when I had that day off,” she explains, swallowing as you nod along, “And I… may have accidentally knocked your diary off the table and then got curious when I saw my name and… yeah.” She finishes, teeth biting at her lower lip. 

Your face reddens a bit, instantly knowing which entry she must’ve seen, but you merely shake your head, about to tell her not to worry about it when she starts speaking again.

“I do feel really bad about it,” she sighs, continuing quickly, “I know it’s a breach of trust but I saw my name and then… I’ll make it up to you, I pr – !” 

She gasps as you cut her off with a sweet kiss, shaking your head dismissively, “Consider it made up.” 

“You aren’t mad?” She asks hesitantly.

“Mad?” You echo, laughing softly, “My sexy girlfriend bought ridiculously hot lingerie, and a riding crop, just to surprise me and fucked me to within an inch of my life and I’m supposed to be mad at her over a little diary?” Both of you dissolve into a fit of giggles as you finally finish, nuzzling happily against each other, “I think not.” You quip, smirking as your eyes search hers. 

“Okay, yeah,” she says with a small eye roll, “I am pretty great, huh?”

“And oh so humble,” you laugh, pressing kisses over the curve of her shoulder before leaning back to smirk at her, “Your majesty.”

tagged lovelies: @helloworldiamnotarobot @drakonflames @marysucks-blog @watercolorskyy @valeskafics @iamaegontargaryenwife0 @aemshaircare @1997babyyyy @lovellies @little-moonbeam-666 @blackswxnn @alerisc @fan-goddess @wickedfrsgrl @moonriseoverkyoto @echos-muses @schniiipsel

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#alicent hightower #alicent hightower x reader #alicent hightower x you #alicent hightower fanfiction #alicent hightower fanfic #alicent hightower smut #alicent #alicent x reader #alicent x you #alicent fanfiction #alicent fanfic #alicent smut #house of the dragon #house of the dragon fanfiction #house of the dragon fanfic #house of the dragon smut #hotd #hotd fanfiction #hotd fanfic #hotd smut #fanfiction #fanfic #smut #my writing #12 days of smuff

[sunfyresrider]

𝐃𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡, 𝐚 𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐛𝐞𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠

Widow!Alicent Hightower x Fem!Reader

Summary: Ever since Alicent Hightower’s husband died her life had changed exponentially. It’s a hard thing, knowing what to do with freedom you’ve never had. In her attempt to expand her horizons she reaches many bumps in the road she didn’t realize existed, until she met you. Tags: mentions of death, sexuality crisis, struggling to accept change, heavy anxiety, eventual smut and a lot of self-healing. Author’s Note: @ilikeitbetterangsty THIS IS FOR YOU BABES💕 I really hope I did your request justice . Thank you so much for being an amazing mutual and beautiful person. Ps I’ve never been on a date, let alone a first date so I’m sorry if that scene was a little awkward. ALSO dividers are made by @saradika !!!!

His death was expected, anticipated even, yet the day she woke up next to a cold corpse seared itself inside her brain forever. She should be mourning. She should have been more upset, shed more tears for her husband of nearly twenty years. Instead, all Alicent could feel was an odd relief, a weight being lifted from her shoulders. She was finally free.

However, what does someone do with freedom when they’ve never had it? She could do anything in the world, she had more than enough money for it. But what do free people do? Alicent had to read up on what widows were into. They travel, indulge in hobbies, and go out for brunch and gossip. The main factor in all of these is they’re never alone. 

Twenty years of marriage and four children and Alicent couldn’t remember a time where she wasn’t alone. She had no friends, too busy caring for a sick old man, children, and running a company. Alicent didn’t want to be alone, she didn’t want to die knowing she had never truly loved. There was nothing holding her back, no father pushing religious guilt, no husband taking her time, and no children to judge.

At first, she made no moves for change. She continued staying at home and running her life as she always did. Although now she spent more time fussing over her only child at home rather than Viserys. Unfortunately, Aegon, her eldest and most troubled child finally declared he was moving out. He also said she needed to get a life in the exact same sentence. 

It was time to take a real look in the mirror at the woman Alicent Hightower had become. It was not the best feeling in the world. In the past she was happy, determined, and beautiful in some eyes. Now she was tired, a bit of a pushover and unbearably lonely. All she had done her whole life was serve other people, her father, her husband, her children and never herself. Alicent needed to change that before she died old and miserable. 

There was another thing she needed to come to terms with. She never loved Viserys, she never loved any man for that matter. Marriage wasn’t something she enjoyed but endured. Alicent wanted to love someone, which was something she never truly had. Except for once when she was young until she married her friend’s father. Maybe she didn’t hate sex just who it was with. Maybe she was capable of love just not for men. Maybe it was time she started attempting to live her truth.

That was the final push she needed to do something. So, Alicent took a leap of faith after reading a pop news article and downloading HER. It’s an app for lgbt dating, specifically lesbians… It still sounded like a dirty word even if she only said it in her head. There was still a twinge of guilt when she made her first match. It’ll pass, the article on women struggling being their true selves said so. 

Twenty years of marriage and Alicent didn’t even know how to flirt, let alone with a woman. The first woman she matched with was only slightly younger yet had no children. She called Alicent a milf, which is a compliment nowadays. It didn’t go much farther, the lack of knowledge on slang really did not bode well with people. 

Anyone younger than her wouldn’t do, so she changed the settings. The second match was one that made her excited. From the outside they seemed to share the same values and she was a mother too. They went on a singular date that might not have been the greatest. Alicent was a little awkward, still too insecure about herself to initiate anything, and avoided the goodnight kiss that was offered. It didn’t seem to bother the woman, which made her believe this could be the one. They could grow together, maybe even build a new life together. Alicent genuinely thought she found the perfect one. Until they ghosted her. 

The app was deleted that same night. Maybe dating wasn’t in the cards for her. It stung, surprisingly worse than when Viserys died. For a few days she sat in her house and sulked. She strictly ordered takeaway, and binge watched the housewives of Orange County. Braunwyn was without a doubt closeted, it was like looking in a mirror, a very fucked up mirror. 

Alicent did a quick deep dive only to find out her suspicions were correct. Right now, Braunwyn was happily outed and living with her girlfriend… It was a mix of jealousy and hope. Someone just like her was living her dream life, which was unfair, but maybe it meant she could manage to live her dream too. 

She finally decided to get off her ass and do something. She was a free woman, she could do whatever she wanted, she told herself as she did a rather intense spa routine. All of her expensive skincare products and fancy tools were being put to use today.  Alicent actually changed out of her pajamas and into a nice dress she hadn’t worn in ages. It was a black bodycon dress, the only one she owned. Very out of character for her but she was a free woman, she could wear whatever she wanted.

She was going to take herself on a date, to a fancy restaurant. Alicent arrived at the venue feeling nervous but excited at the same time. It was the first time she had gone here alone; the servers were quite surprised to say the least. As she was led to her table, she noticed the looks she was getting from some of the other diners. Maybe it was the dress, or maybe it was the fact she was alone for once.

It didn’t matter, she told herself. “Hey, is this seat taken?” Her head whipped to the side, “N-oh! No.” You let out a small laugh, “I'm only joking, I have my parents waiting for me. How’ve you been Ali?” The last person she expected to meet was Aegon’s old tutor. You hadn’t seen each other in several years maybe. It wasn’t a bad surprise, actually it was amazing to see you again. “I’ve been great, better than ever! How are you?” 

“Oh, I’ve been thriving! After quitting I went on a self-healing journey and haven’t gone back.” Your smile reached from ear to ear, you were absolutely glowing in every sense of the word. Alicent was captivated, maybe a little nervous trying to find the right words to say. She hasn’t felt this way since she was what? Fourteen and heavily in the closet. So, she did something way out of her comfort zone, a first step of sorts. 

“If you’re free, I’d love for you to come over for dinner sometime and hear more about how you’ve been.” You seemed shocked, cocking an eyebrow at her question. “Is the Alicent Hightower asking me on a date?” She froze, it didn’t even cross her mind what she was actually asking. 

So, she blurted out the first thing on her mind. "I...um…if you want it to be." You flashed a smile that was different from the one from earlier. You picked up a napkin, scribbling something on it. “Let me know the time and I’ll be there.”  She let out a sigh of relief when you walked away, feeling as if she was going to burst any moment now. Her head was spinning, her heart was racing. She actually asked someone out, on a date no less.

She was nervous, it had been so long since anyone besides her immediate family came into her home. At least it was clean now that Aegon wasn’t here to make messes everywhere he went. In her opinion the modern green color scheme looks great but maybe you hated green. Or maybe she was overthinking this. 

Alicent hadn’t ever really cooked besides a select few times the personal chef got sick. In her mind it would be more meaningful for her to cook something for the both of you. However, making homemade penne vodka was a lot harder than she thought. 

She wanted it to be perfect, she wanted to impress you in every way. The dining table was set with a vase of roses, her best silverware, and very expensive wine she was saving for a special occasion. She even bought a new dress for this evening, a form-fitting silk one with flowing sleeves.

It was a few hours into her cooking when you rang the doorbell. Alicent took a deep breath, telling herself to remain calm and not make a fool of herself. It didn't stop her from tripping over the edge of the rug on the way to the front door. She jumped up, dusting off herself.

You were there, just as beautiful as you were earlier. "Hey!" Your smile was contagious, making her grin in return. You looked absolutely gorgeous, dressed in a white button-down shirt and black jeans. You pulled her into a hug, you smelled like strawberries, and a scent she could only describe as happiness.

"It’s so good to see you!" She ushered you in, letting you take a seat while she went back to finish cooking. You looked around, taking everything in. “It's still as big as I remember, though you definitely changed the decor.” She snickered, "Well it was in desperate need of a facelift, I just couldn't stand the red and black anymore."

Ali returned with a big bowl, carefully plating both of yours. "I didn’t know you knew how to cook! I thought you had personal chefs for this kind of stuff.” She grinned proudly, "Well, I wanted to do something special for you tonight." 

"Aren’t you romantic," You smiled at her. You took a bite, letting out a pleasured sigh. "So good!" Her smile was practically radiant at your praise. You made small talk during dinner, talking about anything and everything. Catching up on what’s happened in the few years you hadn’t seen each other. 

She told you about how Aegon is doing, how he has a girlfriend now. You told her about how he was the reason you inevitably quit teaching and decided to travel. You talked about your life, how you took the time to really get to know yourself, and how that was the best decision of your life. She vaguely talked about hers, only giving you bits and pieces. 

What you did learn was that she was fucking hilarious, and so much more welcoming than other rich housewives you’ve met. You didn’t ask about the dead husband; it was pretty clear by the lack of a ring and her finally smiling. 

Alicent listened to every word intently, her big brown eyes staring into yours. She used to always have a sad look inside them but now she was practically beaming. It might have been the wine flushing her cheeks, but you chose to believe it was because of you.

At some point you ended up on the couch watching housewives, at least pretending to. You were both still talking over the noise, slowly leaning into each other each time you laughed. 

You leaned forward, brushing a stray hair from Alicent’s face. Your lips brushed together, “you’re beautiful, you know.” Alicent let out a laugh, "You're too much." Her eyes closed, taking the lead and kissing you first.

 When your lips met her, it felt as if fireworks had gone off. Your lips were soft like peaches but tasted sweet like cherries. Your hands touched her face gently, leaving trails of electricity where your fingers were touching. 

