Background story: I finished editing this story while being sick from a cold, and getting my nails done. Hooray! Crazy, awesome, bitch, I'm a cab.
Warning: unedited
︵‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿︵
︵‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿︵
« And 1... 2... begin! », Septa Morgane shouted louder and Alicent forced her mind to focus on the steps of the dance.
It was early in the morning and if she had her watch, or better yet her clock she would be able to confidently say that it was 9 in the morning. However, all she had was the sun peeking behind some clouds, and the sharp gazes of the Septas piercing her skin.
Although Alicent would have enjoyed sleeping for more than 2 hours in her bed, it seemed, that being grounded by her father did not spare her from having to attend her etiquette lessons.
« Hold your head high and forward Alicent! », she heard the Septa shouts— yet again.
'Her name should be Morgana.', she thought with a huff. Inhaling deeply, the Hightower girl sighed before she shifted her eyes forward, and into the purple pool that was Rhaenyra's orbs.
The instant their eyes met, Alicent stopped herself from flinching away from the princess, the colour reminding her of the events that happened 3 days prior.
'Lilac...', her inner voice taunted, and Alicent suppressed a shiver.
Although she admitted Daemon's and Rhaenyra's gazes differed, even the colour of their pupils, however, it had enough lilac in them to prompt her mind to recall his hard and unpredictable face.
And then she remembered the blood and iron scent, followed by the sight of 2 heads separated from the bodies.
'Lilac... Blood... Heads...'
« Ow!— », the sudden sound brought her back to reality. Once again, she unintentionally stomped on Rhaenyra's foot.
« No, no, no. It is 1, 2, 3 and you stop with your left foot forward by the Princess's right foot and you turn! », the septa Morgane scolds for what Alicent counted to be the tenth time.
'Or was it the 12th, I sure stopped counting by 10.'
With a slight wince, Alicent looked at her friend with worry and guilt, sad she had once again stomped on her foot.
« Again! », that made them both sigh. « In your places, one step away, heads held high, eyes fixed forward on your partner, your bodies do not touch. And 1... 2... 3, go on a graceful step... »
With Septa Morgane's voice in the background, and another septa clapping her hands to set the tempo, Alicent willed herself to focus on the utmost.
She was beginning to get annoyed and tired.
« If you want to stop, we can put an end to this. », the princess told her.
The Hightower girl had no choice but to stare into her eyes, as she wished for the lecture to end so she could retire to her prison.
« No need... I— I am all right. », truly, she was not. Paired with her annoyance for being locked in her room all day, she was anxiously awaiting to hear from Mysaria.
Despite having Sirrah regularly check for any messages for her before her father could, she felt she would go insane if she did not have any reply from the woman.
« I apologise for your foot. », Alicent wished she was in her previous world with a remote in her hand to fast forward this moment. All she wanted to do was to take a hot bath and leave this place for the forest. Or a least a place she could safely walk while surrounded by nature.
The Hightower girl watched as Rhaenyra shook her head— albeit slightly or else their Septa would shout— and smile. « It will give me an excuse to avoid the next lessons. », the princess whispers playfully. « How is your punishment going since yesterday? », she adds with an almost unnoticeable smirk coating her lips.
Alicent knew exactly what the silver-haired girl was referring to. « Well for starters, I fell asleep quite late in the night— or was it at the dawn of this morrow? I picked up a few books to occupy myself, what a scholar I am. You would be surprised what kind of food existed centuries ago. », she says with a hint of sarcasm.
« And this morning, I had yet again, a tart-less and bread-free breakfast. Some kind of extra punishment. And if you looked deeper in here... », she trails off, using the opportunity where they had to slightly bow to show her belly, where her stomach surely lay. « You would see a hole the size of Syrax. »
Granted Alicent never saw Syrax face to face, she was still aware of how big the dragon could be. Thankfully for her, the princess did not pink on the comparison, or else, the Hightower would never hear the end of the platinum-haired girl begging for her to come see the tall beast.
« Oh, but I have seen it from miles away. I was beyond worried you would faint at any moment. », she jokes, proving to have understood what Alicent meant.
