Chapter Text
At the age of ten and six, Rhaenyra Targaryen became future queen by being sole heir. The king had failed to produce a son. With his passing, she would ascend to power, taking his crown and throne. In the coming year, Alicent Hightower was to marry the king, her father, in ceremony under the faith of the seven, making her queen consort.
Both women rejected the claim, silently. Refusing what many girls across Westeros longed for. Not Rhaenyra, what was a throne to a girl of ten and six. It did not change what was expected of her. A forced marriage, produce a male heir. Be chained to King’s Landing much like Syrax in the dragon pit. Never seeing the wonders that she read, and dreamed of, that is what she longed for to discover.
In the afternoon, when announced of marriage between her best friend and the king. She had stayed quiet, looking across the room, green eyes were already greeting her own purple. Rhaenyra was unable to hold Alicent’s gaze. The Hightower's shoulders were the only movement in her body that Rhaenyra could perceive from the corner of her sight. Alicent’s hands were hidden below the wooden table, making fresh gashes on her fingertips. When the meeting was adjourned, she did not waste time to be rid of company. Her vision blurred with tears, threatening to spill at every step she took down to the Dragon Pit. Syrax had been thrashing at her chains, calming the slightest, when she came to view. The magic between rider and dragon made Syrax feel the volatile changes of her emotions. Rhaenyra , during flight, thought of nothing but Alicent. Her friend never spoke of marriage or her father, this surprised her as much as the others in the room, who were reserved in their congratulations.
During her hours of solitude, the question emerged and plagued her until nightfall, frightened of its answer. Did Alicent want this? What if she did? Rhaenyra had never dared name the emotions she felt seeing Alicent dressed in deep green attire at the banquets the king held every few weeks for nobility. She could never be the one to guide their bodies as one in dance. It was an unacceptable act for two high-born women to be involved in. Still, her eyes watched Alicent from the king’s table, hiding behind a goblet of wine, a sneer, envious of the fool who could, an unknown son of a lord trying to gain her favor. Now she would have to sit and watch her be married—to a king, to her father.
She didn’t return to King’s Landing until nightfall. As much temptation it was to not return to the Red Keep, father would chastise her for such recklessness. Syrax was left in the Dragon Pit to rest, in a much calmer state than earlier in the day. Exiting the gate, she was met with her father’s lord commander.
"Princess, the hour grows late. You shouldn’t be out in darkness; it could grow rather dangerous for a dragon rider." He stood, straight-faced. Waiting to escort her to her chambers and report to the king her whereabouts.
"You can report back to my father of my return. I wish to be alone at the moment. Your escort isn’t necessary." She didn't wait for an acknowledgment before moving again, up steps into the Red Keep.
The rattle of armor was heard to keep just behind her.
“Princess, you shouldn’t be alone”
“Why is that?” Rhaenyra continued at her pace. More clattering of metal was heard behind.
“It’s dangerous”
"If I can’t walk the halls of the castle by myself, then I shall speak with my father about your shortcoming as lord commander. I’m going to my chambers, leave me." The tone of her voice bounced off the stone walls. He mumbled some apology, which she took no notice of. Soon, the sound of her own footsteps was the only thing heard. She made way towards what she thought were her chambers. but found herself heading towards the weirwood. Sleep wasn't even remotely on her mind; it would not come easily tonight, if at all.
Coming to push the door into the private place of worship, she found herself not alone. Alicent had turned around at the sound of intrusion. Shoulders relaxing seeing it was her. Still, they held onto their words or any sort of greeting as Rhaenyra descended the steps into the grass, closing the distance between them. Alicent was still wearing the blue dress from earlier. It had more creases in the fabric than she last saw it. They regarded one another, afraid of what words might be spoken first. Rhaenyra was still wearing her riding gloves, lowering her head, she removed them unhurriedly, dallying the conversation. They both knew that whatever was to be said would change the trajectory of their friendship. After all, their lives would not be the same after today. She tucked the gloves into her belt when finally the silence broke.
“Rhaenyra” Alicent began. Hands already beginning to pick at one another. “Rhaenyra” The second time, her name steadily came from Alicent lips, every syllable was pronounced. “I’m… sorry”
She shook her head at the apology. “You are to marry the king, Alicent”
The night’s moon came to light their confrontation, making their faces half concealed in shadow. Their voices held all their emotions, that they could not hide. This time it was the Hightower moving to be inches away from the princess. Head bowed, the next words spoken as a confession.
“I don’t wish it”
“Then refuse” Rhaenyra pleaded.
“It’s my duty, Rhaenyra . I can’t”
She took Alicent by the shoulders, truly making them look at one another.
“Fuck duty. Refuse”
“It matters not what I want” The tears began to roll down Alicent’s face. Her hands gripped tightly, as if she might be taken away at any moment.
"It matters to me" Rhaenyra hissed, trying to keep her voice to a whisper. She held Alicent's cheek as she wiped away her tears. "Alicent, tell me truly. Do you wish to be queen? To marry my father? " Rhaenyra wanted to hear it from her own mouth, no matter how devastating it would be. There was no pause in her answer.
“No”
“Then you will not marry him”
Rhaenyra felt herself being pushed towards Alicent. They held one another. Now the tears began to fall freely down her own face. She meant every word, but they held no weight. The marriage was to happen, no matter her objection. This was the first time she had felt truly powerless, reduced to incapability. Rhaenyra felt Alicent's body sag against her own, holding her upright by the waist.
"Our fates are sealed." Alicent’s words were vanquished, much like her body.
There, heads rested on each other’s shoulders. Her eyes looked upwards at the weirwood’s red leaves, swaying with the breeze that picked up as the late hours continued to pass. Rhaenyra refused to accept such a fate that presented itself, that was pushed upon them. Once again, she moved back, taking Alicent’s face in her own hands.
“Will oppose this”
“How?”
They will forge their own fate, one they choose, one they desire. Rhaenyra’s eyes landed at the base of the Weirwood; blankets sprawled on grass, pillows pressed against the trunk, surrounding a pile of books.
“Essos” Rhaenyra, read out loud the binding of one. They would flee.
"What?" The expression on Alicent's face changed to uncertainty.
Her father was king of Westeros, no land under his control could hide them from his reach, yet, the extent of his power had limits. Dorne was a testament to it. Hiding in the southernmost part of the continent wasn’t a steady solution. Spies working under the crown still operated in Dorne. The free cities, across the narrow sea, would be their escape. The land would be sufficient to conceal them, even with spies in Braavos or Pentos it wouldn’t be enough. By the time they sent word of their sighting, they would be long gone.
“We go to Essos, vanish between the free cities.”
"That is..." Alicent withdrew from her grasp. making space grow between them.
Rhaenyra ’s hands became fists, dropping to her side. Was it much worse taking their chances across the narrow sea, than to be condemned here.
“You wish to stay?”
"No" Alicent indignation brought them to a halt. "Even if we do go. How do we even begin to plan or do such a thing? "
As Rhaenyra noticed the glimmer of possibility in Alicent's eyes, the solution appeared. There was about only one man who she trusted enough with such involvement. Being repeatedly exiled to the free cities by her father, he was more familiar with them than anyone she knew.
“My uncle, Daemon”