Her own hands gently tracing down your neck, shoulder, and side to rest on your hips. Alicent’s body sunk down on the mattress, letting you move on top of her to do as you pleased. When she broke the kiss to take a deep breath, you kissed down to her neck and jawline, sending vibrations throughout her. She made a sickly-sweet sound that made your ears tingle. 

Her hands moved slowly, almost cautiously as she moved your shirt up to feel your bare skin. She delicately traced lines up and down the curves of your waist. Your sweet kisses trailed down her neck, chest, and slowly you lifted up the dress she was wearing. Moving to suckle at the skin around her core, worshiping her thighs. 

Alicent let out a soft moan, curling her fingers into your hair. Her soft noises only encouraged you. Your fingers traced her folds, moving their way around the fabric. You looked up, watching her cheeks flush red in embarrassment. A simple nod was the encouragement you needed to continue.

Your lips kissed over the fabric, hearing her breathe become labored. Her fingers tugged lightly at your hair. You pulled down her underwear, moving it down to the end of her legs. It was your turn to blush, seeing how wet she was already.

Her hips twitched when you dragged a finger through her slit, your finger coming back glistening. You eased it inside of her, quickly finding the sweet spongy spot. Her back arched as you moved your finger, soon another one joining. Your tongue sucked at her clit, moving in circles.

Alicent bucked her hips into your hand, her moans filling the air. Her eyes were shut as you made her legs shake. Your tongue moved faster, hearing her sweet cries. She pulled your hair, pressing your mouth harder against her. Her walls tighten around your fingers, letting you know she was close.

Alicent shuddered, gripping your hair harder as she came. Her back arched off the couch, her eyes rolling to the back of her head. It was the most beautiful thing you had ever seen. Her body finally relaxed, laying on the couch. Her eyes closed, a blissful smile on her lips.

You crawled up, leaning over her. You brushed her hair behind her ear, gazing into her brown eyes. They were still sparkling, like two polished stones. Alicent slowly moved her hands down your back, lifting your shirt over your head. She sat up, kissing you softly. 

Her hand slowly moved down, grasping your thighs and opening them. Her kisses trailed down your neck, breasts, and stomach. You let out a small noise as she rubbed you through your pants. Her kisses got hungrier as she undid your belt and pulled down everything that covered you.

You let out a squeal of surprise, feeling her pull you on top. Your cheeks flushed red, as she angled your cunt above her mouth. Alicent was precise, her mouth sucking at you gently. Her hands pressed against your hips, keeping you in place.

Your fingers threaded into her hair, holding her face to your cunt. She flicked her tongue against you, moving it in circles. Her hands moved up to squeeze your ass. You grinded against her face, your juices coating her chin and the couch. Alicent hummed against you, the vibrations sending shockwaves through you.

Her fingers pressed into you, curling up to prod at your sweet spot. She let out a purring noise, making you move your hips faster. Your breath hitched as she moved her fingers faster, sucking at you with a new intensity. Her tongue moved quickly, lapping up all the juices coming from you.

Your thighs quivered as you came, your voice shaking as you did. Alicent kept going, eating you out until she was satisfied. Your legs gave out, dropping you in a pile on top of her. You laid there, letting her wrap her arms around you as you caught your breath. 

"Did I do good?" You laughed, leaning forward to kiss her. "You were amazing,” you peppered kisses on her face, eliciting the cutest giggles you’ve ever heard. You rested your head on her chest, listening to her heartbeat. Her fingers played with your hair as you both laid there, tangled in each other's arms.

Last night had been one of the most out of character nights of Alicent’s life. She never invited someone over, let alone hooked up with someone. It was new, it was exciting, it was also borderline terrifying. Now that she was alone again her thoughts could once again consume her. 

You texted her back, at the very least you weren’t ghosting her. That eased the part of her that was afraid the sex was so bad you would never speak to her again. But now there were other things that bothered her. Your question, to be more specific. “Would you want to be my girlfriend?” 

It was too soon to do anything drastic, like a real relationship. Did she want that? The idea of being in a relationship with you was something that sounded nice in her head, But would it be good in reality. Not only was she freshly widowed as well as struggling to come to terms with her sexuality. By now, she should be over caring about what other people thought… She wasn’t over it in the slightest. 

There was still this guilt and overwhelming anxiety that was holding her back, the same things that held her back her entire life.  Alicent laid in her bed, trying to figure out how to answer your text... “I’m not sure if I’m ready, yet.” She wanted to say more, but her thoughts were quickly turning into a jumbled mess. 

“I used to tutor Aegon in mathematics… I’m very patient;)” Alicent rolled her eyes at the winky face, feeling the corners of her mouth twitch into a smile. “But…  I bought two tickets to the Bahamas last week… and my mom canceled so there’s an opening.” Her fingers hovered over the screen, she had never been to the Bahamas before. 

To be fair, she had never been anywhere but home. Alicent wasn’t one to drop everything and go on vacation… 

You made her want to.

Her thumb hovered over the send button for a moment.

Why was this so difficult?

She was free now; she could leave anytime she wanted.

So why did she keep waiting?

She could just let her phone fall out of her hand and pretend she didn’t see the text.

It took everything in her power to hit send, “I’d love too:)” 

You had been talking to each other every day for weeks. You’ve gone on several more ‘dates,’ which all ended in someone’s bedroom. She hadn’t ever felt this happy, but right now she was freaking the f out. She might have under-packed or maybe over packed her suitcase. What if the swimsuit didn’t fit like it did in the store? Should she have brought snacks? What if she forgot to lock the house? 

The airport was crowded to the point it made everything feel excruciatingly hot. Maybe it was her anxiety that was making her hot. Alicent glanced around at everyone, a million scenarios running through her head. There was no reason for her to be this nervous. Except there were a thousand reasons, she’s never left the country, the plane could crash, and maybe you wouldn’t show up. 

The last one wasn’t realistic. You promised to be waiting at the terminal. You always kept your promises, so she had no reason to worry. But what if you changed your mind? What if the flight was canceled? Or you got sick and didn't feel up to flying.

Was her mind just coming up with different scenarios so she wouldn’t get on the plane? Maybe she should turn around and go home. No, she was free now, she was finally over all the bad that happened. So, there was no reason to not get on the plane.

She had been so caught up in her own thoughts she didn't realize they called her boarding group. She slowly made her way to the gate, getting in the very back of the line. Alicent glanced around the terminal, no sign of you anywhere. She started picking at her fingers, a bad habit. When she was younger, she used to dig at them until they bled. 

The line moved at an excruciatingly slow pace. Every second felt like an hour and every step felt like a mile. However, she had made it to her seat on the plane in one piece.  She was able to get a window seat, something she was thankful for. At least if something bad happened Alicent could watch the plane crash into the waves.

You still hadn’t shown up and her heart rate showed no signs of going down. She could turn back right now, walk off this plane like nothing happened. She could go back to her old life, tucked away safely in her home. She could stop taking risks, what was she even trying to prove? There were thousands of excuses to turn back, and she was using them all. 

By letting this plane take off it meant a new beginning, a real one. The real first step, proof she was living differently and for herself. That scared her, did she even deserve to live for herself? What was her worth if she wasn’t serving someone else? Her fingers dug deeper into the bed of her nails; this was a stupid fucking idea. 

Alicent heard the flight attendant preparing to close the doors, She glanced down at her leg, preparing to jump out of this seat and run out the door. 

Back home.

Back to safety.

Back to what she was used to. 

“Hey! Sorry I took so long I was sat in the wrong seat,” your voice was soft and sweet like honey. Alicent turned around, staring into your eyes. You were gorgeous, to the point it made her temporarily forget what was going on in her head. "You made it," she spoke breathlessly, realizing she had been holding her breath the entire time. 

“I wouldn’t miss going on a trip with you for the world.” You smiled at her, intertwining your fingers with her own. A sense of calm washed over her, like the waves hitting the sand in the early morning. She finally let herself settle back into the seat, letting her eyes flutter close.

This was okay.

She could do this.

This is freedom. 

Alicent Hightower was finally living, 

For herself.

#alicent hightower #alicent hightower fanfic #alicent hightower imagine #alicent hightower x reader #Alicent Hightower x you #alicent hightower smut #Alicent Hightower fluff #alicent x reader #alicent imagine #alicent x you #alicent smut #alicent fic #Alicent fluff #modern hotd #hotd fic #hotd au

[cambion-companion]

Could you write something about Alicent and Aemond? Maybe he is anxious about becoming the father and doesn't want to speak to his wife about this matter and goes to his mother. She recalls what he was like after being born, that he was all sunshine until world's greedy hands (aka Viserys neglection and Aegon's bullying) hurt him so deeply. And then maybe Aemond promises himself that he will never allow to steal his child's happiness and he will do his best so his child will have happy childhood. And Alicent still blames herself she didn't bring justice to him after he lost an eye. So yeah, nostalgic moments between them. I am sucker for mommy and her war criminal moments.

Ohhhh the potential here is almost overwhelming, I hope I did them justice Nonny!

Aemond and Alicent | reader is "offscreen" and heavily pregnant

"You will be a wonderful father, just as you are a loving husband." Alicent rose from where she'd been seated before the crackling fireplace, taking her son's hands in her own. "Aemond." She coaxed him to look her in the eye. "Do not fear to become Viserys."

Aemond was silent, keenly watching his mother's earnest expression. He had not been able to sleep that night, so he slid silently out of bed, careful not to wake his sleeping wife, and found his way down the hall to Alicent's reading room. The anticipation of a new child in the Keep had kept her awake as well and Aemond soon found himself unburdening his worries upon her.

"I am worried about her safety as well as the babe's." Aemond spoke, his long fingers tightening inadvertently around his mother's hands. "It has been challenge enough seeing her suffer through this pregnancy, but to birth a child..." He trailed off, remembering the echoes of Helaena's anguish filling the halls of the Red Keep.

"It is the natural order of things." Alicent gave him a small smile, understanding alight in her brown eyes. "I remember giving birth to you and what a sweet little boy you were."

"Mother." Aemond groaned, pulling away from her to sit upon the sofa.

Alicent persevered, taking a seat beside him and taking his hand yet again. "The first is always the hardest and the most painful. She will have the best healers in the realm attending her. All will be well." Alicent ran her fingers through Aemond's hair which fell loose over his shoulders.

His shoulders relaxed at her touch as he leaned slightly into her, adjusting his weight on the cushions until his head rested against her chest. Alicent made a small comforting noise in the back of her throat, her fingers massaging Aemond's scalp in soothing circles.

"What can I do?" Aemond's voice was small, reminding Alicent of when he was just a little boy tugging on her skirts and asking to be lifted into her arms.

"Be there for her. Be there for your child." Alicent placed a kiss to his fair brow. "You've always been the most perceptive of my sons. The most sensitive."

Aemond sat up to look at her.

She ran a finger lightly along the scar on his cheek, her expression growing somber. "The gods have not been kind to you." She shook her head, auburn curls falling loosely about her face. "Yet you've risen up time and gain, beating every obstacle. This will be no exception."

Alicent's eyes closed as Aemond leaned forward to place a brief kiss to her forehead. "Thank you mother."