And it was in one of those moments that Rhaenyra had never no doubt lost her friend. That the Hightower girl she had known since a younger age had disappeared. All proof she had of her, was their shared moments, the memories that would live inside her head forever.
If there was one thing she knew of her friend was that she was dutiful, thick and thorough no matter the circumstances.
And yet, Rhaenyra could not find the strength to voice her doubts and concerns, certainly not when she felt more connected to her.
Alicent felt, despite their mental age differences, she could count— to some extent— on the young Targaryen. She was uncertain if the girl would have her back in a situation that required it but, she could count on her to cheer her up, or get on the cruising ship that had one main goal, to annoy Otto Hightower.
Remembering the day before, Alicent had to hold back her laugh from remembering the man's ego being crushed by a 15-year-old. She was proud of Rhaenyra for sticking up for herself.
The princess had marched to the Hightower's chambers and had demanded to see her friend. She hadn't asked, nor repeated her order. Truly, from the way Sirrah told her, it had been a sight to see.
'Otto Hightower may be the Hand of the King, he may be the second most powerful man in the kingdom, but next to Visery's love for Rhaenyra, he is as tall as a larvae.'
« Will you tell me all the details? »
Although it was a simple question, Alicent found herself thinking deeply, looking for a way to answer. She had been avoiding the question for the past three days, and now that she was being cornered, with no choice but to look at the girl in the eyes, she was hesitating.
She just didn't think it was judicious to tell the girl that she saw her much older future husband— her uncle Daemon.
And so, making her decision, she slightly shook her head to disagree.
« It is unimportant. I simply wish to forget. »
Alicent only had the time to witness the famous Rhaenyra Targaryen's pouty face before they were both startled by their Septa's loud voice.
« Less chatter and more practice! »
« From the beginning! »
︵‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿︵
« The Scilla non-scripta or as its other name Bluebell... », Alicent reads attentively as she sat by her table, a book in her hands. She sat comfortably, unladylike as some would say with her feet resting upon the table.
The young Lady had her back to the balcony, the curtains fluttering once in a while as they followed the wing and let the sun rays of the middle of the day float in the room. « From the Lilaceae family, is a plant with blue flowers, giving off a powerful and sweet scent. »
Her eyes were fully focused on the letters inked in the book.
'There are some noticeable effects in the use of the plant. In irresponsible hands, it can cause diarrhoea, nausea and vomiting. Scillaren affects the heartbeat by lowering the rate and larger doses could cause death.', she continues internally.
When Alicent had told Rhaenyra she had picked up a few books to entertain herself, she had truly meant it fully, perhaps not the way one would imagine.
At least one that is not a Targaryen.
On the next day she awoke— though still shaken by the events, Alicent had vowed to start building another form of power, through strength.
Although she had wanted to have her brother teach her the art of swordsmanship, on a lockdown in her bedroom Alicent quickly shook the idea away.
And so, after yet another image of Daemon and the dark events flashing in her mind, she suddenly remembered Maegor's secret passages. It had taken her an hour but when she had found the exact stone to touch for the passage to be seen, Alicent had felt she could breathe again. The lump in her throat disappeared, taking the worry with it.
On the same night, she had gone to the library, which she only found after 2 hours, between several turns, wall bumps, and one of the few monsters she wished to have never existed, rats and spiders. It took Alicent all her might not to scream bloody murder at the slightest sight of them.
Upon making it to the old library, she came to think that perhaps she had a lucky charm constantly working, as she did not find any master in the dark and dusty room.
While her main mission had been to find books which taught one of the most deadly and discreet weapons— the art of poisons of all genres, she had also found some novels written in High Valyrian, the Targaryens' language. And so, once satisfied with her outstanding findings, Alicent had made her way back to her room.
'What better way to boost one's confidence.', she thought before flipping the page, her eyes landing on the drawing of yet another flower, one with a funny and common name, the Broom.
