Chapter Text
Good things come to those who pray.
A thrill races up Alicent’s spine when the servants open the double doors. She steps inside the doorway and takes it all in. The rich curtains and tapestries, the fine furniture and the plush rugs. The blazing fireplace carved with motifs of flowers, mountains and falcons in the mantel. Everything fit for a queen.
The lady is careful to keep her face serene as she surveys the Queen’s Apartments. With her wedding only a fortnight away, it wouldn’t do to give credence to the tongues wagging that she’s reaching above her station.
No, she’s merely rising to her rightful place.
Of course she has a lot of redecorating to do first. That vile tapestry of a man and woman entwined with a dragon is absolutely first on her list. Alicent’s cheeks grow hot and she physically turns so she doesn’t have to see such an unholy act.
It would be improper for her to move into these apartments until after her wedding and crowning but it’s vital that everything is prepared for her to move in the morning after the bedding ceremony. The thought of being pawed at by men deep in their cups is nauseating but she will do her duty without fuss.
Rhaenyra could learn a thing or two from her example.
The head housekeeper Celia steps forward with a sheet of paper. She works directly under Lord Caswell the castellan and has served both the Good Queen Alysanne and Queen Aemma. “Shall we begin the survey, my lady?”
Her eyes look slightly past her and her tone sounds bored, as if the task is beneath her. Alicent narrows her eyes at the gold dragon pin on the housekeeper’s dress, its eyes made up of twin sapphires.
Once she wears the crown and has full authority, this servant will be the first to go. It’s her duty to light the way to true salvation for these heathens and heretics. She will not suffer any nonbelievers in the Red Keep, her home and domain now.
But for now, she’ll hold her tongue and bide her time. Hadn’t her Father taught her that when she’d hesitated to go comfort the King? He’d pulled her aside right after the council session where the King announced his intent to marry her.
See how well my patience has turned out for our family? Your obedience has made you Queen of the Seven Kingdoms.
She would not make all of her Father’s efforts for naught. “Yes, let us begin.”
Alicent points out things she wants removed to storage or to completely be replaced as they moved from the audience room into the sitting room and solar. Pretty much everything though she allows a few pieces of wooden furniture carved with tamer depictions as a concession to her husband’s House. Try as Celia might, the housekeeper cannot hide the corner of her mouth turning downwards as her list of replacements grows longer.
Its not her fault that the Targaryen red-and-black combination is so dreary and oppressive.
She’s looking forward to redecorating this place with the calming colors of her own House. Uncle Hobert had promised her a princely sum as a reflection of his pride in becoming the most prominent House in the Realm thanks to her accomplishments.
Alicent follows Celia into the bedchamber as the vision unfurls before her.
Pure white and sedate grey will provide a tranquil sanctuary for her ladies-in-waiting. A nurturing environment for pious and goodly women to quietly do embroidery or read aloud from the Book of Seven to one another and meditate on its wisdom. They’ll devise the future of the Seven Kingdoms in these chambers — planning out proper marriages to guide husbands onto the rightful path and ensure future heirs are raised in the Light.
“…lady? Lady Alicent?”
She stumbles over her feet as she blinks back into focus. “Forgive me, my attention was elsewhere.” Alicent grabs the gold post at the foot of the bed to steady herself. “There’s so much to do in such a short amount of time.”
Celia hums. Its not as though she doesn’t know since she’s helping put together the rushed festivities in only two moons time. “This should be the last room, my lady. Based on protocol, I’ve marked for Queen Aemma’s gowns and jewelry to be given to the princess.”
She nods. “Of course, its only proper.”
She has no desire for a dead woman’s charity.
Alicent starts to follow after Celia when she kicks something hard with her foot. The object skitters out from under the bed and she bends to pick it up.
It’s an ugly figurine — roughly hewed from dark brown wood into the shape of a dragon sleeping among the boughs of a tree. It must be a weirwood given the five pointed leaves.
Alicent starts when a few flakes fall off from where she rubs at it with her thumb. By the Seven…was that actually dried blood?
Celia makes a noise of recognition. “A gift to Queen Aemma from the North in anticipation of Princess Rhaenyra’s birth.” The housekeeper actually looks at the carving with fondness, of all things. “It was created from a fallen branch of a true weirwood tree. Her Majesty carried it with her always and considered it a good luck charm for her births since the princess arrived shortly after…”
And healthy, was unsaid.
Given how strange and out of control Rhaenyra is, that might not actually be completely accurate.
It takes everything in Alicent not to throw the figurine to the ground and stomp it into bits. What good was this cursed object, t-this… dark magic when Rhaenyra was the only child born of her mother’s incestuous union that actually lived? A daughter at all, not even a useful son and heir.
“I will give it to Princess Rhaenyra along with the rest of Her Majesty’s personal property. I’m sure it’ll bring her the same comfort.”
Alicent places the figurine on a small side table and trails after the housekeeper. After another candle mark, they’re just finishing up the list of changes when a maid rushes in and catches Celia’s attention.
The housekeeper purses her lips and rolls up the papers. “My apologies Lady Alicent, I must meet with the kitchen staff immediately. The Lord Hand wishes to increase the courses from ten to fifteen.”
Alicent melts inside. Her father is truly outdoing himself. It’s perhaps a good thing that the entire Vale declined otherwise they might become even more envious of how the King’s second wedding outdid his first.
“I know the way back to my rooms well,” Alicent reassures the housekeeper. She waits several long moments after Celia leaves before heading back towards the bedroom. The dragon figurine sits innocently on the table right where she left it. Alicent snatches it up and stalks towards the audience room.
Regardless of how Rhaenyra might feel about it, she was to be her new stepmother. It was her responsibility to guide her into becoming a proper lady and save her soul. That would not happen if she were allowed to cling to those false flames she claimed were gods. And what were old creepy trees compared the Seven who are One?
Alicent flings the dragon figurine into the roaring flame. “Where were your gods when your mother birthed dead babe after dead babe?”
The fire crackles and sputters as it tries to eat its new offering but the wood valiantly resists. Her brown eyes harden. “Queen Aemma abysmally failed her duty but I will not.”
Surrounded by all sides and continuously beaten down, the wood finally gives up to the flames of righteousness. The red and orange light grows black around the edges, smoke trailing up the chimney and into her nostrils. Alicent coughs from the rotten taste at the back of her mouth. Overwhelmed, she flees the audience room and the cursed object.
She’ll have to make sure a servant banks the fire and thoroughly cleans it out. Perhaps she could even ask Father to invite the High Septon to personally consecrate the apartments and ensure that any other accursed magic is rooted out.
One day the bards will sing songs about how Queen Alicent the Blessed bathed the Targaryens in the love of the Seven and cleansed the dynasty of its filthy and deviant ways.