ALICENT

Alicent had spent the better part of the day preparing the throne room, and the air is now thick with the scent of roast meat and spiced wine. Her stomach turns. She thought it frivolous to throw such a lavish feast at such a time. But her father had insisted that they needed the witnesses and legitimacy that comes with an official banquet.

"How can you be sure Rhaenyra won't make a show of defiance?" she had asked.

"Worry not," her father had assured her. "It's been taken care of. Rhaenyra knows what is expected of her — all she need do is show up and be silent."

"I don't know if Rhaenyra is capable of doing so, even on a good day," Alicent had worried.

Rhaenyra and her family had made a spectacle of the last grand royal banquet. Whatever the talk of her containing Prince Daemon, she had not been interested in containing him that night.

It had been the King's fiftieth name day, and the last large event he would attend before becoming bedridden. Less than a moon had passed since Rhaenyra had birthed Aegon the Younger, and Alicent's father had used her condition as an excuse to not invite her. Alicent had later discovered he'd told the King that Rhaenyra had received the invitation, only to decline for her health.

Still, Alicent remains bitter about Rhaenyra and Prince Daemon's conduct. Not only had they shown up with those four on dragonback without notifying anyone, but the Prince had even managed to have Alicent's sons displaced from their rightful seats at the head table.

"Pardon, my brother," Prince Daemon had 'whispered' far too loudly. "But I simply do not feel comfortable having those boys seated next to my daughters. I've heard the stories, and dear Baela still has nightmares about that night."

She could admit it was a cunning strategy; rather than drawing attention to the enmity between the boys, the Prince had reframed Alicent's sons as menaces to two young girls. And the King — so delighted with their surprise arrival and impressed with Prince Daemon's father act — had let him. Never mind the fact that the girls, neither immediate family nor council members, were not technically entitled to a place at the head table. And so two daughters of a second son had displaced the princes of the realm.

People had noticed. And when Alicent saw Rhaenyra and Prince Daemon exchange their own looks, she knew it had been intentional. Rhaenyra had also worn shorter sleeves to display her scar, and they had later walked around whilst Prince Daemon held her hand in a way that displayed it to all.

Annoyed with the King's so public favouritism, Alicent was not able to resist a snide comment during their meal. "So, Prince Daemon. Does your new son take after you?"

"Of course," he said without shifting his attention from his meal. "No Baratheon blood in the mix."

But she wanted a reaction, a reaction in front of the King, so she pressed further. "Nature is a strange thing though, is it not? I mean, look at your daughters! So unlike their cousins, don't you think?"

"The seed is certainly strong, but mine must be stronger." Alicent swore Jacaerys had then kicked him under the table. "Besides, Laenor always had darker hair than Laena."

"I do not know about that," Alicent argued.

Rhaenyra did grant Alicent the honour of her full attention. "I'm pretty sure I remember what my husband looked like, Alicent. His hair was definitely darker; it was never consistently blond."

"It was?" Lord Beesbury had asked. "I suppose so. Dear me… my memory is certainly starting to fail me."

Alicent was stunned into silence.

"Right," Daemon continued. "It was really only blond when the light hit it right, wouldn't you say, Brother?"

"Hm… you spent more time with him than I did. But come to think of it, Ser Laenor definitely showed more of his Baratheon side than Laena did."

And with the King's words, everyone agreed that Ser Laenor and Lady Laena had certainly inherited their traits from opposite sides of their family. Alicent had wanted right then and there to commission a mural of the siblings side-by-side. But she suspected the artist would paint Ser Laenor's hair to be as dark as that of his sons.

They cannot even leave his memory out of their lies.

Her father was also annoyed. "So, My Prince. I suppose it is your own bicentennial the Crown will celebrate next."

Surprisingly, he did not take the bait. "I suppose you're right. It's so easy to forget. Young wives certainly keep you young." He put his arm around Rhaenyra, and then he looked over to the King on Rhaenyra's other side. "Or suck the life from you. I suppose it depends."

