The Princess and the Queen 35: Alicent II
"Finally," said Alicent, almost surprised. "It's finally going to happen."
"It is," Father nodded, his voice almost a boast.
"What you have been aiming for, after all these years," mused Alicent. "It happened one generation later, but it still will happen, all the same," she smiled.
It could have been me.
Things could have been so much different if Alicent had been the one to marry King Viserys. She wondered what would have befallen her if she had. Would His Grace also refuse to name her son as his heir? Would she even have sons with him at all?
The questions piqued her curiosity, but Alicent was glad the King did not choose her, in hindsight. She knew how bitter and lonely Queen Laena had become across the years and thanked the Seven for not being in such a position.
"Let us not get ahead of ourselves, though," warned Father, calmly yet confidently. "The marriage will happen, but it is still uncertain whether Daeron shall ever reign," he added, rather ominously.
"Is that not what you have been trying to achieve for the past how many years?" smiled Alicent.
"It is," he agreed. "But not all my plans end up as a success. You know this better than anyone."
"I am thankful that particular plan was an abject failure," she scoffed despite her father's frown. "Aye, I would have been a queen, but would it have meant much if my husband was just as stubborn and just as old and just as sick as now?"
"He is a malleable man," Father replied. "And he considers me a friend, unlike Lord Velaryon. We both would have been able to convince him in a way Her Grace and the Sea Snake have been unable to thus far."
"Mayhaps," shrugged Alicent, not believing him very much. "I still consider it a blessing nonetheless. Laenor is a better father than I could ask for."
"Very well," he conceded.
Alicent tried to think of how she would have fared if her father had not chosen to make his bed with the Velaryons. He was already dismissed as Hand, likely at Princess Rhaenyra's behest, so he was unlikely to side with her.
Most likely, it would be some lord in the Reach; however major or minor he would have been is how good of a reputation a disgraced former Hand would have.
A marriage to placate one of Oldtown's ambitious vassals may have been likely. Her mother was a Costayne, and her late big brother married a Mullendore, so it wouldn't have been then.
I would be Lady Alicent Beesbury or Bulwer or Cuy, and my home at Honeyholt or Blackcrown or Sunhouse.
It would have been either that or a marriage to a close Reach ally to further their connections. She could have been drinking wine at the Arbor, picking apples at Cider Hall, or watching the Sunset Sea from Old Oak.
It could have been any of them, or none, yet I cannot think of any I would rather have over what I have now.
She had mulled over it countless times with Laenor, her brother, or her ladies, but it wouldn't stop her from doing so again. She truly loved her husband, even if they were not like a usual Westerosi man and wife. At rarer times, she rued not enjoying his company in the bedchamber, but mostly, she enjoyed his smile, his japes, and his love of their children.
Truly, I am luckier than most.
Alicent crossed her legs and poured herself a goblet of Arbor Gold. Across the desk, her father was still engrossed in his scrolls and parchments. The invites had been sent out a while ago, and preparations were essentially complete, but that was not an excuse for him to rest.
"You could take a small break, Father," said Alicent, taking a small sip of wine.
"I could," her father nodded, not taking a small break.
"The wedding is on the morrow. Though…" she said. "I have not seen you in better spirits than when I first presented you Vaegon and Valaena. Are some parchments regarding Ser Pate of Molehi's dispute with Ser Brynden the Black Nosed really the best sight in the world to you?"
"I am nearly complete, if that is what you wish to know," Father replied, rolling his eyes. When Alicent came to his chambers for some final checks before the wedding, he was already engrossed in his parchments as usual. Though this time, when she would depart, he would be finished.
"And how much does nearly complete entail?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.
"One or two more, in fact," he said. "I have a meeting with Lord Corlys later, and I am to sup with Jocelyn after that, which is why I am finishing early."
Oh, Jocelyn…
"I broke my fast with her this morning," Alicent said. "She was nervous, but anyone would be… but also excited."
"Good," he said, eyes on the parchment.
"It does help that Jocelyn and Daeron already have a relationship beforehand," continued Alicent. "Better than some others," she grimaced, thinking of how Queen Laena was just a young girl upon marrying the King or how Princess Rhaenyra would tell Alicent how arrogant she found the late Jason Lannister.
That said, I had hardly spoken to Laenor before our marriage.
Alicent kicked her boots up onto the desk, before putting them back down after a glance from her father. After she did so, he promptly looked back down at his letters, squinting at them and stroking his salt-and-pepper beard.
"How do you reckon Jocelyn shall fair as Queen?" Alicent asked, refilling her cup of wine.
Father looked up at her and glared disapprovingly. "You truly are nervous about the wedding, aren't you?" he asked. "More so than even Jocelyn, it seems."
"Maybe," she frowned. "Most likely," she added, rolling her eyes. "But what do you think, truly?"
"I think she shall make a fine Queen Consort," shrugged Father, somewhat irritated at being distracted yet again. "She is a comely woman; she is charming, and she is witty too. She endears herself to the smallfolk, yet is also aware of her allies and vassals."
