ALICENT

"Aegon will not be King."

She lets her words settle into the council room air the way her father did previously. Alicent sits at the head of the table with Aemond and Ser Criston standing behind her. Her father beside her makes no response, and the Grandmaester, Lord Tyland and Lord Wylde receive her declaration with more surprise than they did the previous announcement.

She continues before they can summon their wits. "Viserys's death will be kept secret until Daemon and Rhaenyra arrive with their two boys. Once they've been lured into the Red Keep, Daemon will be put to the sword quietly, cleanly, and out of sight."

The Grandmaester recovers first. "As I've already arranged for," he says. "The raven bearing our request should be waiting for them on arrival. I also included that the King was crying out for their two youngest; I'm told they have saddles to accommodate for the children so they have no reason not to bring them."

"Good," her father says, apparently intent on ignoring her. "I will have a carriage sent to the dragonpit first thing on the morrow to await them."

But Alicent will not be talked over. "But Rhaenyra and the children will be confined to comfortable rooms and treated with respect and dignity."

"Your Grace," Tyland tries, "I hardly think that's a realistic—"

She continues. "We will have a small, private ceremony as soon as possible to bind our families, and Aemond will be coronated in her name whilst she is… indisposed."

Her father blinks in shock and exchanges looks with the other councillors. They take their time to have a myriad of silent conversations. Finally, he turns to her, and then he's looking at her the way he'd only looked at her once before, the day she'd charged Lucerys with the dagger.

She need not push to continue this time, they are waiting for her. "Aegon the Younger, Viserys and Rhaenyra's unborn will be raised here at the palace under our eye. Should one of them be worthy and cooperative, they will be wed to Jaehera or a daughter by Aemond."

Her father does question her. "And should they come to resent their position and the confinement of their mother?" But his tone is intrigued, not challenging. He must know she has an answer.

And she does. "They will be given positions of high honour as Maesters or Septons, and the succession will pass to the Rhaenyra's first son by Aemond."

Ser Criston now joins her. "Prince Aemond will sit the Iron Throne as King Consort and Protector of the Realm, and rule wisely and justly in Rhaenyra's name."

Alicent adds, "under guidance from the council, of course."

She can see she has them. The greatest disadvantage of putting Aegon on the throne was… Aegon on the throne. Aemond is an acceptable compromise.

"And what of the other claimants, Your Grace?" Lord Wylde asks.

Aemond answers with a bit too much glee for her liking, but he is young. "The Strongs will be sent terms: renounce their claim to the Targaryen name and leave for Essos, and in exchange their younger brothers under our protection will not be harmed. The betrothals will be severed on the grounds of their illegitimacy. The Driftwood Throne will pass through Lady Laena's line to her daughters, who will take the name Velaryon. Daeron will return from Oldtown to wed Lady Baela and command the Velaryon fleet in her name. No more blood need be spilled."

He's smiling with his whole face by the end, and his attitude seemed to be contagious. This was the best way forward, yes, but Alicent was uncomfortable with how much the councillors seemed to be enjoying this new development.

"Do we have your support?" Alicent asks. But she already knows the answer.

She delays her visit until evening, once plans are laid and word has been sent to the Cargyll twins.

Princess Rhaenys turns away from the window at Alicent's entrance. "I will do you the considerable courtesy of assuming there is a good reason for the outrage of my treatment here this morning."

"My sincerest regrets for the lack of ceremony."

Rhaenys catches on right away. "The King." She takes a moment. "And you are usurping the throne."

"I am acting in the interest of the realm," Alicent assures her.

Rhaenys scoffs. Alicent composes her thoughts and tells Rhaenys her plan.

"Well, I must credit you for your boldness."

"House Velaryon has long allied itself with the Daemon and Rhaenyra, and what has it gained you? Your daughter dead... alone in Pentos. Your son cuckolded, then murdered to secure Rhaenyra's hand."

Rhaenys does not dispute this accusation. Alicent's confidence grows and she continues. "Her heirs are none of yours. It is your husband who grasps so heedlessly for the throne. And even he has abandoned you: gone these six long years to fight a desperate battle, returning grievously, if not mortally, wounded, leaving the Lady of Driftmark to chart her course alone."

