Chapter Two: Alicent I

The godswood was Alicent's favourite place to visit in the Red Keep. It reminded her of home.

The lush green of the leaves, the bright reds, pinks, and oranges of the flowers, and the deep browns of the trees all took her back to when she was just a girl of six, in the gardens of Oldtown. The smell of the roses reminded her of when she used to run around with her brothers Gwayne and Thoren, and the smell of the moonblooms reminded her of the scent of her mother.

Alicent missed her mother.

She also missed when she had no duty to visit the King, and she missed the simpler days where her biggest worry was memorising histories with the Septa, but what she missed the most was her mother.

A teardrop started to form in her left eye, but Alicent quickly wiped it away.

You musn't let people see you cry. You are a woman grown now. Like your mother was.

She continued to walk down the cobbled path, taking in the smells of the mint plants and goldencups as she walked.

"Lady Alicent." Nodded Lord Rosby as he walked past her.

"Lord Rosby." Replied Alicent, smiling just like her mother taught her.

As she walked by the lemon trees and past the exit into the main section of the Red Keep, she was greeted by the smells of sweat, mud, and metal, and the sounds of metal clanging and men grunting. The smells of the Red Keep training yard. Not the smells of home.

Even after ten years, these scents were foreign, and reminders of the world they lived in. They were reminders that her brothers and father could die at any moment, that they could ride off to battle one day and not come back. That they would die.

They would join Mother then.

As she walked up across the middle bailey, and up to her quarters in the Tower of the Hand, she noticed that the atmosphere was jovial, serving maids whispering, and knights in armor laughing at japes. She made her way through the hallways, passing by Targaryen guards in their black and red armor, and tapestries depicting act of coupling and towards the large wooden doors of her quarters. Inside, sitting idly by the fireplace, was her father, the Hand of the King, Ser Otto Hightower.

Her father scarcely acknowledged her entry and continued to stare at the fire.

"Father."

"Daughter."

Why is he displeased?

"It's a pleasant day t-today. It seems as though winter has finally left us." Alicent said, as she clasped both her hands together.

"It is."

"Th-the Red Keep seems upbeat today, doesn't i-it."

"Yes. The King announced he would remarry." He said, with a hint of scorn in his voice.

Remarry? Gods, not this soon. I don't want to marry yet.

"Isn't… isn't that what you wanted, father?" Alicent stammered.

"He has announced he would marry Laena Velaryon."

Alicent let out a breath of air. Thank the Seven. They answered my prayers.

"That-that's great n-news father. I'm sure His Grace will be happy with the Lady Laena."

Her father sighed. "Six months of gaining his trust, and he still chose the Velaryon girl."

"I-I'm sure the King had his r-reasons." Alicent replied, as she dug her fingernails into her cuticles.

Her father got up to face her, his golden Hand pin glowing from the fire. "You could have been Queen, Alicent. Mother to the future King. Isn't that what you always wanted?"

No, father, this is what you wanted. Your blood on the throne.

"I-I… the King…" she spluttered, unable to finish her words.

"Marriage to a Targaryen was in the realms of the impossible. You'll never have a chance like this again, you do know this"

Alicent dug her fingernails deeper.

"I did… I didn't want this father!" she blurted out, tears filling her eyes.

"Then what did you want? To run around the gardens in Oldtown until you grew old, reading histories, and signing songs? No, Alicent! You are ten-and-six, a woman grown now. You must marry soon, and become a mother yourself, and though the King is an old man, it is much better than any other option. You are the daughter of a second son, under normal circumstances you would marry a hedge knight, or a minor lord the age of Lord Beesbury if you were truly lucky."

Her fingernails dug even further, finding blood.

"Yet you still destroy yourself like this." Her father whispered, taking her hands into his.

"Th-then what happens now, father? Do I go b-back. To Oldtown?"

Her father sighed. "You shall remain here, still. You may not marry the King, but a marriage to a noble lord is still within sight. You are gentle, comely, you remember your duties as a lady. But you must stop... this." He said, nodded at her blood-stained fingers.

Alicent bowed her head, nodding.

"Yes, father." She said, as her tears slowly dried on her cheeks.

Her father lifted his hands to her chestnut hair, stroking it comfortingly. Alicent's sniffled, wiping her nose with the sleeves of her light blue dress. Her father took her in an embrace.

"I'm sorry father. I did not do my duty well enough." What is well enough, anyways?

"No. No, Alicent." Her father paused and let go of her slowly. "I'm sorry, daughter. Though you are grown woman, you are still young. I do not blame you for not… enchanting the King. Laena Velaryon was the smarter choice, no one can deny it, not even me. I cannot blame you for that, and I know that a man many years your elder was not to your liking."

"Then, what of my marriage, father? Who will I m-marry when the time comes?"

"That, I do not know yet. A son of a powerful lord, I shall try my hardest, that is no doubt, but a man closer to your age, if the Gods are good."

Then I hope the Gods are very good.

"Thank you, father."

Her father gave her a small smile and another embrace before leaving. Alicent slumped down on the seat and let out a large sigh. Whether it was of relief, or sadness, or a mix of both, only the Gods knew.

She sat there for an hour, reminiscing about everything. She thought about her father, her two brothers. Gwayne, her elder, who was a born ruler, intelligent and wise beyond his years, and Thoren, her younger, with his interest in swords and battle, and his disinterest in marriage. She thought about the gardens of Oldtown once again, about the Starry Sept and its massive windows, and about her cousins Bethany, Garmund, Martyn, and Lyonel. She thought about sitting in the godswood with Rhaenyra, as she did for many a year, she thought about King Viserys' model of Valyria, and Lady Laena Velaryon's obsession with dragons. She thought about King's Landing, the grand domes of the Dragonpit, and the narrow streets in the city. She thought about the past, the present, the future.

But most of all, Alicent thought about her mother, and she thought about home.