Her father spoke through a clenched jaw. "What is it you're implying, My Prince?"

"Easy," Daemon put one hand up as if assuring an animal. "I am not implying that your daughter sucks anything."

"Daemon," the King warned.

Alicent decided to steer the conversation to cover for her father's lapse. She turned to Rhaenyra. "You are in good health, I hope? I was surprised you were able to make it so soon after labour, and on dragonback no less! Did your Maester truly clear you for riding so soon?"

"Yes," the King agreed. "Alicent needed many a moon to recover."

Rhaenyra took a sip of wine to hide her obvious smirk. "I'm sure she did..."

Prince Daemon still had his arm around Rhaenyra; he was certainly committed to the act that night. "We procured a wonderful remedy for Rhaenyra's recovery. It comes from the East, and the lords are reticent to embrace it. I suppose it takes a lot of skill to prepare correctly, but done right it's a great way to ease back into dragonriding." He finally turned to Alicent. "Have you tried it?"

"Tried what?" Alicent asked. She was done bearing children, but Helaena — who'd graciously been allowed to remain at the table — would soon be ready for children. And she was a dragonrider.

"Oh, let me think… the name is so unwieldy."

Rhaenyra put her utensils down and gave him some kind of look. Alicent only processed later that Baela had whispered, "he's going to do it," to Jacaerys. And that Jacaerys had replied, "Mother is going to kill him."

Daemon rested his chin upon his hand as if he were pondering something. "It's a foreign word. Cah… Kahn…"

Baela sniggered. Rhaenyra shook her head.

"Ah." He snapped his fingers. "Khahn-ah-leen-ghis. That's the word."

"Dear me…" Lord Beesbury had murmured.

"Huh, good for Lyman," Daemon had commented on what Alicent had then presumed to be his recognition of foreign terms.

"Hmm," Alicent considered. "Doesn't exactly roll off the tongue."

Jacaerys choked. He'd been seated directly across from her and ended up spitting the contents of his drink onto her plate.

Daemon threw his head back once Jacaerys had spat; Jacaerys's laugh came through once he recovered.

They all lost it, even Rhaenyra. Lucerys looked confused but started laughing when his brother choked, Baela giggled and had looked intrigued toward Jacaerys, and Rhaena rolled her eyes but then also let out a soft laugh. The King's attention had lapsed during the conversation, but he laughed at the spectacle his grandson had made. Lord Beesbury shook and covered his face with his hands like he was trying to hide something. Lord Tyland laughed so hard he nearly fell from his chair, despite a stern look from Alicent's father. Even Helaena innocently joined in when she saw everyone else laughing.

Despite their outburst — that was of course the fault of their parents — Alicent could not believe that both Rhaenyra and Prince Daemon had been rewarded with well-behaved children. Without Alicent's sons to reveal their usual savagery, they conducted themselves well at the table. They acted like… children.

They enjoyed themselves and did not sink into their cups or harass serving girls or start a fight. But what was truly insufferable — they genuinely seemed to enjoy their family's company. They talked to and laughed with their siblings, their stepsiblings, and even their parents. They spoke with ease and familiarity, and made fond gestures and inside jokes. How had two of the worst parents alive raised them to be so?

"Father," Baela later asked. "Might we go dance now?"

"Very well, but stay away from your cousins — all of you. Those boys are animals."

The absolute brazenness.

Alicent made her courtly rounds once the dancing picked up, and made a point to survey her sons. Aegon was acting his usual self, and Aemond sat sullen and alone, occasionally looking up to study the royal table. Yet Jacaerys and Lucerys had attracted far more young maidens than Aemond — rider of Vhagar. When they weren't dancing with one of their stepsisters, they had a different young girl for every other song and seemed to charm each one of them.