"Very well," Alicent answered. "But do you not think the role would put such a heavy pressure upon her? To fulfill her duties?"
"If she would do her duties, it would not exact any toll on her. She would needn't join in small councils like the incumbent Consort does now. Hopefully, Prince Daeron shall take a more active role in running his kingdom whenever he ascends," he said plainly.
"What if she wishes to take a more active role?" she asked, scratching at one of her fingers.
"Then that is only a positive. A more active role would allow her more influence over her husband in promoting our interests," her father replied.
"And what of…" began Alicent, biting at the loose skin on her forefinger. "The words whispered behind her back? The ones Lord Corlys likely believes too?"
"That she should not be a queen?" Father asked dismissively. "It shall be no issue. Prince Daeron dislikes those people who utter that, too, and when she and he are married, people shall be a lot less willing to repeat that," he firmly said.
Alicent nodded, accepting what her father said, her doubts and worries somewhat soothed but still lingering in the back of her mind.
Gods, maybe I am worrying too much…
After a while, her father had still not yet gotten any closer to completing his stack of parchments, and the sun was getting low, so Alicent finally decided to take her leave.
"I shall be going then," she said, stretching her arms when standing up. "Vaegon must be back from the yard."
"Very well," said Father, dipping his quill into the ink.
"I shall see you on the morrow," smiled Alicent. "Seven keep you safe!"
He simply nodded as Alicent turned and left the room. She made her way down the stairs and out of the Tower of the Hand, greeted by the low, setting sun. Her quarters were also in the tower, but she wanted to take a short walk around the Red Keep to stretch her legs after sitting in her father's office for so long.
The Red Keep was noticeably fuller than usual, and it wasn't a sea of blue and cyan and navy cloths as it usually was. The guests in King's Landing still may have had a small token showing their allegiance to Prince Daeron, like a blue cloak or headpiece, but most opted to don their house colours for the wedding.
It was certainly preferable for Alicent. That way, she could identify everyone clearly based on what they wore and also note if any major houses that were usually so recognisable were absent.
Quite a few are not, in fact.
Despite the castle being more packed than normal, it was nowhere near full capacity. When Queen Laena or Princess Rhaenyra married, the Red Keep felt overstuffed, with hardly enough room to walk or breathe. It felt slightly more congested than usual here, but some key faces were missing.
That was not to say that the Red Keep was empty. Far from it, in fact.
There were lords and ladies from houses that were not usually in King's Landing. Alicent passed by Lord Roxton, clad in his house's light blue and gold. He gave her a cheerful nod as they crossed as she made her way to the outer bailey.
Even though the hour was getting late, and the wedding officially began on the morrow, people still were coming in through the gates. A retinue of Reachers bearing the arms of Rowan of Goldgrove were dismounting their steeds whilst Lord Steadmon came galloping in on a white destrier along with a host of some two score men.
It is interesting that one of the Red Reachmen and a Stormlander have attended.
A moderate number of those loyal to Princess Rhaenyra were attending, but there were no signs of her most principal of supporters. The Stormlanders attending wasn't too large of a surprise either since one sat the Small Council, and Borros Baratheon had not officially declared his allegiance, only choosing to "seethe at Storm's End", according to Lord Corlys. However, there was certainly no sign of the Lord of the Stormlands yet, and Alicent reckoned there wouldn't be any at all.
I do wonder if the extremely late arrivals were intentional by Lord Rowan and Lord Steadmon.
It made sense. It would show that even if they were attending the royal wedding of the faction they were not part of, they didn't show that much importance to it, judging from Lord Steadmon's late arrival.
Alicent sighed and decided to return back to the Tower of the Hand. She took in the sounds and sights. Squires from across the kingdoms trained in the yard whilst older lords laughed and japed from the walls, and ladies whispered the latest court gossip to each other.
As she walked across the middle bailey, a host of City Watchmen passed her. Their numbers were no more than a dozen, but the clinking of their mail and their swords clanging made them stand out from the crowd. They were still a strange sight to behold, being draped in a dark blue cloak rather than one of gold, even if it had been a while since the reform of the force.
I do hope such a "reform" was successful, in that it needn't happen again.
The show of force made Alicent shudder. She only caught a glimpse of the mock trials, with hundreds of men charged for treason and thrown in the black cells or hung on the battlements. Even Father wasn't all too happy with the manner of it, but called it a necessary measure for the city's security. Apparently, Lord Corlys deemed the trials a success, with the Clubfoot's agents confirming that the Watch could be trusted.
Still… a small part of me fears that one or more rats scurried away, and Daemon Targaryen still has friends in the city.
Her stomach dropped at the thought of that man, so she quickly returned to the tower. She bit her left thumb, trying to forget about that time all those years ago. When he thought nobody was watching, he approached her, whispering about how he hated his lady wife and to not tell anyone this secret, all whilst caressing his hair.
Luckily, her big brother arrived and took Alicent away before his hands could reach elsewhere. After that, she was wary of even approaching him, but that didn't stop the rumours. People began to whisper that Alicent and the Rogue Prince had an affair, but Father aided in nipping them before it spread.
