Alicent
The day was magnificent.
The sun had risen above King’s Landing in a bright splendor, bathing the entire city in a ray of golden light.
The summer heat had made the garden blossoms open and flower with a sweet, pleasant smell that permeated through the entire keep.
Alicent watched the greenery in awe, sheltering in the pavilion the servants had erected at the entrance of the royal gardens.
Her royal husband was there as well, languishing on a sofa in his black silks.
One of his attendants fanned him, while the other poured him wine and helped him cut up his boar roast.
At his feet, Helaena sat crouched on the grass, fingers diligently working a bouquet of daisies into a wreath.
Dressed in a soft pink gown with gold trimmings and lace embroidery, her sweet girl cut the image of the maiden, frail and beautiful in the midday sun.
Alicent had tried to bid her to come shelter with them in the shade, worried she might burn in the sweltering heat.
But she had refused, seemingly unfazed by the rays beating down on her brows.
As splendid of a sight as she made, she was far from the most pleasing thing in the garden.
Across the patch of flowering bluebells, Alicent spotted Aegon.
Clad in a green doublet emblazoned with a golden dragon, he seemed deeply engrossed in a conversation with Simon Dondarrion.
The two boys sat side by side beneath a hickory tree, surrounded by half a dozen pages and squires that had accompanied the young lordling from Blackhaven.
He has changed.
After the incident at the pit, her son had been a terror.
Her warnings about Rhaenyra and her heir had finally sunk in enough for him to cease consorting with Jacaerys.
But he had grown terribly sullen, spending his days in his chambers, with a cup of wine in one hand and his head buried beneath the pillows.
Simon Dondarrion’s arrival changed that.
At first, Alicent did not think much of him.
Short and pudgy, the heir to Blackhaven had a wide barrel chest and an even wider jaw, more befitting of a man grown than a young boy of eleven.
However, he was quick to jest and even quicker to laugh, something her son found amusing.
Months on, and the two boys became fast friends, much to the delight of both her and the boy’s uncle.
“Thick as thieves, those two,” Arthur Dondarrion was fond of saying whenever he and the Queen spoke of their friendship.
He had come to the capital as an escort to his nephew, bringing with him a few minor vassals and lords.
“It is the kind of bond that lasts a lifetime, Your Grace.”
Alicent would nod, her lips upturned.
“I should hope so.
My son is in need of loyal friends, my lord.
I fear the Keep is in quite a short supply.”
The man’s smoky blue eyes narrowed, and he lifted his head high.
“Rest assured, my Queen.
Blackhaven is happy to provide.”
His words gave her immense satisfaction.
Ser Criston was right.
Lord Dondarrion could be relied upon.
The man had been a companion of her knight’s youth and steadfastly shared his values.
Granted, his support did not mean much.
The Dondarrions were minor lords, presiding over a small patch of land near the Dornish marches.
But the boy’s father had a close friendship with the young Borros Baratheon, heir to Lord Boremund.
The Baratheons have the kind of strength I need.
Her attempts to betroth Aegon to Tyshara Lannister may have failed, but Lord Borros had recently sired a daughter on his lady wife.
If Alicent managed to secure her hand for Aegon, she would finally have a great house behind her.
And if Johanna decides to stop nursing her wounded pride, I can give her Daeron perhaps.
The thought filled her with immeasurable hope.
As if the picture were not beautiful enough, she spotted Ser Laenor frolicking about in the distance.
Her stepson-by-law strode arm in arm with his favorite companion, Ser Qarl Correy, a lopsided smirk on his face.
Behind him, Jacaerys followed like a sullen dog, head bowed low.
Cavorting in public.
All while his wife was abed, laboring to deliver their third child.
Alicent would have laughed if the sight were not such an affront to the gods.
Her lord husband disliked it too, but for different reasons.
“Aegon, come ask your nephew to join you.” Viserys raised his voice, purple eyes narrowed.
Aegon immediately stood to attention, silver hair billowing in the wind.
He gaped at them open-mouthed before his eyes pivoted to his half-nephew.
The glare Jacaerys was shooting his way could curdle milk.
“Come now, be kind,” Viserys repeated, this time more sternly.
Simon Dondarrion stuttered, his cheeks going pale.
It was Ser Laenor who answered her husband.
“Thank you, goodfather, but there is no need.
Jacaerys is perfectly content with Ser Qarl and me.
Are you not?”
Alicent thought that if eyes could shoot crossbow bolts, Jacaerys would have riddled Ser Laenor with holes thrice over.
She thought Viserys would push the issue more.