"You don't want to dance with him," she overheard Baela saying to a group of maidens a few years her senior. "He's crazy, but not in a fun way. Father says that's what happens when someone with no personality claims an older dragon — now he's just all the bad parts of Visenya.

"So your stepbrothers…" one girl asked.

"Back off," Baela warned. "It's not official, but our parents have made it clear." She looked with glee towards Jace, and then the Iron Throne.

"Well be careful," said another girl. "You don't want to end up like this one."

And another one joined in. "Did she really stab the Princess and try to take the Prince's eye?"

"Yes," Baela said. "I was there. I suppose that's what happens when you're raised by Septas."

Another girl adds, "I suppose that's what happens when you've been married for half your life but don't even know what cunn—"

"Shhh!" another girl said when she saw Alicent. They all laughed.

Alicent witnessed several similar exchanges. The royal family's table, and therefore the spectacle, had been on a platform and visible to all. Guests were intrigued as to the cause of the spectacle, and soon whispers had spread. Then those whispers turned to sniggers.

But they were not directed at Jacaerys — they were directed at Alicent.

She returned to the table to escape whatever looks people gave her, and stop Rhaenyra's usual efforts to corrupt Alicent's only daughter. "You must come stay with us before you wed," Rhaenyra had said. Daemon, meanwhile, had been studying Helaena far more intently than Alicent had liked, and he leaned over to actually whisper something in Rhaenyra's ear, something that made her nod. "It would do you well to learn more about your heritage. And there are hundreds of caves will all types of small creatures, mayhaps you could help make a record of them."

Alicent had of course put an end to the idea. Helaena, her innocent daughter, living among them. She shuddered at the thought of what she might see, hear, and possibly even do under their influence.

Prince Daemon rolled his eyes at Alicent's excuses — she dared not speak her real reasons after all. Rhaena then returned to the table and begged leave to see the King to his chambers — and his model of Valyria.

"Take your time," the Prince assured his daughter. "I think we will stay the night." He sighed and leaned back. "I fear I am too fatigued for a return journey. Two feasts in one day…"

Rhaenyra actually smacked him, but he only laughed in return.

At Alicent.

She excused herself from the table — being sure to bring Helaena with her. She spent the rest of the night in the smaller library, searching for the term she was now suspicious of. It had taken her hours without the spelling or the context, but she eventually did find the definition for cunnilingus.

Her face burned with shame — both for discovering what it meant, and for everyone else discovering that she hadn't known what it meant.

Viserys had once attempted to kiss her down there, and she'd immediately recoiled. It was a trying enough task to copulate the appropriate way; she could not imagine why anyone would want to make it worse. Fortunately, he'd seemed almost relieved at her reluctance, and he'd never tried it again.

They still cannot have staff in the wing until everything is sorted, so Alicent is chosen to help Rhaenyra prepare.

Like times of old.

She arrives as the sun falls below the horizon. Rhaenyra is not in the sitting room when Alicent enters. Rather, she is in Rhaenys's bedchamber. Alicent lingers in the doorway whilst Rhaenyra lays a wet cloth over Rhaenys's forehead. She does not emerge from beneath the covers and groans and rolls over to escape the light.

Alicent keeps her voice as low as possible. "I heard she was unwell?"

"I've seen her like this once before. It will pass," Rhaenyra assures her. "She needs only rest and quiet."

Alicent takes the hint and returns to the sitting room to lay out her supplies at the vanity. She leaves the sheet be, she can never be certain she hasn't stumbled into some queer Valyrian custom, after all. "I thought we could use your black and red court dress, if you've brought it with you."

"I'm wearing it," Rhaenyra says from behind her. "I assumed it would be what you chose, and I'd rather just get this over with."

"Very well, just the hair then."

Alicent turns around.

"Rhaenyra," she gasps and raises her hand to her mouth. "Your face."

"Ugh, fuck you."

"How?" Alicent can barely ask.