That was over twenty years ago, gods, get ahold of yourself!
She shook her head, removing the memory from her eyes and ascended the steps to her quarters. When she arrived at her floor, she had mostly gotten rid of it, but her stomach still churned slightly. However, that was most likely because of her nervousness about the wedding, and not Daemon Targaryen.
When Alicent entered her chambers, her children were already seated at the table, with Laenor patting little Valaena's head. All three of them smiled widely when seeing Alicent, and Laenor walked over to her.
"How are you faring?" he smiled courteously, kissing her hand. Laenor looked regal in his silver and white doublet, which matched his hair perfectly. He wasn't wearing any jewellery, and his hair was tied into a bun, accentuating his aquiline nose.
"Quite well," smiled Alicent. "And quite excited for the wedding."
"Aren't we all?" he grinned, moving to take his place on the table.
"And how are you both, my dears?" Alicent asked, going to Vaegon first (because he was nearer) and giving him a wet, sloppy kiss on the cheek.
"Very good!" Vaegon beamed. "Training went better than ever, and I got to meet so many other squires from the Reach and Riverlands!"
"That's wonderful," said Alicent, going over to Valaena. She and her twin brother were in matching cyan garb, each with a silver necklace set with sparkling sapphires. "And how was your day, Valaena?" she asked, cuddling her daughter. "Did you enjoy your time with your grandfather?"
"It was nice," Valaena answered, not being one for many words. "Grandfather Corlys was a bit busy though… but I got to stare out of the window in the holdfast. Some butterflies were jumping off the ledge and fluttering down," she smiled as Alicent took her place opposite Laenor, with Vaegon to her left and Valaena to her right.
She is not of many words, unless she is talking about her precious bugs and insects.
Alicent thought it strange yet endearing, and it was harmless compared to some other qualities children of Valaena's age had. People would snicker and snigger, calling her a quaint girl, Prince Aemon included, but none would dare say it publicly for fear of the Sea Snake, which reassured Alicent.
Dinner was eventually served, with a relatively modest meal of roast capon alongside vegetables and black bread. Cold cheese and meat accompanied the main platter, with an assortment of sliced fruit and a bowl of honeycakes. Alicent and Laenor would drink diluted Arbor Purple whilst the children would have to make do with fruit juice.
"Honeycakes!" gasped Vaegon, his pale lilac eyes wide and gawking at the bowl at the centre of the table.
"Yes," smirked Alicent. "But only if you finish your meal," she added sternly.
"Very well, Mother," he sighed, obediently beginning to tuck into his plate of capon and turnips and carrots.
"Are you both excited for the wedding tomorrow?" Laenor asked, helping himself to a slice of blood orange.
"Very much so," replied Vaegon whilst Valaena eagerly nodded. "It won't be just tomorrow, though, will it?" he asked. "The wedding shall be some days."
"Aye, you are correct," Laenor answered proudly. "But the first day of the wedding is usually the best."
"The most important, too," added Alicent. "It is where the wedding is formalised in a sept, witnessed by the gods. The other days are merely for celebration, which we do all love."
"The first day is also when your belly is not stuffed from eating so many honeycakes," Laenor winked.
"I wonder how Jocelyn feels about the wedding tomorrow," Alicent mused as Laenor gave her a glance.
"I am certain the girl is excited for it," reassures Laenor. "She has wished for it for years, and shall make an excellent consort to Prince Daeron."
"I think nobody would be as good as a queen as Jocelyn will be!" proudly declared Vaegon as Valaena clapped in agreement. Their short words soothed Alicent more than she could imagine, and almost every doubt and worry she had was almost gone.
Almost.
"Everyone loves Jocelyn!" Vaegon continued. "The city loves her, we love her, who doesn't love her?"
"What about Daeron?" asked Valaena. "We love him too!"
"Aye, we love both of them," smiled Laenor, rubbing her shoulder.
The remainder of the supper was spent chatting about their day as well as the forthcoming one. Alicent was relieved that Vaegon hadn't encountered Aemon in the training yard earlier. Both Vaegon and Valaena finished their meals, so they were allowed as many honeycakes as they wished as a special treat for tonight. They both certainly appreciated it, wolfing it down until only one remained.
"I want the last one!" said Valaena, once there was only one left in the bowl.
"You will have to share it with your brother, though," Laenor warned.
"No, it is very well; I have eaten enough!" belched Vaegon, wiping his mouth with a cloth.
When Valaena finished nibbling away at her honeycake, Laenor and Alicent finally decided that it was time for the kids to sleep.
"Already?" Vaegon asked.
"You both have to wake up early on the morrow," Alicent said. "Otherwise, you shall miss the wedding."
"Mother is always right," sighed Valaena.
"Very well," he frowned as Laenor signalled for the handmaidens to take the children off to their bedchambers.
Just as easy as usual.
When they were gone, Laenor relaxed in his seat, leaning back and stretching his legs forward whilst pouring himself a cup of wine. Alicent, meanwhile, stared at her hands whilst leaning on the table.
"It's clear that you are nervous," Laenor said. "I can see it in you."