But it seems that a bit of effort was all he had to give.
He collapsed back down onto his recliner, bidding the servant to fan faster.
“Let it be, husband.” Alicent gingerly brushed his shoulder.
“I cannot, Alicent.
It is not right that they would exclude him so.”
“No, it is not,” she conceded, trying to keep her voice light.
“But you cannot force the Dondarrion boy to consort with your grandson if he does not wish to.”
He heaved a labored sigh, pale skin flush pink.
His pallor had improved of late.
The last few months of summer heat had done much for his disposition.
Maester Orwyle had even informed her that some of his wounds had finally started healing.
It left her glad.
With Aegon at last acting as a proper prince should, she finally had the chance to prove to her lord husband what a fine young boy he was.
“I had hoped he would take a liking to both,” he mused.
“Part of the reason I brought him here is to bring them closer together.”
“Men make plans, and the gods laugh,” she quipped.
“I fear fate has decided that the two branches of our house are to remain apart.”
Her words bade Viserys to frown.
“That is hardly true.
Aemond has done much and more to bridge the gap.”
The mention of her second son made her gut twist in knots.
She entwined her fingers together and released a slow breath.
“I fear that is not as good of a thing as you have imagined it to be.”
It had seemed that the gods had made her two children swap places.
While Aegon had been doing everything she had ever wanted him to do of late, Aemond seemed determined to give her nothing but defiance.
She had discovered his dalliances not long after they had started.
One of her servants had brought her words that she had seen him sneaking off into the courtyard at nightfall.
The news shocked and concerned her in equal parts.
Her boy would never dream of skulking about alone at night, doing mischief.
Aegon must have put him up to it.
Flustered, she bid Talya to have them both followed to see what plot they had cooked up.
The tidings her lady-in-waiting returned with were even worse than she had thought.
“Are you certain it is her?” Alicent had asked, clutching the front of her sleeping shift in her hand.
Talya averted her gaze.
“Yes, your Grace.
I saw him and Princess Lucera running off into the gardens.”
Anger built up behind Alicent’s eyes, and she just about flung her evening sleeping draft across her chambers.
Gods, not now.
She had tried so hard to separate Aegon from Jacaerys. The source of this chapter is novelping.com.
The thought she might end up losing her second son to Rhaenyra’s get left her distraught.
No, I will not have it.
She confronted her boy about it almost immediately, her fury barely contained.
He tried to deny it at first, but Alicent knew all too well that quirk he would get in his lip whenever he lied.
Dismissing his attempt, she made him swear to end it right away.
Though the girl was not as unruly as her brother, Lucera was still a menace.
She was defiant and crude, often fond of breaking rules and behaving like a wild animal.
Alicent refused to have that around her son.
However, she misjudged just how much of her influence she had already imparted to Aemond.
Shortly after his vow, Talya caught him sneaking off with her again, this time to the library.
Alicent put her foot down and bid him be confined to his chambers.
Somehow, the fiendish boy managed to slip out under the nose of his guards to run off with her to play about the inner courtyard.
At her wit’s end, she finally attempted to impart the same warning she had given Aegon about their dates.
“You think she will spare you because she is a girl and you are her friend?
Her brother will inherit the throne, and she will have to do whatever she can to keep him on it.
Including lopping off your head.”
Aemond regarded her from his seat, solemn face scrunched up and sulking.
He had even taken to pouting like she did, pressing his lips and puffing up his cheeks the way a fish might.
“She would not do that.
She is kind.”
Alicent blew a breath.
Still a boy.
He might have been cleverer than most, but in his heart, her son was just a boy.
Weak to the charms of a pretty girl.
“Yes, she is kind and nice.
And she laughs at your jests and lets you read to her in the library.
And when you close your eyes to go in for an embrace, she will cut your throat open like a pig.
Because that is what she is.”
She expected fear to bloom in his eyes just as it had Aegon’s.
Instead, the foolish boy leapt out of his chair and paced around the room.
“No, she is not like that.
You do not even know her.”
“I know where she comes from.
And no amount of kind words and promises of friendship will change her blood.” She paused, seizing a lock of his hair between her fingers.
The silver was as fine as spider silk.
“Nor yours.
Remember that.
As long as you have your father’s blood, you will always be a threat to her and her family.”
The way he fell silent led her to believe he had taken her words to heart.
To her dismay, the exact opposite occurred.
Barely a day later, when she had tried to confine him to his chambers once more, he had gone to his father, asking him to let the two of them play about.
No amount of threats or pleading could keep them apart then.