"The word of my house is not fickle."

"No. But, dear cousin…" she takes her hand and looks her in the eyes. "You more than any soul alive understand what I say now. Princess Rhaenys, I loved my husband, but I will speak the truth we both know — You should have been queen."

The princess pulls away, looks away, looks anywhere else. "I little thought to hear those words from you."

"The Iron Throne was yours, by blood and by temperament. Viserys would've lived his days a country lord, content to hunt and study his histories, but... here we are."

Here we are.

"We do not rule," she acknowledges. "But we may guide the men that do. Gently, away from violence and sure destruction and instead toward peace."

"Ugh. Is it in the name of peace that you've imprisoned me? That you mean to imprison your own stepdaughter?"

Alicent does not respond. She simply hopes the Princess will absorb her own words.

But Rhaenys is a Targaryen, and she has other concerns. "And what of my dragon?"

She had foreseen this. She shakes her head. "If the children have Meleys at their disposal, they'll be tempted to strike. If they have you and the Velaryon fleet on their side, they'll be tempted to strike. War will ensue; we cannot have that."

Rhaenys sighs.

"Without their three largest dragons or any Targaryen of age, the children can be persuaded by those around them."

She can see she's losing her. "Mayhaps you can have Meleys once the throne is secured," she concedes. "If it's Driftmark you want, you shall have it. Wed Baela to Daeron and seal our alliance; they need not follow their stepbrothers into exile."

"You believe Baela will do as you bid?"

"She does not have a choice. And should she choose to flee, she has a sister."

"You are more clever than I believed you to be..."

She cannot tell whether the Princess meant it as a compliment, but she decides to receive it as such. "A true queen counts the cost to her people."

"And yet you toil still in service to men. Your father, your husband, your son. You desire not to be free, but to make a window in the wall of your prison. Do you believe Rhaenyra will thank you for forcing her down the same path, after living a life of her choosing?"

"She will come to accept the order of things." Or rather, she will have to, once Alicent saves her live.

"Then you do not know my good-daughter the way you think you do. She is as much the blood of the dragon as her husband."

"Whether she's agreeable is of no consequence, save for how much freedom she's allowed within the palace. The palace guards follow us. Those outside King's Landing will be none the wiser of her confinement, or probably not even care."

Rhaenys had been close to laughing, but she turns serious. "I'm sorry for the life your father chose for you, Alicent. And I'm sorry you think you can choose it for others."

"I will leave you with your thoughts. Ring the bell when you have an answer." Rhaenys returns to the window. "And you'll have little luck escaping through that window," Alicent warns.

She dines with her father in Tower of the Hand that evening. He looks up from his plate after some time. "We should keep any unsavoury business confined to the Holdfast to control the narrative. Once the King's death is announced, you should move your quarters here to make room."

"Unsavoury business?"

"Oh, dear daughter, I raised you too well."

A knock sounds on the door.

"Come," her father calls. A guard approaches.

"Forgive me for interrupting, My Lord, but Syrax has just been sighted above the Red Keep. She's given the signal that she will land at the dragonpit."

"Alone?" she asks.

"Just Syrax?" her father asks simultaneously.

"Yes My Lord—Your Grace." The guard looks back and forth uncomfortably.

"It's too soon," Alicent realizes. "Father, what do we do?"

"Let me think." He's rubbing his face and his voice is urgent. "No sign of Caraxes?"

"No, My Lord."

"He could be just behind, Father."

He nods. But they still were not expecting them until tomorrow. They weren't ready.

"Very well," he says. "Ready the carriage, but take your time. Alicent, you will greet Rhaenyra at the dragon pit. Find out if Daemon is coming, if the children are there, and send word ahead with your brother. Stall her for as long as you can."

"How?"

"However you can! Say you want to see Syrax or see the sites. Anything! But ensure she comes quietly ."

"I cannot lie to her, Father." She cannot not last a whole carriage ride under the facade of normalcy, of that she was certain.

"You have no choice, Your Grace."