#aemond drabble #alicent drabble #aemond stannies #aemond imagine #aemond fanfic #aemond one eye #house of the dragon #aemond targaryen #aemond x reader #aemond fic #alicent hightower fanfic #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond #aemond fluff #dad aemond #aemond kinslayer #aemond the kinslayer #house of the dragon aemond #hotd aemond #prince aemond #aemond x fem!reader #aemond x wife #aemond targaryen scenarios

[sl-ut]

want

pairing: alicent hightower x fem!reader

description: alicent needed friends–quickly. she was just unaware of how quickly she would become infatuated with one. 

warnings: implied smut (non-descriptive), cheating (alicent on viserys), voyeurism, slight perv!alicent, minor character death, swearing, reader is previously married to a man, fictional religiousness

words: 3.4K

date posted: 27/12/22

There was very little that Alicent had control of. Despite the fact that she was Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, the mother of the king’s only surviving sons, and the daughter of one of the most politically influential men in the realm, there was quite literally very little that she had the ability to influence. The role of queen meant nothing to her–not in the way that it would someday mean to Rhaenyra, who would be queen in her own right–she was simply the king’s wife, not even granted the ability to care for her own children as she pleased. 

When she was young, Alicent had dreamt of a handsome lord who would someday approach her father as a suitor. He need not even be wealthy, just enough in order to provide for her and their children. She had hoped for a love match, someone who would genuinely care for her thoughts and ideas, someone to feel comforted by her faith in the gods, and to be honoured to wear her favour in tourneys. Though her friendship with Rhaenyra had not been one out of pure self-interest, Alicent liked to believe that being so close to the princess might make such a thing possible for her. Unfortunately for her, the princess’s small frame casted a large shadow. This left her with very few options who were genuinely interested in the prospect of marrying her rather than using her to get closer to the young Targaryen, and the only one who was interested enough to become her husband was the king, severing the relationship she had with his daughter on the day that they met under the eyes of the Seven. 

Alicent came to understand that she had died that day, and was possessed by an ancient Queen who thought to do nothing but breed with her husband and raise their children dutifully. She thought no more of handsome lords, quickly coming to understand that there were no men in the world who cared so much for the ideas of women–not even Ser Criston Cole, who she had once fawned over while he was Rhaenyra’s sworn sword. She no longer dreamt of residing in a small castle, waking each morning to the sound of many brown-haired children clambering into her own bed beside her, and instead focused on her growing artillery of silver-haired children. She was a pawn in their games, one that would someday grow into a rook of her own, she just didn’t know it yet.

She hadn’t considered the idea of creating her own alliances. As the king’s wife, she was meant to take on his opinions as her own and find friends amongst his allies, but that became extremely difficult following the departure of her father, who had previously aided her in making such connections. Friends were not something that she had been used to–Lord Larys Strong was the closest that she could think of, but she understood well enough that he could just as easily turn his favour to her enemies for the right incentive–and she had not even considered taking a lover. Being caught with another man in her bed would be grounds for execution if her husband thought it fit, though she was certain that Viserys was too fond of her to do such a thing, even if he did not truly love her. Then, once she took note of the clear acts of adultery and undeniable lies made by Princess Rhaenyra, she could be silent no longer. 

Lord Dorean Fyres was an old man, who could scarcely stand on his own two feet even while being aided by his heavy wooden cane. He was known for being quite a spectacle in his prime; strong, handsome, wise, and a great military leader. It saddened the queen’s heart to watch him stagger into the great hall, a man who she knew solely through melodies and books appearing so frail. He was six-and-eighty, much older than most men lived to be, though it did not seem that he would live to be much older. The man was a legend, creating an overwhelming sense of awe amongst the nobility, though Alicent was more drawn to the woman at his side.

She could not have been any more than a quarter of his own age, dressed in a fine gown of plum velvet. She gripped his arm tightly, as if she were nervous, though Alicent could clearly tell that it was more for the benefit of keeping the large man upright rather than to calm herself. She smiled brightly at the members of the court as she passed by, the slight waver of the corners of her mouth proving to the observant queen that she was struggling to keep the pair of them upright, but was not willing to allow her husband to feel so ashamed of barely being able to walk.

The king greeted him fondly, telling him of the many stories he had heard and how honoured he was to be hosting him. Lord Fyres coughed so hard in response that it rattled his chest, unable to fully form an entire sentence after such a long trek through the Red Keep and patted the hand that held his arm gently, prompting her to answer the king.

She bent slightly at the knee, curtsying to the king, “Thank you, Your Grace, but it is simply an honour to be here in the Red Keep. My husband has told me many stories of the great palace built by your ancestors, but he could truly do it no justice.”

“Thank you, Lady Y/n,” The king nodded to her, “We have long awaited your arrival, I can only hope that the journey was not too long or stressful.”

“Of course not, Your Grace,” She smiled prettily, “Nothing could prevent us from attending your tourney.”

Lady Y/n: the diplomat, Alicent had named her. She reminded her of herself; married to an older man, caring for him as he grows old and weak, speaking for him when he simply could not. The only difference was that Y/n had not yet supplied him any children, though the large group of young men that had accompanied them had proven that his late wife had done the job thoroughly enough. Alicent even doubted that the old man would survive performing his marital duties, though she kept that much to herself. 

The tourney was drawn out and exhausting–long days in the sun were not Alicent’s preferred way to spend her days, especially while trying to keep her young children calm and quiet enough as to not upset the other nobles who were given the opportunity to sit with the king and his family, and Alicent would not admit that she was more than glad when it was finally over. She had, however, enjoyed the brief moments that she had shared with Lady Y/n while watching such a gruesome event. 

They had scarcely spoken more than a dozen times, but Alicent could not prevent herself from silently observing as she tended to her husband dutifully, or made the king laugh harder than she’d seen him laugh in years, and especially so as she conversed with her children. The young princes and princess were enraptured by her nature–Aegon, while having very little to actually discuss with her, was clearly enjoying the way that her gown allowed him a simple glance down her neckline when she crouched to speak with him; Aemond was in awe at her knowledge in the histories, not to mention how enthusiastic and animated she was as she recounted it to him; Helaena was simply glad to have someone who did not gawk at her when she said strange things, and giggled when Y/n allowed her to place a small spider in her palm, despite the clear discomfort on her features at the feeling of the creature crawling around her skin. 

Alicent was certain that Y/n was the kind of person that she had been searching for–someone so similar to herself that she could estimate her every move. She needed someone who understood her place in the world to be on her side, to defend her and devote themselves to her cause. She needed to seek out Lord Fyres on his own, finding some way to convince him to remain in the capitol for a while longer, though her plot was quickly spoiled on the morning following the closing feast.

“Your Grace,” Alicent was shaken awake by her handmaiden Talya, “Your Grace, you must wake up.”

“What is it, Talya?” She murmured, propping herself up on the goosefeather pillows.

“My Queen,” The young woman bowed her head, “I regretfully came to inform you that, early this morning, the Lord Fyres was found dead in his chambers.”

Alicent choked on her breath, “What?”

“The maesters believe that he may have suffered a stroke, but that he met the Stranger in his sleep, thank the gods.”

Alicent frowned, “And what of his lady wife?”

“Lady Y/n is awake, Your Grace, I believe she is at prayer.”

Alicent nodded, pushing herself out of bed hurriedly, “Quick, help me dress.”

The sun had only just begun to rise when she was woken for the day, but she cared very little as she sent word to the newly widowed lady, asking her to join the queen and her daughter for their morning tea. When she arrived, Alicent admired the dark shade of amethyst that she wore, hair confined in a simple style, and while her face was clean and her smile warm as she greeted them, the swollen nature of her eyes and lips betrayed the fact that she had been weeping.

“My lady,” she greeted her, rounding the table to grasp both of her hands within her own, “I am so very sorry for your loss. Your lord husband was a fine man, a legend. My only regret is that you have not yet conceived a child with him to keep him in your memory.”

Y/n smiled at her graciously, “Thank you, Your Grace. I assure you that my late husband and I were not seeking children in the months that we were married, but the sentiment is appreciated all the same.”

Alicent smiled softly at her, “Please, sit. You must be starved.”

Helaena was eager to ramble on and on to her new friend, grinning to herself each time that she received small phrases of praise from the woman, and blushing when she stroked her cheek affectionately. Alicent sat silently, simply watching as her daughter bonded to the woman so easily, something that was quite rare for the young princess, even in the case of her own father and brothers. 

“How are you fairing, My Lady?” Alicent asked, leaning forward on the table, “I cannot imagine the stress that you must feel.”

“I am doing well, all things considered, Your Grace. I only pray that my late husband has found peace and has been reunited with his first wife. I have only heard stories of my predecessor, but my husband spoke of her so fondly that I am certain that he was truly in love with her.”

“I am sorry to hear that, Lady Y/n. It must be difficult to know that your husband’s heart belongs to another.”

Y/n smiled fondly, “To be quite honest, Your Grace, my marriage was one of purpose, not love. My husband needed someone to care for him just as I needed to marry a wealthy man to support my own family. Lord Fyres offered me a safe home, and a somewhat happy marriage with him until his death. We had a… an agreement on the matter.”

That left Alicent feeling uncertain. She spent the remainder of the day wondering what sort of agreement could be made in such situations, though she felt unable to ask in the presence of her daughter. Y/n remained close, greeting her in the hallways and joining the pair for tea on a daily basis, and finally agreeing to return to stay in Kings Landing as her companion after travelling to her husband’s funeral in his ancestral home. She was away for two months before her return was announced, though Alicent decided to offer her the day to rest after her long journey before she would invite her back to her chambers. 

“Talya,” Alicent called impatiently, tapping her fingers forcefully on the arm of her chair, “Where is the Lady Y/n?”

Talya appeared nervous, “I do not know, Your Grace. Ser Criston has gone to summon her, but they have not yet returned.”

As if his ears had been burning, Ser Criston entered the Queen’s chambers, but was on his own. Alicent frowned at him, raising her brow in question as he explained to her that Y/n was not in her chambers, and her servants had told him that she was on a stroll in the gardens. 

Peeved, Alicent thanked him and ordered Talya to serve the tea. Helaena was quiet without the Lady’s presence, and drank her tea quite quickly before excusing herself, leaving Alicent on her own. Alicent sat there for a few moments, staring at the empty seat opposite her own, and scowled as she forced herself out of the chair and crossed the room.

The air was warm outside, and a slick sheen of sweat quickly coated Alicent’s flesh as she reached the gardens. Ser Criston reluctantly took post at the entrance back to the Red Keep and she continued to wander throughout in search of the young lady. She stopped several times to reluctantly speak to noblemen and women who were eager to gain her favour, but she was quick to bid them farewell before they could begin any overly prolonged conversation. 

She quickly grew more and more angry when she could not find Y/n, taking a seat on a stone bench surrounded by hedges, leaning back and releasing a long-withheld sigh. The queen took that moment to admire the gardens; Flowers blooming under the unforgiving sun, the sea casting a calming breeze over the city, while the large water fountain directly across from where she was seated provided some ambiance so that no one within the Red Keep would need to hear the busy streets of Flea Bottom, or the men in the harbour, or the quiet moaning from nearby–

Alicent froze, easily recognizing the erotic noises coming from behind her. Glancing back and forth to ensure that no one was watching, she peeked through the hedges, eager to find the source. 

Her eyes widened as she recognized the figure of her favourite lady at court, propped against a half wall with her back facing the queen, hips wiggling eagerly as her head tipped back, pleasured noises falling from her lips. Alicent could easily spot the large mound beneath her skirts, someone had clearly slipped underneath in order to pleasure her, forcing her thighs apart. 

