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She was sinking, drowning.
Good was not a word Alicent Hightower would usually use to describe her life. But right now? Moments - possibly seconds - away from her life being over… and she felt good. At least, it was the closest thing to good she had felt since her father sent her to comfort Viserys.
She stared up at the sky one last time, thinking of her girlhood, of being Lady Alicent, of her friendship with Rhaenyra before submerging her face under water with the rest of her body and closing her eyes, waiting for the darkness to consume her.
The peace she had been longing for so badly was ripped away from her in an instant. The next thing she knew was she was on her knees, coughing up water and gasping for her air, someone’s hand on her back. She opened her eyes, looking up and seeing a bird flying through the sky without a care in the world.
What happened…? She was supposed to be dead! This wasn’t dead.
“Mother,” she heard Aemond’s voice behind her from behind her. His tone was cool, trying to mask the concern and worry she could hear beneath it, “what were you doing?”
She slowly turned to look at him, embarrassment overtaking her as she realized her white gown was practically see-through while she was soaking wet. Not a thing a son should see his mother in.
“Aemond,” she spoke, pretending there was nothing amiss and that she had not just attempted to take her own life, “what are you doing here? How… how did you know where to find me?”
Aemond turned her around to look at him, concern etched into his features. “No one could find you last night until Orwyle finally told me that you had requested Ser Rickard to escort you to the King’s Wood. Alone.”
There was disappointment and disapproval in his voice, but what should she care? She did not need his permission to come here, alone or otherwise. Nor did she owe him an explanation, prince regent or not.
“I did not think I would be missed from court,” she said, unable to hide the bitterness in her voice when she thought of their last interaction at the small council.
Aemond sighed, an indescribable emotion in his eye before he pulled her into an embrace. Alicent was shocked that he was initiating physical contact with her considering last time she had tried touching him, he had pulled her hand away from him. But she didn’t protest, content to have her little boy back, no matter how briefly.
After a few moments of quietness, Alicent realized the position they were currently in. She was sitting in between both of his legs, her back was against his chest, and his arms were wrapped securely around her waist. Much too securely.
She leaned forwards with the intention to stand up, but Aemond’s stubborn grip on her tightened, preventing her from leaving.
“Aemond,” she started, keeping her voice steady, trying not to make it obvious that she was terrified of her second son, “we should return to the Red Keep. No doubt both our absences have been noticed by now.”
“It is fine, Mother,” he murmured, resting his head on her shoulder, “I doubt the kingdom will fall if we stay here just a few moments.”
She almost laughed. Rhaenyra could attack King’s Landing at any moment. It falling while they were gone for a few moments was not an impossible scenario and became more likely to become a reality each passing second.
Before she could voice any of this, Aemond’s lips on her neck drew her out of her thoughts.
Sh froze in shock for a moment, unsure of what he was doing or why he was doing it. It felt like something Aegon would have once done with one of the poor serving girls, but Aemond was more thoughtful about it.
Disgust quickly over took her, and she once again tried to squirm free from her son’s hold, but he refused to let her go.
“Aemond, enough,” she said in a harsh tone, trying (and failing) to hide her nervousness from him.
Aemond ignored her wishes, the kisses on her neck getting greedier as she feels something hard press into her backside. It took everything in her to not be sick.
She attempted to pull his hands off her, but Aemond responded by carefully pushing her onto the ground and holding both her wrists in one hand as he stared down at her with his one eye in a way that only a husband should look at his wife.
A shiver ran down her spine as she realized how vulnerable she was in nothing but her wet underdress. Aemond had straddled her hips and she could feel his manhood through the leather of his clothes and the light fabric of her own.
“Aemond-“
“You know, I was sorry to remove you from the council. Truly,” he told her, his free hand coming up and stroking her cheek in a tender way she had never felt before, “but I cannot be seen as weak in front of my men.”
Your brother’s men, she thought to herself. Despite how Aemond may talk, her eldest child was not dead. No matter how much Aemond may wish to rule, it was Aegon who was king.