"Less so than before," replied Alicent.
"But you are still nervous all the same," he sighed, giving her a worried look.
"Aye," Alicent admitted, frowning and looking to the floor.
"Look at it this way, Alicent," Laenor said, standing up and walking over to her before putting a hand on her shoulder. "In most marriages, the girl shall be marrying some man she has never seen before, going to live in some place she has barely heard of, and her husband would be some old man twice the age of her father. Jocelyn will be doing none of that… Daeron is a good lad; she shall be happy with him, I know it."
"Now you have reminded me that Valaena hardly knows the Blackwood lad, nor has even been to Raventree Hall," she laughed.
"Oh- seven hells, Alicent…" Laenor said apologetically. "I did not mean it like that, truly," he frowned, rubbing her shoulder.
"Yes, I understand," she smiled at Laenor. "It's less so my concerns about Daeron, not that I have any… it is that… I am almost like a mother to her… no mother wishes to send her child off like that," Alicent explained, to Laenor's understanding nods. "It's also that Jocelyn being queen throws her right in the middle of all of it. The feuding, the politics… I thought we were close enough to it as is, but her eventual children shall be… shall be…" she gulped, unable to utter the words. "Threats," Alicent finally said. "Threats to Princess Rhaenyra."
"As much as I hate to admit it, you are correct," sighed Laenor.
"Rhaenyra wouldn't harm them, though, even if they are threats," Alicent also added. "Mayhaps memories of our long-gone friendship cloud my judgement, but I do not see it. With Prince Daemon at her shoulder, he would whisper dastardly things, but Rhaenyra wouldn't entertain them. I hope," she made sure to say.
"I am not all too certain about that," he replied, walking over to the couch across the room and sitting down on it, letting out a huge sigh as he did. "Back when Prince Aemon took her son's eye, everyone on Dragonstone was witness to hearing her cry for retribution, the eye of her ten-year-old brother in return."
"I don't blame her, though," Alicent said ever so softly. "Do you?"
"No, not really," chuckled Laenor bitterly.
Alicent thought back to when she met little Viserys all those years ago when Princess Rhaenyra visited the capital. The visit had turned sour when the King had fallen ill, and Rhaenyra refused to let her children interact with anyone else. Before that, though, Viserys, Visenya, Joffrey, and occasionally the sulking Baelon, too, would play with Vaegon and Valaena and always regarded Alicent with the utmost respect and decorum.
Better than Aemon has ever afforded my children.
"If our boy lost his eye, I would be equally as hysterical," Alicent said, shuddering at the notion of any harm coming to sweet Vaegon or Valaena.
"I am truly surprised that the Princess did not demand for more," Laenor said. "His Grace certainly would have granted her that boon, and she would be well within her rights to do so."
"I do not know either," Alicent sighed. "Yet I do wish at times, Rhaenyra did ask for her half-brother to be exiled far away from Westeros, rather than just cancelling his betrothal."
"My sister would never have let that stand," he grinned, rubbing his face.
"Just as she has not allowed Aemon to be sent away from the city," Alicent said, sharper than she wished.
"I do try petitioning my father for him to grant it, but it falls upon deaf ears," sighed Laenor. "Not even Driftmark. He claims that sending the boy away shall only flare his tempers even more. It is best to keep him closer to home, especially with the dragon."
"My dearest of apologies, but how much of this is due to Queen Laena's influence?" she asked curtly.
"Likely all of it," he scoffed. "My damned sister…" groaned Laenor loudly. "If I can bloody call her that anymore."
I know they have their disagreements, but this far?
"When did it all go so bloody wrong for her? I see Laena and I do not see my sister anymore," he continued, face pursed into an angry frown, tears welling in his eyes. Alicent stood from her seat and walked over to her husband, wrapping a warm arm around him.
He comforted me earlier, and now I must do the same to him.
"I see a bitter, vile creature that would stop at nothing to reach her goals. My parents almost agree, but they are both too powerless to reign her in but also way too late," Laenor said, wiping a tear away with his sleeve. "You speak of how Prince Daemon would be willing to harm a child, but Laena is not too far away."
"I wouldn't…" replied Alicent in disbelief. "Not truly… Daemon is Daemon…"
"You don't believe me?" asked Laenor. "Do you remember that time, all those years ago, when Princess Rhaenyra visited, and the King became quite ill?"
Alicent nodded along slowly until her stomach dropped at the realisation. She had always suspected something was amiss with all of it, but not that it was Laena herself who poisoned her husband.
"It wasn't an illness, then, was it?" Alicent asked, already knowing the answer.
"No, she even dropped the poison into his nightly wine herself," he said. "Aye, Laena did it to stop Aemon from being taken to Dragonstone, and aye, she may loathe her husband, but she was so quick in thinking of the idea. Too quick."
"That-" began Alicent, about to say that they must tell somebody what Laena did. But who would they tell? And why would they tell them? And what would happen to her if she did tell them?
"That is unfortunately the woman my sister has become," Laenor said, defeated. "I fully believe she would harm a child if she had the chance to, and if it were some child in particular, and I can think of a few, she may even take glee in the act."