Alicent cringed as a pang of hurt found its way to her chest. Had Y/n abandoned her in order to bed another man so soon after her husband’s death? Perhaps this was the arrangement she spoke of, her freedom to take other men to bed while she provided him with companionship. 

She felt guilty, watching such an act, but simply could not look away. Her eyes wandered her figure, admiring how her body shuddered with pleasure as she chanted profanities. Her moans were melodic, growing faster and more eager as she grew closer to her climax, before her jaw finally dropped open with a silent cry, her body stilling as she reached her peak. She chuckled quietly as she came down, a sight that Alicent revelled in as she felt heat pooling in the pit of her own stomach. She averted her gaze down as she noticed the fabric of her skirts moving, wishing to discover which man had been causing such pleasure, though her heart stopped when she laid eyes on a tall serving girl, hair mussed and lips shining with Y/n’s arousal as they embraced in a warm, open-mouthed kiss.

Alicent jumped to her feet, cursing to herself as she knocked a small statue over. She turned, hoping to escape before anyone noticed her, but stopped in her place when she heard Y/n’s voice calling to her.

“Your Grace?” Y/n’s head was tilted in confusion, cheeks darkened with a deep blush as she rounded the hedge.

Alicent stared at her, stunned and unsure of what excuse to make as the young lady peered through the bushes, noting that any acts taking place behind them could, in fact, be seen from so close.

“Your Grace, were you…”

“Lady Y/n,” Alicent cleared her throat, “I have half a mind to ruin your reputation, but as a friend, I will simply advise you to keep such improprieties within your own chambers.”

“Your Grace, I beg of you…”

“And I will advise you not to be late to tea again.”

Days passed, and Alicent did not bring the situation up again, despite facing Y/n for several hours each day. The lady seemed to be uncomfortable with the queen ever since, having been caught in a compromising position by a woman as religious as the queen was. She was quiet, spoke when spoken to, and made as little eye contact with the queen as possible, though Alicent simply could not drag her eyes away.

She imagined the serving girl, how she had kissed Y/n’s plush lips, how she had tasted her sweet nectar, how she had brought her more pleasure than Alicent could even imagine. She wondered if other women had been granted such a luxury, or perhaps were able to take in every inch of her supple flesh, touch her as they pleased, and had her do the same to them. 

One morning at tea, after Helaena excused herself, Alicent dismissed her servants, claiming that she had urgent business to discuss with Y/n in private. Y/n appeared nervous as she watched them all file out of the room, gulping as the door closed behind them, leaving the two women alone. 

“Your Grace, if this is about the other morning–”

“It is.” Alicent confirmed, standing from her seat and crossing the room to gaze out the window, “Tell me what happened.”

Y/n was silent, “Your Grace?”

“Tell me what happened. Did she force you?”

A small smirk appeared on her lips, though she fought to disguise it, “No, Your Grace. She approached me, that is true, but I wanted it just as she did.”

“I see. And do you… want it often? With other women, I mean.”

Y/n shrunk into herself, “I do, Your Grace. I am very sorry.”

Alicent chuckled, “Do not apologise, you cannot help this affliction the gods have given you.”

“I beg your pard–”

“And neither can I.”

Alicent turned to face Y/n, finding her expression as one of shock as she understood the queen’s words.

“Do not misunderstand me, I love my husband and my children very much, but I look at you, and feel desire like no other.”

Y/n stood from her chair, “Your Grace, I had no idea.”

Alicent cleared her throat, “Have you been with other women?”

“I have,” Y/n shrugged, “That was the arrangement I spoke of, the one I had with my late husband.”

Alicent chuckled, “And would you be with me, if I asked it of you?”

Y/n grasped the queen’s hands within her own, stepping closer so their chests brushed one another, “Are you asking it?”

Alicent breathed, “I am.”

Y/n smiled, forgoing a verbal response and opting to lean forward and capture the queen’s lips with her own, a gentle embrace that allowed them both to get a feel for one another. 

Alicent pulled back, “Thank you.”

Y/n laughed, “You need not thank me, Your Grace. I want you just as you have wanted me.”

Alicent kissed her again, this time raising her hands to cup her face, “Have you done what that girl did to you?”

“I have. Would you like me to show you?”

“I would.”

Y/n grinned, kissing her once more before she gently pushed her away, “Get on the bed, and I will show you more ways than you can imagine.”

#alicent hightower #alicent x oc #alicent hightower is a lesbian #alicent hightower x reader #alicent x reader #alicent hightower fanfic #alicent hightower imagine #hotd #house of the dragon spoilers #house of the dragon #game of thrones #a song of ice and fire #asoiaf

[thattargboy]

Imagine...

Being her daughter's Septa and being in love with Queen Alicent Hightower.

You sat with the young princess Helaena, instructing her as she embroidered a centipede on her loop. You had long-since given up trying to get the young girl to embroider more feminine things, not truly wanting to stifle her interests.

Your job was to teach her histories and scripture, and how to be a Lady and the ways of court, at the instruction of the Queen. She had trusted you and only you to do that without stripping away her only daughter’s spirit.

You have known this sweet girl all her life, as you knew her mother all of yours

Back when you were just young girls, companions to Princess Rhaenyra, the two of you would share glances in the halls and sit on either side of the princess during tourneys and attend lessons with the Septa.

You would whisper and giggle and freeze when your elbows touched. Back when the three of you were the dearest of friends. When the two of you longed for more.

That was before you knew it would end too quickly. If you knew then what you do now, you would have played the kissing games you were too scared to take part in, you would have taken to the sky with Rhaenyra. You would have taken Alicent away from everything.

If only you knew girlhood would end so young.

You never would have thought you would end up here, but the gods had other ideas; they saw it fit to make you a part of her life forever but not in the way you had hoped for, instead you were teaching her children their sums and their letters and the rules of the Faith you now dedicated your life to.

Once you had assumed you and her would be by Rhaenyra’s side forever, a foolish girl’s dream but a dream nonetheless. You would be ladies in the Princess’ household no matter where she went, and you and Alicent...

Well. Dreams are just that. Dreams. As reality had it, you were a woman of the Faith, and she was the Queen. Bound to each other for life, as nothing. Longing to be everything.

Life had left the Queen friendless and motherless and a mother far too young, and it led you to a motherhouse, only to return when Princess Helaena was in need of a governess.

The closeness of your girlhood will never return, but there was a comfort there still. The last remaining shreds of your childhoods, unwilling and unable to taint it and turn it into something more.

Helaena turned her head to the door as it opened.

“Your Grace,” you rose and lowered your head as the Queen entered the room.

Thank you so much for reading, I’m so sorry I don’t post more often! I hope you have a nice day/evening/night/whatever 🫶. If you enjoyed, please comment or reblog they keep me motivated, but likes are loved too! And send in requests if there's something specific you want to see from me.

If you want, you can also read this on Ao3!

#alicent hightower x reader #alicent hightower x you #alicent hightower x septa #alicent hightower x septa!reader #alicent hightower x reader angst #alicent hightower imagine #alicent x reader #alicent hightower fanfiction #alicent hightower fanfic #alicent x you #septa!reader #hotd fanfic #hotd imagine #house of the dragon imagine

[satanicscreams]

— 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐏𝐎𝐈𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐄𝐃 𝐅𝐑𝐔𝐈𝐓.

PLEASE DO NOT STEAL MY WORK !!

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: alicent hightower x fem!targaryen!reader

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 2449

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: in which a targaryen princess lusts after a queen who does not feel the same way about her

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: dark themes, strong language, minimal talk of homosexuality being shunned, stalking, lack of understanding of personal boundaries, mentions of patriarchal values...yuck, reader does not know what rejection and unrequited love means...she's borderline psychotic, no use of “y/n”

𝐕. 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐬 — no cause episode six through ten alicent has me drooling (respectfully)...my mommy issues are getting out of hand

𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐄 𝐅𝐑𝐀𝐘𝐄𝐃 memories of trading meaningless topics with a renowned nobleman during a feast she could barely recall tore her apart from the inside. She certainly felt disgusted for having to associate with the man, but the girl felt the need to wonder if his wife was attractive. The platinum-haired Princess pictured said wife in a beautifully revealing nightgown that left little to nothing for her imagination. She fantasized about what it felt like to be beneath a woman whilst the softness of a mattress comforted her back. What it felt like to be kissed by one—touched by one.

And with all these erotic thoughts storming in her pretty head, the young beauty experienced thoughts where the subject of her imagination was female—a drastic change from her masculine ones.

But she dismissed it.

The Targaryen also ignored the constant tingle between her thighs when thinking of a woman in such an explicit manner.

It was a heroic attempt, the ignorance.

The dragoness just did not do it well enough because those feelings remained. And they became even more demanding when her father suddenly married Alicent Hightower many years prior. Inevitably, that was the beginning of the end for her already faltering sanity.

The event was still fresh in the girl's mind. She, herself, had only reached the tender age of thirteen when she witnessed her mother be replaced by an insecure and introverted auburn-haired girl—a noble lady only four years her senior who she now had to refer to as her stepmother.

The younger Targaryen mourned her mother for many moons and that was in fact true. However, unlike her older sister, the girl only grew to appreciate Alicent more and more as the years passed. While Rhaenyra competed with her childhood friend for the adoration of the King, the older Princess's sister—by age fourteen—was sneaking through unlit corridors, pursuing Alicent in silence and analyzing her every move: who she spoke to, what she did, where she went. The girl with the overwhelmingly ominous disposition knew all of it.

And once the second daughter of King Viserys reached age sixteen—a fruit ripe for the picking and intended to be given away to a lord from a notable house—it was then she discovered that she could not commit to a proper life without Alicent by her side.

The beauty of sixteen was oblivious to the many eyes constantly observing her...making assumptions...believing she was a strange young woman. After all, that all too familiar Targaryen madness reflected off her like a polished mirror. If not in her speech—often being a monotonous and highly insensitive spiel about the individuals around her...even her own family then during the many occasions in which she threatened to harm herself and others when she wasn't allowed to be around Alicent.

Family needed to be strong enough to prosper and protect their reputation. And each time the girl viciously lashed out either verbally or physically, her sister never abandoned her. Rhaenyra—as she promised from her dear sister's birth—protected the younger girl from the possible shame and gossip that threatened to befall her, but not even Rhaenyra's determination could save the girl. In truth, her family was losing faith in the younger Princess.

Rhaenyra, of course, made many valiant attempts, aching to better her sister's mental well-being, but it was nearly impossible and the older Princess's patience was wearing thin.

Viserys, as much as he cared for his two daughters, worried more about his position as King. Thus, the girl's dangerous behavioral problems were the least of his concerns.

As for the girl's undisciplined uncle, had he been given the power to do so Daemon would have certainly banished the young woman from the family. The man claimed that she was profoundly unwell from her seventh name day. His instincts did not lead him astray. A strange child was indeed a strange child.

And in such an instance, beauty did not trump insanity.

As the sharp-eyed Targaryen watched the Queen from afar, she concluded that Alicent Hightower was perfect. Albeit not an ideal match for her, the girl did not mind.

It was not customary for a woman to marry a woman nevertheless a married woman who was also her stepmother, though the platinum-haired royal was willing to challenge societal expectations...and ruin her father's second marriage. Gnawing on her lower lip, the Princess leaned against a stone pillar, head tilted uncomfortably against the frigid material as her amethyst eyes followed Alicent stroll by, only gracing her with a soft smile. In those hazel eyes were severe distress, but the Hightower woman hid it relatively well. The younger girl's presence put her on edge most of the time. Alicent truly cared for the second daughter of the King—her now husband—and was well aware of the girl's condition. The Targaryen took Alicent's smile as an invitation for conversation.