Again, one other flower which she immediately recalled seeing in her mother's personal garden. At the thought, Alicent paused her mid-reading and lowered the book as flashes of the secured place she was often told by the middle-aged woman not to enter, filled her mind. Despite the restriction, she had one day disobeyed the rule, choosing to see the forbidden fruit as the temptation had been too strong.
The flowery place was always far away from their 2 story house, in the corner of the property and almost hidden as it was at the woods' border. It was filled with various plants of countless colours and shapes, all separated from each other and safely covered. She remembered seeing a few of the flowers she had already read about, in the garden, including Bindweed, Herba Leonis and especially the Autumn Crocus.
Special due to her mother finding her disobedience and catching her standing near the pale lilac-coloured flower Alicent would always carve in memory the expression of her mother on that day, scared, shocked, panicked and finally sad. She didn't understand it then, and probably, would have never understood, what it was that her mother used to tell her.
✧❁❁✧✿✿✧❁❁✧
FLASHBACK
« You are not a child anymore Alice. I will always protect you, but you need to build your own strength. »
That was what her mother told her as soon as Alicent reached her nineteenth year. She could remember the day as if it was yesterday, it was on the night of her birthday, after what she could call a celebration. It had been in her mother's mind that eighteen was too early for a person to be fully considered an adult, and the twentieth year, too late to start being seen and considered as a young adult.
« You need to find protection. Not with any man. Eve was created from Adam, she completes him and Adam denounced her first. »
The woman that was Ophelia Karina Mirallis was overall strict, but generous. And, just like the north, she always remembered. Similar to the crimson golden lion, she always paid her debts while turning others into debtors. And when she was angry, she made sure everyone felt and saw how righteous was her wrath.
« Women will always be underestimated, undermined, by men and women the same. That is our strength and weakness. In this cruel world, if you don't want to die a dreadful death upon the gallows high, you must protect yourself by any means. »
Ophelia Mirallis did not believe she was a feminist, she did not believe in this movement. What she believed was the simple fact that she was a human and a woman.
END OF FLASHBACK
✧❁❁✧✿✿✧❁❁✧
She did not understand it then. Not when she had searched for the significance of the last sentence, not when had found a poem about Catherine Wilson and her story and certainly not when she had first read about the Autumn Crocus flower. Alicent finally pieced it together.
'Mother knew about the art of poison.'
Her mother did not look fierce, nor did she look like a murderer if they had characteristics, nor was she one, but as Alicent eyed the sentence which described one of the flowers she had seen in the woman's garden, she knew, to their problems, her mother was a cold-hearted and fierce woman.
'It explains why our problems never lasted long and mother was always respected in our town.'
If in the past she had disagreed opinions about her mother, currently, the Hightower girl found thankfulness in her heart, for all the ancient things she had been taught.
Perhaps life was playing a jest on her, or perhaps she was simply dreaming or had fallen into a long coma. A sleep that forced her to appreciate years of studies of the old times. Perhaps she was simply dead and this was some after-life or in-between. New questions arose in her, as she closed the book and moved so she could gaze at the cloudy sky through the process window.
But there was now something Alicent was sure of and planned to be, 'The most delicate flower growing amongst the sharpest spines.'
︵‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿︵
« Woah. »
« Nyla... this... this is a masterpiece... », Alicent tried to convey her amazement however she was simply shocked, unable to find appropriate words.
She stood in her chamber, Sirrah only a couple of steps behind while Nyla Frosher-- her now exclusive and favourite seamstress in all worlds-- awaited on her left as she eyed the attires displayed in front of her.
Although she hadn't expected her visit, Alicent had grown ecstatic, especially after seeing the countless items the maids strutting after Sirrah were carrying.
All thoughts of the letter left her head and she immediately grew curious, eland entranced with fashion.
There were a total of eleven dresses, in addition to the special clothes and handkerchiefs, she had asked the seamstress to make for her extracurricular activities
Alicent was both in awe and surprise. She didn't expect Nyla to have sewed this quickly and do so expertly.
Although there were still more clothes to make, the Hightower lady recognised the middle-aged woman had done enough in such a small amount of time.