"Do you ever see your old sister returning?" she asked, unsure what else to say.
"I very much doubt it," he scowled. "There may be some chance, but that chance is slimmer than a child in Fleabottom."
"What if Daeron becomes the King, unchallenged? A smooth succession, a victory for her and her faction, and your- our houses," suggested Alicent.
"No," Laenor bluntly replied.
"No?" Alicent repeated. "It is her life's aim. To see her son ascend. It is all she lives for."
"Maybe," he nodded. "But I do not think it will be enough if her son wins. I think what shall truly satisfy her is that King Viserys and Princess Rhaenyra lose," Laenor said with a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "And that is why I wish to see Daeron win. Not only so that he and my family and you and Jocelyn can succeed… but on the glimmer of hope that I get my sister back."
Laenor stood up and staggered over to the table, pouring himself a cup of wine. He finished it in two sips and leaned with her arm on a chair, wine cup still in hand.
"And I hardly even blame Laena for all of this; that is the oddest part," he said. "I blame my parents for marrying her to the King, and the King himself for driving her to such lengths. I even blame the whole realm for it all… if they had voted me as their king, maybe none of this would have happened."
"I think you would have made a brilliant king," Alicent said softly.
"Maybe, maybe not. I cannot truly know. And it is long past then, and I do not yearn for the position. I likely would not have wed you if I was the King," smiled Laenor, pointing his empty cup at her. "It is no gain pondering over the past. I would rather remain in the bleaker present, where our families have dragged us into this mess, and we have no choice but to fight alongside them for fear of our own bloody lives."
He gave her a weak smile before putting his cup down and returning to the couch. He collapsed down alongside Alicent, and they remained side by side for a while, not hugging, kissing, or anything of the sort. They were just husband and wife, a queer kind in that, but they still loved each other in their own queer way.
"I am sorry for that, earlier," Laenor eventually said after a long silence.
"Don't be," shrugged Alicent. "You made me forget about my concerns for the morrow."
"That is good to hear," he said warmly, before tutting. "Seven hells, I just remembered…"
"What is it?" she asked, leaning forward.
"Nothing, truly," Laenor replied, in a tone that suggested it was something truly. "I wished to tell you this earlier, but my father has asked me again if we could try for another child."
Alicent was about to eagerly agree but stopped herself. She couldn't, knowing the anguish and stress it put Laenor through. Even her, in truth. What were mere moments of pleasure worth (those moments stopped by being reminded of Laenor's disgust) compared to the nine moons of pregnancy and the possibility of a complicated childbirth?
"What? Even after we refused him just so recently, after the whole incident on Dragonstone?" she asked. "Tell your father I do not wish to either, and that it is not just you."
"Very well," smiled Laenor, before standing up and giving her a small embrace. "Gods, the hour is late. I mean to spend the night with Joff, if that is all well."
"Very well," Alicent answered warmly, again almost asking if they could spend the night sharing a bed.
Even sharing a bed with a woman is barely tolerable to him. And I would likely yearn for more, something he would most certainly not want.
"Good night!" Laenor announced as he exited their chambers and headed to his companion's.
"Good night!" she replied, before heading off to her own bedchambers.
Gods, it is too late.
Despite her worries, she was much too tired to even ponder over them. Sleep took her fast. She awoke the following day much calmer, and also excited, for the start of the wedding.
Alicent splashed her face with cool water before applying some floral oils over her body. She then wore a simple turquoise morning gown that was in the Crownlander fashion. Her chestnut hair, however, was shaped in a simple Reacher style and covered with a silver and blue hairnet. She wore a silver ring on her finger and a necklace shaped into a seahorse over her high-collared dress. Following that, she headed to the small hall for breakfast. It was to be a simple affair, with the actual, larger feast coming after the vows were recited in the sept.
On her way down to the small hall, she encountered her little brother, who looked splendid in a silver and green doublet. His long hair was tied behind him, and his beard was neatly trimmed and combed. He greeted Alicent with a small embrace as they casually walked to the hall to break their fast.
"Excited?" asked Alicent with a smile.
"More nervous than anything," Thoren grinned.
"We share that in common," she chuckled.
"It is incredible how quick they all grow," mused Thoren, a proud look on his face. "I remember when I first trained Prince Daeron in the yard, when he was just a boy. Now, the boy is a gallant prince, married to our sweet niece."
"I still remember when Jocelyn was just a babe," Alicent said, thinking back to when Gwayne was still around, too, even if not usually present. "Actually, before even that, to when Gwayne and Lady Meredyth married."
"Poor Gwayne got so drunk he passed out before the wedding," he snorted as Alicent smiled at the memory.
"A simpler time," she quietly said as Thoren nodded in agreement.
They arrived at the hall to find it already packed with attendees. Vaegon and Valaena were already present, wearing the same turquoise and silver as Alicent. Laenor was there, too, nibbling on some oatcakes whilst chatting to Ser Joffrey Lonmouth.
"Where is Father…" Thoren squinted, looking around the room. "Ah, there he is," he said, walking over to them.