She takes a seat at the vanity. "How do you think? Let us get this over with; I want to drink away the pain and go to bed."

Alicent picks up the brush to tame Rhaenyra's hair, but she snatches it away. "I've got it," Rhaenyra says. But she gasps and recoils when she tries to lift her arm too high. "Never mind," she says as she rubs her right arm, "I don't have it."

Alicent wants so badly to ask exactly how this happened, but she can tell Rhaenyra does not wish to speak of it. And truth be told, she is not certain that she wants to know. So she takes the brush and works through her hair in silence.

She finds herself brushing and smoothing her hair for far longer than she needs to, lost in old memories. Strangely, Rhaenyra does not complain. She actually closes her eyes and relaxes the way she used to.

It has been so long since she'd brushed Rhaenyra's hair; it has been a lifetime, and it is still as beautiful and silken as it had been then. It reminds her of doing Helaena's hair in a way, only Rhaenyra does not flinch at any unexpected touch. "Up, or down?" Alicent asks.

Adult Rhaenyra returns. "I don't give a fuck, Alicent."

"I was asking if you want me to hide the… mark." Mark is a generous term. Rhaenyra's face looks like a quarter-turned moon.

"Judging from the look you gave me, you probably want to hide it. I don't think they intended for it to look the way it does."

Alicent decides on an easy, braided half-up-do. "I'm sorry, I didn't know."

"You never choose to know, Alicent."

"I know this: I chose the path that lets you live."

"Seven Hells." She closes her eyes again, but this time in annoyance. "Just. Be. Quiet."

"I know that this isn't ideal — for anyone. But I can promise you will not be mistreated."

"Say that to my face."

"It will not happen again."

"If it happens once, it happens again, Alicent."

"I know you must have your doubts about Aemond — but he is good. He is faithful. I promise he will treat you well. He will be kind and gentle."

"Alicent, I don't exactly seek out men who will treat me 'gently.'"

Alicent sighs. "I also want to assure you that you won't have to consummate this until you've healed — if that's something you were worried about."

"I think I'd like to see him try; it's such a mess down there today, he wouldn't even know what to do. Well, presumably. Daemon was standing in the wrong spot when the Maester did his examination one time. He fainted like a little girl, which was great. But after profusely apologizing for 'what he'd done to me,' he did tell me I did not want to know what it looked like."

Alicent ignores her unhinged ramblings. "But, I've spoken to the Grandmaester; he's not going to indulge you in the usual white lie."

"What?"

"You know, how the Maesters will often give the wife more time, should she ask."

"If she's not healed, then she's not healed. Are you saying the Maesters would otherwise clear a woman for bed before it is safe?"

"No. I mean, to give the wife more time off."

"Time off?" Her eyes open once more. "Oh. Alicent. How is it that no matter how infuriating you are, you always manage to say something that makes me just… sad for you."

Alicent has no response, so she turns all her focus to the braids.

"So," Rhaenyra continues. "Am I to make a grand speech denouncing my family?"

"No, Father does not trust you. Everyone will be told that you are ill and fatigued and want little fuss until you are recovered. You would have done a private ceremony but the Septon insisted.

"Alicent," Rhaenyra says. "Is Aemond… alright with this?"

"He's always dreamt of being King."

"No, is he alright with this?"

"You overestimate the regard my family holds for you."

"No. Is he, alright with this."

"Of course. He knows that with power comes duty." And with those words, Alicent finishes the last braid. "Done."

"Great."

"I will see if all is ready." Alicent turns to leave, but she hesitates in the doorway. "We have royal wombs, you and I," she says. "This discomfort is how we serve the realm."

She regrets the words immediately and flees the room. She tries convince herself she doesn't hear Rhaenyra finally break down as she leaves.

Her family had agreed to assemble in a sitting room near the Sept, and she is second to arrive after her father. "Is there something you forgot to tell me?" she demands.

"Which something?" her father says. "I cannot find the silver copy of my pin?"