"I do believe you promised me a walk around the gardens earlier in the day. Have you found someone more formidable to occupy your time with?"

That aforementioned smile Alicent displayed immediately faltered—that perfected mask of excellence nearly slipping away. The auburn-haired woman never stopped walking, however. She didn't dare make full eye contact either. In the Princess's voice, there was a sort of...envy which did not go unnoticed. Merely thinking about the prospect of Alicent associating with others caused her blood to boil. The dragoness ominously stalked out of the shadows like a beast on the prowl for a good, hearty meal. That extravagant onyx dress trailed behind her, much like a bad omen as she moved closer to her Queen...her stepmother...the woman who was the center of her obsession. With a glint in those amethyst eyes, the girl scanned over the back of Alicent's figure which the woman, quite clearly, felt and acknowledged. That random and eerily serene chuckle of the girl's which slipped past her lips was what truly prompted the auburn-haired woman to halt, as if on command.

Reserved and obedient, Alicent Hightower turned around to look upon her stepdaughter—having the utter displeasure of coming face to face with those haunting, bleak eyes and the strange curve of her plump lips which could only be described as the foremost transition into a frown. It was the frown of a girl who had no right to frown. The Princess had a remarkable life—riches and glamor surrounding her around every corner of the castle her father presided over. Truthfully, there was no reason to frown. Oh, but from a different perspective—from the spoiled Targaryen's perspective there was a perfectly well-grounded reason to be frustrated. She had not claimed Alicent's heart yet. 

"I would not test your patience, Princess. Nor would I lie to you, so I say this with a heavy heart: our walk must be deferred. I've much too many duties to attend to. I am Queen...and should be addressed as such out of respect—"

Attempting to draw a minimal vision of elation upon the girl's lips, Alicent persisted in staying not only levelheaded but cordial when addressing the Princess. Though, the Queen's benevolence, in the moment, meant nothing. Not when she was swiftly interrupted by the girl raising her hand, gesturing for silence. The irony stung the Hightower. It ate away at Alicent's heart to play into the platinum-haired girl's games and forget to hold power in her presence. With the younger Targaryen around, Alicent seemed less than—less like a mighty Queen and much like a courtier. She held power over Alicent like no other individual. Though it appeared the girl ruled the entirety of King's Landing with an iron fist. She was mad, yes, that much was true, but the young woman was also a conniving force who seemingly controlled her own father. Whatever she wanted, she got. And as of right now, all the Princess vied for was a private excursion into the royal gardens with Alicent by her side. 

"'Respect.' Such a compelling concept. However, I do not believe a woman of your standing—a woman who willingly sold herself to a King—would understand the value of respect. I greatly admire you, I truly do, though that does not mean I am fond of how you've come into power. You've taken a throne undeservingly."

The sixteen-year-old lowly hissed, pure poison pouring from her mouth with each utterance of an embittered statement. She even had the gall to steadily walk over to Alicent—hips swaying ever so slightly with each step—and interlock their arms. Skin to skin, the two noblewomen began to move, on account of the girl slightly pulling Alicent along and once more, demonstrating the power she possessed over her auburn-haired stepmother. Alicent's guards followed after them, trailing behind partially which left the Queen whimpering to herself.

With baseless accusations laid against her, Alicent felt like a cornered animal as her eyes darted around the long hall, never turning her head to look at the hands desperately clinging to her. From Alicent's peripheral, the girl could be seen with eyes void of emotion as she bit down on her lower lip, barely bothering to conceal a self-satisfied smirk. All of the Princess's claims were false. Alicent knew this...the girl—the concoctor of lies—knew this. There was nothing 'undeserving' about the way the Hightower became Queen which was exactly why Alicent felt her lips quiver at the displeasing assertions. She had been nothing but congenial when it came to the fair-complexioned Targaryen.

All her life, the auburn-haired Queen made no effort to speak ill about her husband's second daughter. And yet, this was how the girl repaid her. Endless psychological torment built upon selfish desires. It was only then that Alicent became hyper-aware of how frigid the girl's arm was in comparison to hers. And how tightly it was wrapped around her own. Alicent bit down on nothing, her jaw nearly popping at the tension. A mantra in her subconscious reminded the Hightower to hold back tears of internalized agony. 

"That is a mere fabrication of the truth conjured up by courtiers who wish to see me fall. You understand the veracity of the events which have transpired—You have been subjected to the circumstances in similar ways as I and you doubt my righteousness?"

The incredulous tone of Alicent's inquiry did not go unnoticed by the young woman. It held desperation, a bit of hostility, and most of all, trepidation. The way her stepmother vehemently attempted to remind her of the past—of the events that had transpired which prompted the Targaryen Princess to slyly smile. The girl remembered. All too well, in truth. Though she meant to mentally break Alicent. Whatever the girl wanted, the girl got. It was as simple as that. The Princess—with Alicent's arm still entwined with hers—could feel the increasing pulsating sensation coming from the crease of the Queen's arm.

It pleased the girl to be the physical manifestation of fear preying upon the hearts of people. In the most condescending of ways, the platinum-haired young woman began trailing the tips of her fingers up and down Alicent's forearm, eliciting a shiver. Alicent was beside herself as tried to she maintain regality and calmness. All she wished to understand was why the Princess was doing such a thing. What she would benefit from doing such a thing. Choosing to understand the girl's unhinged actions seemed all for naught.

"My Queen, you must be confused. You have no righteousness. You've successfully supplanted my mother and taken her title after a most gruesome death. I am certainly a purveyor of sincerity and with only a slip of my tongue, I can undo your scheme. The only Hightower Queen in history shall be instantly banished...a whole house of green humiliated for centuries. Unless, of course, you join me for a stroll in the gardens. Memories seem to conveniently vacate my mind in the fresh air."

Alicent nearly hiccuped on a stray breath that unknowingly slipped past her lips once the girl concluded a monologue filled with insincerity and enough elaborate blackmail to rival a spymaster. The Hightower felt like she was sinking in the midst of a freezing ocean with no one to rescue her. And the wicked Targaryen beauty was the metaphorical anchor weighing her down as Alicent was consumed by the words thrown her way. The second child of King Viserys was willing to forge a lie—a lie with enough strength to break down one's reputation—if she didn't get her way. A walk in the gardens with Alicent was what the girl wanted and she was determined to accomplish it in the only way she knew how.

In the meanwhile, the Hightower Queen deliberated amongst her options whilst hoping to keep her emotions at bay. There were in fact tears welling in those hazel orbs that threatened to stream down her cheeks. The girl adored witnessing the moisture come to surround Alicent's eyes. In the Princess's opinion, the Queen was oh-so-pretty when she was on the verge of weeping. Composing herself, Alicent blinked away those pesky tears and cursed herself for allowing her stepdaughter to control her so effortlessly. But Alicent Hightower had no choice for she did not wish to bring shame upon her house. She chose to save her prestige, thus giving in: 

"...Very well. You demand a stroll. I shall entertain the idea...though I cannot indulge for too long."

A heartfelt little laugh emitted from the Princess's mouth—a contrast to her previous cold, maniacal demeanor. The spoiled girl got what she asked for and now she was content. Unexpectedly, and with a burst of overconfidence, the dragoness pulled her arm away from Alicent and on her own accord, decided to hold the auburn-haired woman's hand. The action caused Alicent to flinch and nearly, reflexively pull her hand away. 

"Yes, of course. Our rightful Queen has much too many responsibilities. She needn't spare much of her time for headstrong stepdaughters. We shall be finished rather soon."

Those mind games of hers left Alicent Hightower in mental ruin. Now, after granting the Princess what she wanted, Alicent was suddenly dubbed the 'rightful Queen.' How convenient. Those whispers about the Poisoned Fruit of House Targaryen told no falsehoods. 

She was a curse personified.

#hotd one shot #hotd imagine #alicent hightower x reader #alicent hightower imagine #hotd x reader #alicent hightower fanfic #hotd fanfic #alicent hightower one shot

[dulcewrites]

Seek and Destroy

Summary: Alicent swears she is not naturally a cruel person. Any semblances of cunning or coldness has been taught, slowly and surely. A gift bestowed to her from the age of ten and five. Something she was weened onto like a babe that suckles for milk from its mother. She has learned at the feet at the best - or maybe the worst. King’s Landing has fallen to Rhaenyra. Her children are scattered around the realm. Lives have been lost already. Alicent’s heart has finally callused. Nothing left but a shell and the venom that seeps out of it.

A/N: This is just something I have been working on. It is not finished obvi. I don’t know if I will expand on it. If I do I will probably post it to ao3

Her father’s blood had splattered into her mouth when she cried out. At first, Alicent did not want to give anyone the satisfaction of seeing her body shake in worry. Bones rattling together under neath sheathed of silk. Green silks. Or let them take glee in seeing fear in her eyes. She wanted to stand tall as the execution begun. Her father being first to go was for a reason.

Even in his doom, Otto Hightower managed to make his presence looming.

Alicent wanted not to shed a single tear. But then she felt ten and eight again. Just a girl with two children, and burden pressed firmly on her chest to the point where it was hard to breathe. He was unruly and fickle but without him, she would be alone… again.

Her brain settled between ‘This is all his fault. His debt comes due, as it should’ and ‘Daddy, please look me. Tell me you love me, that I made you proud despite of how it ends for us’.

But all her father told her was to look away. As if to shield her from a terror that had already came. A terror he brought. The horror was on their doorstep now. She was rutted in each night against her wishes; she bore four children - ones she could not save. They bore her grandchildren that she loved in a way she was not able to love her own children. Maybe if she could not help her own, she could do better with the littlest ones.

Jaehaerys. Oh, my poor Jaehaerys.

Everyone is gone. If not in person, in spirit.

Gwayne is gone. Her brother dragged into this mess. When he had arrived in King’s Landing, she has almost missed him amongst the other Oldtown knights. Her heart had sunk lower that she thought it could at the thought of not even recognizing her own kin. His face was one that was no longer burned in her brain.

Helaena’s mind and heart has been rotted from the inside out. On a good day, Alicent can force her to eat and drink. She bathes her daughter as if she still a babe. There is no light in Helaena’s eyes.

Alicent’s mouth feels as if a pile of sand has been dumped in her mouth if she thinks too long about how cold she was when Aemond left for the Riverlands. He gave her a kiss a cheek and muttered a pitiful sorry.

It was all he had said since coming back from Storm’s End. Different variations of the same thing. He never begged for forgiveness from the Gods but from her.

Sorry, mother. I’m so sorry mother.

If she could crush skulls with her bare hands, Alicent would. Not off strength, she’s always been a slip of a woman. But off the hatred that seemed into her bones.

She was prepared to die. She thinks she has been from the moment Viserys said he would marry her. From the moment the maester congratulated her on being pregnant with Aegon. Death had been a thing she even welcomed at times. When the lonliness felt too deep, when she could not stomach being called to Viserys chambers at night, when she had to look at her children for too long. She eyed Criston’s sword one too many times to admit. So, when Daemon leers over her with that cruel, ugly smile of his, she straightens her back and sniffs away her tears. He, of course, got the honors to kill her father; a task Alicent is sure he has wanted to do for decades.

It was Daemon who pushed her hair to the side with such gentleness it made her a bit sick. The coolness of Dark Sister pressed softly against her neck.