Their father was on the other end of the room, deep in conversation with the other Hightowers from Oldtown. Jocelyn, meanwhile, was seated at the raised dais alongside Prince Daeron whilst they politely entertained Lord Loras Merryweather and his wife, Lady Victaria, and her very dear friend, Lady Kynara.
First, Alicent went to offer her best wishes to the newlyweds (or nearly weds). She waited in line for some minutes as Lord Morrigen, Lord Ashford, and Lady Ryger were all ahead of her. Alicent finally got her turn, but she had to keep it short and sweet, as a larger queue was forming behind her.
It is no matter; I shall see Jocelyn privately after the meal, before we go to the sept.
She then sat down at her table and was served a wide selection of cakes, fruits, cheeses, and meats. Alicent barely touched any of it, only helping herself to some melon slices, making sure to not let the juices dribble down on her dress. She washed the little she ate with a cup of iced lemon water before sending her children off.
Vaegon and Valaena's garments for the actual ceremony would be much grander, and would require some time for the maids to dress them. Laenor and her chatted briefly before his parents summoned him for a private talk before the ceremony.
Alicent then went over to her paternal cousins, who were also preparing to depart the hall. Cousin Ormund spotted Alicent heading over and waved at her with a smile.
"Ah, cousin!" he announced, taking her in for a hug. Ormund looked just as Alicent remembered, with his short hair, beard, and muscular frame. He was dressed in Hightower grey and had a cloth-of-silver robe lined with green and orange draped over his shoulders. "How do you fare? You must be so proud of Lady Jocelyn, as we all are."
"Absolutely," agreed Alicent, with a genuine smile. "Thoren and I were just discussing how they grow so quickly… just as all yours have," she said, gesturing to Ormund's children.
All four of his children looked radically different to when Alicent last saw them. They were still young, but not as young as before. Lyonel had grown to be muscular and imposing, just like his father, whilst Martyn was lanky and gangling despite being only fourteen. Garmund was shorter than Alicent but would likely catch up soon, and little Bethany was only half a head shorter than her brother.
"Lady Velaryon," nodded Lyonel politely. "I still do remember the days you used to carry us and coo us when we were crying."
"As do I," smiled Alicent. "Now, you are to be married soon, too."
"More's the pity," groaned Martyn. "Lady Celia is terribly dull," he whispered. "As are all the Tullys, in truth."
"Martyn!" snapped Lady Lynesse, Ormund's wife. "Do not be rude," she said, the green and amber pearls sparkling on her golden necklace.
"Apologies," Martyn said, bowing his head. "But it's still true," he grinned, the brown eyes he inherited from his Fossoway mother glimmering with mischief.
"Gods, we should go outside," sighed Lady Ceryse Redwyne, the Dowager of Oldtown, flapping a purple fan in front of her face. "I may collapse and die if I remain here any longer."
"Very well, Mother," smiled Ormund as they headed out to the yard.
Just as many people were in the yard, but the morning breeze was refreshing to take in. Lady Ceryse breathed in an exaggerated sigh of relief, flapping her strawberry-blonde hair behind her shoulders. She was well into her fifties, but not one of her hairs had turned silver. She wore a purple dress that displayed nothing apart from the top of her pale shoulders. Purple and green gemstones that resembled grapes sat on her hair, with a purple headpiece just behind the tiny grapes.
"Aye, as we were saying," Ormund said. "We truly could not be prouder of Jocelyn. To be the future Queen of the Seven Kingdoms…"
"Is an honour bestowed to only the most deserving," smiled Lady Lynesse, a hint of scorn in her voice.
Does she rather her Bethany be the one to marry Daeron? Well, she was not yet born when my father made the agreement with Lord Corlys.
"She does do House Hightower and all of the Reach so proud," Lady Lynesse finished, putting a gentle hand on Alicent's arm.
"Even if half the Reach has opted to support Prince Daeron's half-sister," scoffed Lady Ceryse, rolling her eyes.
"Mother!" chastised Ormund, as his mother just shrugged, much to Martyn's laughter.
"Grandmother does raise a valid point," frowned Lyonel. "Half of the Reach have either not made their loyalties known or have outright declared their support for the Princess."
"Some of them even had the cheek to attend!" Lady Ceryse tutted.
"At least Lord Florent didn't," said Lady Lynesse softly. "I cannot stand their presence."
"Aye, but Rowan and Tarly did attend," Alicent countered. "And made their presence very well known."
"Lord Thaddeus and Lord Tarly certainly have made sure to display their camaraderie to everyone here. You would think they are bloody sword-swallowers the way they spend so much time together," laughed Lady Ceryse, which made Alicent bristle slightly.
"Hardly a surprise, though," Ormund replied. "They are a minority in the Reach, and their only binding is their mutual alliance, as well as both marrying with the Florents."
"To the Florents?" asked Alicent. "I recall that Lady Samantha is marrying Ser Florian, but since when did Rowan bind his blood to Lord Gunthor's?"
"Haven't you heard? Lady Florys is to marry Lord Thaddeus's brother, a man even older than me," Lady Ceryse chuckled.