"I was thinking more of Rhaenyra's face, Father. Have you seen her?"

"It was necessary, Alicent. Appearances are important, and we need to sell our story without needing to rely on Rhaenyra's words. And having it on her jaw gives a reason for her silence."

"It's not just her jaw, Father. Near half her face is black!"

Her father sighs and turns to a guard. "Have everyone, including the Princess, brought here at once. It's time."

Aemond and Aegon arrive together, and Rhaenyra's words still run through her head. She has to ask. "Aemond. Before it's too late, I want to make sure you're alright with this."

Aemond's eye is alight. "Being King?"

"Being married."

"She would be dead if not for this mercy. I see no dishonour in our action."

"No, I mean, are you alright with marrying Rhaenyra."

Aegon laughs. "Why was I never asked that question? I'd still be a free man. And you accused Father of playing favourites."

Alicent turns back to Aemond. He puts a reassuring hand over her shoulder. "I am a man grown, Mother. I have bedded whores before."

"It's true," Aegon adds. "I was there. In fact… our sister may well just be his type. You always did go for the older ones, did you not?"

Aemond withdaws his hand and sharpens his voice. "Mayhaps your own questionable tastes simply sent me in the opposite direction."

Alicent truly regrets this far too Targaryen conversation. "Very well, that's enough."

"Mother," Aemond says. "I promise I will be good to her. Better than she deserves, even. The realm deserves a good king, and to be a good king one must be a good husband. It will be like Orys Baratheon and Lady Argella — I will speak to her gently, pour her wine, and wrap a cloak of protection around her shoulders."

"I had no idea you were such a romantic, baby brother," Rhaenyra says from the entrance; Ser Criston must have brought her in without their notice. "Should I remove my clothes to complete the homage?"

But no one is listening to Rhaenyra's words.

Aemond turns on Ser Criston. "I will not begin my reign by having my sister battered."

Her father also turns on Ser Criston. "I said a shallow bruise Cole, not to break her face."

The Grandmaester follows behind them. "Nothing is broken. I've just examined her. It's common with pregnancy for the blood to thin and flow easier."

Rhaenyra rolls her eyes.

Her father sighs. "It looks like we're going with your idea, Princess." He turns to a Hightower servant. "Find me a black veil."

"At once, My Lord."

He turns to face them all. "Hear this and remember it well: simply adhere to the story. She does not wish to speak of it; we all just want to move on. Understood?"

Ser Criston, Alicent, and her sons nod in assent.

Her father turns cold. "Rhaenyra, do you understand?"

Rhaenyra crosses her arms, and Alicent wonders if she means to support her injury rather than display her disinterest. "I'm not going to get Syrax killed for no reason. Either my husband makes a widow of me when he storms the city and mounts your heads on spikes, or he doesn't. Either way, I have nothing to gain by forcing you to drag me down the aisle. Let us be finished with this."

Her father and Ser Criston are both incensed. Aemond looks intrigued.

Aegon has his own opinion. "When did Rhaenyra become my favourite sibling?"

Before anyone can process that, a maid returns with a large square of sheer black silk. Alicent helps her pin it into place.

A Septa enters alongside Helaena to announce that all is ready. Helaena looks to Alicent standing beside her grandfather. "Hand turning loom, spool of green," she sees Rhaenyra, "spool of black," she whispers. "You look so beautiful!"

Rhaenyra shakes her head and follows the septa. "Not my problem."

The castle sept is full, but not overflowing. They had not invited any lords who were not already on castle grounds — they simply needed witnesses. Larys and Otto had been circulating word throughout the Red Keep of Viserys's death and Rhaenyra's flight, but Alicent could tell that many had not believed the latter until now. Even now, many seemed unconvinced.

"They need not believe it in their hearts," her father reminds her as they enter. "They must simply choose to see what they wish. We need to convince them that our faction is who they should wish for — that is all. It will get easier with time."