As she looked at the items, and inspected every single one of them, Alicent smirked, she thought of her plans and liked the turn they were taking.
They were all of different colours and designs, seemingly a smart choice from Nyla. And what excited her more, were the handkerchiefs, although she could see they were less than fifty, they were a great start.
'Right, there is no way I can go from 0 to 30 employees in just a day. Even one for now will d—'
Suddenly, Alicent cut short her thoughts, her eyes widened slightly as she turned back and faced the two older women in the room. Her gaze jungled between them and slowly, her mouth curved into a smile.
She not only realised she had one but two employees already. Although Sirrah was her greatest friend and ally at the moment— after all the woman vowed to follow her—, she could, as well, work directly in the organisations she intended to create.
And Nyla, as her exclusive seamstress, could, indirectly do more than just sewing.
With controlled steps, Alicent drew closer to the latter. « Dear Nyla, your work is truly amazing. Truthfully, I did not expect it after seeing the trends in the fashion of this town but the work you have done... wonderful! »
She analysed the suddenly blushing and curious woman. « N-no, all I did was follow the drawings you have made my lady. And I am still poor in skills, nothing compared to what you usually wear. »
At that, the Hightower girl shook her head. 'Nonsense.', she almost yelled, thinking it would seem too rude for the era.
« You are right... », she begins slowly, and stares as Nyla's complexion saddened. « Your work can not compare to other seamstresses because yours is even better. »
She was not just flattering the woman, Alicent was speaking facts. « Truly. You truly love seeing and making attires, I may have drawn it, but not only did you sew it but you also added your touch. I can see the creative thinking in this and... I have no words. »
Then, as she stood in front of the woman, despite the difference in height and of course, age and stature, Alicent softly held her hands. « Which is why, Nyla Frosher I am offering you a place, as my one and only, exclusive seamstress. I may not be a princess, or an important figure in the world, but I will make you the most sought-after and successful seamstress in the whole kingdom. »
︵‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿︵
Currently, Alicent was peeking around the corner and holding a basket filled with food in one hand. In the other, she had a book and some other items she was holding closer to her body so that they would not fall.
She eyed the pathway, looking for anyone and concentrated on her hearing to listen to any sound of the guards. Thankfully, she had made it just in time for the guards to switch. She knew she had a couple of seconds before the new guard started making his rounds in the Targaryen's quarters.
And so, with all her might, Alicent took off, running in the hallway until she made it to her destination. She sprang the door open and closed it behind her.
While she heaved in an attempt to regain her breath, her eyes met the surprised ones of Rhaenyra's, who was holding one of her pillows as she sat on her bed.
« Alicent? Wh— what is going on? »
After heaving for what felt like the hundredth time, the Hightower girl shifted away from the door. She cleared her throat and beamed. « Hiya! How you doing? »
Alicent decided, bit by bit, she would poison— educate— the Westeros people about the modern world, from the way of dressing to the language.
It wasn't simply that she was unable to speak as in her past life, but her new body was used to the extremely formal English. Therefore, despite often thinking as she used to speak, and wishing to have her past life way of doing so, her mouth acts on memory.
'But that is going to change.'
« I come bearing gifts.... », she trails off, while inching closer to the bed. « Gifts of truce. »
With scrutinising eyes, Rhaenyra looked at her. « What for? Have you finished your matter with the seamstress? I suppose I— like everyone else— shall see your new attires in the morrow. Unless I am forbidden. »
Holding back from rolling her eyes, Alicent threw away every lady-like manner she had learned and jumped on the princess's bed, effectively startling the Targaryen girl.
Uncaring of the doubtful looks she was receiving, she laid all the items she had brought, from the basket made out of twigs woven together, filled with food and the book and the special ones.
Then she locked eyes with her friend's purple ones. « Okay. I will not apologise for not inviting you when the seamstress came because it was a surprise for everyone— even you. However, I come to my dear friend to make peace and tell her some things. », she begins while slowly opening the basket and unpacking the food inside.