“I also just want you safe, Mother. Safe and happy,” he told her quietly, as if it was a secret between the two of them, “I do love you, after all.”
Her breath caught in her throat, not remembering the last time someone had told her they loved her so directly. Not that she was one to say it freely either.
Aemond slowly released his hold on her wrists much to her relief. But the feeling doesn’t last long as she felt Aemond move down her body.
He lifted her underdress up over her hips, exposing her bare womanhood. Her eyes go wide as she attempted to sit up and get him off of her.
“Aemond!” she screamed in a way that she only ever yelled at Aegon like before (oh, her poor boy. He would never have done this to her. If only she had been kinder, if she had been a better mother, if he had had a better brother-),“enough! I am your mother!”
Targaryen he might be, but even they disapproved of relations between mothers and sons… right?
“It’s alright, Mother,” Aemond told her gently, pushing her knees apart and settling himself between them as she started to cry, “it’s alright. I’m here. I have you.”
That was exactly what made her fearful.
“I-I’ll yell for Ser Rickard,” she said quickly, “I will.”
Aemond hummed as he looked up at her, considering her words before smiling in a way that seemed almost pitying.
“No you won’t.”
He grabbed ahold of her thighs and lower his face, his tongue making contact with her cunt. She cried, Aemond’s hands moving to keep her hips from moving too much.
She hated that he was right. That it was was true that she wouldn’t have yelled for Ser Rickard, not when she was in such a humiliating position beneath her own son - her flesh and blood that came from her, her womb. Forced into this position or not, the shame would be too much to bear.
“Father never made you feel like this, did he?” Aemond asked smugly when a whimper left Alicent’s lips, “neither did your dear sworn protector.”
Her eyes went wide. How did he…?
His tongue flicked across her clit, a real and shameful moan escaping her lips. He was right again. Viserys had not once in their marriage managed to get a true moan of pleasure from her. When she was younger she had faked some for her husband when she realized that she was supposed to be making noise to make him feel better about himself and his skills in the bedroom. But as she grew older, she had stopped caring if Viserys knew that she didn’t feel any pleasure from the way he penetrated her. Criston had been much better, but even he felt lacking in comparison to-
“Aemond!” she cried out, pleasure overtaking her as Aemond nipped at her. She stared up at the sky, her breathing heavy as she tentatively reached up to touch her chest where her necklace of the Seven would typically be. She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. She had left her gods behind so she could take her own life, not to find pleasure in her son.
“Mother,” he said reverently, crawling back up her, and pressing a sweet kiss to her lips. “I wish to be back inside you.”
Back inside…?
Before she could think on his words, she heard him start to undo his belt, tossing his sword and dagger to the side without a care.
No. No, he wouldn’t. He wouldn’t go that far.
But his intentions were clear and she sobbed as he pulled his trousers down. She felt so small and helpless beneath him.
“Do not cry, Mother,” he told her, wiping away a few tears with his thumb, “I do not like seeing you sad.”
“Then don’t do this, Aemond. Please,” she begged.
But Aemond did not care for her protests, instead positioning himself over her and slowly sliding his cock inside of her.
Alicent did not cry out from pain. She had dealt with this since she was five-and-ten. While Viserys was not a cruel man, he was ignorant of the way a woman’s body was despite his previous wife having gotten pregnant seven times. Alicent had never gotten wet with him and had been so tight he had difficult pushing himself in every time, even after she had given birth to Daeron. She had been glad his health had declined enough after he was born to no longer force her to bear that duty.
Aemond was much gentler than his father, taking her pain and pleasure into consideration. The fact that her body had just gotten pleasured from him and she was wet in more ways than one helped too. Aemond was much larger than his father (and Criston) and gave her a moment to adjust to his size, and to even out her panicked breathing. He twirled a piece of her wet hair around his finger like he had when he was younger as he waited patiently for her to calm down.