They don't bother with the ceremony of music or an aisle walk, they simply make their way to the altar in a casual procession. Rhaenyra walks just behind Alicent. "Feel free to ruin this wedding as well, Ser Criston," she whispers to her escort.

She hears Rhaenyra wince.

One indulgence they do make for ceremony is a long sermon. Alicent hopes that the Septon's speech regarding the situation will help assuage doubt. The on-duty Kingsguard step back and the royal family stands at the front, their sides to the crowd and their faces to the altar. Alicent and her father stand at Aemond's side whilst Aegon and Helaena stand by Rhaenyra. She realizes her mistake too late.

Aegon grows visibly bored soon into the sermon. He starts to fidget. Then he looks around and realizes that the crowd's view of him is partially obstructed by Helaena and some of the religious fixtures. She sees him weigh his risks and options.

The sermon continues; Aegon grows more bored. Finally, he removes a leather flask from his coat and casts another look to the crowd. He pops the cork and gets several good drinks in before Alicent can process what he's done. Whatever liquor he keeps in there, it is strong. Alicent can smell it from where she stands.

She and her father exchange looks, then she makes eye-contact with Rhaenyra, who stands next to Aegon. Do something, she mouths. Rhaenyra sighs and rolls her eyes, then elbows Aegon. He reluctantly hands the flask over.

Rhaenyra upends it.

This coincides with a moment of silent prayer, but Aegon is not focused on the sermon. He has no idea that he draws the attention of the whole, silent room when he speaks.

"Well done, sister. Our brother will be glad to know that you swallow with such ease."

Jaws drop. Fortunately, only in the front half of the pews. But then the whispers start and threaten to spread to those untouched.

Daemon does his deranged giggle he loves to do at other's expense. The one he does when any well-adjusted person would be suffering from secondhand embarrassment.

How did Daemon break in to the Red Keep? She allows herself to ask for a moment. But then she finds the origin.

Of course.

It is Rhaenyra who giggles. Aegon lasts a moment longer before realizing what he's done, then he breaks into a drunken laugh. Aemond takes yet another moment to process, then does a weak imitation of Rhaenyra's giggle. Helaena then mimics her siblings with the only wholesome laugh of the group.

They merge into an uncontrolled laugh straight out of the Seven Hells.

Her father is livid, but he dares not act out. He forces a cold smile and looks to the pews. "Targaryens!" he laments as he throws his hands up. Some of the whispers turn to laughs — but not all. The tension does not disappear, but it does become tolerable.

The Septon takes this as his cue to cut to the vows. Unfortunately, Aegon's poison seems to take effect immediately. Rhaenyra stumbles to the altar — that at least can be written off to injury — and Aemond takes her upper right arm to try to support her.

She gasps in pain; he lets go.

Helaena steps ahead from behind Rhaenyra and supports her by her (hopefully) unharmed left arm. Aegon stumbles back to lean against a pillar.

What in the seven realms was in that flask?

They do Rhaenyra the kindness of skipping the kiss — citing her injury to the crowd. Aemond wraps the cloak around Rhaenyra; she shudders but otherwise maintains her composure.

For one second, she almost let it slip.

The Septon presents the ribbon; Rhaenyra lifts her right arm as far as she is able. The Septon wraps their hands as one.

"Dragons of flesh, weaving dragons of thread," Helaena whispers.

"I am yours, you are mine, whatever may come," Aemond recites dutifully.

"I am yours, you are mine, whatever may come," Rhaenyra attempts admirably. It is mostly coherent.

The Septon concludes. "One flesh... one heart... one soul... now and forever."

Her father accosts Aegon as they make their way to the banquet. "What were you thinking? Are you so determined to live in an addled state that you could not wait until you had left the Sept?"

"I didn't realize it would be so long."