Of course, anyone from miles away could see the feigning of disinterest painted on Rhaenyra's face when she asked, « What is it? »
If there was one thing that Alicent knew would remain unchanged in their teenage years, no matter the world, it is Rhaenyra's curiosity and meddling in everything.
« You may not be the first person to see my new attires— but you will be the first person to ever taste whatever I will cook. », she ends.
'...that is not meant for business.', she adds in her mind.
Rhaenyra watched with narrowed eyes, they slid from her friend's to the unfolded goods displayed in front of her. Although curious, she still had some doubts. « I wonder how you could ever learn to cook. I have never seen you in the kitchens. A tea— perhaps but that is all. Shall I expect to see the maesters as much as I ride Syrax? »
With a smirk, Alicent took the book and opened it. « Haha, what a jest Rhaenyra.... And for your information, until a few days ago. Cooking is actually entertaining and requires attention. Now please, take one of these and tell me what you think. »
She urged, hoping she would indulge and to her relief, she did. Alicent eyed as Rhaenyra picked the food, looking at it through all corners before hesitantly taking the first bite.
It was an understatement to say that every surprised emotion ever known to earth passed on the girl's face.
« Oh! », Rhaeny uttered after the last bite. « What is this— this strange food? »
At that, Alicent beamed. « Well, dear Rhae, what you just ate is made of potatoes. », she explains, and again, the princess was surprised. « I have not found a name yet. But how do say if you were the first one to name it? »
Watching as the princess ate fries after fries, Alicent felt accomplished, the knowledge of the future she had would be of great advantage for both herself and the rest of the world.
And if she played right, she would truly become a force to be reckoned with.
While listening to her friend's suggestions, she only had one prayer in mind. 'Please do not say potato sticks, please do not say potato sticks...'
« They are quite thin. », the Targaryen girl comments unknowingly sending to oblivion her friend's prayer.« So thin and small yet, they truly taste amazing. I can not stop eating them. Oh! What do you think of thin potatoes? Or— or... potato sticks! They remind me of wood sticks in the forest! »
« Oh dear. », she says before she can stop herself. And after a painful gulp, with rapidly blinking eyes, Alicent cleared her throat. « Rhae, my dear friend, I think it is better to look for a simple word. Thin potatoes or potato sticks seem rather too... original and simple. How about something more creative? »
And then she proceeded to briefly tell the girl how she made it— but not the whole process or else it would not be her recipe anymore. She told enough to help her find the right name for the famous French fries in Westeros.
And finally, after what felt like an eternity of nonsense, where at some point Alicent had hastily reached for her ears in fear they had started to bleed, they had found the right name.
« Well, since I am the first one to taste and the one to name it, how about Dragon's Delight? Or Castle crisps? After all, we are in a castle, I am a princess, and the Realm's delight, and I have a dragon. », Rhaenyra concludes.
Thinking thoroughly, Alicent came to find that she did not mind at all. After all, if it were up to her she would have named it ''Fries'', only, the future was still uncertain and she did not wish for the butterfly effect to be too great.
'Yes, now that, I wasn't expecting it.'
« Yes! Now that is a great name. Mysterious and catching! It would attract the people, stir their curiosity. », she exclaims and goes to write it in the book.
« Why should it matter if people were interested in it? », the princess questions with furrowed brows and disdain regarding her friend's true intentions.
Suddenly, it was as if Rhaenyra had said something disappointing as Alicent stilled, sighed and lightly shook her head.
She dramatically got close to her friend and gave her an awkward side hug while smirking evilly. « Dear Rhae, as the princess, you will find that most people are interested in what you do. If they love you or are simply curious, they will follow like ducklings. », she paused, aware she was speaking of much more than food.
« But as the princess you will also find that, the happier the people, the happier the realm and its ruler. », she adds.
After picking up another fry, Rhaenyra analysed her friend's words. « Following your thought, if I seem to enjoy food, the realm would as well and food makes people happy. »
At that, Alicent hummed in agreement. « Yes, generally so. And I love food. Do never jest with it, ever. », she also quickly noted the fact that the princess could be quick-witted at will. « But it is mostly about the newness of the food. And how... privileges may exist, but the dear princess is generous and kind. »
'I shall open restaurants.', she decided, determined and happy her road to success was getting drawn with ideas. 'Many restaurants, food... moula!', indeed she was excited to start earning and invite the Seven Kingdoms to taste the modern food and delicacies.
