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Summary
It was very nice, all things considered. Alicent sneaking smiles at her across the keep, Alicent kissing her whenever she got the chance, Alicent making the chances. Alicent on top of her, under her, saying sweet, dirty things and trying to get her pregnant.
The trouble with all of it, Rhaenyra thought for the thousandth time—like the idea was a particularly persistent bee, or perhaps a whole swarm of them—was that for all the talk of getting knocked up, it wasn’t happening. And wouldn’t be. And she quite, really, actually wanted a baby.
Fantasy isn't always enough.
Series
- Part 2 of all that we could do
Bookmarked by archandroid
20 Jun 2026
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If Rhaenyra had started with her manners then it was likely they would already be ensconced in some private room somewhere, Alicent doing whatever else Rhaenyra asked of her. The years had done precious little to shore her defences; if anything, they had grown weaker, what with the new methods Rhaenyra wielded to test her resolve—filthy promises made with looks and words. This relentless stroking of her palm.
When Rhaenyra says please, Alicent doesn't want to say no.
Bookmarked by archandroid
20 Jun 2026
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What are you wearing?” Alicent hissed.
She had ambushed Rhaenyra after the small council meeting, once the men had all left, pulling her into a tapestry covered alcove by her arm. Not by the—
Alicent inhaled sharply, shakily, and snapped her gaze back to Rhaenyra’s face.
“Oh, this?” Rhaenyra said. Her usually low voice was soft and highly pitched. As though she was surprised to be accosted, her eyes grew wide. Playing at the innocent child that she never had been, always insolent, always up to something. Slowly, she slid her thumbs between the silk of her dress and the gold chain shimmering around her waist.
Alicent and Rhaenyra have a chat. That's all.
Bookmarked by archandroid
20 Jun 2026
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Summary
She lifts the plates at his shoulders, where the fabric remains tucked, and the cape falls.
“Pretend I’m her,” she commands him.
Ser Criston Cole surges forward, his mouth landing on her clavicle with a desperate moan. “Rhaenyra,” he says, with a sweetness that shocks her; he only ever speaks of the princess with such venom, but now he chants her name like a hymn.
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Alicent and Criston’s mutual obsession with Rhaenyra takes a new turn after Viserys dies. S02E01, canon-compliant.
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“Your whole war, based on a bedtime story. You usurp my throne without the slightest idea what it means.” Rhaenyra’s words are vicious, but her tone is soft. She’d been so soft-spoken in the sept. Though there was a knife in her hand there had almost been a gentleness to the way she held Alicent’s wrist, dressed in the drab garb of the septas and still so striking. It’s a wonder nobody recognized her from sheer magnetism alone.
“I did what I thought was best for the realm.”
The blade kisses Alicent’s neck. She can feel the pain in a detached, dreamlike way, the shallow slice of a sharpened edge across the vulnerable skin of her throat.
“Liar,” Rhaenyra whispers.
OR
Alicent is haunted by so many things, her own decisions chief among them. Why not add Rhaenyra’s visit in the sept?