Her father glares at the four Targaryens who walk beside him. "I don't know what to do with any of you,"

"I played my part," Rhaenyra says. "Not my fault that Aegon fucked it up. If anything, I salvaged the situation. Now we look like four equally fucked-up incest siblings, rather than a pack of vipers and a kidnapped princess. You're welcome."

They mercifully make it to the head table without anyone falling. After the main course, nobles start to line up to pay their respects.

"Princess," Lord Caswell says. "I was very sorry to hear about your father — and your husband." His eyes remain glued to the black side of her face.

"As was I, Lord Caswell. Now I just want to move on." Rhaenyra puts her good arm around Aemond. "Hopefully third time's the charm." And then she steals Aemond's wine. She had done the same to Alicent only a moment ago.

"You're drunk," her father accuses her.

"Of course, how else do you expect me to perform? Would you prefer I sit here sober like a hostage, making save me eyes at everyone?"

"She has a point," Aegon slurs.

"Oh, where is my protector?" Rhaenyra looks around the room. "Should Ser Harrold not be here to lend you legitimacy?

Her father glowers at her. "Ser Harrold does not have the same skills in deception you were so gifted with. Besides, we need him to be seen at the coronation tomorrow. Rest will do him well."

"Of course," Rhaenyra says. "You cannot trust me there, but you need some kind of ornamentation I suppose. And where is Ser Crispin, I specifically remember telling him to ruin this wedding as well. He has let me down. Now…" she shakes her head. "This is only my second-worst wedding. How unbelievably tragic." Alicent had never seen her this drunk.

"I think it's time for bed," Aemond suggests.

"Very well, but I choose how we do it," Rhaenyra declares as she finishes yet another glass. "I'm not ruining any of my favourite positions."

Aemond gives Alicent a what do I do? expression.

Rhaenyra laughs at his helpless confusion. "I am only jesting, baby brother." She rubs his shoulder as if he were one of her sons. "I'm afraid it's a bit of a mess down there. Mayhaps you could seek out our uncle to slake your hungers, I hear he's recently available. Not that it matters, he believes it's not adultery if it's the same sex, which I find a little condescending. We had a big fight about it once, he tried to say he wouldn't mind if I did either — as long as it's not with you!" Rhaenyra turns to point at Alicent. "He does not like you." She laughs like it's the funniest thing in the world.

Alicent stands. "We're going," she orders all the Targaryen children. Aemond takes Rhaenyra and Helaena takes Aegon.

"This is why I kept you away from them Rhaenyra," she says once they've left the hall. "You're a bad influence."

"Yes, Alicent, all of your children would be perfectly well-adjusted but for my influence. That's why you just married me to this child to bypass Aegon the fuck-up."

"Hey," Aegon protests. But not very strongly. He and Helaena leave them to turn down the corridor. He starts moving his hands along her body before they are out of sight.

Rhaenyra stumbles to a standstill. "Well, it appears at least one Targaryen gets to rape his sister tonight. Worry not, baby brother," she cups his face. "Your time may yet come." And then she kisses him.

So much for the kindness.

She pulls back, and Aemond looks absolutely lost. What's going on? He asks his mother with his eye. Alicent can give him no answer. Rhaenyra studies him, clearly satisfied that she's reduced Vhagar's rider to a lost lamb. "Unless… my husband decides to spoon-feed your parts to you. It's hard to know at the moment."

She's so addled she has not a clue what she says, mayhaps. But Alicent thinks Rhaenyra smarter than that.

They are both fully supporting her drunken weight when they reach her room.

"So," Rhaenyra says. "You're to be a King tomorrow. And I will take my place as the key in your pocket. Very good." The guard unlocks the door for her. "The least you can do is leave me the fuck alone — I haven't slept since… oh Seven Hells, I'm going to feel this on the morrow." She stumbles out of their arms and through the door. "Goodnight little husband, feel free to die in your sleep."

She slams the door closed.

"What exactly is the appropriate response to that, Mother?"

"There is none."

"Mhmm."