She took deep breaths when she realized what he was waiting for. The sooner she calmed down, the sooner this would all be over and she could (hopefully) pretend this was all just some horrible nightmare.
When her cries ceased, he started to move slowly inside her. She digs into her nails as Aemond buries his face in her neck. He murmured sweet words to her, though she did not care to listen to them, wanting to pretend he was someone - anyone - else. But her son was not willing to grant that mercy to her.
She gasped and clawed at Aemond’s back as he penetrated her just in the right place, his name shakily escaping her lips. She hadn’t even know you could feel pleasure from such a way.
Aemond noticed her reaction and grinned, pulling back to look at her as he rutted deeper inside of her.
“Enjoying this? I am glad. I learned to do that from a brothel madame just for this moment,” he leaned down to whisper into her ear, “every time we fucked, I pretended that she was you. Saying that you loved me, that you forgave me…”
More tears pricked at the corner of her eyes as he spoke. Considering that Aemond was a man fully grown and a Targaryen prince, she shouldn’t have been as surprised as she was to find out that he had been visiting a pleasure house. But he had imagined a whore as his own mother before?! The fact this wasn’t a spur of the moment choice he had made made this all the more worse for her.
“Mother, tell me,” his voice was demanding, needy, desperate.
Her eyes met his one, missing what he had said, “w-what?”
“Tell me that you love me. More than anyone else,” he demanded, fucking into her harder which wrang a gasp from her.
“A-aemond!” she exclaimed, gripping onto him tightly, unable to stop herself from moving against him, “Gods, I-I think I’m going to-“
”No,” he growled, roughly slamming into her before stopping his movements which brought out a humiliating and needy whine from her, “not until you tell me.”
A part of her felt betrayed by him stopping, more so than anything else he had done since he had killed Rhaenyra’s boy. But she supposed this was what Aemond had been feeling since she had withheld her love and affection from him, treating him coldly.
“I-I love you, Aemond…” she swallowed, “…more than anyone.”
“More than Aegon?” he asked, his voice desperate, “more than Helaena? ”
Her heart ached at the mention of her sweet and gentle girl. Bringing her up in a moment like this… was nothing sacred to her second son anymore?
But her own wants and desires were as bad as his, that she didn’t think twice before answering.
“Y-yes!” she cried, feeling herself near pleasure again, “Aemond, please. Please.”
Aemond slowed down for a minute and stared at her before giving her a boyish smile.
“Good.”
And then he sped up again, bringing her to ecstasy for the second time in a matter of minutes; a day Alicent hadn’t even thought that was possible.
She let her hands fall from his body onto her chest, her breathing heavy. It hadn’t hit her that he was still moving inside her until he spoke up again.
“Mother, I’m close.”
Her eyes went wide with terror.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
“Aemond, pull out,” she tried to sound demanding, authoritative as if she was still acting as regent during Viserys’ sickness, but it came out as little more than a weak plea, “please.”
Aemond ignored her words like she had with him the past few weeks, continuing to fuck into her, getting closer with each thrust.
“No! No, my dear son, please-“
He pressed himself against her as close as he can as he came, as if he could return inside her womb if he pushed in far enough. Perhaps, a part of him would remain. The thought terrified her.
Aemond stayed in much longer than it took for his seed to spill inside of her - much longer than Viserys had ever had.
She was shaking and sobbing by the time he pulled out, her nail covered in blood. Aemond separated her hands from each other, gently kissing the nail she had torn up and giving her a disapproving look before sitting back up on his heels and tucking himself back in his trousers.
Alicent didn’t care when she felt Aemond move her dress down to cover her again, or that he pulled her into his lap once more, his grip possessive as if she were a thing that belonged only to him.
She stared at the lake in front of her, yearning to be back there. Yearning for the freedom she would never get.
“Shh,” Aemond hushed her gently, cradling her like she did with him as a babe, and pressing a cold kiss to the top of her head as she cried silently, “it’s alright, Mother. I’m here. I’m here and I’ll take care of you. Now and forever.”