Chapter Text
The sun shone exceptionally bright that morning, its rays hitting through the windows and meeting the queen, who had already risen from a dissatisfactory slumber and had taken to formulate a letter at her desk. Her ember hair was tousled as a result of nightly tossing and turning, a hand buried deep within, slightly pulling on it every time her words failed her. It felt like she was a mere girl of five and ten again, hiding things from her father, her soul still young and unscathed, allowing herself to freely feel and dive into the depths of her heart to finish bringing her desire for a treaty of peace onto the paper.
In the last days everything had spiked in a way Alicent could never have anticipated. On top of all was the fact that her son was now king and that the council had apparently secretly been plotting to murder her step-daughter - her former best friend.
Murder was something she could never get behind, as she was still deeply burning and repenting for the fact that Lyonel and Harwin Strong’s blood clung to her robes and hands, even if it had never been her wish for them to perish to begin with. This was yet another proof, another painful reminder that made her realise she had to take the initiative into her own hands since men would just cause chaos, destruction, only caring what they could gain out of it for themselves, as it always had been. All her life.
The only solution to it would be to fix the matter by expressing more tactfulness than any of those brutes, to act with one’s soul and not one’s impulsions which were dictated by hubris and imperiousness. Alicent had learned anew why the faith condemned such things, having committed the same mistake over and over.
What was once her problem had escalated, had grown and turned into this ugly creature lifting its head in midst of all she thought she had achieved in life. And now, suddenly, it wasn’t merely a personal issue anymore. Somehow Alicent Hightower had managed to pull down the entirety of the realm into her damnation, into the misery that was her own life. People would suffer and die because of her indiscretion and inability to defend her own believes against her father, her haughtiness and discrimination against Rhaenyra and her family. The regret she felt was unmatched. It gnawed at her brain and infected her organs, compelled her to rip the skin by her fingers to shreds in some futile attempt to feel the satisfaction of cleansing herself of that poisoned blood. The blood she shared with the man who forced her into this position, the poison he had inflicted into her. Wasn’t he the source of all her pain? Would it be unfair to claim that she, despite being a loveless mother more often than not, believed her own parenting to exceed that of Otto’s?
Perhaps. Viewing her children she could quickly see the pattern repeating agonisingly.
Yet there wasn’t only Hightower blood flowing in their veins. In secret Alicent had considered many times how Aemond and Heleana shared characteristics that Rhaenyra carried. Especially her younger son, with his ambition and his blood running hot in his veins, his self-righteousness. Aegon on the other hand would never be able to amount to his elder sister, she knew that that was something the court was aware of as well. It made no sense for him to be the rightful heir just because he had a cock dangling between his legs. A cock doesnt grant one the ability to rule, a cock doesnt magically make one fit to be on the throne. Whatever it said about her as a mother, she did not believe him worthy of it. Never thought he would end up on it. Year over year she had praised it as Rhaenyra’s birth right, even to her father whom she was seldom defiant towards. Additionally, in her mind - as much as her marriage had wreaked havoc on every aspect of her life - it was Viserys’ wish and it ought to be fulfilled. Alicent would do her duty, be a good wife and would not take away from him what he had envisioned so passionately. Her momentary blindness was over and she was in the clear about what step to take next.
It is true she witnessed him murmuring about Aegon ruling in his last agonising breath, however the more days passed the more she doubted that decision greatly. It was easier to ignore the irritating voice in the back of her brain though, telling her that her late husband was barely conscious enough by the time he passed, so truthfully, how much reality could there have been to his mumblings. He had never cared about Aegon. And perhaps that was his share of having ruined the boy. Her foolish eldest, with his heart closer to the earthly pleasures than it ever should be. Drowning himself in alcohol and ripping his pleasure from whatever unfortunate girl he deemed an object of his desires. The faith had not graced him. Or maybe it was her, her lack of interest in him that had caused him to stray further from the Seven than even the other Targaryens were with their belief of not having to submit themselves to deities that were more similar to their kin than any of the smallfolk were. They were closer to the Gods after all. Those arrogant, selfish Targaryens.