'But for this, I will need a starting point.', she thought while eyeing Rhaenyra. It wasn't that she planned on using her but in a way, she had to. Rather than using her friend, she would work with her status.
Joining the platinum blonde princess into eating the fries, Alicent thought of what to say. « You know, the realm or kingdom, it's not just a place. », she begins after a minute.
Many things were to come, both good and bad, and while she never understood the strong desire Rhaenyra, Daemon and Daenerys had for the Iron Throne— certainly due to being an only child to her mother and living alone with her and nobody else—, Alicent had a sense of what home was.
« It is the people. Take for example Valyria. I learned that the Targaryens were High Lords in the Old Valyria, thousands of years ago. Your family did not always live in Westeros, and yet after the Doom, they moved here. And then there are the Velaryons, they too survived. Someday, the Targaryens may not be in King's landing anymore, and perhaps the place holds meaning, but shouldn't the people represent the realm and the kingdom? After all, why then ruling? », she ends with furrowed brows and gaze lost on the shelves.
Alicent was thinking of many things, from the death of Aemma in 2 months only and the events of Game of Thrones. She wondered where her knowledge of the future and interfering with it should be limited. Perhaps there was no point in her questioning as she had already interfered too much, but, perhaps she could still hold back from changing a few things.
However, she also wished to change the events of Game of Thrones, perhaps not everything but some of them. Although she knew she would not be able to live until that day, perhaps she could find a way to delegate it to someone else.
« Yes, the lives of the people should matter more than the place. And not just their lives, but their opinions as well. What should we say to a man who does not wish for his home to be destroyed, since he and his family have lived there for hundreds of years and the realm needs a new treating house? », the light yet firm voice caught her attention.
Alicent shifted her gaze from the open book in her lap, her eyes slid onto Rhaenyra's thoughtful expression. « There was a similar case similar today in the council room. The realm requires a new treatment house for the sick. But the place chosen for it is occupied by people who have lived for years inside. Some of them came to see my father and pleaded that they not be chased out of their homes. While some of them were indeed serious about their homes and would rather die for them, others accepted the compensation and left. »
While the Hightower girl watched and listened intently, Rhaenyra « I do believe memories and legacies matter, especially if you wish your children and theirs to know it. Life itself is more important but home holds also great importance. Many people die, and sometimes you can not fight it, but your home. No one should be allowed to take what is yours, to take away what is rightfully your children's. »
Listening closely, Alicent's lips slowly curved into a smile. Compared to the princess she watched behind the screen, she liked the current one even better. It may have been a week and a few days since she awoke in the Red Keep, but Alicent noticed— and heard— the calm air between the King and his daughter.
From what she gathered— especially after advising her— long was time the princess fought back with her father who became even more surprised at the change. Although she still went for long-lasting rides with her dragon, Alicent quickly noticed the number of times she saw the princess with a book.
« If you were to aid these people you would be seen as going against— your father and the King's decision. », she says after a minute. « It is what you should not seek for. »
« I am not sure I follow what you say. », Rhaenyra says with a frown. « Are you saying I should do something? I should aid them? »
« Do not try and lie and say you didn't want to already. », she responds with a smirk that enticed one in return, before regaining seriousness. « I may have lost memories of you of many years, but the small amount of time I have spent getting to know you again, I already know of your rebel spirit. And, of things you would do and would not. Aiding poor families, wronged by your father and his council is one of the things you would do. »
All through her speech, Alicent was smiling at her friend. It was not that she was lying, or merely speaking from experience of watching the princess behind the screen of her flat TV, but rather, she had come to know of the young girl.
Alicent had quickly learned of her habits, what she was likely to do and what she was not.
« Then what do you suggest I do? »
« I do not know... », she trails off, slightly unsure of what she could say. Although she wished to help the families, there were many repercussions to consider.