Viserys was enraptured with the idea of the two of them consorting and did his all to make it happen.
He had even taken to inviting them to have evening meals in his solar, where they could discuss Old Valyria and play with his models.
His meddling left Alicent positively burning with rage.
But the insults did not stop there.
Her lord husband had roped in Helaena as well, having her girl share her interests in insects with Lucera.
The Queen had half a mind to light the entire keep aflame.
That little wretch has ruined everything.
Yet Viserys, as was custom, remained blind to the calumny.
“Not good?” he asked, puzzled.
“How so?
Aemond has blossomed since he and Lucera had started playing together.
Maester Orwyle says he is excelling at his studies, and Ser Criston seems pleased with his progress in the yard.
Even the dragonkeepers say he is much more lax about the dragon taming than before.
It seems to me that Lucera has been nothing but a positive influence on him.”
As if summoned, her second son appeared at the entrance to the garden.
To her undying displeasure, he was filthy again.
His fine wool surcoat and doublet were coated in dust and flecks of mud, and his pale cheeks were darkened with what seemed like soot.
The fine silver hair she had had their servants painstakingly comb and tie back was disheveled, sticking to the sides like some unruly animal.
Worse still, he seemed unbothered by his ghastly appearance.
He trotted with a slight spring in his step, a bemused smile on his face.
Moments later, the source of this travesty appeared.
Rhaenyra’s wild beast of a girl rushed behind him, brown skirts billowing in the wind.
She was filthy too, her hair and clothes a shambled mess that eclipsed Aemond’s own.
“Yes,” Alicent needled her fingers, bile rising in her throat.
“A marvelous influence.”
As if the image were not tragic enough, the girl screamed and leapt onto her son’s back.
“I am the Conqueror!” she belted, laughing and screeching like a manic fox.
To her horror, Aemond answered her call and hooked his hands under her knees.
“And I am the Black Dread.
To Dorne, to Dorne.
We must burn the sands till they are glass!”
The two of them stumbled and giggled over to the pavilion like a pair of drunken fools.
Unable to bear the noise, Alicent rushed over to them.
“You are late.
Again,” she hissed, eyes pinning her son.
To her relief, Aemond shook off the girl, the foolish grin vanishing from his face.
“Forgive me, Mother, we were just at the beach.”
“You were meant to return at midday, sharp,” she chided, her voice low and even.
Lucera seemed completely oblivious to it.
“Your father had hoped to have a meal with you.
But now you have missed it.”
“Come now, Alicent, it is alright.” Her oaf of a husband chose that precise moment to interfere.
“The children were just playing.”
“Yes, we brought gifts!” the girl shrieked, reaching for the pouch hung about her neck.
Side-stepping the Queen, she barreled toward her grandfather.
“Oh, what have you got there?
Is it another one of your pirate treasures?” Viserys peeled his lips into a smirk, the corners of his eyes crinkling.
The girl fished out something from her pouch and thrust it at him.
“We found it in the sand.
Aemond thought it looked like Balerion’s skull.”
Her husband turned the seashell over in his fingers.
“How marvelous!
And indeed, that does look like a dragon skull, does it not?”
With a sickly sweet smile, he extended his hand to caress her cheek.
“Thank you, sweet girl.
Helaena.
Come see what your niece brought.”
The redness Alicent saw turned molten.
“Oh, we have a gift for you too!” Lucera reached into the satchel hung about her waist.
The thing came out in a flash, its long, spindly body wiggling.
The Queen screamed and rushed forward, eager to slap it from her hand.
Talya had to pull her away before she could reach over. The source of this chapter is g.com.
The worm had lashed out, needle-like pincers snapping.
“Gods be good!
What is that?
Throw it away!” Alicent demanded.
Again, the girl ignored her.
“Oh, careful, it bites.”
“Throw it away, throw it away this instant!”
At her nod, Ser Criston stepped forward, hand squeezed around his knife’s hilt.
A shadow in pink blocked his path.
Helaena materialized before her half-niece, purple eyes wide with wonder.
With one quick flick of her wrist, she seized the reddish worm by the head and brought it up to her face to inspect it.
“Sandworm,” she announced, sparse brows knitted.
“Yes, we found it burrowing by the shore,” her son interjected.
“Thought you might like it.”
Helaena blinked.
“I have not had sandworms before.”
“I know.
It is why I told Aemond to take it,” the girl said, rising to her feet.
“Thought it would chew right through his hand, but he handled it well enough.”
“There is a compliment in there somewhere,” Aemond replied, that foolish grin returning.
The girl mirrored it, and the two giggled like mad.