Alicent says a quick prayer to the Mother for her children. She knows it is to no veil; they were doomed the moment they came out of her. Mayhaps, this is her punishment for bearing them.

She does not sob over herself. Her lot in life has been well accepted. But Alicent wants to claw at her own face, peel back her own flesh so she is frayed out, when she thinks of her kids.

Let the Mother keep them safe as they do what is only imaginable in their wildest nightmares. May the horrors committed not leave them too soiled.

“Wait,” Rhaenyra’s voice calls out in the Grand Hall. It echoes so loud that Alicent flinches, the blade swiping gently against her neck. She still shivers from head to toe.

Daemon huffs, before removing the blade cautiously.

Alicent peers up at the stairs that lead to the Iron Throne. Rhaenyra gestures softly to her husband to come up the stairs. Daemon does not fully sheathe Dark Sister but complies anyway. A piece of Alicent’s hair obstructs her view, but through it, her eyes stay trained on Rhaenyra. Or whoever the person wearing the crown is.

The woman looks like the Rhaenyra. The same long silvery blonde hair styled elaborately on top of her head with the rest hanging in a braid. Her long riding dress is a deep black with red stitching and a red dragon collar. Red and purple dragons snaking their way up her sleeves. The woman has Rhaenyra’s eyes and nose, but Alicent has never felt more confused about who stands at the feet of the Iron Throne. The woman’s mouth pinches the way a young Rhaenyra’s would when she was distressed.

Rhaenyra’s look makes Alicent think of the stories of warrior queen Visenya. Rhaenyra would often laud the might and cunning of her ancestor. After the pain, humiliation, and anger post Aemond’s losing his eye, Alicent had chucked softly to herself, in the privacy of her chambers. at the thought her son riding the Conqueror Queen’s beloved dragon. Because of course it would be one of her kids to claim the old bitch.

But despite the styling callback, a warrior Rhaenyra is not.

And based on the look of disgust settling on Daemon’s face, he thinks the same of his wife.

He will never see you as an equal, she wants to call out. It does not matter how many crowns you put on your head, how many dragons you claim - you always just be his little niece… a silly woman. The means to his end.

Their conversation reaches a cacophony and Alicent desperately wants to know what it being said. Is Rhaenyra asking him to make it as gruesome as possible? Maybe they will drag her body out in front of the castle for all the small folk to see. A warning for what can happen if they defy their queen. Alicent already knows the heads of those that helped Aegon and his kids escape will be next once they catch them.

Rhaenyra reaches out to grab Daemon’s arm, but he is already down the stairs muttering expletives out his mouth. Alicent hears the word whore, and scoffs internally. She fights back a sad smile that almost forces itself on her face. Not the first time she has heard that, and surely will not be the last. Poor Daemon has never been clever with his insults. They are as simple as he is. She is the nasty deceitful, whore that seduced Viserys and ruined everything. Used her wily, womanly magic, her cunt, to lure the King of the Fucking Seven Kingdoms into submission. She always noticed how Daemon always acted like she stole Viserys from him.

The same way the maidens whose virtue Daemon stole must be whores too. The same way Queen Aemma must have been inadequate since she did not give Viserys what he wanted. Something must have been wrong with Rhea and Laena too. Maybe even Daemon’s own daughters are not enough. Surely, something is wrong with Rhaenyra. Something that makes Daemon’s stomach curdle. Such is the way with men like him.

Viserys will be remembered as a peaceful king, and a gentle man. A king who was so averse to conflict that he raped Alicent for children he then neglected once they came. He was so kind he made sure his first wife died in a pool of blood with nothing but screams of agony and pleas of mercy dying in her lips.

She wonders if Rhaenyra knows that charming story. Would she still have felt safe under the patronage of Viserys if she knew such? Imagine the horror that Alicent felt when she overheard maesters whispering of such when she was pregnant with Aegon.

Alicent is sure Daemon will die being known as a ‘true’ and ‘honest’ warrior. Apparently, there are those that think there is some sort of honor in being upfront about ones rotting heart. As if his cavalier attitude negates the atrocities on his hands. The world has taught Alicent that type of ruthlessness is only tolerated at the hands of a man.

And Alicent, in all her attempts to do right, to keep her head above water, to appease and break herself down into a small enough package that all can accept her, will be known as a whore. A seducer, a scheming bitch that stole the agency of a grown man. She will die being blamed and accused.

It only seemed right she supposed.

Viserys the Peaceful. Daemon the Honest. Alicent… the Whore.

Her confusion mounts when Daemon does not come back to her to finish the job. Instead, he continues walking, right past and leaving the hall in a fit of anger and rage. Alicent knees have begun to ache from being crouched. Rhaenyra clears her throat, and Alicent eyes slowly go back to her. Dark bags rimmed Rhaenyra’s eyes, only drawing more attention to the extremely dark limbal ring that surrounded deep amethyst. When Alicent heard about Lucerys’ death, it had shaken her to her core. Frankly more for Aemond’s sake than for Rhaenyra’s or the boy’s. The thought of peace still naively in her mind. Alicent always seemed to the last one to arrive at the right conclusions. A fatal flaw of hers unfortunately.

You were already ill-fated, you foolish boy! Why make yourself accursed as well!

But when Alicent heard of Jacaerys’ death, she knew what was to come.

There are few things a parent loves more than their first born.

…. Alicent had never known what the smell of burning flesh was like till Aegon.

“I have decided to spare your life,” the few people that stood in the hall, her council, begin to whisper to each other. Rhaenyra shifts uncomfortably at the eyes on her. “For the sake of my father, who loved you once.”

Alicent blinks once, then twice, then three times. She is almost a bit disappointed. Rhaenyra has taken so much and now she has taken death off the table too.

And is that what they are calling what Viserys did to her? Love? Rhaenyra could not possibly believe that. Not now after everything. After the way Rhaenyra would so seamlessly twist the knife when she had the chance, when she was backed in a corner. Rhaenyra knew there was no love there. Not for Alicent and definitely not for her children.

The words crawl up her throat before she can stop them. She must know. “And what of my girl? What of Queen Helaena?”

The queen part slips out truly on accident, a panicked slip of the tongue, but Rhaenyra’s mouth curls a bit in a sneer.

If her Helaena is to die at the hands of one of Rhaenyra’s butchers, to meet the same evil fate Jaehaerys did, then Alicent might beg for the sword. Or a rope and one of the high ceilings of the Red Keep.

Something cold and numb flashes behind Rhaenyra’s already hallow eyes. As if she is just now remembering that she had a sister that still occupied the castle.

“The princess will be spared as well.”

Rhaenyra waves a ringed hand at the guard to have Alicent taken away. Before she can even register was has happened, she is dragged away by the arms.

“Let her be bound in a manner fitting of her new station,” Rhaenyra sits in the Irone Throne elegantly as Alicent goes.

Alicent’s frantic eyes look at her father’s limp body one last time. His blood spilled on the ground. His head separated from the rest of him. It is the first and only time Alicent has ever seen her father so… small.

If Otto was alive now, and they were alone, he would tell her that he was right. He said as much after Jaehaerys was killed. Right before Aegon snatched the hand pin off his grandsire’s jacket and screamed at him that all that cunning had gone to waste by Otto being a ‘bastard that was too thick in the head for his own good’. Otto would say they should have had mercenaries go to Dragonstone and do the deed while they had the chance. He would still be alive. As would Gwayne and Jaehaerys. Helaena would not be in a fugue state beyond repair. Alicent’s boys would be home, and well. Daeron could have come back to King’s Landing for a coronation that was not rushed nor interrupted. Aemond would not have blood on his ledger.

Aegon would be king with no one in his path.

You know it. You're no fool and yet you choose not to see it. The time is coming, Alicent. Either you prepare Aegon to rule, or you cleave to Rhaenyra and pray for her mercy.

She stumbles all the way back to the Holdfast with thoughts swirling in her head.

Alicent did not prepare Aegon, the way she should have. But she was not prepared for such things; so how did anyone expect her to know better. How can a child help a child. How does the blind lead the blind. She may not have done what she needed for Aegon, not in that moment. But she refuses to cleave now. Mercy is not a luxury she has been granted for some time.

Have you ever imagined yourself on the Iron Throne?

No, of course not. Alicent can be naive, but never stupid. Never foolish or too hot on herself. Her veins have turned ice cold. She does not have her children the way she would want to. Alicent has never had a dragon to threaten others with. The army at her disposal is elsewhere fighting a futile battle. Not even Criston is here.

She just has herself, and right now that has to be enough. It must be enough.

#im very interesting in her queen in chains era #I don’t even know the ending part of this #it would be mixing book lore and hotd tho #there might be rhaenicent… maybe idk #but it will maybe be from Alicent and Helaena’s pov #pro alicent hightower #alicent hightower #alicent hightower fanfic #alicent hightower imagine #pro team green #hotd imagine #queen alicent #I am writing a different Alicent thing but that one is almost done I think #Alicent imagine

[corporalicent]

some rain and a lot of kisses

modern!alicent hightower x rhaenyra targaryen

sinopsis: Rhaenyra bought a romance book to Alicent, and the latter started to read small part to her lover.

a/n: english isn't my first language, sorry! yeah, i'm using part of Gabriela Mistral letters towards Doris in this, i'm not sorry.

Also, this is a gift for the beautiful @ceftali because she told me this idea. Love you babe<3.

Alicent's attention was fully on the new book Rhaenyra bought to her the day before. She normally didn't read a book so fast, but the moment she read the sinopsis "It was made for me" she said to Rhaenyra.

Her mind was filled with the beautiful words Gabriela Mistral wrote to her lover and the smell of coffee, that Rhaenyra was making for her lover.

She came out of the kitchen with two cups, one with a cream background and very green and yellow leaves and one with a black background with big white letters that said 'a good horse mom'.

Rhaenyra sat down next to her and hand her coffee over, "How is your book?" she asked taking a small sip. "So good", she replied excited. Her eyes were sparkling of joy, this book really made her feel loved.

"It's about these private letters between these two woman", she said as she left the coffee cup on the coffee table in front of them. "Listen this beautiful quote: 'You know very well I'm going to be by your side, wherever that would be'", she read with a big smile.

Rhaenyra just stared with such love to her, her love smile made her fall in love with her everytime. "Oh and listen to this too: 'I'll try to be less brutal and foolish. I owe you my work towards removing those defects. I owe you happiness for what I have received from you'".

"You always are so in love with love", Rhaenyra said with a big smile on her face. "I just love when people feel this way, and it's reciprocal", that answer alone made Rhaenyra just get closer to her and kiss her forehead.

Alicent giggled at the touch of her lover's lips, "Oh and listen to this. This part is so us, babe: 'When I see the green color of spring, I think "this is special, it is sacred for me", this color, because perhaps at this moment my love sees the same color'", she read.

"That's your thought whenever I'm away?", Rhaenyra asked. "Whenever you're not next to me, my life", Alicent replied.

Her words made her giggle out of love, and just responded with a sweet kiss. How can someone love another that much. Like those women in the book, like those women reading it.