The day of his coronation, she almost expected him to step up for once and may-haps change his ways to do justice to what opportunity was torn from his sister to prove he could be a good king. Yet she quickly saw that this particular instance wasn’t one of his many cravings.
‘Do you love me?’, he had asked, granting her an unexpectedly vulnerable glance that reminded her of better days. Days vwhich, in their own time, went by her head so much so that she couldn’t ever have known what amount of gratitude she should’ve offered the Seven when she went down on her knees and prayed to them. For that calm before the storm, for those little moments that she appreciated now more than ever.
‘You imbecile’
She did.
Regardless of everything, she did love her Aegon. Her own flesh and blood, her first born. As difficult as it was to voice it, she expected the rare nurturing smile she gave him to be enough for him to let it sink into his addled brain. She sincerely hoped it was enough to make up for all the years she had neglected him, even if she recognise it wouldn’t. It left a bitter taste on her tongue, an unusual feeling and Alicent knew quite well that her missteps had begun earlier on the path of her life and it was her eldest who was effected mostly by them.
Perhaps they were all just damned to be unfortunate souls, each in their own way, stuck in an endless cycle of constant failure and broken expectations.
Suddenly she felt very ridiculous for having wasted her time with staring at the wall and trying to process all the mess that had happened in the last days. Frankly, it had been a lot. Too much. But after careful consideration and endless prayers for a light in midst of all this darkness, Alicent was sure she had come to a reasonable conclusion on what to do.
Pridefulness was a sin which she had long ago succumbed to, she knew the only way to control all the damage was to take it under her feet now and relent. One of them had to be the bigger person, for everyone’s sake. She was still the queen and would act accordingly for as long as possible to delay their doom. She was still a mother and would protect her children from the impending catastrophes they could possibly face with Daemon breathing down Rhaenyra’s neck and giving her utmost questionable ideas. As much as she had adored the princess when they were still girls, it had always been senseless to her how smitten her friend had been with her uncle and how she had always put him on a pedestal. In truth, she genuinely despised it. She had never felt even a slight amount of appreciation towards Daemon and his piggish personality, his gruesome behaviour and his unappealing face. Not to mention he was Rhaenyra’s uncle. Needless to say she found the entire ordeal utterly vile, yet she was conscious of the fact that she herself had partaken in the same queer customs that this family was so eager to preserve. Realistically it was no surprise that her own virtue got lost somewhere along the way once she entered their circles, it was bound to happen. But to come back to Daemon and Rhaenyra - it was a true mystery to her how someone as objectively splendid as her childhood companion could let herself be courted and influenced so much by him. At the same time this opened a window of hope. If Rhaenyra could be beyond tolerant towards that arse then maybe, hopefully, she could still be able to hold some regard for Alicent despite all her flaws as well and all of them could come out of it unscathed, that was her ultimate wish, her possibly last service. It was just left to her former friend to be willing to see the goodness that still flickered somewhere within the dowager queen. Somewhere even Alicent herself hadn’t ventured to in a long time.
Her father had promptly sailed to Dragonstone, taking her token of friendship with him to attempt to twist and turn everything to his whim - his main occupation - but Alicent knew better, she’d use this to her advantage and show her childhood companion that what they once had still had a deep value in her heart. Even if mainly politically motivated, they had to try to do their best now, join hands and forces as they used to do seemingly eons ago. Admittedly the chances of reconciliation were more than slim. They would never be trusting of another as they once were, far too many emotional and physical wounds were opened in each other for that and Alicent could grasp she was no saint in this either. Nevertheless she firmly believed they could make do in some way or another. It wasn’t only about them anymore.
With a deep breath, a half made-up mind and her hand shaking as terribly as the frail leaves on the trees she put the pen to the paper and began writing…