And just as she thought of them, Alicent thought of someone in particular.
'Mysaria.', her mind whispered and was immediately brought back to the letter Sirrah had subtly given her earlier in the day.
Not just any letter, but a reply from the mysterious woman, as short as it had been, it went straight to the point. And although she had been surprised by it, Alicent had quickly remembered the similarities to her own letter.
After all, she herself had written so little, only enough to seem interesting so the White Worm could fall into her trap. Now, all it left was a way to attend the meeting in one night's time.
Something Alicent knew she had to figure out on her own.
'Mysaria may be the White Worm but she doesn't have much influence at the moment.'
There was only one-way Alicent would be able to see her in person, and that would be by using the secret passages and a neat disguise.
Absently, she eyed her friend and remembered times how stupid both uncle and niece duo had been to not think for a second that their hair colour was enough to act as a payment fee for anything the young Targaryen desired.
But where Alicent seemed to be strangely kissed by fire at the times she was under the sun, the Targaryen was kissed by fright. And the maiden had thought of a way to hide her identity.
'I don't have silver hair... no, but it would be presumptuous of me not to think that the Old Snake's spies don't know his children... Perhaps, I can use what Sansa used to dye her hair.'
If there was one person who could get it for her, questions but especially no questions asked, it was Sirrah.
And perhaps she could get two shots with one stone, by employing Mysaria and secretly dealing with the treating centre. « I once read that, he will win who knows when to fight and when not to fight. », she suddenly says.
Then adds, « But like I said, you can not go against your father at the moment. Although it is a serious situation, it is not precious enough to choose to fight against him. Let us reserve it for another time. »
« It doesn't leave us with an option, whatever I decide to do will go against his decision as King. »
« Yes, that is why, you can go against the other members of the council... », Alicent suggests while wiggling her brows, something Rhaenyra found herself amused with despite the seriousness of the situation. « Such as my father... or your good uncle-in-law. »
« Your father? And what is an uncle inn low? Do I even have such a thing? »
At that, Alicent sighed sadly, almost looking like a dejected puppy.
With an equally awkward smile, she patted her friend on the shoulder. « Do not worry, in time, you will learn. », she says ignoring her friend's confusion. « For now, anyway, I meant your aunt's Lord-husband. You could bring up an important point to them, one completely overlooked but them. It doesn't matter if it is true, or important for the moment, it could be soon, but still crucial. »
However, Rhaenyra shook her head and huffed a little. « Your father would never listen to me— », Alicent gave her a pointed look which seemed enough for the princess to understand. « The episode from the day before means nothing, it was a simple request. He is the Hand of my father, he has more power than I do. »
« Right. », it was Alicent's turn to shake her head. « He is the Hand of the King. And you are just a princess. », she didn't need to see that she knew her friend's face turned sour. « I apologise in advance for the shocking words you may hear but... you are the sole living and eldest child of the King. Your father has no other current child out of the womb at the moment. And the King loves you so dearly and clearly. »
The Hightower sighed and placed a gentle hand on Rhaenyra's arm. « I hope from all my heart that your sibling survives, not for your father, but for you and your mother. Rhae, heavy is the head that wears the crown. »
Somewhere in Alicent's mind, she could not help but compare herself to her mother.
She knew the old woman to be manipulative yet kind, to be open-minded yet judgemental. But most of all, she knew how to find words, how to speak to hurt and yet with impact to change one's life in just a second.
« You may not be a queen, a boy to be a born king as some people say. But you are a princess, The sole Targaryen princess. You already have a crown, since you were born, that nobody can take away, not even death. »
And perhaps, despite promising herself that she would never be like her mother, Alicent was indeed slowly going back on her promise.
Rhaenyra tore her gaze away from the shelves in front of her bed. Unconsciously, her hand snaked until it landed on the top of her head, running through the silver strands. « My head... is heavy. »
It was a whisper, small and unsure due to the newness.
But for every revolution I'm the history of the world as Alicent knew them, it was a big step.