#house of the dragon #house of the dragon fanfics #rhaenicent #rhaenicent fanfic #alicent hightower #rhaenyra targaryen #alicent hightower fanfic #rhaenyra targaryen fanfic #alicent hightower x rhaenyra targaryen #alicent x rhaenyra #corporalicent fics

[valaenatargaryensdragon]

Daegor Targaryen aesthetic (3)

#house of the dragon #house targaryen #hotd #house of the dragon imagine #hotd imagine #game of thrones #alicent hightower fanfic #hotd alicent #alicent hightower x oc #alicent hightower #daegor targaryen #hotd aesthetic

[sunfyresrider]

A Helping Hand | Alicent Hightower

Tags: porn with plot, Alicent being a tad creepy, voyeurism, masturbation, cunnilingus, fingering, we all need a friend like her! Word Count: 2364 Author’s Note: My short return to the hotd fandom!! (It’s a scary place.) I noticed I’m vastly better at writing intimate scenes between women than men🤔

One of Alicent’s favorite places to relax and relieve the stresses of the day was at the private sauna within her luxury apartment building. The old cooks that lived near her rarely ever used it, making it a place of solitude. That day was no different; Alicent stripped out of her usual expensive fabrics and put on a silk robe, packing her bag with the essentials and making her way to her place of solace.

As she approached she was pulled from her peaceful thoughts, her ears catching an almost inaudible noise. Someone, more specifically a female, was in the sauna. She pressed her head against the wall, listening intently to the sound. They were none other than muffled sighs of pleasure and quiet whimpers. Whoever it was, they sounded like they were having fun. Alicent peeked around the corner, and just as suspected, the door was cracked, and the light shone through the gap, revealing her friendly neighbor.

You looked nubile and young, the heat of the sauna made your skin shine with sweat and the flush in your cheeks was mesmerizing. Alicent watched your heaving chest with desire, your breasts bouncing freely, only constricted by a pair of bikini bottoms. Your legs were stretched out in front of you, as you rubbed your clit through the thin fabric, your head tilted backwards.

Alicent didn't know why, but she felt like a voyeur. You were too beautiful to ignore, and watching you pleasure yourself, hearing the lewd sounds your pussy made her mouth water. You were having trouble finishing, the thin layer of fabric separating you from your climax only working to frustrate you further. Your moans of pleasure quickly turned into a sigh of annoyance, you began to sit up, preparing to leave and give up on yourself.

She was nothing if not generous and Alicent owed you quite a lot, always offering your help in taking her dog out for walks or babysitting her children. If there was any time to repay your kindness, it was now. Her eyes locked with your wide ones as you looked up in shock, you just got caught!

She stepped out into the open and slowly closed the door behind her. Alicent let you admire her, watching you gulp, your eyes darting from her hardened nipples to the sash keeping her robe closed. “Having trouble?” She asked, slowly making her way to your spot on the bench, careful to stay within your view as she sat next to you.

You didn't know how to respond, all you knew was that this woman was as gorgeous as she was intimidating. And this was one of the most embarrassing moments of your existence. “M-Mrs. Hightower, I- I didn’t-” She cut you off with a smirk, a soft laugh escaping her. Alicent reached behind her and grabbed a bottle of massage oil, slowly pulling it from her bag. “No need to apologize, I’ve seen worse in my years.” She pushed a stray strand of hair behind your ear as she looked at you, her eyes flickering from your face to your chest, back to your eyes. “I can help you, if you want. It's the least I can do for all the work you do for me.” She trailed the tips of her fingers across your jaw as she spoke.

Your mouth felt like sandpaper, the heat of the sauna making your skin flush more than ever. You swallowed thickly as you looked at her, your mind swimming. What was the harm? You always thought Alicent was gorgeous, you only did those tasks to be able to get her attention, but now that she was sitting in front of you, it was difficult to speak. “Y-yes please,” you managed to stutter out.

Alicent flashed you a toothy grin and stood up, her fingers slowly undoing the sash of her robe as she looked down at you. She stepped closer and pressed the fabric against your chest, slowly sliding the robe down off her shoulders, exposing herself to you. Your eyes couldn't help but fall to her breasts, they were so round and full, your eyes never seen such perfection. Whatever issue you had with becoming turned on was washed away.

She leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss to the top of your head. You let out a quiet gasp as her breasts pressed against your bare skin, she let out a giggle at your reaction. Her hands slipped under the strings, unhooking them as she whispered into your ear, “don’t be shy, it’s just me love.” Alicent continued to press gentle kisses against your cheeks as she slowly pulled the strings apart, exposing your breasts to the steamy room. She sighed in approval at your perfect form, letting her hands wander over your body.

Alicent slowly pressed you down on your back, you gazing up at her in awe. She grabbed the massage oil, dripping the cool liquid across your chest, coating her own hands. “It’s good to take things slow at first,” she spoke as she began massaging the oil into your skin, focusing on your breasts. You whimpered at the sudden contact, it had been so long since someone touched you like this, you couldn't help but melt under her skilled hands

Alicent looked over your body, licking her lips as she saw you respond to her touch. She needed to see you cum, and the only way she was going to do that was to work her way between your legs. Her hands worked unbearably slow as she massaged lower down your body, spreading it across your navel and thighs. She paused for a moment, enjoying the sight of you laying in front of her.

You looked up at her with pleading eyes, she was so close yet so far from where you needed her. Her eyes never left yours as she leaned forward, kissing your neck. Your breathing hitched in your throat as her teeth scraped against your skin. She continued to press open-mouthed kisses, moving from your neck to your breasts, taking your hard nipple into her mouth and suckling on it.

You let out a quiet gasp, your fingers tangling into Alicent's soft hair. Her hands finally slipped under the thin fabric, and you could feel her fingertips brushing your clit as she wettened the area. Purposefully massaging everything besides your sex.

Alicent pulled away from you with a wet pop, a smile spreading across her face as you tried to catch your breath. She gave you another gentle kiss before she sat up, sprawling your legs across her lap as she slowly slipped off your bottoms. Alicent smirked down at your dripping cunt, “such a beautiful pussy.” Her fingers brushed against it, causing you to buck your hips into her hand. She shushed you softly and stroked your cheek with her other hand, reassuring you as she massaged your lips.

“P-please,” you whimpered out, desperate to be touched by her. Alicent let out a quiet laugh. She pressed a finger against your entrance, testing the waters, before slowly pushing into you. She curled her finger, her eyes glazing over as you clenched around her. Alicent slowly pumped her finger into you, waiting for your breathing to slow down, her other hand still holding your cheek. Your eyes were heavy-lidded as she slipped in a second finger, poking at your spongy spot.

You mewled at the stimulation, She leaned forward again, this time her lips wrapping around your nipple, taking it into her mouth. Alicent swirled her tongue around the hardened nub, her hand beginning to move faster, her other hand sliding down your stomach. Her nimble fingers circling your clit, teasing it softly.

You let out a loud moan, your body beginning to tremble, your walls began to tighten around her fingers. Alicent didn't stop, continuing her ministrations, desperate to bring you to your peak. "That's it, youre doing so good for me baby," she cooed to you, her breath hot on your skin. The sauna quickly became filled with lewd noise, her fingers pumping in and out of you. Alicent let out a low growl, "you gonna cum for me?" She asked, her voice deep and sultry.

You looked down at her, your eyes meeting her hungry gaze. She pressed your clit harder, her fingers circling faster as you stared at her. You let out a loud moan, “Y-yes m’gonna cum.” She leaned forward again, capturing your lips in a passionate kiss, your tongues meeting for the first time. You mewled into her mouth, her fingers repeatedly hitting your sweet spot.

Your back arched off the bench as your orgasm washed over you, a loud moan leaving your lips. You came hard against Alicent's fingers, her lips swallowing every sound you made. She continued to rub your clit, helping you ride it out as she helped you through it. "Good girl," she cooed, peppering kisses all over your body as she slowly pulled her fingers from you. She brought her hand to her mouth, sucking your juices from her fingers, humming quietly. She opened her mouth, a loud pop following, pushing her fingers into your mouth.

“You taste so good, baby. I wanna taste more of you," she pureed as she pressed wet kisses onto your ear, “sit on my face, please.” You blinked away your post-orgasm haze, Alicent's words ringing in your head. "O-okay." You stuttered out, lifting yourself off the bench, standing in front of her. You could hear the excitement in her voice as she shuffled backward on the bench, giving you enough room to straddle her head. Face sitting was a first for you and you couldn’t help but be nervous.

You were in a state of limbo, too embarrassed to make the first move, so Alicent did for you. “Trust me love, you won’t crush me.” She wrapped her arms around your thighs, pulling your dripping cunt down to her waiting mouth. You sat your knees on the bench, hovering over her head waiting for what to do next. She looked up at you with a mischievous smile, licking her lips before leaning forward and running her tongue through your folds. She let out a low groan as you came in contact with her lips, your juices coating her tongue.

“O-oh fuck!” You moaned out, placing a hand on the back of her head. The feeling of her tongue against your sensitive clit was more than you could bear. Alicent gripped your hips tighter and sucked at your aching bud, “you have another in there for me? Don’t you?” She asked, a smirk forming on her lips as you whimpered above her, “m’yes, Mrs. Hightower.” She ran her tongue along your folds, swirling around your clit, slowly pushing her tongue into your hole. You clenched around her tongue, the sensation making you quiver.

You couldn't take the teasing, Alicent could feel you begin to tremble, "Please!" You begged. "Use your words, baby." She purred, pressing wet kisses along your thighs. "L-let me cum." You practically moaned out, desperation lacing your voice. Alicent quickly complied, pulling your thighs closer and burying her face into your cunt. She pushed her tongue back into you, your head spinning as you fell forward, grabbing the bench above her head. You let out a loud whimper as she wrapped her lips around your clit, her tongue flicking against it.

You began to grind against her face, coating her in your juices. Alicent’s tongue skillfully moved against you as she sucked, your fingers tangling in her hair. You began to tremble, her nose brushing against your clit with every movement. Her hands slowly crept down her stomach, massaging her own clit. "A-Alicent," you choked out, your grip in her hair tightening.

She pushed you against her, continuing her oral assault as she continued to finger her own sensitive spots, "I know, baby.” She cooed. Alicent let out a whimper of her own as she began to approach her finish, the vibrations of her voice making your eyes roll into the back of your head. Alicent's movements became more erratic, she sucked your clit into her mouth, swirling her tongue around your sensitive bud. You gripped the bench tighter, your walls beginning to tighten as you got closer.

“You gonna come with me, sweetheart?” She asked, her voice muffled. "I-I- yes!" You choked out, your legs beginning to shake, your body starting to feel like jelly. Alicent gave a low hum in approval, you could feel her smirk against you as you began to fall over the edge. Her tongue skillfully worked faster, her own moans of pleasure radiating through you.

You felt her legs tremble, Alicent's eyes screwed shut as she came undone. She let out a loud gasp, her lips connecting with your clit again, continuing to lap at it. Your walls tightened around her tongue, her moans vibrating against you, forcing you to cum. You threw your head back, your mouth falling open in a silent scream as you came, Alicent drinking up all of your ecstasy. She slowed her ministrations, languidly kissing and licking your slit as you came down from your high.

She continued her soft licks until you moved off of her, collapsing on the bench beside her, panting heavily. Alicent quickly recovered, her face plastered in a Cheshire grin as she rolled onto her side to face you. She leaned forward, kissing your forehead, her hand playing with a lock of your hair. "I'm sure you're exhausted, i’ll help you get cleaned up. You can use my jacuzzi if you’d like," she offered, kissing your lips. You couldn't help but melt under her touch, she was so gentle and caring.

“Yes, Mrs. Hightower,” you murmured in reply. She let out a soft laugh at your response, giving you another quick kiss. “No please, call me Ali now.” You couldn't help but grin at her request, nodding your head in reply.