That poor girl…
"What do you think is preferable, though?" inquired Lady Lynesse. "Outright absence, or attending in their reddest garbs?"
"Well, that depends on their manner of rejection, I guess," Alicent replied with a smile.
"None of the three rejections were particularly courteous, though," the Fossoway woman frowned.
"I would have appreciated some honesty from Lady Jeyne Arryn," said Lady Ceryse. "With all their harping about honour and chivalry."
"I don't recall; what was her reasoning?" Lyonel asked.
"I heard she was supposedly dealing with an attempted rebellion in the Vale," Alicent said. "But her rebellious cousin has been locked in a sky cell for years now," she shrugged as Lady Ceryse let out a loud groan.
"Funny, since the rumours were saying it was an incursion of Mountain Clansmen, but also a deadly plague," Lady Ceryse added, raising her eyebrows. "The bloody Lannisters were more honest than the Arryns, can you believe that? Of course, though… their arrogance still came through in writing. Otto told me that Ser Tyland sent a missive that the Westerlands would not attend, but send their best regards for the, as he put it, the sixth in line for the throne."
"That part was not accurate, though," pointed out Alicent.
"Well put, Alicent," smirked Ormund.
"The Northerner's insult was the worst of the lot, though," grumbled Lady Lynesse. "Lord Cregan decided to send his wife and her family as a delegation to the city in his stead."
"I do not see what the issue of that was," Ormund said.
"Oh really? His wife is a bloody Norrey," she bluntly said.
"What in seven hells is a Norrey?" asked Martyn.
"Exactly," Lady Lynesse simply nodded.
"One of the houses from the mountains of the wolfswood," explained Lyonel.
"Them?" Martyn snorted. "I know you refer to. I thought one of the damn Mountain Clansmen from Lady Jeyne's tales had escaped and made their way to the city!"
"Some of Arya Norrey's cousins have already started brawls within the city," sighed Lady Ceryse, as if she was disappointed in one of her children. "Unwashed savages," she whispered.
They made small talk for a while until the sun got higher. Then, they all return to their quarters to dress in more formal and extravagant attire for the actual ceremony in the sept.
When Alicent returned to her quarters, a team of maids were already there to prepare her for the ceremony. The maids disrobed her and ran her a bath. They scrubbed her with warm cloths and lye soaps until she smelled like flowers. After that, they dried off her body before sprinkling jasmine-scented oils on her.
The dress was a gorgeous one. It was in the aquamarine of Velaryon, with wide skirts that reached the ground and were stitched with seashell-like patterns. The upper half of the dress had short sleeves and a low-cut neckline, whilst her lower sleeves were covered by a sheer teal undergarment. On her neck was a heavy silver necklace studded with half a dozen turquoise gemstones, and small seven-pointed stars dangled from her ears.
A single turquoise gemstone hung from her forehead, and her brown hair was shaped like a seashell with shallow, wide blue headpieces going down it in the classic Velaryon style. She wore her mother's ring on her right forefinger, which bore the arms of House Hightower and Costayne. On the third finger on her left was a silver ring with the Hightower etched into it, whilst she had two other fingers that were silver studded with Velaryon aquamarine.
She was fully dressed well before they were scheduled to depart for the sept, so she decided to give Jocelyn a visit one final time before she would be married.
Jocelyn ordered her maids attending to her to be dismissed once Alicent arrived. They all scuttled away with obedient bows and wide smiles, allowing Alicent to regard her niece in private.
She really does like a true queen.
Alicent smiled upon seeing her, and Jocelyn returned it with a smile wider than the Sunset Sea. Her dress was entirely white, with sleeves that reached the ground. Her long skirts draped across the ground were twice as long as the actual dress, with little butterflies stitched all over, representing her Mullendore mother.
Likely at her own insistence.
The top half of her dress had cloth-of-gold woven into it, displaying intricate patterns going down her long sleeves. Her hair was styled rather simply, streams of wavy chestnut falling down her shoulders. Tiny cream beads went across her head, sitting just below a crown made of blue and gold flowers, with a little cyan butterfly just above it. The crown was attached to a cloth-of-gold headpiece, shaped into a large seven-pointed star, each of its seven points connected with the same flowers and butterflies as her crown. Small white gemstones dangled from golden chains on her ears, matching the golden necklace she displayed.
"You do look wonderful, dear," said Alicent. "Come here!" she said, pulling her in for an embrace, taking care not to damage her elaborate wedding attire. "I am so proud of you, my girl."
"Thank you, Aunt Alicent," Jocelyn softly replied. "And I am just as proud of you. I never met my mother, but you are the closest thing I have to one," she added, which almost made Alicent well up.
"You are too kind, even on your wedding day," beamed Alicent, pulling away from the embrace. "Gods… and I thought you would be nervous before today."
"Why would I be?" she happily asked. "I have known Daeron for years, and loved him for a good portion of that. In truth, I have been counting the days since I first knew about it."