Alicent thought she might faint.
Father, grant me strength to weather this storm.
“Thank you.
I shall put it in the case,” Helaena said, signaling her attendants to come take the monster away.
“Wonderful.
The picture of a happy family,” Viserys chimed in, stained teeth on display.
Alicent thought that if he had had both hands, he would have clapped.
“Shall we play Races?” Lucera suggested, her brown eyes widening like ripe figs.
“What is that?” Helaena asked.
“Oh, it is much fun.
We are all supposed to pelt each other with cotton balls till one falls down.
There is no touching, so it should suit you,” she explained.
A scream threatened to burst from Alicent’s lips when her daughter smiled and nodded.
“I should like to have a go at that.”
“No.” Alicent rushed over, wedging herself between her daughter and Rhaenyra’s beast.
To her dismay, she was clutching Aemond’s hand, doe-eyed and oblivious.
She hoped her son would at least have the sense to shake off her grip.
Naturally, the fool squeezed it tighter, moving to gently nudge her behind him.
“The hour is too late for games.”
“Alicent, come now,” her husband attempted, but she lashed him with a look.
“Your son needs to have a bath and prepare for his evening lessons.
Besides, I think the Princess should be with her own father at this time.”
They all dared to glance to their right, where Ser Laenor was still cavorting with his knightly companion.
The two of them seemed engrossed in some conversation, completely oblivious to the young princess’ presence.
To make things even more delicious, her brother was nearby, exchanging quiet words with Harwin Strong.
“Yes, the pit!” the beast shrieked.
“I am to go to the Dragonpit with Jace to find a new egg for the baby.”
“Ah well, you should not dally then,” the queen commented, waving a dismissive hand.
“We will play some other time,” Helaena said, gingerly tugging at her dress cuffs.
“Yes, off you go,” Alicent proclaimed.
The girl lingered, whispering something to her son.
The words were in High Valyrian, so the queen could not make them out.
Her son could, though, and he giggled and gave her an enthused nod.
Rhaenyra’s wild child skipped off to join her father’s party, a spring in her step.
Her son only deigned to look away when Alicent cleared her throat.
“Mother.”
“Go to your chambers, and take a bath.
You stink of river water.”
She was pleased to see the stupid smirk melt from his lips, and he shrunk into himself.
With a quick signal, she bid Ser Criston approach and whisk him away, silently asking her knight to stand watch outside his door so he would not wander.
His departure coincided with the arrival of Maester Orwyle.
The kindly healer trotted into the gardens, his chain clanking softly.
“Your Grace.” He bowed to Viserys.
“I have news from the midwives.
The Princess has delivered a son.”
Hushed whispers followed his declaration, as all their attendants shared poignant looks.
Viserys was too elated to pay it mind.
“Praise Mother!” he exclaimed, clutching the ring on his right pinky.
The gold falcon band his late wife had gifted him.
“Healthy?”
The Maester nodded.
“Yes, both mother and child are doing well.”
With a loud heave, he flung the blanket covering his legs and moved to stand.
“Yes, I must go see them.”
“No, you must rest, husband.” Alicent rushed over to steady him.
“You have been baking in the sun long enough.”
“I must go to her,” he protested, purple eyes alight.
Seeing the fire rise in him left her aching for the sweet pain of her savaged fingers.
“No, she has just given birth.
She and the babe must remain abed.
Eddard, take the king to his chambers.”
The serving man gave her a nod and swiftly seized her husband by the forearm.
He and two score attendants carted Viserys through the archway, Helaena and Lord Commander Westerling trailing behind.
Once they were out of sight, Alicent motioned for one of her maidservants to come forth.
“Bessy, send word to the Princess’ midwives.
I would have the child brought to me.
Immediately.”
The girl’s slanted blue eyes widened and she stumbled over her words.
“My Queen, the Princess will never agree to be parted from her son.”
She balled her fists, that word slashing at her skin like a blade.
A son.
Another heir, another contender.
Another threat to her boy.
Sucking in a calming breath, Alicent cast a look back toward the hickory.
With Jacaerys having disappeared with his father and sister, a lively smile was once again grazing Aegon’s lips.
He and Simon were passing a decorative knife the boy’s uncle had gifted the prince upon their arrival to the capital.
The invisible hands choking her neck squeezed harder.
I must protect him.
She would not allow another one of Rhaenyra’s brood to destroy her children.
The truth must come to light.
Alicent pinned the serving girl’s gaze.
Even if she had to force it out herself.
“I know,” she finally announced.
“I am counting on it.”