#Alicent hightower #alicent hightower x reader #Alicent hightower x you #alicent hightower fanfic #alicent hightower smut #alicent hightower imagine #hotd fic

[chipotle-aristotle-sonz]

Withering away (Alicent Hightower)

Spoiler warning: The aftermath of the Dance of Dragons (Character Deaths).

The Dowager Queen is left to reminisce and rot.

-----

"I wish to see my sons again. And my Helaena… my sweet Helaena."

It appears I like writing depressing shit

@/joobobby on ao3 :)

=====

“Alicent remained in her chambers for the last year of her life. Her only company was her septa, serving girls, and guards. Alicent often wept, began talking to herself, and came to dislike the color green. She died in 133 AC, during the outbreak of the Winter Fever.” (A Wiki of Ice and Fire)

__

“I wish to see my sons again. And my Helaena… my sweet Helaena.” 

The sun was streaming through the wide window of her chambers, accentuating her gaunt features. Her previously well-kept mane of beautiful curls fell in limp strands along her back. Gone were her once youthful features, and only the remains of the deep fatigue of a mother who had lost her children, and a young girl who had destroyed her first love lingered. It was so long ago now she couldn’t even say for certain if any of her actions had been worth anything. Worth the heavy and damning price. 

“No. Rhaenyra would have put my children to the sword. Father assured it… But, that can’t be right. The Rhaenyra I knew would have never hurt me. She wanted to fly with me on dragonback, see the great wonders of the world, and eat only cake… She was a sweet girl,” she recalled with a fond smile.

The air was stale and the room she occupied held no resemblance to that of royalty. Alicent was on the edge of her bed, smiling wistfully with unshed tears in her eyes. Her Septa sat on a nearby chair, occasionally smiling and nodding when required. Or when the withering Dowager Queen’s eyes met her own. Her mumbling and muttering was of no real worry to the Septa, as it was considered to be the norm around the Keep.

“She used to name the insects in her collection. Helaena. After Aemond had tried to find a dragon again, he sat down with her and asked her about who she was holding. Without a moment’s hesitation, she turned to him with a small smile and said: “His name is Bertrand.” Only sweet Helaena could’ve gotten Aemond to crack a smile after the promise of a dragon was taken away from him again,” she felt herself break into a wide, toothy smile, on the brink of laughter. Her gentle girl. Her good-natured boy. All of her children.

She could see it now: her sweet and innocent Helaena, wandering along the line of trees in the gardens of the Red Keep, lost in her own little world and humming a tune to herself. Sitting not too far away was Aemond, wise beyond his years, always keeping an eye on his big sister and forgetting how to be a young boy free of the worries of the world. Being chased around the grounds was a tiny little Daeron, running as far as his stumpy legs could take him with fear in his eyes. Not too far behind him was Aegon, cackling with a worm on the end of a stick, his long hair falling into his face. She could hear the calls of a scared Daeron calling for his Mama. She could see Aegon slowly resign and offer an apology to his brother, reassuring him that the worm would do him no harm. 

The Dowager Queen was brought back to herself as she felt her tears running down her face and choked sobs escaping her. Her Septa was gone, and she was left alone… 

They weren’t there. Her children weren’t ever really there. Her sobs became too difficult to suppress, and she soon started to weep.

She could see it now: her sweet and innocent Helaena, blood-curdling screams escaping her and wailing for her Jaehaerys, wasting away in her bed-chamber, wracked with grief and guilt, and hyperventilating and crying whenever approached by her shy Jaehaera or little Maelor. She could see her heartbroken and hollow expression as she flung herself from her window, impaled on the spikes below. Her Aemond, wise beyond his years was there as well, dead as he lived, alone, fated to decompose with the remains of Vhagar as his sole companion and robbed of his remaining eye. She could hear the pained screams of her tiny little Daeron set on fire and slain… And Aegon, her biggest love, her biggest regret… her son, slumped within his litter, blood staining his lips, and finally robbed of his life by his syrupy sweet poison. 

Rhaenyra, unyielding in her defiance and devoured by Sunfyre.

Innocent Helaena.

Strong Aemond.

Kind-hearted Daeron.

Pained Aegon. 

Rhaenyra…

They were all long gone, and Alicent was left to wither away into nothing. 

She was rotting. She could feel herself rotting.

And suddenly it was all far too much. Breathing, crying, seeing, living. She gripped her hair and tugged painfully. She pulled at her green dress and tore it to shreds.

As she stayed perched on the edge of her bed, in a pool of green remains, Alicent looked to the floor only to see the sad smile of her Helaena sat with Jaehaerys, Jaehaera, and Maelor, all clinging to their mother. Next to Alicent’s daughter was her fierce protector Aemond, who gently placed a hand on Maelor’s head as he gazed up at his mother lovingly. Daeron called out softly from beside her, always the kind son. Finally, her Aegon tenderly cupped her cheek and wiped her tears away. The evidence of the damning war was expunged from all of their faces, and the light in their eyes triumphed over the despair. 

“We all rest now, Mother. We are alright,” said her Aegon softly, a rare and welcomed smile on his face.

This much-needed comfort was enough to calm her heavy heart for a moment. But she needed to say something. Say anything. They could hear her now and she would not waste her chance, as she was certain her regret would soon devour her whole.

“I failed you, and for that, I am sorry. I was so worried about what could've happened to you that I didn’t realise I had happened. I was always a precocious child, raised to perform my duty to my House, to your grandfather, and to the realm. But I did not learn from the many mistakes and sins of my father. Duty is the death of love, and love is the death of duty. I made the wrong decision in prioritising anything but you, and those who truly saw me. You are all my pride and joy, and I am the luckiest mother to have been blessed with such beautiful children… I need you to know that I love you.”

“We know, Mother. We always knew.”

Alicent permitted herself a heavy exhale, letting go of all of her heartache. She allowed herself a smile then and retreated back to her comforting and safe delusions and reveries. Just a mother and her children. She kissed Aegon’s palm, caressed Daeron’s cheek, and settled on the floor with Helaena and Aemond. She peppered her grandchildren with kisses and she felt content. Alicent could no longer feel the rot as she closed her eyes and smiled.

When Alicent finally opened her eyes again, there she was. Her beautiful yet mischievous Rhaenyra, just how she was as a girl. The young princess had an even younger Aegon on her lap, allowing him to grasp her fingers as she tried to teach him how to say her name. 

“‘Nyra!” A small Aegon cried, and Alicent suddenly felt herself laughing, Rhaenyra joining in.

‘That’s my son.’

A comfortable silence enveloped the two girls, and soon it was just them, Aegon nowhere to be found. But Alicent wasn’t worried. He was just fine, she could feel it. For he had told her: “We all rest now, Mother. We are alright.”

“You do know my offer still stands, my Lady. Syrax is almost big enough to saddle two as you so kindly pointed out,” Rhaenyra said with a cheeky grin, grasping Alicent’s hand.

“I’m still quite content as a spectator, thank you. Besides, I fear I would be too frightened to partake. I am no dragon.” 

“Nonsense. You would be with me.”

“Not the most comforting of sentiments. What if I were to fall?” She replied with a fond smile.

“Then I would catch you of course,” she exclaimed, her grin only growing wider. 

The comfortable silence was back now. Rhaenyra smiled at her so very softly she thought she might melt.

This is how things were supposed to be. She wasn't meant to sell her body, heart, mind, and soul to the King, to her father, to the realm. 'Them, Syrax, and cake.'

As the two girls sat there, holding each other's hands, the childhood companion slowly became the Rhaenyra from their last supper together: a mother who loved her children and a girl who needed her old friend back.  

“... You kept the torn page,” Rhaenyra said with a small and knowing smile.

("If the Septa sees this book-"

"Fuck the Septa!"

"Rhaenyra!")

“Yes, I suppose I did.”

“I should’ve taken you up on that offer. Us, Syrax, the great wonders of the world, and cake… I should’ve known it was legitimate, for I know now that you would never jest about cake,” the Dowager Queen said in a shaky voice, an apology on her tongue and guilt and regret prominent in her tone. The two women gazed at each other fondly. No words were spoken, but an understanding passed between them. The former Queen allowed herself to run her fingers along the healed scar on Rhaenyra’s arm. The one Alicent had given her in defence of her son. 'All for my children.'

The sun continued to stream through the wide window of her chambers, accentuating her gaunt features, and her previously well-kept mane of beautiful curls fell in limp strands along her back. Gone were her once youthful features, but a small and wistful smile was present on her face. 

“They are alright. They all rest now.”

#hotd #alicent hightower #house of the dragon #aemond targaryen #aegon ii targaryen #helaena targaryen #rhaenicent #daeron targaryen #alicent fanfic #alicent hightower fanfic #alicent hotd

[nervoushottee]

I’m back on Tumblr and I INSTANTLY been craving an Alicent Hightower fanfic. Like a fem oc fanfic with her. I think she is such a complex character on HOTD and like I was lowkey a rhaenicent shipper (obviously harwin too) and I’ve just been craving a book with it.

I haven’t really found any so if any one has any fic recs for Alicent Hightower x Fem oc/reader PLEASE DONT KEEP THEM AWAY TELL ME

I might just have to write one myself but idk if I’m ready for such a commitment

(Im talking about Alicent from the HOTD show and not the books idk shit about the books)

#alicent hightower #queen alicent #rhaenicent #Alicent Hightower fanfic #hotd alicent #hotd fanfic #rhaenyra x alicent #alicent imagine #alicent hightower imagine #hottee secrets

[thattargboy]

Is anyone looking for an editor? Because I want to gain experience editing and I want to get back into reading fic 😭

#hotd fanfiction #fanfic editor #team green #helaena targaryen fanfic #alicent hightower fanfic #hotd fanfic #aemond targaryen fanfic #aegon targaryen fanfic

[satanicscreams]

｡･:*୭ 𝐈𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐗 :

𝐅𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟 -  ✿

𝐀𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐭 - ☾

𝐒𝐮𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐬 - ★

𝐒𝐦𝐮𝐭 - ♡

｡*:･ﾟ୭ 𝐀𝐄𝐌𝐎𝐍𝐃 𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐆𝐀𝐑𝐘𝐄𝐍:

— 𝐃𝐈𝐕𝐈𝐍𝐄 𝐒𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐓𝐘 (on wattpad) ✿ ☾ ♡

｡*:･ﾟ୭ 𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐂𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐑:

— 𝐁𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐊 𝐎𝐅 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓 (on wattpad) ✿ ☾ ♡

— 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐏𝐎𝐈𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐄𝐃 𝐅𝐑𝐔𝐈𝐓 ☾

｡*:･ﾟ୭ 𝐃𝐀𝐄𝐌𝐎𝐍 𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐆𝐀𝐑𝐘𝐄𝐍:

— 𝐁𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐀 𝐃𝐎𝐍𝐍𝐀 (on wattpad) ✿ ☾ ♡

｡*:･ﾟ୭ 𝐑𝐇𝐀𝐄𝐍𝐘𝐑𝐀 𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐆𝐀𝐑𝐘𝐄𝐍:

— 𝐃𝐀𝐔𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐎𝐅 𝐖𝐀𝐑 ✿ ☾

#hotd masterlist #hotd x reader #hotd one shot #alicent hightower one shot #alicent hightower imagine #rhaenyra targaryen oneshot #rhaenyra targaryen x reader #alicent hightower fanfic #alicent hightower x reader #hotd imagine #hotd fanfic