"That is good to hear…" laughed Alicent. "I have been more nervous than you, it seems," she sighed. Even though her headpiece and necklace were heavy, Alicent felt like a huge weight had come off her shoulders.
"It's understandable… it shows you care for me," Jocelyn replied. "And I know you tend to overthink everything," she giggled, shaking her head. "And what people whisper about me, that I am unfit to be a queen, let them… it won't change the fact of the matter, will it?" shrugged Jocelyn, rather confidently.
"I feel half a damn fool then for all my worries," Alicent sighed and slapped her head with her palm.
"Come now," she gently said. "Let us go to the sept. I mustn't be late for my own wedding."
"Aye," agreed Alicent. "The day is yours," she bowed.
"Oh, stop that," blushed Jocelyn. "I am not yet the Queen. I have a few hours yet."
Alicent then took her leave, allowing the maids to make any final adjustments to Jocelyn's wedding dress. She made her way to the yard, where Laenor and their children were waiting.
The three of them were waiting by the carriage they would head to the sept in the city with as the sun shone down on them. Valaena sparkled in the afternoon, looking exactly like a smaller Alicent, with the exception of her majestic silver hair. Laenor and Vaegon also looked identical, wearing the same shade of aquamarine that Alicent and Valaena did. Their doublets were accompanied by freshly made navy breeches and boots. Their neck and waist were decorated with gemstones and jewellery, but their smiles were the most beautiful part of them.
"You look relieved," Laenor calmly said as they climbed into the carriage.
"Was it that visible?" Alicent worriedly asked.
"No," he smiled. "But it was to me."
"It seems my worries were unfounded," sighed Alicent.
"That is good to hear," nodded Laenor, stretching his legs as the carriage began moving, heading to Maegelle's Sept in the middle of the city.
The journey wasn't too bumpy, but smallfolk littered the path there, making them stop and start multiple times. Alicent gave Vaegon and Valaena coppers to throw at them for the ride, which kept them still enough. Luckily, it didn't take too long, and soon they arrived at the grand sept.
Maegelle's Sept was much larger than the sept within the Red Keep, yet paled in comparison to the Starry Sept of Oldtown, or even the Sept of Remembrance that stood in its place before it. Alicent remembered the tale of why it was built, to honour the deceased daughter of the Old King.
The walls stood high, and everything inside was made of white marble. The windows were made of clear glass, allowing rays of sunlight to stream in. Chandeliers made of silver and gold and decorated with clear gemstones dangled from the domed ceiling, making the interior of the sept sparkle as it reflected the afternoon sun from the windows.
The four of them soon took their places near the very front of the crowd. Waiting for the sept to fill up with everyone took almost as long as the carriage there, and Alicent's legs began to ache. Her cheeks were already sore, too, from all the smiling, but she was too happy to care about either.
When the sept was finally filled, Prince Daeron entered, with his mother and siblings ahead of him. Queen Laena and her two younger children all wore a matching shade of teal and silver, whilst Daeron wore a royal blue lined with silver. An ermine cloak was draped over his cloak, and a golden circlet sat atop his neat, silver hair.
Notably, though, His Grace is not present.
Alicent knew that wasn't truly a surprise, but she knew it would be a source of gossip for those who were not always present at court. Recently, people had begun to speak about how unjust the King was, forcing Lord Corlys to pay the dowry for Prince Aemon's cancelled betrothal, which was a suggestion from Alicent's father.
Prince Daeron took his place at the altar, between the statue of the Mother and Father, with the High Septon, ever glamorous in his white silk robes, in front of him. Queen Laena, whose face was stiller than the seven statues in the sept, took her place just behind her son. She was still a beautiful woman, but what Laenor told Alicent last night made her feel a pang of disgust when she saw the lilac-eyed Queen. Alicent then turned her sights to the prince, who patiently waited, for what was likely an age for him, until Jocelyn would arrive.
The waiting wasn't too long, with Jocelyn arriving with Father. Young boys and girls began singing songs heralding the arrival of the bride. Prince Daeron wasn't facing his wife but still had a wide smile, knowing that he would soon be wed.
Jocelyn had her maiden's cloak draped over her. It was in the grey of House Hightower and had orange butterflies on each corner. Slowly, Father led her over to the altar, and the High Septon began the proceedings.
After some gentle words from the portly High Septon, Father slowly removed the veil from Jocelyn and neatly folded it. Queen Laena then handed another cloak to Prince Daeron, who calmly unravelled it.
The cloak was a quartered design, with rubies on sable making the dragon of House Targaryen and cloth-of-silver on aquamarine silk forming the seahorse of House Velaryon. It was all bordered by cloth-of-gold, and glowed in the warm candlelight of the sept.
Prince Daeron took a small step back and softly placed his cloak over Jocelyn, uniting the two in matrimony.
Now and forever.
Alicent took a breath and wiped away a tear, before looking back at them both. Laenor put a comforting arm around her, and she gripped his hand in return.
Jocelyn and Prince Daeron continued to recite their vows until completion, when they completed their marriage with a kiss.
The sept broke into applause as finally, Jocelyn and Prince Daeron were now man and wife.
And soon, King and Queen.